#but i ate that shit up regardless

[johnslittlespoon]

i'm soooo like. ?? about the fight scene i'm sorry i'm so stuck on it i have so many thoughts about the episode in general but obv we were all waiting for that scene specifically lol

i genuinely was so convinced the fight was gonna be a diversion and the reason they showed it in last episode's teaser was to get people to be like gasp! the boys are fighting! and then in this episode be like psych it was all part of their plan

but it wasn't?? john was just literally losing it a little bit?? it felt like a call back to the john and curt "i want you to hit me scene", we know john gets self-destructive when he's hurting or upset, he'll do anything to feel something, even sabotaging himself or his relationships/friendships.

so it makes sense but mannn i didn't expect it to be legit. breaks my heart that he seeks comfort or like sanity through violence like that and especially hurts that gale is pushed to swing at him when he's so far from an aggressive person

but they also both didn't seem very affected by it (not that mota ever gives us a ton by way of processing emotions) and i doubt it's something that would affect their friendship deeply; it's obvious that they're both hurting in different ways and i can't see either of them holding it against the other outside of like making jabs at the other for it in the future lol

i'll have more coherent thoughts eventually, i was just so taken aback and it's rly interesting with their dynamic and is gonna produce so much brainrot from me lmfaoo

[icewindandboringhorror]

[turtlemagnum]

when i was younger and hung out around my uncle a lot more than i do now, i remember whenever he referred to things regarding his native heritage, he always just called it "indian". called himself an indian, called the words he taught us indian, so on. since i was a little kid who didn't know any better, i didn't know that "indian" in the context of indigenous americans was a very broad, frankly bastardized term to paint a vast variety of cultures spanning two whole damn continents with one brush. it only occurred to me as i got much older than i was at the time that there'd be more than one "indian" language, and up until now since i had no idea what tribe(s) he even is i couldn't even begin to know where to look unless i found a download of every goddamn interlingual dictionary available and painstakingly checked every godddamn one for what their word for "thunder" is

the word he taught us meant thunder was hiloha. i didn't even know how to spell it until now, because he only ever said it aloud. literally just a few minutes ago, i decided to ask my grandma (his sister) if we knew what tribe(s) he belonged to. and apparently he's a mix of choctaw and makah. which gave me a lead, which led to me finding a dictionary on libgen, which led to me word searching "thunder" in the choctaw to english dictionary. it's the only word i remember him teaching us, and i'm unsure if he ever tried teaching us others. but it was his dogs name, and he was a damn good boy, so i remembered it clear as day. though, they normally shortened it to "hilo".

so, i guess what came out of this is that i now know a bit more about my uncle's heritage, and where to look for more research. so, if you're gonna have a takeaway from this, i'd appreciate it if you remembered the word "hiloha". it means thunder. and aside from being the name of a very good boy who deserves to be remembered, i think it's even more important to remember the histories, cultures, and of course the languages of all the indigenous folks who came before us and did their damndest to preserve their cultures in spite of it all.

[bongjuiceconcentrate]

instagram has lost its fucking mind honestly

[thriftedtchotchkes]

hi idk if u remember me but i literally love u okay anyways

so literally just dbf!joel saying “sweetheart i need you to be quiet” and ”baby i’m gonna cum if you don’t shut up” and maybe covering her mouth at some point 🤭

have a wonderful day and thank u sm for ur time 🙏🏾

hii love, ofc i remember you! tysm for sending this in ♡ accidentally got inspired by my dinner last night, oops. hope you enjoy!!

does your mother know?

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no outbreak, close family friend!joel, language, smut, rough sex, unprotected piv, age gap, mild exhibitionism, old man joel can't keep it in his pants at family dinner

word count: 1.7k

Friday night dinner wasn’t supposed to go like this.

One hand buried in your hair and the other slapped over your mouth, muffling every moan and sigh you make while Joel fucks you against the sink in the upstairs bathroom of your family home. 

He'd arrived late with a charming, drawled apology and immediately made the mistake of taking the seat across from you. If he'd sat literally anywhere else, he might've been able to ignore the perfect curve of your tits in the lowest-cut shirt he'd ever seen you in, or your constant need for the salt and pepper shakers, conveniently placed right in front of his plate. 

Every time you leaned over the table, he was reminded of the fact that you’d decided to forgo a bra. Whether that was for his benefit or yours, he was doing his best not to find out. 

Not after your parents had taken the time to invite him here, insisting that he eat a home-cooked meal for once, knowing full well he's been surviving off TV dinners ever since Sarah left for college.

“That’s kinda rude of me, huh?” you smiled sheepishly after giving him a particularly revealing peek, but the look that followed was downright sinful. "My bad, I just didn’t wanna keep interrupting your dinner by asking you to pass the salt. Figured it’s been a while since the last time you ate."

And you were right. It had been a while since he’d tasted anything as sweet as you, that satisfied him the way you do, but you already knew that. It’s why you were baiting him—because you know he can’t resist you.

Still, he tried. He really did, but the Southern gentleman in him couldn't refuse dessert or the hefty glass of wine your mom poured after he'd finished helping her clear the table. So, when he'd found himself trapped between your familiar warmth and the armrest of the couch, he should've known there'd be trouble.

When you'd casually gestured a little too widely during the story you were telling and splattered half the glass across his flannel and jeans, he should've gone to the bathroom to treat the stains alone instead of accepting your apologetic offer to help.

He should’ve known better. 

But the second your doe eyes lock with his, roving over his body like the lovely dinner your mom made wasn’t nearly enough to fill you up, he realizes he does know better. He just doesn't give a shit.

And that's why you're bent over the sink, taking his cock like you were made for it, and making the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard. You either don’t care enough to stop, regardless of whether your parents can hear you or not, or you’re too blissed out to notice. But he does.

“Sweetheart, I need ya to be quiet,” he grits out tightly, barely audible over his hips slamming into yours and the filthy squelch of your pussy around him. “Don’t want us gettin’ caught, do ya?”

You can’t respond, or even nod, with his hand still held firmly over your mouth, so you whine your acknowledgment into his palm, squeezing your eyes shut as you try your best to do what he asked. 

You’re clearly struggling. Those muted, stuttered whimpers grow louder every time he buries himself to the hilt, and he almost wants to remove his hand and let the sounds of your pleasure echo around the room, so everyone in this house knows just how good he’s making his girl feel. 

“I know, baby, I know. Feels good, don’t it? S’hard to keep all those pretty noises in when you’re takin’ so much, but I need’ya to try,” his lips graze your ear with each growled word. 

Another pained whimper passes your lips through the cracks between his fingers, and he accidentally bucks into you harder than he means to. Christ, he’s never heard you sound like this before. So needy. He shouldn’t, but he wants to hear more. To feel your chest vibrate with it, watch in the mirror as your mouth parts around even just one perfect, drawn-out moan.

The hand buried in your hair trails down your neck, beautifully elongated as your back arches to take him deeper, and snakes around your body. He tugs down the front of your shirt—that flimsy fucking tank top that's been teasing him all night—to cup your breast and, fuck, you like that. Your pussy grips him in response, clenching intermittently while he roughly tweaks your nipple between two calloused fingers. 

You’re tight, almost too tight for him to keep up his merciless pace if he wants to last much longer, and so goddamn wet. You’re seeping right into the wine-stained fabric of his jeans, making an even bigger mess than you started with.

“Look at ya,” he mumbles, slowing to watch in awe as his cock drags against your entrance, reappearing slicker with every thrust. “So fuckin’ tight...and sloppy. You’re makin’ a mess of me, sweetheart."

You shudder under his rapt attention, at the sheer want in his voice, but despite the obvious effect of his words, you’re still staying quiet, just like he told you to. You’ve been such a good girl, so he decides to take a risk and reward you. 

“M'gonna let go, alright? But ya gotta keep bein' good for me," he leans down to press his lips between your shoulder blades, his hand dropping from your mouth to settle on your waist. "Don't need'ta be silent, just need'ya to keep it down. Can ya do that?"

You gasp as his slow, deep thrusts still and he presses flush against your ass, grinding into you languidly as he waits for your answer. 

"Y-yeah...yes, yes," you reply weakly, cold ceramic digging into your breasts as you pant heavily into the sink. "Keep going—p-please, just fuck me."

"That's my girl," he breathes raggedly, and he's a little ashamed at how quickly his balls start to tighten at the soft timbre of your voice. 

His pace abruptly picks up, and then he's forcing you onto his cock again, his hips slamming into yours with a steady, wet thock-thock-thock that's probably louder than you've been all night. But he doesn't stop—you feel way too fucking good to stop, and he likely couldn't even if he tried.

In the back of his mind, he tells himself that your parents are probably doing dishes by now, and whatever he's doing to their daughter upstairs is getting drowned out by running water and clattering dishware. 

He continues to repeat the shitty lie to himself as he yanks you up, pulling your back flush against his chest and wrapping an arm around your stomach to hold you in place. The abrupt shift changes the angle of his hips so he’s fucking up into you instead, and it feels...indescribable. 

He's hitting something he wasn't able to reach before, a sensitive spot impossibly deeper inside you that has your pussy squeezing him, gushing down his cock, and he's—

Fuck, he's not going to last long. 

"Mmph...fuck—there, Joel, there. So, so fucking close, please, need it harder."

Christ, and you begging him to fuck you harder isn't helping. His hand drops between your legs to your swollen clit, slipping through the slick mess to rub tight, insistent circles into the hardening nub, and the heady friction has your thighs quaking almost immediately. 

"S'good...feels soso good," you slur deliriously, teetering on the cusp of your orgasm. "Wanted you so fucking bad all night...ngh, should've fucked me right there on the table—"

Joel cuts you off before you can finish, pushed a little too far past his limit.

"Baby, m'gonna cum if ya don’t shut up," he grits through his teeth, still pounding into that spot, still rubbing hard and fast swirls into your clit, and he can feel how close you are.

"F-fuck, me too—m'so close. Fill me up, please."

That sends him over the edge. You barely have time to gasp in a breath before he shoves you back down, lifting one of your legs up to the side so he can sink even deeper as he practically mounts you on the edge of the sink.

"Fuck yeah, I'll fill ya up," he groans, drawn-out and wrecked, as he empties inside you, thick spurts coating your convulsing walls. His hands greedily roam your body, caressing every inch of bare skin he can reach. "Send ya back downstairs to your momma and daddy with my cum leakin' out of ya. Filthy fuckin' girl."

Three more achingly deep thrusts, and then you're cumming hard, exploding hot and wet around him, already feeling him start to drip out of you and down your thighs. Your entire body seizes, desperate not to make a single sound while he fucks you through your orgasm, but then Joel meets your eyes in the mirror.

The warm chestnut of his eyes has been completely overtaken by his blown-pupils and he looks a little wild, like he's about to do something you'll both regret. Then, he does. Without warning, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and bites down hard, sucking a bruise into your skin he knows you won't be able to hide, and the squeal that erupts from your chest is high-pitched enough that you know everyone in the house heard it.

The thought alone stokes the heat already starting to build in the pit of his groin again, and the sight of his cum leaking out of your pussy in thick globs when he pulls out only fans the flames.

"M'takin' you home, sweetheart. Gonna fuck ya the way you deserve," he mumbles into your marked skin, and you tremble in his arms, whimpering softly through an aftershock. "Then, you can scream as loud as ya want—"

"Everything alright up there?" Your mom's voice filters up the stairs. "What, did one of y'all fall into the sink?"

Joel noses into your hair, chuckling before he responds.

"Just finished."

[star-sim]

boy's night ☆ riki nishimura

☆ summary: riki had no game, no rizz, which was why he employed the help of his six friends to text you. warning: having seven boys on the phone trying to text a girl does not give good results! ☆ genre: fluff, all enhypen members make an appearance, boys being boys, very stupid, it's getting rizzy in here but clearly i have negative game ☆ warning(s)? no just silliness :3 ☆ word count: 1.7k words

"Oh my god, she texted me!" was the sentence that completely destroyed Jake Sim's house.

Tonight, Riki was having a sleepover at Jake's house. It was supposed to be a chill night, a night in which Riki could bask in his friends' presence before they went off to college again.

There were many perks to being the youngest in his friend group. It seemed like Heeseung, Jay, and Jake forever saw him as their baby, after all, when they all met as children, Riki was a snotty little four year-old, constantly tattling on the older boys. Regardless, it was nearly impossible for them to not fuss over him, constantly asking if he ate yet or if he needed help. Sunghoon teased the ever-living shit out of Riki, sure, but the older boy never hesitated to take Riki's side whenever there was an argument. Sunoo and Jungwon were closest to Riki in age, but that didn't stop them from watching over him closely, like mother cats stalking their cubs.

Though, there was one thing that Riki had to admit that he hated about being the youngest: he was the most inexperienced.

Whenever his friends got their 'firsts,' he was always too young to care. It seemed like all his friends got to experience their first crushes and heartbreaks almost simultaneously, only for them to not be there when Riki had his.

Even when he was now a senior in high school, he had absolutely no idea how to talk to girls.

He'd heard all the stories about Heeseung and his antics at college, all the flirting tips that Jake liked to give out to Sunghoon and Jay, and all the crazed texts that Sunoo and Jungwon sent as they went through relationships.

Even so, Riki had never experienced teenage love for himself.

Enter: You.

You were the cute girl that sat in front of him in his Macroeconomics class. If it wasn't for the fact that Riki absolutely hated Macro, he would blame the fact that you were just so pretty that he couldn't bring himself to focus on the lecture about the New York Stock Exchange.

Initially, Riki had no intention of pursuing you.

You were cute, obviously, but hearing you talk to your partner in class was enough for him. Plus, it wasn't like Riki had any experience— even if he wanted to talk to you, he had no idea how to!

Except, thanks to his nosy friends, your name had been discussed what felt like a million times by the end of the week.

"So... [Name], eh?" was the first thing Sunghoon said as Riki's camera turned on during their weekly weekend FaceTime calls.

"This is so exciting, Riki," Heeseung said as he joined the call.

"Wait, how do you know her again?" Sunoo's voice cut in. "Sorry, my Wi-Fi is bad. You said you know her from Macro?"

With a little more prying, his friends managed to get a middle-school level confession out of Riki.

"I-I just think she's really pretty, and like, she's really smart," Riki huffed, "I don't think she likes me like that— I've never even spoken to her! Like, I can't talk to women, I straight up am a mess and the other day—oh my god— she looked at me and I think I almost passed out. What do I do? I actually cannot do thi—

".... But you think she's pretty, right?"

And that's how Riki managed to get your phone number. With the help of his friends (that felt more like them feeding into his delusions), he worked up the courage to stutter out a simple question.

And when you smiled, nodding enthusiastically as you typed your contact into his phone, Riki felt his soul leave his body.

So, it wasn’t hard to imagine the havoc that engulfed Jake Sim's house (the place of the sleepover) as Riki's phone pinged, your contact name showing up.

It was already late at night, so the boys were raiding Jake's pantry to get midnight snacks. 

The moment that Riki announced that you had just, in fact, texted him first, everyone stopped in their tracks.

"Oh shit!" Jay shouted as he jumped over Jake's sofa, bowl of cereal still in hand.

The sound of crashing as Heeseung knocked over the ramen cups, as well as cutlery dropping abruptly and cabinets slamming filled the house.

"Oi, don't mess up my kitchen!" Jake yelled as his feet pounded against his stairs, scrambling so fast that he practically glided downstairs. After Jungwon spilled milk on his shirt, he was half-way through putting on a new shirt as he clambered down.

"What did she—" Sunoo pushed Jay out of the way, knocking the older boy over as he plopped down next to Riki on the living room carpet and peeked over his shoulder— "What did she say?!"

Within seconds, all six of his friends were huddled around Riki, pushing each other out of the way to catch a glimpse of what you said.

"Move your fatass head!"

"I can't see!"

As his friends argued, Riki stared at his phone, chewing on his bottom lip. His heart was pounding in his chest. He only saw the notification, and didn't see what you said yet.

What if you said something crazy, like "I just found out about that one time in first grade when you peed yourself at the playground" even though Riki and all his friends agreed to never speak of that incident again?! Or, what if you confessed your everlasting love for him in a long paragraph?

His head was spinning.

"Wait, did you open the message yet?!" Jungwon abruptly yelled into Riki's ear.

"No..." Riki answered slowly, watching the way all of his friends' once tense faces soften with relief.

"Oh my god," Jake sighed in relief.

"Phhhhheeewww!" Heeseung said dramatically.

"Why?" Riki frowned. "What's wrong with opening the message?"

"[Name] can see if you read her message if you open it," Sunghoon said matter-of-factly. 

"Why is that a bad thing?"

All of his friends groaned.

They taught him a trick: swipe just enough so that he could see the message, but not enough that the system marks it as read.

Hey, was all you said, much to Riki's relief.

"What do I say?" Riki asked, clutching his phone. His eyes flickered to his friends as he sucked his bottom lip under his teeth pensively. "How do I respond to this?"

"Just say 'hey' back!" Jay blurted.

"No!" Heeseung shook his head profusely. "Anything but that!"

"Why not? You want him to say haiiii instead?" Sunghoon nudged the older boy.

"No, no, no!" Jungwon reached across to smack Sunghoon's knee. "All of you are wrong."

Jungwon turned to Riki. "Just respond with an emoji."

They all groaned loudly.

"Okay, anything but a goddamn emoji!"

Riki ended up typing out a simple hey in response. He had to make Sunoo press send for him, squeezing his eyes shut. Riki immediately shut his phone off, placing it face down.

"I don't want to see if she responds or not!" Riki moaned. 

Within a minute or two, his phone pinged again.

"She responded!"

Even though you only asked, How was your day?, the entire house was once again invigorated. The boys shrieked, whooping and hitting Riki's shoulder, so loud that the house probably shook.

"Oh my god, it's happening!"

"Ouuuuu, she wants you, Riki!"

"Everyone shut the fuck up, it's time to lock in, oh my god it's actually happening—"

And just as everyone settled back down, ready to give Riki their mind-blowing advice, his phone dinged again.

[Attachment: 1 photo]. It was a silly picture of you, one of those cute ones that showed your eyes, clearly taken on the spot. 

"OHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Shewantsyousobadohmygo—"

According to Jake, if a girl sends you a picture of herself, no matter how silly or cute it is, she is head over heels for you.

"One message at a time!" Jay yelled over Jake's shoulder as they tried to figure out how to respond. "You need to answer her question first and then respond to the picture!"

"No! Don't respond to the picture!" Sunghoon, who was all the way in the guest bathroom, yelled from behind the bathroom door, his voice both booming and muffled. "She'll think you're weird!"

"I agree," Sunoo said.

"I agree," Jungwon mocked him in a nasally voice, earning a slap to the shoulder. "Just heart the picture!"

But their arguing fell upon deaf ears.

"Riki, what are you doing?!"

Riki was on his own, his heart beating at the tip of his fingers.

I hung out with my friends today and it was fun, how was yours? was his first response. Pressing on the picture, he responded, You look cute.

When Riki glanced over at his friends, they were sprawled across the floor, crying aloud dramatically.

"It's over."

"You're insane."

"Fumbled."

Riki threw a pillow at them. "I didn't fumble— Oh shoot, she's typing!"

The house was once again filled with screaming and crashing as they scampered to Riki's side.

You typed for a few moments. Everyone was at the edge of their seat, simply begging to see how you'd respond. But then, you stopped.

"Good game, guys."

"100% over."

Riki chewed on his thumb, his eyes glued to his phone screen. Did he creep you out? Was it weird for him to say that you looked cute? Did he fuck up?

But then you finally replied.

My day was just filled with homework, very boring, you replied. Maybe if I spent it with you it would have been more fun.

Oh.

My.

God.

Riki's hands shook as he typed back another response, completely ignoring the complete and utter disaster around him. He didn't know what came over him. He wouldn't say any of the things that he typed out loud, let alone to your face. It was like he was possessed by some spirit that gave him the courage to type. Without even noticing it, his heart was palpitating in his chest, his entire face, neck, and ears covered in a red shade.

I'm free tomorrow, he typed. 

"RIKI WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU—"

Okay, you simply responded. 12PM. The Block. Let's have fun.

"D-Did she just ask you out?"

Riki glanced at this phone, then at his friends, who stared at him with eyes as wide as saucers and their jaws dropped to the floor, then back at his phone. He blinked. "Yeah."

"Yes?!"

Riki blinked again. "Yeah."

.

.

.

And then it hit him.

"Oh my god, [Name] asked me out...!"

[coryosbaby]

Cry, Kill, Die

[ part one ]

Synopsis: In which Coriolanus Snow takes you for his own.

content warning . Dark themes— stalking, kidnapping, and Stockholm’s syndrome heavily mentioned // Extremely dubious consent, Murder and gore mentioned, misogynistic elements // housewife kink, blowjob, peacekeeper (ish?) ! Coryo, dom! Coryo, he’s literally a fucking nutcase in this

note: this is probably going to be the darkest shit I’ve ever wrote b4, but I’ve had this idea for a while now 😭 not meant to be taken as romanticization, more of js me talking out of my ass w the plot and slight smut included during bc i wanna fuck coryo so bad . So yeah .

It’s been days.

You know that much— know that the last day you saw sunlight was at least four days ago, when you had been happily strolling through the woods picking flowers. When you had heard a snap of leaves. When you saw him watching you. When he had taken you for his own.

You sit, pretty and dainty, regardless of your current imprisonment, in a brown arm chair in the corner of the room. Your original dress had been torn into shambles, but he had gotten you a new one. A pretty lace thing, a pink babydoll dress with tiny bows all over it. It definitely wasn’t something district, so the mysterious man that had taken you confused you even more.

Not that you hadn’t seen him before all of this— he was a peacekeeper. At least, he was pretending to be. You know this because he had grabbed you from a rundown bar to save you from the hands of a drunken pervert one night.

You had thanked him, kissed his cheek sweetly.

“Thank you, Sir!”

But his niceness was all a lie. An evil, despicable lie. And when you saw him the day he had taken you, you noticed the change in him. The look on his face. Something dark, something not quite human.

Something hungry.

You had fought. You fought hard, too— clawing at his wrists, as his hand covered your mouth and he had shushed you.

“Shut up. Shut up right now, or I’ll fucking kill you. Do you understand me?”

And you had understood greatly, had went limp in arms from fear and something else that you didn’t want to mention out loud. He had taken you to a cabin, a run down but still beautiful cabin. He had thrown you into one of the bedrooms, locked the door, and left. Thankfully, there was a bathroom built into your prison and you could relieve yourself anytime you liked. It was stocked with toilet paper, a toothbrush, your favorite shampoos and soap. You were too scared to take a shower, though, in fear of him getting angry with you. So you didn’t. You slept— still sleep— naked. It’s the only way you can get comfortable because of the scratchy material of the dress. The sheets are fresh, blanket soft, and you sleep heavy. To pretend that you’re somewhere else— to pretend that he didn’t take you.

He came back that night with food and water, unlocked the bedroom door for you. He had stroked your hair as you ate the luxury cherry pie that was expensive in the districts, the thick pasty filling forming a lump in your throat. You had asked him where he got it, and he didn’t answer.

The days went like that. Him leaving, bringing you food and water the next day, training you to get used to him like a lost, traumatized puppy. You had begun to ask him more questions, and you had gotten his name. He had revealed it to you on the third day, as he pulled you into his lap and stroked your hair.

“Coryo.” He had murmured, oddly sweet. “Call me Coryo, sweet thing.”

And now, it brings you to the present moment: you hear the familiar click of the doorknob, the thud of heavy peacekeeper boots against thick, run down wood. His helmet is off, and his buzzed hair shows greatly. A handsome man he is, but you won’t admit that to yourself. He has a bag in his hand, made of brown paper. He sighs, as if exhausted. He sits down at the kitchen table, and you can see him from the doorway.

“Come here,” he mutters to you. “Come here now, bunny.”

You can’t help but flush at the name he had given you, though fear curls in your gut at his tone. Your feet nervously pad over to his chair. His big hand wraps around your waist, pushing you down onto his lap as he begins to rummage around in the bag.

It’s a container of warm tomato soup, your favorite. There are probably better dishes, better food, but in the districts it’s the best meal around. Before you can wonder how Coryo knows it’s your favorite, he pulls out a spoon and dips it into the red liquid. He holds it up to your lips, and although you want to reject his offerings the growling of your tummy wins you over.

You slowly put your lips to the utensil, your taste buds exploding as the soup is placed on your tongue. You let out a tiny moan. You can’t help it! The soup is just too good.

“Hungry, aren’t you?”

You can hear the amusement in his voice, as you grab the spoon from him and begin to paw at the cup. You gulp down a few spoonfuls.

“It’s..” you pause, feeling around in Coryo’s lap. Your eyes widen as you feel his cock poking against you, and you slowly set the soup and spoon down. “It’s really good, Coryo. T-Thank you.”

He breathes out a laugh. You squirm against him, and it’s all too much. You lift yourself off of his lap and move to the living room couch. He watches, his brow raised, and if you look close enough you can see the clenching of his jaw.

“Are you scared of me?”

It’s a tone you haven’t heard from him, the faux gentleness gone.

Your breath wavers, your eyes averting from his.

“It’s just that..” you start, cautious, as you see his expression darken. “You— you took me, Coryo. My family must be so worried, so worried about me—“

He holds a hand up, as if to silence you. Your mouth shuts, your heart thudding against your chest. Coryo lifts his body up from the chair, slow and threatening. He makes his way over to you, his boots thudding against the wood once again.

“Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?”

You cower under him, your fingers gripping the couch cushions so hard that you fear they might break.

“I- I just—“

“You just what?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I come home, give you dinner, a roof over your head, a new dress.. and this is how you repay me?”

Your mouth opens. Closes. You can feel hot, salty tears beginning to well in your eyes. This man in front of you is crazy, unwell. He hardly knows you.

Right?

You do remember seeing him around, as you mentioned before. Always in district twelve because it’s where he was stationed, but—

He seemed to be everywhere. You remember, now; little glimpses of that familiar platinum blonde hair moving through the crowd, big arms holding a peacekeeper’s gun. At the bars you went to, at the crowded reapings that you (thankfully) never got picked in. Outside of your house, as you would peek out the curtained window, marching down the gravel road and making sure that no one avoided curfew. You remember the way his eyes would lock with yours almost every single time. He may have been stalking you for months.

“No,” you breathe out, as his body moves closer and closer to you. “No, that’s not what I meant at all! Coryo, I appreciate everything you’ve done. R-Really! But..”

“But what, you ungrateful brat?” He crouches, his eyes baring into yours like a predator stalking its prey. “Answer me!”

You jump, his sudden change in tone scaring you, and you let out a sob.

“I wanna go home!” You yell back at him, sniffling.

Coryo’s hand grasps your hair firmly, and he yanks your head back. You cry out, his grip making your scalp burn. His breath his hot against your ear.

“You are home now, little girl.”

Your feet kick and flail, as he presses his lips harshly to yours. It’s the first kiss, one of many to come, and you don’t kiss him back, can’t kiss him back, as his teeth clack against yours. He takes your bottom lip in between his sharp, pearly white teeth, and bites. You squeal, holding your mouth, watching Coryo’s icy blue eyes stare into your own as he pulls away. You can feel something wet dripping down your chin and taste warm, metallic blood.

“If you ever say anything about leaving me again… I’ll make sure to take you out to the hanging tree and string you up dead for everyone to see.“

—

He doesn’t leave, on this night. He takes off the top of his peacekeeper uniform and stays in his pants and white tee shirt. You sit, watching his big hands clean the hilt of his gun. Your fears increase as you watch him, wondering if he’ll use it on you by the end of the night, and it’s been quiet since the moment he kissed you and said those horrifying words.

Until he decides to break the silence.

“I hope you like the dress.”

Your mouth stays shut, and you repeatedly tie and untie one of the ribbons on the fabric.

“It’s one of a kind,” Coryo presses, setting his gun down onto the table. And then, in the most amused tone, in the most unsettling tone, “I’m not going to shoot you, darling.”

Your hand goes up to your mouth, taking note of the scab forming there, and you chew on your thumbnail. You hear the sound of rustling as coryo gets up from his spot. He crouches down in front of you again, his big palms splaying across your thighs. You can feel the tears welling up again, and you bring your hands up to your eyes as you let out a quiet sob.

Coryo sighs, bringing his much larger ones up to take hold of your fingers. He pulls them down, revealing your blubbering face to him.

“ I didn’t mean to hurt you earlier, angel. I didn’t—“ he stops, breathing heavily. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. God, I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

His lips go up to the back of your hand, kissing it softly. You look down, not staring into those predatory eyes again. You let him pepper kisses along your wrist and arm.

After a moment, when your tears have dried up, coryo sighs deeply. He stands, and begins to zip his uniform back up.

“I’m going out,” he says. “Okay? I’ll be back… thirty minutes, tops.” he grabs his gun, slips on his helmet. He turns to you right before his hand twists the doorknob. “Do you have any suggestions for dinner?”

It’s the first time he’s ever gave you a choice, and the first time he’s ever allowed you to stay in the living room. You bite your lip, thinking over your options. Of the many, many possibilities of food, of drinks, of comfort.

“Tomato soup, please.”

—

Coryo is true to his word. It doesn’t take him long to return back to the locked cabin, and when he appears through the doorway you take note of the key that he slips from his pocket and relocks the latch with. Your brows furrow, as you see the cup of tomato soup in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“I got you something.” He says, and your curiosity peaks.

He sits the materials down on the table, and you stare at the bag with wonder.

His hand reaches in, and he pulls out a fabric of embroidered silk. He reveals it to be a nightgown; a baby blue slip, with beading along the neckline and a flared hem of knee length. You fake a smile, though in your mind you are impressed. You’ve never been gifted sleepwear so luxurious before.

“It’s amazing, Coryo,” you compliment. “I love it. Thank you.”

You grab the nightgown from his hands, the material soft in your palms. You hold it up to your nose; laundry detergent and parfume. The smell of riches. The smell of the capital.

As you hold your gift, you wonder how privileged this man truly is.

—

“Well?” He urges, sitting down on the couch. His thighs spread, oddly tantalizing. “Try it on, darling. Let me see how beautiful you look in it.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and when he notices your hesitance he chuckles and covers his eyes up with his fingers.

“I won’t look,” he says. “I promise. See?”

You can see his eyes peeking through, but you don’t mention it. You know what he wants, anyway. And it isn’t like asking for privacy is going to change that. He will get what he wants sooner or later.

You feel exposed, hot, and violated all at once as you pull your discarded dress over your head. You’re quick to slip on the nightgown. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction.

It fits like a glove, and when Coryo removes his hands from his eyes he gets up from his seat. He admires examines you with awe written on his face.

“Oh, honey,” he coos. “You’re stunning. An absolute gem.”

You hate the way your cheeks flush from his words. You hate the way your thighs clench when his fingers brush against your chest as he circles you. You hate it all.

He strokes your cheek, leaning closer to your lips with each movement.

“Think I deserve a kiss for spoiling my girl, yeah?”

Hesitantly, you nod, letting him thumb your bottom lip before pressing his mouth to yours. This kiss is slow, deliberate, calculated. This kiss is sweet, if you didn’t know any better. You kiss him back this time, in fear of getting bit again. His hand curls into your hair, and he whispers.

“Maybe I deserve a little more?”

You’ve done this before with other men, but not like this. You let yourself slip down to your knees, anyway, and when you slip Coryo’s cock into your mouth he’s almost gentle.

Almost.

You hate it all.

[theemporium]

hi cece!! can i get 2 violet fluffs please, 1 & 21

driver of your choice ;)

-💗

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

21. “What did I do to deserve such a sweet wife?”

.

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You shot the boy a look.

“And did I mention you look so pretty today? And every other day? Always?” 

“You done trying to butter me up?” You deadpanned, your arms crossed over your chest and your face remaining blank. 

Max flashed you a sheepish smile, slowly reaching towards you. The sigh of relief when you didn’t smack his hands away was obvious before he locked his arms around you, tugging you closer until it was a proper hug with your head on his chest. 

“I am really sorry,” Max murmured, his cheek laid against the top of your head as you both swayed on the spot. “I didn’t know you had saved those slices of pizza. I’ll buy you ten more if it means you’ll forgive me.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you snorted lightly, pulling back to look at the boy—who still looked so cautious and sheepish—and shake your head. “It’s not the same. Everyone knows pizza tastes better the next day.” 

“It was good,” Max nodded before realising what he had just said. “Uh, I mean, it was absolutely shit and—” 

“You suck,” you huffed as you laid your head back against his chest, trying to hide the small smile that was growing on your lips at his clear panic. “What did I do to deserve such a mean husband?” 

“What did I do to deserve such a sweet wife?” Max retorted, hugging you closer. “Who is hopefully sweet enough to accept my apology pizza and cheesecake from her favourite dessert place?”

You pulled back, something twisting in your chest at his words. “The one in Nice?” 

“It’s the least I could do after I ate your pizza,” Max murmured, lifting his hands to cup your face as his thumbs soothed over the apples of your cheeks. “Plus, the drive is more than worth it if I get to see my girl happy again.” 

You rolled your eyes but you were grinning. “You’re such a sap.” 

“I’ll take sappy husband over mean husband any day,” he retorted, grinning back as you leaned into his touch.

“You’re not a mean husband,” you murmured with a sigh. “Just a husband who is sometimes dumb.”

Max snorted. “Yeah, might need to get my eyes checked. I don’t know how I missed the huge pink sticky note on the pizza box saying not to eat it.” 

You shook your head. “Yeah, but I guess I still love you regardless.”

His face brightened as he leaned down to kiss you. “I guess I still love you too.” 

“Nuh uh,” you placed your hand on his chest, stopping him from moving closer. “You get kissing privileges when you get me my cheesecake, Mr Verstappen.” 

Max frowned a little as he glanced down at his watch. “But the place might be shut before I get there.” 

You smiled, fondly patting his cheek. “Guess it’s a good thing I married the fastest driver in the world then, huh?” 

And Max couldn’t even stop the snorting laugh that left his lips if he tried.

.

[explicit-tae]

when is the next part of ungodly hour please tell me 😫

right here! introudcing a request that a few people has been wanting to see

Ungodly Hour (8)

Fuck Chaeyoung and Jimin for always being able to figure out when something is wrong with you.

word count: 2.684

“Girl,” Chaeyong’s voice says over the phone. It echos off of the bathroom walls. She’s watching you as you violently brush your teeth and in the process of scrubbing your tongue, a look of disgust on your face. Your phone is leaning against one of the toothbrush holders and she appears visibly amused.  “maybe you’re pregnant.”

You choke, feeling yourself ready to vomit again - this time due to Chaeyoung’s words. Your eyes widen and you stare back at your phone for a moment. Spitting the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth, you turn off the water. 

“Don’t,” you say with gritted teeth. “start that shit again.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. She’s in the process of making herself a sandwich. She shakes her head as she butters her bread. “You missed your period and you’re throwing up. What else can it be?” Chaeyoung was indeed correct. But, your periods were often irregular so that could never be a sign of pregnancy. You’ve gone two months without it before just for it to come on a random Wednesday work shift.

“I’m on birth control.”

“That’s never 100% effective.” Chaeyoung scoffs. “People get pregnant while on birth control all the time.”

Chaeyoung was right again and you could only sigh. You want to blame your sudden nausea on food poisoning. Maybe something you ate just didn’t sit right with you - that’s always a possibility. Maybe you were just getting sick as the seasons changed. Pregnancy would be the last of your options as anything could be possible.

“Let’s not forget that your boyfriend often has to remind you to take said birth control.”

“Shut up.” you grumble, snatching your phone and making your way out of the bathroom. You hated when Chaeyoung was right because it only meant that your mind would be wandering on the possibilities. 

“I can’t be pregnant now. That means I’ll have a Scorpio.” you murmur, crashing down against Jungkook’s bed, silk sheets inviting you in. “There’s enough birthdays in November as it is. It’ll completely ruin the vibe.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you were being a whore on Valentine’s day.” Chaeyoung sing-songs, her sandwich now complete and she munches onto it happily. “Can’t blame you. Jungkook did go all out like always.”

You’re positive you know just where it all began and like Chaeyoung said, Jungkook had to be the dramatic type that made you want to fuck him. The amount of roses you walked into had to be costly and you’re sure he must’ve bought out half of the store alone. The gifts, the home cooked meals along with the low music, champagne…

“Fuck Jeon Jungkook.” you grumble, throwing your phone beside you so Chaeyoung can see your view - the ceiling and she’s positive you were wallowing in self pity.

Truly, Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way you can never seem to stay off of him.

It took a week for you to decide to get a pregnancy test that you were sure would be negative regardless. You weren’t going to let Chaeyoung’s words of despair get to you - and you were only taking this test to prove to her (and yourself) that you weren’t pregnant and that whatever is going on with you was just a mere sickness.

The brown paper bag sits on the bathroom counter and has been for hours now. Jungkook wasn’t the one to check what wasn’t his and you’re unsure why you’re hesitant on taking it.

It’s Sunday now and that meant that not only was Jungkook here, but so was Namjoon, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin. They gather in the living room, movie blasting throughout the space and you walk by without any of them batting an eye.

All except Jimin as he was the only one who ever wanted to humor you and this fake beef you two held for one another.

“Well, well…you finally decided to join us.” Jimin calls, eyes watching as you make your way towards the kitchen. 

“Fuck off, Jimin.”

Taehyung snorts, allowing a few chuckles to be released.

Jimin looks around, wondering why in the world you could possibly tell him to fuck off out of all people. Of course, he didn't because he was Jimin. This causes him to sit forward and tilt his head.

“You look different.” Jimin notes, eyes taking in your appearance. This causes Jungkook’s head to turn to see whatever it was that Jimin saw.

Jungkook’s eyes being on you causes goosebumps to litter your skin and you desperately want to tell Jimin to fuck off again, but that wouldn’t do any good.

“You look…healthy.” Jimin’s eyes begin to squint a bit, his head tilting to the other side.

“Healthy?” you snicker with a roll of your eyes. “What the fuck did I look before?”

“Ugh, Y/N, shut up.” Jimin stands, making his way around the couch and towards you. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you and his friend, but he remains silent. “You look…dare I say glowy.”

You click your tongue inside your mouth. Jimin’s tone is different, almost as if confused. His eyes study you closely.

“If I didn’t know you, Jimin, I would say you’re flirting with me.” you turn away and go towards the box of pizza on the counters. 

Jimin cackles. “As if I would go for anyone like you.” 

“That’s a lot coming from a man like you.” you bite back. “I know exactly what girls you like.”

Jimin swallows back his words, a soft tint to his cheeks. No one was ever going to let him live down what that bitch said. “I pay for Onlyfan’s once and suddenly I’m the one being laughed at.” he grumbles to himself.

“I actually like her. She humbles you and it’s exactly what you need.” you open a box of pizza - pepperoni. You grab at it and inhale, the smell reaches your nose and instantly you drop it right back into the box.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow at your actions, watching you closely. His arms begin to cross and it’s as if alarm bells were going off in his head. 

“You little slut.” Jimin smirks.

Your stomach churns and you can feel the increase of saliva inside your mouth. You let out a shaky breath.

“You…that’s why you look so glowy. It’s too soon to look like this now…” Jimin speaks - mainly to himself. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

It happens entirely too fast and maybe this was just Jimin’s karma for annoying you constantly. You appear to be stuck, completely frozen in place, when you vomit entirely onto him. The man screeches and gags at the warm vomit hitting his chest. 

Jungkook is on his feet immediately, coming to your side. He places a hand onto your back, a look of concern on his face. “Y/N? Baby, are you okay?”

“What the fuck?!” Jimin hisses, eyes wide with disbelief. “I’m the one with stomach acid on me! Can someone ask if I’m okay?”

“This isn’t about you right now.” Jungkook waves him off. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“She…oh wow.” Jimin watches in disbelief as Jungkook ushers you away. His shirt sticks to him sickeningly. 

Hoseok is the first to laugh, shaking his head at Jimin. 

“What just happened?” Namjoon questions.

Now you feel like crying out of embarrassment as Jungkook brings you into the bathroom. “Do  you still need to throw up? Was it something you ate earlier?” he asks, his mind going on a thousand different possibilities on how you could be sick right now. 

“N-No, I’m fine.” you murmur, pushing yourself away from him and going to brush your teeth again. Your body is hot - mainly due to humiliation of having vomited on Jimin. You wouldn’t be this embarrassed if it was just Jimin there, because well, fuck him. But the other’s…

You groan, scrubbing the taste of vomit out of your mouth.

Jungkook watches closely. 

“You’re not fine. Are you sick?” he questions. “You probably need some medicine.”

Jungkook looks around the bathroom for a moment, his eyes dropping on the brown paper bag that’s folded in half. He looks at it for a moment. “Is this medicine you got earlier or-”

“No!”

It isn’t your intention to snatch the bag out of his hands the way you do. Jungkook is taken aback by your actions, eyes widening slightly. He takes a step back, apologetic about touching something that wasn’t his. 

“I-I mean-”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook shakes his head. He swallows. “I’m…going to clean up out there. I’ll be back.”

Jungkook leaves the bathroom and now you feel worse than before. You shut off the water and groan.

You don’t want Jungkook to think that him trying to help was a bad decision. The paper bag is crumbling in your grasp and it’s a sign that you can no longer put off the contents on what’s inside of it.

You were a grown woman and a little pregnancy test shouldn’t scare you. You’ve dealt with tougher scenarios and this was outside of your character. Your mother didn’t raise you to be a scared bitch.

So you took the test - ripping the bag open entirely and then the rectangular box. It happens all under a minute and you realize this is the first time you ever took a pregnancy test.

You placed the top onto the test and put it on top of the brown paper bag as you await for what it says.

“Five minutes…” you murmur to yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t expect to see you so soon. He’s cleaning up a bit of vomit from the floor when you enter the kitchen. He had already managed to get everyone out of the home as Jimin ripped off the shirt and hurled it into the trash before exiting himself. He offers a smile your way. “Feeling better?”

“I’m such a bitch.” you sigh with a shake of your head.

Jungkook snickers. “What do you mean?” he asks. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Shut up and stop being so nice.” you grumble. “I shouldn’t have acted that way in the bathroom. I’m just…” you inhale deeply. Your mother would have surely given you a mouth full if she saw the way you treated her precious Jungkook.

Jungkook continues to clean the rest of the mess before turning back to you. He notices you’re completely still, watching his every move. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jungkook takes a few steps closer to you. “You got a fever or something?”

Jungkook’s hands are soft but a bit cool to the touch. He touches your forehead and rubs it down towards your cheek. 

“You don’t feel warm.” Jungkook comments. “I…” you trail off, unable to shake the look of Jungkook’s eyes off of you. “...my mother didn’t raise a scared bitch.” you repeat the same words aloud and it causes Jungkook to laugh.

“What do you mean-”

“I might be pregnant.” you interrupt him, needing to get the weight off of your shoulders. And you’re surprised that it did. You exhale with a raise of your brows. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

You look Jungkook in the eye, his doe ones staring intently back at you.

“I took a test.” you continue. “That’s what was inside the brown paper bag and why I snatched it the way I did.”

For once Jungkook is silent and it causes your stomach to churn again - this time with nerves. He’s so silent that you’re unable to read his expression.

Standing in front of him becomes a bit awkward and you’re anxious to get out of this situation entirely. 

“I’m gonna go…” you go to move yourself and this is what causes Jungkook to snap himself back into reality.

“I was processing your words.” Jungkook shakes his head, dropping his hand from your cheek. “Sorry…” he murmurs, blinking a few times. “...How long have you…suspected it?”

You take a deep breath then scoff. “I’ve been in denial. With Chaeyoung and Jimin it’s hard to not face reality.”

Jungkook hums, he suppose that’s why you threw up on Jimin so suddenly.

“I can’t read you.” you murmur, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. “You’re usually…more readable.”

“Would you be upset if you were pregnant right now?”

Now that you had admitted to him that there was a possibility of pregnancy, he wants to be open with you. He wants to hear your thoughts and feelings about the situation. 

“It’s not ideal.” you shrug your shoulders, pondering on the question. “Would you?” “No.” Jungkook admits. “Of course not. I love you.”

You sigh. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and how understanding he was.

“But I also know this isn’t something you want…” Jungkook lets his hand touch your cheek once more and now you allow your eyes to meet his. 

“Well, duh.” you scoff. “I still haven’t met your parents. They're going to think I’m a whore if I just show up pregnant.” you’re only half joking but just the thought of meeting his parents and having to deliver news of a pregnancy just sounded backwards.

“They wouldn’t!” Jungkook insists. “My mom’s been dying to meet you.” he admits. He had to convince his mother countless times to not just show up randomly at his home and take matters into her own hands. “I've just been waiting for you to be ready. There isn’t a rush.”

Jungkook’s thumb traces the outline of your lips. He smiles down at you.

“Stop smiling. You’re supposed to be…”

Jungkook furrows a brow. “Suppose to be what? Mad?” he snorts - it’s almost as if you didn’t know him entirely. He had already planned the wedding in his mind and exactly how many kids he wanted to have with you (if you allowed). 

“Well I wasn’t expecting you to look so fucking excited, either.” you hiss, lightly pushing at his chest. “The test can be negative, you know. It could be fatigue or my blood sugar could be high or low…”

Jungkook nods his head at your words, listening to you. “Or, you can be pregnant,” he states. “Either or, I want what’s best for you. One step at a time.”

You nod your head at him and allow your cheek to nestle into his palm. 

“We can check together.” Jungkook leans closer to you, his nose tickling yours. “And we’ll do what we need to do from there.”

Jungkook pecks your lips in a comforting kiss. It’s weird to see how domesticated the two of you are - how comfortable. You would’ve never seen yourself entertaining someone like Jungkook a year ago, but now you and he are together constantly. You feel at home when you’re  around him; at ease when you’re in his warm embrace. Your heart is full whenever you’re around him and it yearns whenever you’re away for too long.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way he has made you soft for him; this wasn’t suppose to be. You were supposed to finish college as independently as possible and focus on a career until you decided you were ready to entertain anyone.

How the tables truly turned.

“I’m scared.”

Jungkook wraps his arms around you, chin resting on your shoulder. The test is a few feet away and none of you can see the answer on it just yet.

“This is the first time you’ve admitted you are scared.” Jungkook teases. “I thought your mother didn’t raise a scared bitch.”

“Fuck you.”

“I did and this is why we’re in this predicament.” Jungkook retorts coolly. “We’ll check together, okay?”

“Okay.” you nod your head. 

Jungkook and you step further into the bathroom and you grab the test. You turn around to face him, looking into his anticipating eyes. “So…do we both look or do I look and tell you or-”

“You’re procrastinating again, baby.” Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. “We’ll look together.”

Jungkook’s eyes lowers to the test in your hands just as yours does. The test tightens in your grasp as you look down at the letters on the small screen.

See the Future (Final Part)

@minaamhh @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk @ultimatebasura

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 03. BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATER

a/n: we are getting down to the nitty and gritty of this man's pain. and he's finally starting to the accept the fact that he has to talk about what happened to him. honestly out of all the chapters this one might be my favorite. solely for the soft vibes i tried to shove into what is already a very angsty story. also somehow wade weaseled his way further into this chapter than i intended him to. so enjoy the humor i've tried to add throughout. (i am reposting this since it didn't show up in the tags yesterday.)

summary: to open up was like taking a knife to a steel door. he never saw the use in letting someone in. but dinner spent in your company and conversations over wine and whiskey is where things begin to take a turn.

word count: 8.3k+ (i don't even know how tf that happened.)

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: partially explicit scene, angst by the bucket load, vulnerable and emotional logan, grief, trauma, heartache, fluff, domestic vibes, alcohol consumption, wade breaking the fourth wall, wade being a shit wingman, the beginnings of something more.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

Blood poured over his hands and soaked into the ground below. The warmth of it coated his senses, dug into the grooves and lines of his palms. He swore he felt it down to his bones. Now permanently mixed with a version of him long forgotten—the man who used to smile.

Their shouts of pain rendered him immobile. Useless to help them, useless to save their lives. Useless. Useless. Useless. He fought against the restraints, the invisible shackles put there by his own hands. Whether to stop him from going or to keep him from harm—he'd never know—but he battled regardless. With a snarl, he felt them snap, his claws sliding free in all their familiarity. A weapon of destruction unable to be used for salvation.

When he began to run he felt it. The piercing echo of her. The power she emanated as they took her life, brought her to the brink of death. He felt her voice punch through his chest—puncturing him in his heart. She screamed his name with her final breath. Called out for his help; for him to save them all.

He could almost see her in his mind, the horror that befell a school of such powerful people. And he loathed himself for breathing. For living after they were taken so quickly from him.

His family. His home.

What once existed would no longer return. That alone broke him further than their deaths. The knowledge that his world—his universe—would be without their heroes. So much of their worth had been given to humanity. Only to be stripped of their lives within the blink of an eye.

And he couldn't save them. He could barely stand on his own two feet without stumbling.

"Logan!" The scream split along his skull, rupturing veins that healed far too quickly for his liking.

What the fuck was the point of his abilities if he couldn't put them to use? If he couldn't do the one thing they counted on him for.

Their blood stuck to him, burrowing into skin that would never scar. He'd never have proof of the wounds that rested along his heart. Forever damned to carry the weight of his own failure—the guilt that ate him alive. For what? To tell the story he could barely stomach himself? What was his life to the lives of those who meant so much more?

Why did he have to fucking live?

He stood on the doorstep. Death stained the walls, pierced the air with its pungent copper tang. He keeled over at the bushes, all the alcohol he'd consumed expelling itself from his body at the sight. His family was dead. His family was dead and he couldn't join them. He couldn't fucking die.

What once felt like a gift—eternity to find these people who loved him—now rang true with the only word that could make sense. Curse. His curse.

"No," he gasped, eyes bleary with tears as he scrambled to his feet and sprinted through the broken down door.

His claws came free, expecting a fight. Only to be met with silence. An eerie echo of nothing.

No laughter, no life, no chatter of students.

Nothing.

The breath ripped from his lungs as a blaring horn spilled in through the apartment's open window. In an attempt to get some cool air, he pushed the couch closer to what airflow there was. The only downside was hearing everything as he slept. Each little noise and loud mouthed fucker as they wandered the rather empty street. He wanted to leave—move to a better spot where humanity was sparse—but the pull of you across the street kept him there.

"Fuck," he grunted, eyes blinking away the nightmare that tore at his psyche.

The bottle of whiskey underneath the kitchen cabinet called his name. Offering a respite against the horrors he couldn't run from. And with a pained groan, he stumbled towards it—grabbing his coffee mug from the counter. The amber liquid felt bitter against the back of his throat. A familiar burn he welcomed.

He may not be able to stay injured, but this he could have. The darkness at the end of the bottle. The silence he found in collapsing drunk against the couch.

The streetlight outside lit the area filled with trash and the few people sleeping in darkened alleys. If he listened hard enough he could hear their heartbeats. Smell the pungent scent of the city as it seeped through the window. He could feel the thrum of New York beneath his feet—unfamiliar in its nature but home nonetheless.

The sight of a light flicking on grasped his attention—a glimpse of you staggering to the kitchen for a glass of water clear through your window. You should really get curtains, or blinds. He'd help install them for you. But then he'd never get this again. A small insight into your life, a peek into what he left behind a day ago.

Your lips against his still seared through his body—your moans and want for more left him breathless. And he had to go and fuck it up. Just as he did with everything in his life. He ruined the good. Corrupted the innocent.

Doing the same to you felt unfathomable—painful.

But how could he stop?

When you were catching his gaze in the window. Your glass of water was forgotten and the blanket dropped to the leather chair behind you. He left the bottle on the floor by the couch, his empty mug beside it as you grabbed for something. Logan yearned to hear your voice. To apologize for how he left things. But saying sorry never came easy and he found that keeping you at a distance was much safer than what he actually wanted.

The ringing on his phone broke his penetrating gaze. He reached for it quickly, pressing it to his ear as you brought your phone to yours. A breath was all that echoed through the small speaker—soft and warm. He swore he could feel it against his cheek. Hear the echo of your heart pounding beneath his.

"Can't sleep?" you uttered, finally putting his mind at ease. He exhaled a deep breath—hearing it fill your ears as warmth trailed down your spine.

"Nightmares."

You watched him stand still as stone. His fingers gripped the phone for assurance. A sense of stability from a past that had already cracked him in half. The sorrow in his eyes practically bled through the streets. Lapping at your feet like the waves on a shore. And in an act so unlike yourself, you took a step forward. You stood in his grief and offered to drag him to the sand—gave him hope that this world might treat him differently.

Logan wouldn't save himself because he believed he deserved it.

He'd save himself because he knew you deserved a better man.

"Do they happen often?"

The soft echo of your voice tinged with sleep set his mind at ease. For the first time that night he felt himself breathe properly. He could taste the sweetness in the air, the heat that clung to his skin held traces of you when you started to open your window.

Leaving you at your door suddenly felt like the stupidest decision he'd ever made. But the fear is what kept him at a safe distance. He couldn't hurt you here in this shitty apartment. He couldn't destroy what good you held in your heart standing here at an open window.

"Every night," he rasped. His hand clenched, the bones of his knuckles shifting as silver began to peek through the pierced skin.

He knew you could see it. He heard your heart speed up through the phone. And with a ragged sigh, he retracted them forcefully—hiding the beast within to present you with the man beyond.

"You don't have to hide them from me." If you turned, you'd see the punctures in your door you tried to hide with duct tape. The claws that came free because of your touch—your kiss.

They should have scared you.

Logan almost wished they had.

"You don't want to see that part of me honey," he muttered, watching as you stood closer to the ledge—your hand pressed to the chipped wood. "It's not all sunshine and rainbows."

You laughed and he felt it down his spine. "No. I think that's only in Wade's mind."

"Don't say that fucker's name please," he groaned. "Not while I have you here."

"Did I touch a nerve? Wolverine?"

Your smile deepened, mischief practically dripping from your words. Yet Logan couldn't help fixating on the way his title sounded off your tongue. The hero name he loathed for so long suddenly made his heart flip. He gripped the phone tight enough until he heard a faint crackling sound—his body going taut at the thought of you saying it under different circumstances.

Moving past the subject was all he could do. All he wanted to do.

"Why are you up bub?"

You sighed, leaning against the window frame. "Restless. Too much energy from the day."

"Not too much moving in the archives huh?"

"I'll have you know I walk constantly. It's a very demanding job."

He snorted. "Down to the end of the bookshelves and back?"

"Shut up." Your laughter echoed across the street and it nearly startled him how normal he felt. How human. "I can guarantee my job is a lot more work than yours."

"You're right. Saving the universe is nothin' when it comes to books."

"I'm going to hang up."

"Don't. I'll stop." Despite his serious tone, he didn't try to stop the chuckle you felt strike against your heart. The husk of its deep nature.

The memory of his touch still rang clear in your mind. How his lips molded against yours, his body firm and hot beneath your touch. You weren't restless because of work. In fact you felt the pain in your feet begin to spread up your calves the longer you stood there. You couldn't sleep because of him. Too busy replaying that moment to find time in your schedule to sleep.

"Logan." His gaze fell serious at the soft murmur of his name. "Tell me about your dream."

He bit back the urge to push you away, to claim he was fine. That nothing happened and acknowledging it wouldn't save him from himself. But that's not what you were trying to accomplish, and he knew that. He could see it clearly in front of his face. But he was a man hardened by the nature of silence—of ignoring his pain until it eventually withered and died inside him.

Changing that wasn't a battle he'd win tonight. Nor tomorrow.

He sighed, seeing how you fought back a yawn. "Not tonight honey."

"Why–"

"I will." Your breath echoed loudly in his head. He wished he could feel it. "I'll tell you everything. Just not tonight."

Your finger traced the silhouette of him against the glass. "When?"

"I don't know." He imagined your touch was against his skin, pictured how you'd trace the lines of his muscles. How you'd lick along his veins for a taste of him on your tongue. "Tell me about your day."

"That's boring," you groaned.

"Not to me bub. I like history." He smiled. "I used to teach it."

"Fuck off. Did you really?" You perked up within seconds, eyes alight as they were the other night. And Logan felt himself get dragged in a bit deeper. He knew he was fucked the second he saw you, but now...there was no stopping the inevitability of you. "I guess I learn something new every day. James."

He growled, low and hungry—pleasure filling his stomach. "Don't start somethin' you can't finish honey."

Silence filled the air and Logan felt the doubt pull at his nerves. He watched you lean into the glass, your scent filtering through the warm air. Sharp and heady. Darker than your usual honeyed sweetness; the taste of it spread along his tongue—shivers rolling down his back. You wanted him. No fuck that.

You needed him.

"And if I want to," you breathed, trepidation and hope overlapping in your words. "Finish this."

He bared his teeth in a grin that felt feral—as if he could taste your flesh. "We will," he stated with such severity. A promise lined in truth for once. "Now go on. Tell me about your day."

He awoke to the sounds of clashing pots and pans being tossed on the stove—the incessant beep of the coffee machine blaring off every thin wall. And Wade singing loudly—and horribly—to some fucking pop song from the eighties Logan would learn the name of against his will. He groaned, slamming his head back against the couch in the hopes that this was all a dream.

If he wished hard enough maybe he'd wake up to silence.

Or to you.

"Good morning peanut!" Wade's voice shouted, another bang sounding off behind him. "I've got coffee, Canadian bacon, and the final answer for what came first—the chicken or the egg."

Logan longed to stab himself in the skull. This quick healing factor became a fucking pain in the ass at the worst of times. He staggered into the kitchen, immediately wishing he'd drank the entire bottle of whiskey last night at the sight of Wade in a pair of white underwear and nothing else.

"What the fuck." He shut his eyes, reaching blindly for a mug and the coffee pot.

"Yeah..." Wade slammed the pan on the stove, a now broken yolk spilling over the edge. "Laundry day and Al called dibs on the top load. Just call me Risky Business."

Logan's sigh was ragged, beyond exhausted as he gulped down the first dose of searing coffee. "He wore a shirt in that fucking movie."

"Lookie here! Someone is up to date on their Tom Cruise movies. Don't tell me you're a Top Gun fan honey badger because I have some fucking news for you. We topped them for highest grossing movie of all time." Wade smiled as the destroyed egg slid onto a chipped plate. "Financially topped. Personally, I don't think scientology allows Tom Cruise to fuck anymore."

"I'm not listenin' to your fuckin' bullshit," he grunted, pouring another cup.

The charred egg was slid his way. "Aren't you gonna ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

Talking this early in the morning made the veins in his throat strain—his grip on the mug nearly cracking the porcelain. In times like this Logan felt the overwhelming need to throw his roommate out the fucking window.

If only to get thirty seconds of hearing him scream on the way down.

"What came first."

He moved to make another pot of coffee, ignoring the chatter that fell from Wade's mouth. In order to even feel coherent enough to make sense of it, he'd need four more cups. Or enough to bathe in if the morning didn't calm down. The sun blinded him as he turned to glance out the window; the air stale and hot choked his senses. He'd never felt this overstimulated before—this out of place.

"You look like you've seen better days in a horror movie. Up having late night phone sex?" Wade grinned and leaned across the counter—his head in his hand and love in his eyes. "Tell me about it, stud? Tell me more, tell me more. Did you get very far?"

"Oh god," Logan groaned, slamming the coffee pot back into place. "Can you shut the fuck up for once? I'm begging you."

"Did you beg her?"

His claws pressed to Wade's smug face—blood spilling against his cheek. "I will cut your fuckin' mouth off."

"I just wanna know why you're waiting so long to give her the Hugh Jackman."

"The what?" he growled, heat blistering against his face.

"Ya know." The crude gesture to his groin had him digging his claws directly into Wade's cheek. But even then he mumbled around the metal piercing his skin. "The package. The full shebang. Rock her like a hurricane—or whatever the fuck that German band was talking about. Cause I sure know she's aching for it."

"Don't fucking talk about her like that."

Wade smiled until his cheek sliced down to his mouth. The sight was disgusting enough for Logan to forgo wanting breakfast. And lunch. And dinner at that.

"You don't believe me! HA! Let me tell you, you're pretty but there's nothing going on up there." A tap on Logan's forehead forced the claws to sink just a bit deeper. "That sweet angel across the street is ready to save that horse and ride you instead cowboy. All. Night. Long."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Yet even as he said the words he felt the lie stick to the back of his throat.

Last night's conversation was proof enough that Wade was telling the truth. Even Logan could fucking see what was right in front of him. Someone beautiful, someone smart. Someone...he wasn't worthy of. If he combined all those factors he only came up with one conclusion. The longer he stayed away from you, the better you'd wind up being.

The safer you'd stay if he wasn't constantly shoving his way into your life.

The loud sigh from Wade's healing mouth shoved another wave of guilt into Logan's stomach. "Look. Ignore it all you want, but sooner or later you're gonna wind up with only your hand for some company and she'll find someone who actually wants to be with her."

Wade was right. For once.

What Logan didn't expect was the anger he felt at the visual of you finding someone else. The rage that nearly overwhelmed him. That's how it should be. You with someone better, a man who actually gave you a chance at a relationship. One that wasn't doomed from the very start. He let the thought simmer, chewed on it for as long as he could.

And not a minute later came to the answer he'd been looking for.

Logan would rip apart any other man without hesitation if they came into your life.

This wasn't a fling. He'd known that on his Earth and knew it now. He clawed his way out of a grave once to get back to you. And he would do it again and again and again. As many times as it took to make sure he got a glimpse of your smile, felt the love in your touch.

"Grab your shit we've got somewhere to be," he grumbled, shoving the burned egg in his mouth and washing it down with fresh black coffee to kill the taste.

"Yes! Now there's the Wolverine I know." Wade shouted, pumping his fist in the air. Logan couldn't tell if he was being vulgar or not. 

"Let's go bang your girl!" A snarl ripped through his throat, blood splattering on his bare chest as he pinned Wade to the wall—his claws embedded in the man's heart. "Or you bang her and I quietly stay at home with the window open to serenade you two with the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye."

He grinned, eyes flashing over Logan's shoulder. "Directly from Sam Wilson's playlist if you know what I'm getting at Marvel fuckers."

On days where people were stuck at work and students infiltrated the library above, you found the solace of the archives to be everything you needed. For an hour you'd been placing books in their correct spots, labeling boxes to be housed somewhere new, and theorizing where you went wrong the other night when Logan left.

You didn't want to let the disappointment get to you. Nor should you. The phone conversation last night clarified enough for you to know him leaving wasn't your fault. It wasn't due to your kiss or even because he didn't want to be there. He simply hadn't healed from what his world did to him. Whatever Wade mentioned to you in a ramble of semi-seriousness gave you enough of a picture to know what that might have been.

No matter how much you wanted to help him; to make him see that you weren't scared of what he had to give. This wasn't your war.

Logan made sure you understood that.

That still didn't stop the swell of dismay at his actions. The belief that you weren't good enough to hear his story began to eat you alive the longer he pushed it off. Each comment came tinged with pain you'd never be privy to. Agony he wanted to endure alone.

You would give him the space he needed—the time that was required in order to heal from wounds you couldn't see. They were there. Dug into the shape of his heart—carved into the metal of his bones—but Logan wouldn't allow you to bear witness to that. To a broken side of a man who wanted to be better. If only he knew he didn't have to be for you to ache for him.

The thought of him alone left your heart twisting in your chest and stomach fluttering.

You slid another book into the correct spot, silence echoing like a void that went on for miles. Only for the ring of your phone to shatter it like glass. You scrambled for the device in your purse, breath filling your lungs at the sight of his name as it flashed across your screen. 

Maybe this made you seem desperate—a type of clingy that would make any other man run. You couldn't find it in yourself to give a shit.

"Logan," you said—his name leaving your mouth in a breathy manner you regret within moments.

"Oh shit girl you've got it bad."

The pounding of your heart jumped at the loud echo of Wade's voice blasting through the small speaker. "Wade?"

"The one and holy." To say you were perplexed felt like an understatement. But before you could spill the millions of questions on your tongue, Wade kept going. "Hey! What kind of wood do you prefer?"

A loud rumble of an engine blared in the background—killing your ears. "What?"

"Oh right fuck me. Silly question. There's twelve thousand words already written about what type of wood you prefer." He laughed as the sound came again. "I'm talking the tree kind. Got a preference for scents?"

"She's not gonna be able to smell it you dumb fuck!" Logan shouted. You heard an audible screech before a loud rustle had you pulling the phone from your ear with a groan. "Honey?"

You smiled, walking towards the part of the room that didn't echo with your voice. "I'm scared to ask what you guys are doing today."

"Oh," he chuckled. You wished he'd bought a better phone, longing to see each expression that crossed his face. "I owe you a door."

That kiss reemerged in your memory once more. Burning through your body in quick rapid strokes. As if Logan was fanning the flames of something stronger—a fire that you wouldn't be able to control. You imagined what he looked like at this moment, if he still wore the exhausted look of grief from last night. Or if he'd covered it with a mask of annoyance due to Wade.

"I can just call the building manager to fix it." You put it on your list of things to do today already, but the idea of seeing Logan again was too tempting to pass up.

He huffed, falling silent. Wade's voice shouting about the Lorax became all you heard for a brief moment—Logan no doubt figuring out what he could say to fix this. The glimpse of him last night had set your teeth on edge in a way you'd never experienced before. You felt you could sink your canines into the tension and rip it to shreds with ease.

"Where I come from it's only right to fix what I broke."

What he broke.

This wasn't about the door. You could see it clearly in the pained way he spoke his words—each one more clear than the last. Leaving you in a rush with no fucking explanation left him worried that you weren't going to be around if he kept pushing you away. You were something good—a light he sought in the darkness he found himself in—and messing up this chance wasn't going to happen twice.

He'd done this before. He pushed those he loved away.

Doing the same with you only made his chest echo with the hollow emptiness that he'd grown tired of feeling.

"You can fix my door under one condition," you said, effectively breaking the silence.

"Anythin'."

The flutter in your chest felt lethal when he spoke to you like this; open and willing to bend where you wanted him to go. A man had never given you this before. The attention, the knowledge that he wanted all of you. Not just sex, or meaningless conversations. He wanted every piece you were open to sharing—every dark crevice and thought you felt embarrassed about.

You only wished he'd understand you wanted the exact same thing from him.

"Dinner. My place. Seven p.m."

Fuck what you wouldn't give to see his smile as he let out a sigh of relief. "I won't be late."

You smiled, worrying your lip between your teeth—that familiar gooey warmth now back in your chest. "You better not be."

"I've got great timing honey. Got nothin' to worry about."

Bullshit. You nearly said it, but a loud shuffle and a few bitten off curse words—mainly growled on Logan's end—cut your conversation short. A triumphant laugh you could only figure to be Wade's pierced your eardrum as the phone was unwillingly handed off once again.

"I just want to let you know I've got money on whether or not he nails you tonight. So don't let me down cupcake."

"You're betting on this?" you exclaimed, loud enough to hear your voice bounce off the walls and echo back to where your supervisor was no doubt sitting.

"Of course. I'm not one to turn down the sleazy art of gambling." He sighed wistfully. You'd never wanted to punch someone more in this moment; suddenly aware that this is how Logan must feel every day of his life. "Besides if you heard the sounds that came out of our shower this afternoon. Oh ho ho. Something tells me that he was letting off some Steam Boat Willy to the thought of his late night phone buddy."

Disgust at Wade's words was rapidly overshadowed by the thought of Logan in the shower. Naked and desperate to find some release after your conversation last night. To say you hadn't pictured what he'd look like hard and aching from your touch would be a lie. But actually knowing that's what happened left you winded.

Your chest heaved as your body grew warm—the image of him with his hand around his cock, his head thrown back in pleasure, almost made your knees give out.

"Your thinkin' about it huh?" The overconfidence in Wade's voice snapped you back to reality within seconds.

"Shut up."

"Got ya red handed angel."

With a roll of your eyes, you made to head back to your work—Wade's words only served to fluster you more than you wanted. "Don't piss him off too much okay Wilson?"

His laughter nearly appeased you as the piercing sound of a saw went off again. The both of them must have ventured to a warehouse to find materials. You wanted to confirm your thoughts when Wade did it for you. As if he could hear you loud and clear.

"Who knew our man had lumberjack experience?" He sighed dreamily, a shout of what you guessed was Logan saying fuck off filtering through. "God it's like watching X-Men Origins Wolverine. Back when his hair screamed Staying Alive and I went by the name Billy Butcherson."

A cough from behind you gave enough notice that you had in fact been caught by your boss—her glare burning through the back of your skull. The short break you were allotted passed five minutes ago. Normally you'd be fighting your way to the end of the day. Today though...you felt that delicious bite of excitement at knowing you'd be spending tonight with Logan.

"I've got to go. But Wade..."

"Yeah?"

"Take a picture for me will you?"

"Already done. Got my phone set to burst. Which is what Logan's gonna do tonight instead of tainting our shower walls–" Logan's roar of I'll fuckin' kill you came seconds before you heard a thwack overlapped with Wade's high shriek. 

The line went dead instantly.

The elevator wasn't moving fast enough for your liking—each flash of a floor passed sent another wave of nerves through your body. Work dragged on longer than you expected. And the groceries you picked up on the way didn't feel like enough to make a meal grand enough for a night like tonight. You tried to destress by saying he wasn't expecting much. This wasn't even a date.

That is until you realized...that's exactly what this was.

A date that felt long overdue.

You hadn't known Logan long enough to pursue a relationship as deep as this, but that's where things got fuzzy. He knew you. Or a version of you that felt entirely different to the person you were now. And maybe that's where the security that this would last came through. The knowledge that no matter what happened, Logan was in this for the long haul.

This wasn't temporary.

A creak of the doors opening didn't deter you from digging through your mountain of thoughts. Each one more worrisome than the last. You should be terrified that this was it. The future had already been written and Logan was at the end of the road. That alone would be reason enough to turn tail and run.

Then you turned the corner leading directly down your hallway.

Logan stood leaning against the wall, a lit cigar in his mouth, smoke trailing past his lips, and a heavy wooden door placed directly beside him. A toolbox that looked to have seen better days sat by his feet. A bouquet of honeysuckle and peonies placed directly on top—wrapped in brown paper with a yellow and blue bow.

Whatever fear might have lingered in your body dissipated when his gaze found yours and his lips pulled into a smile.

"You're early," you said—desperate to catch your breath. The scent of his cigar lingered on your senses, mixing with the leather of his jacket.

Suddenly Wade's words from earlier felt a lot more real than you expected. He showed up dressed casually. Jeans, flannel, the familiar dog tags strung around his neck. Yet whatever transpired the night before came rushing back with the promise of more.

This was a date. But whether it would lead to something else you'd leave entirely up to him.

"I told ya I had great timing honey."

Heat trailed down your body where his eyes followed. "I didn't believe you."

"I know."

The claw marks on your door brought a flustered smile to your face. As if to say you were okay with them staying. You wanted them to stay. Logan's eyes darkened at the sight, a flash of something worse taking hold of his mind as you pushed it open.

You longed for him to tell you the truth. He wouldn't either way. But the hope still remained—lingering on the edges of your heart.

"Easy enough to fix," he muttered, reaching for his tools—the bouquet of flowers gripped tightly in his large palm.

"I didn't know what exactly to get." He stood in your living room, eyes trained on the window. Finally he was on the other side—in your home—and yet he found he didn't belong here. "Do you have a preference?"

He sucked in another drag from the cigar before pulling it free—stamping it out on his palm as you watched. A heady wanton look crossed your features. You doused it quickly in favor of unpacking the groceries. He made sure to store it away for a later time. One that didn't feel dragged by the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm not picky."

You nodded. "Feel free to use whatever's useful. I don't have tools though."

"I came prepared bub." He lifted the box with a smile and suddenly recalled that he bought you flowers. Much to Wade's annoying comments about this being a first date. Logan wouldn't push you in any direction you felt uncomfortable going towards. But in an irritating turn of events, Wade was right. Twice. "These are for you."

The smile on your face was worth every dollar and excruciating minute spent picking out what went with what. He reminded himself to thank Wade. Even if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"They're beautiful." The delicate white lay atop pink flowers that filled your senses. An aroma you'd never known could work so well together. "Why these?"

A touch of crimson began to tint the tops of his ears as he let out a breath. "They're uh..." He coughed. "The day we met I said somethin' kinda awkward."

"I smelled different."

"Yeah." Logan wanted to bury himself six feet under at the teasing glint in your eyes. "That's how you smell. To me. Like honey and flowers."

There had to be an explanation for the way your heart split down the center—as if to offer him one half. To give him a part of yourself that once didn't belong to him. But that's where you were wrong. Even in a different universe, he would find you. You were once everything to him; the person he'd go through hell for. That fact never changed. Even if you did.

You wanted to spill every emotion, every truth about how your heart already longed for him in ways that left you reeling. But Logan wasn't a man to speak longer than he had to. And before you finally gained the courage to open your mouth, he was stepping back into the hallway. His hands busy with a project and mind eons away.

Dinner was simple to cook knowing he'd eat whatever you made. Pasta, some wine, and an old bottle of whiskey a friend of yours bought sat on the table as he put the final touches on the door. You'd spent the time at the stove combing over every word spoken. Every minute touch and fleeting look. As he worked effortlessly on setting your new door in place.

A dark honeyed wood with grooves throughout that almost resembled the small panes of a window. The quality was stunning. Beyond anything you'd seen before.

You wanted to prod and ask where he learned to do this. But the sight of him slightly sweaty, flannel tossed into his toolbox, and arms on display when he carried the door to its spot, left you dazed. Each movement caused the muscles beneath his skin to ripple—face screwed in a look of concentration while the sound of the drill echoed off the hallway walls.

For a moment you forgot dinner was cooking as you practically ogled his form. That familiar flame burned through your body when his gaze met yours and a smile crossed his lips.

Logan could feel your eyes on him—the aching burn of your gaze now seared into the bare skin of his arms and shoulders. And he fought himself to keep going. To ignore your now heady scent—the way your heart sped up with each shift of his body—and finish what he started. If he was being honest, which he rarely was with himself, he put on a show for you.

You liked him.

He just wanted to reaffirm that fact once in a while.

The smell of slightly burnt garlic had him biting back a smile as you rushed to fix what his distraction caused. His ego swelled. Heart pumping with a sense of pride the second he caught you flustered with your head bowed in the kitchen.

"Smells delicious honey," he said, testing the lock on the door a few times until he felt satisfied with his work.

"It's not much." You popped open the two types of alcohol, pouring a generous helping of wine in your glass. He fixed himself his own whiskey. "Something my sister taught me when I was in college. She believed if there was nothing else to cook, pasta was always the correct answer."

"Smart woman."

You pushed the plate his way and caught the grin he hid at the small act of domesticity. What began as a nerve-wracking date became an insight into what your future with him might look like. Dinner at a tiny kitchen table, his jacket draped over one chair, the scent of flowers twining together with the faint traces of his cigar.

A life that felt perfect enough to keep forever.

"I hope you know Wade's betting on tonight," you said, pouring another glass of wine.

You were settled next to him on the couch, dinner resting full and warm in your stomachs. The alcohol tasted sweeter on your tongue compared to an hour ago. He lounged with his legs spread, glass balanced in one hand. A lazy look of satisfaction in his hazel eyes.

Logan had never felt this comfortable. Soothed by the scent of you beside him, the whiskey on his tongue, and the sight of you with your legs curled beneath you. The red wine made you smile more, laugh easier. He noticed how you bloomed before him, light shimmering between small jokes and half assed teases.

All his life he wondered what home would truly feel like. What would having a place be? And this...you beside him with an endless night stretched before you, gave him the answer.

Home felt like you.

He groaned, head falling against the back of your couch. "He's a lucky fucker with that can't die bullshit. What's the bet?"

Your eyes dragged to the door—tracing the carved marks as his hand hesitated to settle on your thigh. "That you'd and I quote nail me."

"What?" he spit.

The laugh that bubbled to the surface echoed with the heady effects of too much wine. "I hate to break it to Wade. But I don't have sex on the first date."

Logan's lips turned up, hand finally against the bare skin of your leg. Your skirt fanned around your lap, covering your soft skin that lay beneath. "So this is a date huh?"

"Yeah." He tugged you closer. "At least I think it is."

"I think so too."

Unconsciously, you toyed with the chain of his dog tags, catching a glimpse of the worn letters of his name. Any other time you'd push the questions away. You would claim that tonight wasn't the right time. After all this felt good, right in ways nothing had before. But the wine made you loose lipped. Braver than the other times you pushed past the line he drew deep in the sand.

Except this time...he started the conversation.

"You asked about my nightmares last night."

Your eyes caught his, fingers stilling against his chest. "I know you don't want to talk about it."

He shook his head with a deep exhale he felt down to his stomach. "If this is what I think it is. What we're startin' here. Then you should know what you're getting into honey."

"I know what I'm getting into–"

"No. You don't." He sat up straighter, tugging you close until your legs lay over his lap. "You don't know what happened to me. What I did..." He sucked in air as his heart began to twist. The cold wash of anxiety suddenly brighter than a few minutes earlier. "What I couldn't do."

The pain in his eyes chipped off a piece of your heart. Oh how you longed to give it to him.

Cupping his cheek, you felt the scratch of his beard against your skin. "Logan. You're not a bad man."

"Yeah bub. I am," he barked in a half laugh meant to discourage you from seeing his grief.

That's what this was. The full spectrum of his emotions scared the shit out of him more than any villain he fought. More than the thought of dying alone one day. The moment you saw them for yourself, he knew you'd run. He almost expected it. Which is why he'd taken so long—put it off each time the curiosity lingered in your gaze longer than he liked.

He told himself you didn't need to know.

It was better this way.

Tonight proved that all those reasons—all those excuses—stood no chance when it came to you.

"I don't believe that," you whispered, your other hand curling around his dog tags.

"Gotta remember I'm not him. I'm not the hero and never have been." When you looked at him like that—eyes wide and lips turned down—he felt the full weight of the words he was about to say out loud. Words he hadn't spoken since Laura met him by the fire way back in the Void.

Somehow saying it to the other Logan's daughter felt easier. As if he couldn't disappoint her anymore than he had. She'd been there at his death, watched him struggle to protect her, and loved him in spite of all that. She called him Dad and spoke over his grave with a smile. Knowing full well he'd never come back to life, he'd never find his way back to her.

Laura wasn't his kid and yet...he knew she'd understand.

But saying it all to you…

He wasn't sure he'd survive it if you never understood.

"The X-Men in my world weren't as respected as the ones in yours. We were heroes, but the humans. God they fuckin' hated us." His eyes burned with each memory that came rushing back. A river that threatened to drown him. "And I always had to be an asshole. I didn't know what home felt like—what...family felt like. So when I got it, I pushed it away."

"Oh, Logan–"

"No, let me...let me finish honey." He gripped the glass until he heard a crack—his eyes dazed and mind lost to a different time. The night that would later become his ghost. "So I left and did the only thing I was fuckin' good at. I drank until I couldn't feel anythin' anymore. And the humans decided they'd had enough of the X-Men."

Grief struck your heart straight down the center. Tears spilled down your cheeks at the sight of him so broken—so raw from a time that would never leave him. You finally knew why Wade never explained it to you.

This wasn't his story to tell. Not his past to share.

"I came home and they were–" His fingers dug into the skin of your thigh in an attempt to ground himself. Claws slipping free as he struggled to get the final words out—the truth of why he pushed you away. Why he should keep pushing you away. "They were dead."

You pressed yourself against his side, lips against his temple as he silently bit back the emotions he refused to set free. What would become of him once they were finally out? He couldn't risk hurting you because of it.

"They called for me." His breath was ragged, voice thick with tears that never fell. "Jean. Charles. I heard them die in my head. But I was too fuckin' drunk to save them. I got home and all of them were...Jesus. The humans called us mutants vicious, but I'd never seen anythin' like this."

The worst part crawled up his spine with a chill that had his claws coming free. "And you. You survived due to your gifts. Apparently you hid in the future—snapped there without even realizing it. But by the time you returned they were dead and no matter how many times you tried to go back, you couldn't." He raised his head, eyes red and glassy. "You tried to kill me that night. I couldn't blame you for it cause I wanted to die."

"That's not me."

He shook his head. "I know, but you have to know why it happened. I couldn't protect you honey. I couldn't protect any of them."

"The humans did this. Not you." You dragged his face to yours, forcing him to see the sincerity in your eyes—the fire that burned no matter the variant. "You did not kill your family Logan. Don't take their shame."

"It's easy for you to say that bub. You weren't there." He felt your touch mark against his skin and fuck how he wished it would leave a scar. "I'm not the fuckin' hero. I'm the man who fucked it all up because he was too proud for his own good. I need you to see that."

Your gaze hardened. "Why?"

"So you know what you're gettin–"

"Bullshit," you demanded. "I know exactly what I'm getting into Logan. I knew the second I met you. So don't do that. Don't push me away." The press of his forehead to yours leveled the pain and allowed him to breathe. "I'm here to stay. Whether you want me or not."

He grinned, tears finally falling as your lips found his. You breathed life back into his chest, made his heart worth beating again. For all that time he damned himself, loathed the reflection in the mirror, he never thought he'd get this. The soft press of your kiss, the bitter tang of wine on your tongue as his hand gripped your hip—his claws retreating back into his body.

"Trust me. I want you," he mumbled against salt stained lips and broken smiles. "I'll always want you."

"Then it's a good thing I want you too."

That familiar flicker of sparks still existed in the air, begging for more. But you were content to stay here. Kissing him over and over again in order to embed the sensation in your mind.

"Thank you for telling me," you sighed, fingers curling into his hair to drag his lips back to yours.

The thud of his heart ran through his whole body. "Can I show you somethin'?"

You nodded, pulling away as he dug into his pocket. As much as he longed to keep kissing you, to spend all night right there on that couch. He knew there'd be time for that. A night where you were both unburdened by the weight of a past that defined who you were. Tonight was not that night.

The picture was old, burned slightly at the edges and crinkled, but he handed it over with a grin. A group photo like the one stored in the archives at your job. Only this time you recognized two faces among the small team of people in yellow suits. You were smiling with an arm around Logan's waist, your face pressed against his chest.

The sight of his smile—wide and unfiltered—made your heart leap. But the blue aura that seemed to wrap around your body is what gave you pause.

"The blue..."

"Your powers." He pointed to the way it ended at your hands, seeming to stem directly from your chest. "Turning them off wasn't really a thing you could do. Somethin' about time being a constant flow of energy. Charles always explained it better."

Thousands of questions came to mind. All of them pertaining to the powers and the team and more specifically him. He sunk into the couch with a sigh, his eyes hazy with a different kind of need. An ache that no doubt begged him each night. Sleep. Rest without any nightmares, free of the shackles he'd placed on himself.

So you stood, nearly startling him when you did. Nothing had to be said about your intentions, or why you held out your hand for him to take. He simply followed. Each step heavier than the last. The kitchen could be cleaned tomorrow, the bottles put away later. You couldn't find it in yourself to care when his hand was in yours and he smiled at you as if you'd hung the moon in the sky.

"Thought you said Wade was losin' tonight honey?"

You laughed, pushing the flannel from his shoulders as you led him to your bed. "He is. We're just sleeping."

There was no mistaking the doubt in his eyes, the trepidation of his nightmares. "I might hurt you."

"No you won't." Drawing his hand up to your mouth, you lay a kiss along his knuckles. "I trust you Logan."

"You shouldn't." His breath was a shuddered exhale at the sight of you pulling your dress up and over your body.

"Well too bad," you replied, tugging the covers back while he pulled off his shirt—leaving his boots by the door. "You don't scare me Wolverine."

"Wolverine huh?" Crawling into bed with you was easy. Though the mattress sunk under the weight of his bones, you still let him tug you closer—his arms wrapped around your bare waist. "It was James the other night."

"Careful," you said. "Or I'll start calling you Howlett."

A growl rumbled in his chest, his teeth nipping at the bare skin of your shoulder as you laughed. And suddenly he remembered what it was like to live. To want more than just the bottom of a bottle and a peaceful night's sleep. He could recall nights like this in the past. A different you curled up against his body—the love resonating in how you clung to him.

It all slammed into him at once.

Although tonight he didn't push it away. He kept you close, his nose burrowed in your hair, and welcomed the gentle tug of a few hours rest.

Tonight—for the first time—he slept.

Without nightmares.

[princessbrunette]

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

thinking about unhinged but kinda jittery s1 rafe.

being in a relationship with him means getting fucked regularly, i mean that boy is like a machine — constantly getting riled up enough on adrenaline or coke or whatever it is and needing an outlet, being you. there’s times where he’s just got his stupid shorts pulled down below his ass, his polo tucked beneath his chin and both hands on your hips just jackhammering into you like you’re a little sex toy.

you ate something funny, a little while into the relationship— and one morning whilst rafe is sat at the kitchen counter chewing on a bagel you quickly depart to throw your guts up into the toilet. it was just a stomach bug, and you knew it — but rafes chewing slows as he hears the sound of you heaving in the bathroom, leaving his bagel behind as his eyes widen a fraction, slowly padding through the hall to find you.

he stands in the doorway, staring at you hunched over the bowl. he simply gawks dumbly for a while.

“ar…are you sick? wh—” he cuts himself off with a sigh, cheeks a little red and eyes wide.

“i guess.” your voice comes out echoed into the previously pristine toilet bowl.

“i—i mean no one else is sick i’m— i’m just thinking…” he starts to pace a little, fingers loosely gesturing to his temple. “i always pull out on time. you know i always do i’m— very careful—” he starts to ramble and you stiffen. oh jesus.

“rafe…”

“d-do you think it could be— like are you pregnant, maybe?” he stops pacing, facing you. his own words digest, and he closes his eyes, running two hands through his hair. “shit.” he clenches his fists angrily.

“no, rafe… i can’t be.” you try softly, head still hanging as you pick yourself up, wiping your mouth. the panic has settled in now and the blonde man sits on the lid of the toilet, rocking back and forth obsessively pushing his hair back.

“nah, nah— s’not… it’s not entirely impossible you know sometimes i just can’t control how soon i… shit, dads gonna fucking kill me. like actually kill me, you know that right?”

“rafe!” you raise your voice a little, before coughing. “m’not pregnant. got my period yesterday. just… calm down, okay? m’sick and my heads killing me.” you whine, watching the words settle in and his whole body relaxes. he leans back against the tile, breathing out a manic laugh as he sighs.

“yeah, yeah okay. good. i mean— one day, but i couldn’t— you know i couldn’t do all that right now, right babe?” he reassures, patting you on the back from his seated position.

“whats goin’ on in here? aw, honey. are you sick?” wards voice sounds, his head popping around the open door and peering inside the bathroom at the scene. his eyes instantly find rafes, boring into them — supposedly with the same idea.

“shes not pregnant.” rafe waves him off, standing up to fix his hair in the mirror above the sink. ward nods slowly, glancing between the two of them— the type of glance that says rafe is going to receive a talking-to about being safe later on regardless.

“…alright. rafe, go make her some tea, would you?”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

[dilfl0v3rss]

Basketball player ony x cheerleader reader?

coming right up boooo🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽

tonight was game night, but not only for your boyfriend. as a cheerleader games were just at important to you as they were to ony. “mama you seen my socks?” he yelled from the living room as he dug in his bag for the third time looking for these damn socks. though it was nine in the morning and the game was at 8 in the afternoon, you and ony both had prep to be at by eleven. usually the two of you would still be in bed at this time on a saturday regardless of the game, but due to your recent activities last night neither of you prepared anything for the morning.

“in the dryer baby. they might be a little damp cause i just put em in ten minutes ago.” you yelled from the bathroom. words muffled as you leaned over the sink with your toothbrush still in your mouth. “shit” he mumbled as he ran towards the dryer. still in just his boxers and durag as he opened the still running dryer to feel for any water still in his socks. “shit!!” you had just finished brushing your teeth. pink scarf wrapped around your ponytail as you ran towards your bag to double check your uniform.

“papa you seen my bow? s’not in my bag!” you walked towards the door to find your boyfriend when you were met with his hard chest. face in a pout at he held pink socks in his hand. “babyyyy loookk” he whined as he showed you his usually white compression shirt that was now pink as well. “shit!!” you yelled. “what we gon dooo?” you sucked your teeth before running to your dresser. pulling out a pair of fresh socks. “cant do nun about the shirt so you gon have to play with just the jersey on, but you can wear these and i’ll get you some more tomorrow.”

ony quickly kissed your cheek before pointing towards his bedside drawer. “ian know where to put it so i just put it in my drawer” you gave him a quiet ‘okay’ before quickly walking to his side of the bed, pulling the bow out of his drawer before putting it in your bag. you took a deep breath before you looked up at your still half naked boyfriend leaving the room. “ony?” he walked back in the room with his bag on his shoulder. “hmm?” “where your clothes at?”

panic began to set in his mind as he thought of the last place he seen his team sweatsuit. eyes glued on the ceiling as he was deep in thought. “aww hell nah. baby where is it? you literally can’t leave without it on.” ony lifted his hand, cutting you off. “i know mama, i know. i’ll find it. you got yours?” you immediately closed your mouth. where did you leave that sweatsuit? “see?! look at you in my business and you don’t even know where your shit at.”

now it was your turn to wave your hand to cut him off before you walked out of the room in search of your cheerleading warmup. you ended up finding them both folded up on the dryer. at least you got one thing done last night. you gave ony his clothes and the both of you got dressed. before you got in the car the two of you made sure to double and triple check your bags before leaving your apartment.

“what you getting for breakfast?” ony mumbled as he made his journey to the starbucks that was just two minutes away from campus. “whatever i get we gon have to share cause we don’t got time to wait for two orders.” he nodded in agreement as he parallel parked right in front of the store. before you left the car you felt a light tug on your arm. “none of that healthy shit mama. i’m a big boy i want sum wit meat in it.” you rolled your eyes as you pulled his arm off of yours.

“you gon eat what i bring lil boy.” ony sucked his teeth before watching you walk into the starbucks. you ended up coming back with a bagel with avocado spread, which your boyfriend wasn’t happy about, but he didn’t have the time to argue with you so he sucked it up and ate his half as he drove the two of you back to campus. you were making good time since it was just hitting 10:15 when you got there. as the two of you approached the locker rooms you gave ony a kiss.

his large hands gripped your ass as he slid his tongue in your mouth. deepening the kiss to the point where you felt like if you didn’t stop him soon the both of you would end up in the locker room getting each other in trouble. “nuh uhh papa save it for after you win.” his lips curved into a smirk as he slid his hand off your ass, putting his finger under your chin so he can look in your eyes. “make sure you give daddy a show during halftime aight? ion get to watch the whole thing, but for the little part i do watch make it real sexy f’me”

you roll your eyes as you nod at his request, giving him another quick kiss. “i love you mama” he pulled you into a tight hug, breathing in your scent as much as he can before he’s separated from you for the rest of the day. “i love you more baby. good luckkk!!” as you released each other you gave your boyfriend two more quick pecks before he put his hand on the doorknob to his locker room.

“ion need luck when i got you”

[4sturns]

H(ATE) YOU

enemy!chris s. x fem!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: you and chris do not get along. the both of you do the most to irk the other. but what happens when he has you under him, naked and moaning his name?

warnings: smut, pwp, oral (reader receiving), enemies to ???, hair pulling, empty threats (reader's a little violent), marking, chris is a masochist, dacryphila

a/n: y'all want a part two with messy, nasty, disgusting hate sex or nah ... also i had to rewrite literally half of this fic because tumblr crashed on me 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

if you were smart you wouldn't be here right now. you'd still be downstairs and enjoying the party just like everyone else. except you're not downstairs, instead you're upstairs in chris' bedroom, completely nude from the waist up and severely worked up.

you're unsure how you even got yourself into this situation. one second you were downstairs by the punch bowl, and the next you were dragged up the stairs and into his bedroom. maybe you shouldn't have provoked him.

chris hovers over you, his shirt discarded on the floor with yours. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue licking at the sweet spot right under your ear. quiet moans leave your mouth at his motions causing him to smirk against you.

"keep smirking and i'll cut your dick off, sturniolo." you hiss at the boy. all he does in return is suck on your sweet spot, his teeth nibbling at the skin before pulling back to admire his work. a slightly red mark is left behind, though chris is sure it'll be blooming purple and yellow by the time he's done with you.

"maybe you should give my dick a try before saying such things, baby." chris sneers as he lowers his hands from your waist down to your clothed hips. his fingers hook around the belt loops of your jeans before he starts to slowly tug them down, his eyes fixated on yours.

"move faster or i'll do it myself." you throw your head back onto the pillow, breaking eye contact. you're tired of his teasing. you debate whether or not this is worth the fact you're missing out on the party downstairs, but your curiosity gets the better of you, making you stay put in chris' bedroom, your fate left completely in his hands.

"calm down, mamas. i'll give you what you want once you learn to tame that tongue of yours," chris finally gets your jeans off and haphazardly tosses them to the floor. "or you can use that tongue elsewhere." chris smirks.

"shut the fuck up." you snap back quickly.

you're left in your black lace panties which match your bra. your head comes back up to look chris in the eyes right as his teeth take a hold of the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off of you at an agonizingly slow pace.

"holy shit, chris." you moan at the sight, noticing how much darker chris' eyes have gotten compared to the start of the night.

you can feel his breath against your skin, causing goosebumps to form in its trail. despite the obvious effect chris has on you, you refuse to let your guard down. you refuse to stroke chris sturniolo's ego. but you wouldn't really mind stroking his dick.

chris rids of your underwear, leaning back to place his feet back on the ground before reaching to undo his belt. he watches you as you watch his every move, as if you were daring him to keep going. and he's not one to back down from a dare.

"get your dick out before i cut it off, asshole." you spit through gritted teeth. although you know you don't mean it and chris does too. regardless, he quickens his movements, letting his pants fall to his ankles, revealing his boxers. they feel and look tight against him as his hard cock takes up any extra space. you'd never admit it to his face, but he seems quite big based off the imprint in his boxers.

he confirms this when he releases his throbbing member from the confines of his underwear, hissing when the hot tip touches the cold air. he's leaking from his tip already, presumably from the never broken eye contact he still holds with you.

when chris leans back down to get level with you on the bed, you can feel the temperature in the room start to rise. even if you won't admit it out loud, chris has already done a number on your body. he has barely done anything yet you're worked up beyond words and dripping onto his sheets.

"and for that you're not getting my dick," chris snickers, opting to slide lower onto the bed to settle between your thighs. you open your legs to him without protest, an action which makes chris break out into a smug smile and causing you to let out a huff before finally break eye contact to look at the ceiling.

"aren't you just eager, you pretty thing." chris mocks you, and you can only assume he noticed the wet spot on his sheets.

"i'll kick that look off your stupid face if you keep testing me. i'm dead serious, chris." with this, chris puts his hands up quickly in a mock surrender, something you only get a quick glimpse of before his hands settle back onto your thighs, gripping them firmly and pulling you closer to his mouth.

your heartbeat speeds up rapidly, beating so loud you're afraid chris can hear it. all you want to feel right now is his tongue on you, working at your folds and bringing you to that climax you need so badly.

an embarrassingly loud moan leaves your mouth as chris licks a long stripe up your folds, collecting your arousal. at this he hums, savoring the way you taste before his eyes find yours.

there's a difference between his eyes and yours. his are dark and pointed, while yours are a pure reflection of him. it's clear in your eyes that all you want is him. and he's gonna make you admit it tonight whether you like it or not.

he continues to work his tongue in and out of you, alternating between fucking you open with his tongue and kitten licking at your swollen clit.

a sneaky hand makes it way from your thigh to your entrance, two fingers collecting your slick before plunging into you.

"chris— fuck! just like that, keep going." you're whimpering as you squirm against chris' tongue, and all he can do is hum against you in response as your hands come down to pull harshly at his hair.

your thighs start to tremble in chris' grip. his fingers are working quickly inside of you, scissoring you open before angling them and curling right at your sweet spot. with every drag of his fingers combined with the feeling of his mouth sucking on your swollen clit, you know you won't last long.

you're holding back tears as you feel the coil in your stomach start to tighten. the grip on chris' hair tightens too, causing a muffled whine to vibrate against your clit. you buck your hips up as a long cry leaves your body.

"oh my god, chris, keep going. please don't stop, don't fucking stop— holy shit!" tears cascade down your face as your thighs begin to uncontrollably shake against chris.

chris takes a quick look at your face, noticing the river of tears. his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head as he works faster and harder. his fingers plunge in and out of you so violently that the wet sound of your arousal fills up the room along with your choked cries.

your grip on his hair only seems to get inhumanly stronger, causing him to let out more muffled whimpers and moans against your body. call him a masochist but he'll never get tired of the way you grip, tug, and pull at his hair. he'll always eat it up. chris feels his cock twitch, and he knows he's in deep shit.

it's not long before he starts to imagine what you'd look like crying on his dick, all pathetic and weak while you sob and cry for more.

with a choked sob and a vice grip on chris' hair, the coil in your stomach snaps. a wide variety of curses, cries, and incoherent sentences including chris' name leaves your body as you lose complete control of it.

you're violating shaking against the sheets as chris continues to finger fuck you through your high. loud whines come out from your gaping mouth and fill up the room. chris' mouth has left your heat a while ago, but with the grip you still have on his hair, he reminds in his place.

with a rather sharp pull of his hair, he lets out a strained, almost pornographic moan as his eyes flutter shut.

you immediately let go of his hair, using the little strength you've gained back from your intense orgasm to prop yourself up and into a sitting position. you inch forward, trying to get closer to the edge of the bed where chris sways in a trance.

from your view, you spot a small puddle on the floor. a cruel and mean smile reaches your face as you watch chris' thighs flex every so often. reaching forward, you quickly return your hand to chris' hair, tugging and pulling at it violently making him hiss and look up to meet your dark gaze.

"well, aren't you just eager, you pathetic little thing."

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi😼

so like y’know how bi han is like a rlly big meanie (i love him (๑╹ω╹๑ ) ) soooo can i pls request a bi han hurt/no comfort fic

like imagine the IMMENSE guilt he feels after something bad happens to reader like i live for that.

but please don’t feel obligated to do this request if u r not comfy!! thank u so much i love ur writing sm^^

Bi-Han is a big meanie for sure but then tell me why are his tiddies screaming at me to lay my head on them? Or squeeze them wait- also sorry if this is shit.

Part 2

Bi-Han had always made it apparent to accompany you on missions, regardless of it’s scale and his full confidence in your abilities to keeping yourself safe, seeing as he took it upon himself to train you in the most efficient methods he knew. However there was this constant need that ate away at the back of this mind, telling him that he needed to stay nearby in the instance where you would have him to fall back on to make up for your shortcomings in battle. Bi-Han had promised you this and you knew that he’d always honoured his word, especially more so with you and yet he had felt that in that very moment he had failed you within that regard as he sat himself down by your bedside.

His hand immediately finding your own, holding onto it as though you were going to slip through his grasp. He was fearful that no matter how hard he tried in keeping you close and relatively unharmed, you would inevitably slip through his grasp regardless of his efforts. Bi-Han feared that he was being shown how unfit he was to being your protector by fate itself. Bi-Han was stood outside at the time, awaiting patiently for your return to Lin Kuei with news of a successful mission upon your lips and a sparkle in your eyes, but something told him that it wasn’t going to be a joyous reunion and instead a somber one, and yet he pushed it aside for he had waited long enough for you to come home to suddenly become speculative of your condition.

‘I should’ve been there.’ Bi-Han said to no one in particular. ‘Had I knew beforehand of how bad things had gotten, I could’ve been there to prevent you from ending up in the medbay, where I await for you to awake.’ He adds on, feeling immense guilt, immense shame towards himself for your current predicament, as though he was personally to blame for you fighting for your life.

‘How were you meant to know brother?’ Kuai Liang had said from the doorway, unable to see such heartbreak upon Bi-Han’s face. Many had said that his brothers’ heart was encased in ice but Kuai Liang was lucky enough to say that wasn’t true when you came into his life, you had all but melted the ice that had once entrapped Bi-Han’s heart and nurtured it to embrace the warmth, and for that Kuai Liang was eternally grateful to you for being there for his brother when he couldn’t. ‘How were you meant to know this would happen and even if you did, how would you have been able to prevent it from happing.’ Kuai Liang then gestured to your heavily injured state.

Your wounds had mainly consisted of several lacerations, stab wounds and many other serious afflictions that when the medics had seen to you, they called it a miracle that you were still somehow alive. ‘The gods have their eye on this one, Grandmaster.’ One of the had told Bi-Han, who had been watching over the entire procedure with a watchful eye. ‘Had they been brought to us a fraction of a second later,’ they paused briefly as though to let the severity of the situation sink in, ‘we wouldn’t have been able to save them. We were extremely lucky that fate was on our side this day.’ Bi-Han had held his tongue upon hearing that you had been so close to death, instead bringing himself to focus on the fact that you had been brought back to the Lin Kuei just in time; For he wouldn’t know what he would do had you been just that fraction of a second late.

‘I could’ve saved them Kuai Liang!’ Bi-Han snapped, glaring at his brother and holding his gaze before looking back towards you where his eyes became warm. ‘I could’ve saved them.’ He said for a second time but it came out a lot more sombre, mournful even as he squeezed your hand, raising it raised to his masked lips before resting his forehead against it, his eyes clamped shut as he prayed that he would awake from this seemingly never ending nightmare, hoping to seeing you free of injuries and accompanied with a face full of life.

‘Get some sleep brother, they’ll want you at full health for when they awake.’ Kuai Liang said almost pleadingly but he knew Bi-Han was way beyond reasoning with now that the one person who could talk him out of his self destructive tendencies was laid out on the bed before him, unable to speak sense into him and to go to bed.

‘No. I must stay here, stay with them until they awake.’ Bi-Han stared firmly, keeping his emotions clearly concealed under a stone cold demeanour. ‘I must do better. I almost lost them today and I must.do.better. No.’ Bi-Han clenched the fist that rested in his lap, blunt nails digging into his palm so that he may feel something, anything instead of the numbing sensation that had already begun to spread throughout his chest, ‘I need to do better. So until then, my eyes don’t deserve to rest while they’re consenting fighting for the chance to open theirs.’

[charmedreincarnation]

Ya bitch got into the void state

Champagne anon here and your mf girlll got in the mf void state and manifested her dream life. This happened a week ago, and I’ve been chilling but I do wanna share my story to help others. Gotta give Thanks to Maya, and so many other bloggers and even anon. Y’all hoes will forever be in my heart, and I’m forever grateful 🥹 also Maya girl you told me when I succeed to get into detail and I got nothing to do for the next two hours so imaaa just share it all here in detail.

I also wanna especially thank all the black creators on tumblr!! I didn’t know there were so many of us using the law. It always seems the world is so against us, and there’s nothing we can do abt it but nahhhh!! we can all live our best melanated lives regardless. Periodt, as we should it’s about goddamned time after everything we’ve been though 😂

Anyways!!!! after reading this: https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/717864613626134528/im-your-bubble-anon-but-i-made-this-burner-to success story yesterday I got hella motivated. I read that shit and I thought I posted it on accident because it was everything I had been through, and had been thinking anyways. That anon ate your tumblr habits btw. If y’all haven’t seen my good sis’s sucess post go check that shut out rn, On god it will help.

At the end that anon (my mf dawg 🙏) included that they manifested for everyone. Now ion know if that shit actually work tbh. I’ve seen people say you can and can’t, but tbh the vibes were too high for me to doubt. I was like ight, okay fuck it, ima leave my dream life. Whether it me, that anon, or the devil himself ion give a fuck.

So that’s whatssss a bitch did!!! I just affirmed all day it was very fulfilling. People who hate on affirming are mad corny. I can’t lie that shit works hella fast even if you don’t believe it. Idk if that anon’s void manifesting helped or what but I didn’t do much and after 3 months of trying I entered the damn void state. I’m mad I thought I had to be on some ghandi shit to do this (no hate to him hes da man) but you rlly don’t y’all. BUT LEMME TALK MY SHIT ALL YOU NEED IS AFFIRMING AND PERSISTENCE.

Anyways I went go bed excited asl!! I wrote my script that was like 10 pages long I can’t lie I did the most… but it’s whateva. I woke up in the void state after waking up at 4 am or sum, and i was like oh shityyyt lemme manifest rq and skrttt out this hoe. So that’s what a mf did 😂😂

Anyways the part y’all’s is waiting for. This is what ya girl manifested

Desired face and body. I was in shock how all the details came to life. Y’all im a solid 100/10 it’s giving natural bbl and Aliyah. I swear to gahhh everywhere I go people be trying to peep. I’m not used to being treated like a fucking celeb everywhere I go, whole time it’s just my fat gyattttt

Being the hottest 16 yr old IT GIRL at my school, and having lucky girl syndrome. People call me a mini jayda wayda, but tbh I’m better than her now. No hoe is ever gonna cheat on meee like they did her…bye. She’s still gorgeous as fuck tho

Perfect school life. Your girl is set to be the Valedictorian when I graduate (my school has 4!) I’m also sophomore year President, captain of the basketball team, apart of some volunteer programs through my school, and so much more. My resume and college application is abt to be so fuckin fire in 2 years. As I should Columbia is a competitive ass school 😤😤 that aside everyone always tryna link, I got 3 guys fighting over me (whole damn love square), so many people tryna be my friends, teachers love me, and I excel in everything I do.

My Family being rich assss fuck. My dad got a Wikipedia now and his net worth is 22 million dollars. He owns a hedge fund company now, we love a man in finance 😍😍 AS HE FUCKING SHOULD. He got a material gurlll daughter. Two in fact now.

Fire ass crib. Bro it’s a 9 million dollar penthouse, perfect for ragers. I woke up here and my room is decorated to my personality, pintrest clothes all in my closet, I got an exotic pitbull and frenchie, and the house is just mad clean and fire, I’m obsessed with it. Rarely ever wanna leave now.

My mom not being strict. That bald headed ass hoe use to be mad annoying. Y’all know how Haitians are. Mad annoying as fuck and strict for no reason. Now I go out everyday and come home at midnight and no one gives a fuck. Everyone minds their own business as they should.

Having an older brother and younger sister. I was an only child, because I was a miracle baby bc my mom was infertile. Now she got 3 of us, so she can stop being only in my buisness. I’m just playin I love my mom regardless she’s just hella clingy. Anyways my brother is mad protective but also be wrestling mad aggressive for no damn reason. He gave me a bruise but it’s whateva Ima get my lick back. I also always wanted to be an older sister, bc I’d love to be a role model! My sister is 10 and adores me soo much it’s so adorable 🥹 lmfaooo, she’s mad spoiled by me and my mom but it is what it is.

Successful lip gloss business and being a successful drop shipper. Now you didn’t think a sista wasn’t gonna give herself a career just because I’m young right 🤨🤨 we’ll ya wrong. Ya girl is making 200k-400k a year. I barely even use my money cause I got an allowance from my parents… but still, financial literacy and wealth is so important to me especially as a black woman.

A pookie bae. Y’all know I wasn’t gonna deal with finding a loyal cute and funny guy in nyc. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Anyways I got me a fine ass boo. I just wrote down all the features I wanted in him like for exampleS finically secure so he can spoil me, handsome as fuck, tall, funny asl, kind, little clingy, deep raspy voice, nice hand, good hygiene and style,yanno yanooo !!! Plus some other shit and whewww the void did me so good. Nowww my boo bear is a lil cracker and I’ve never dated a white boy befuh but my am I surprised. I wake up everyday with some long ass appreciation texts and plans already made ! Y’all know I love me a dominant man who knows what he wants. He’s got some nice ass clothes, nice car and crib, made me a passenger princess and spoils me way too much. He doesn’t complain abt my mood swings and simps in the best way possible. Not to mention he’s fine afkkk he’s giving vinnie hacker. He’s also 6’1 and I’m 5’1 so that height difference is soooo hot I can’t lie I feel so so safe with him 🫣 I could go on all day but in short he’s more than perfect

+ so much more but this is what shocked me the most. Anyways I’ve been living like this for the past week and it just feel so natural. I keep forgetting I got into the void but whateva I’m the only who knows anyways. Anyways live yo best life and neva give upppp. I gotta go but I’ll probably eventually make a blog. My names angela so look out for it. I’m just mad lazy soo idk tho !!!

Angela out 🫡✌️

Girl this was so fun to read, I’m just as excited for you lmfao. I love seeing black women win, and thank you for sharing your methods! Enjoy your best life and come back if it resonates with your life bae !!!

[sugar-omi]

OMFG DUDE I was thinking abt coves dick again (as one does 🤭) and just realized w the dick size math that cove prolly bought normal condoms before yall went ‘all the way’ bc he didn’t kno he was huge (like u said in that one ramble like “move ur arm” “that’s not my arm”)

so when yall actually get into it and he tries to put it on u just have an awkward moment where he’s like

“it’s too small🧍‍♂️”

and now he’s apologizing for ‘ruining’ ur ‘real’ first time together and ur torn between comforting him that he didn’t ruin shit and laughing bc usually when guys say that it’s a fucking lie but he’s actually so deadass and u can see it the way the rubber doesn’t even accommodate his tip 😭💀

then u gotta tell him it’s okay to hold off until yall get bigger condoms or ur okay going raw if he is 🤭🤭🤭

-🗑️

ARGHH YOU ARE NOT HELPING MY ACCIDENTAL CREAMPIE BRAINROT. "the way the rubber doesnt even accommodate his tip" ohhh god biting my lips off my face rn. i can't fucking....

he would be too scared to go raw, especially first time. he knows that's a demon he's not ready to face (if you ask, he'll say he worried about any accidental children. but deep, deep in his mind. he knows something will, and does, click when you do it raw and he cums in you the first time...)

mmm, there's a few different ways to go with this...

because I can see cove waiting, im sure he does. he does wait, he wants things to be perfect (as perfect as 2 virgins fucking for the first time can be) and for you guys to avoid any unwanted scares or accidents.

but I also love the thought of him being impatient..

he buys the "right" condoms the second time around, and it doesn't look exactly right... but it's definitely not as small as last time...

decides to go with it after a bit of inner turmoil... "..maybe it's meant to fit that way? I thought it was supposed to go all the way to the base, though. its a bit tight, too... fuck, it'd be way too embarrassing to get the size wrong again. not that y/n would bully me about it or something, but... argh, I really want this to be perfect too. and I wanna go all the way with her..."

or even if he buys the right size, perhaps doesn't realize, or chooses the thin condoms since that's what was left. doesn't realize how different the thin ones are, especially of they're the ultra thin.

eitherway, all~~ circles back to right now. he's sinked into you, and he is gentle, he wants your first time to be romantic after all. but as he gets closer n closer to the edge, he gets a bit excited, his hips thrusting deeply into you.. all he can think about is how much he loves you, your pretty sounds, your body pressed against his, and the tight heat of your cunt.

doesn't realize when it breaks, not really anyway. gasps and moans because fuck you feel so hot inside, so wet and perfect... too far gone to think about the sudden change in sensation. and when he finishes, he definitely doesn't think about it. too lost in the feeling of his cum filling up the "condom" and your walls tightening around him as you finish too.

also love the thought that regardless of if he buys the right size or the thin, or if he remembers to pinch the tip of the rubber, all that sweet stuff.. he still ends up cumming inside you. not noticing if he teared the rubber in his hurry to be inside you already (blame teenage hormones, it's not his fault yeah 🙏)

of course not blowing his full load inside you, but i like to think that he cums so much, its really a miracle he doesn't break the rubbers from that amount alone... either way it's gonna leak out, n even just that little bit..

but regardless of how it happens, once he gets past the initial stress of it all n you get past the scare. his mind is totally filled with thoughts of actually coming inside you..

n even his dreams are filled with the image of your cunt all twitchy and wet with fluids n a bit puffy from all the fucking, n having earlier ate you out in the dream, n his fat load of cum leaking out of your cunt...

can't look you in the eye. he's totally ruined... probably can't look his parents in the eye either since he promised to be responsible, but now he's dreaming and fantasizing of doing otherwise..