#but they KNEW they were on air for so long

[sacredsorceress]

Scars / Logan Howlett

pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n

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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.

For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?

Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.

The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.

Who was he? Where did he go from here?

The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.

"Well, everything seems to be just fine."

Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him

"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."

Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.

"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."

Logan quirked his head towards her.

"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"

Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.

"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."

"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"

A silence hung in the air.

When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.

However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.

Hank was the first to speak up.

"Like a soulmate."

Oh that was rich, Logan thought.

Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.

Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.

In some way, the two were inextricably connected.

In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.

Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.

"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."

Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.

"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"

Oh this was real rich.

"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"

Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.

"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"

"Logan, that's enough!"

The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.

"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."

The energy in the air was thick.

Jean and Hank avoided Logan’s eye contact while the professor’s nearly burned a whole through him.

Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.

“Fine.”

Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?

-

"It's a pleasure to see you again."

The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.

Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.

"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."

Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.

You had not.

You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.

"No professor."

He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.

"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."

You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.

"It's nice to meet you, Logan."

"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.

His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.

"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."

Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.

Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.

Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.

He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.

Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.

But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.

The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.

"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"

Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.

Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.

"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."

Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.

His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.

"Was it something I said?" You asked.

The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.

"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."

Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.

-

A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.

As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.

When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.

"Yep."

The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.

Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.

Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.

"What d'you want?"

His voice was thick and rough around the edges.

"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."

The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.

"Be my guest," he said. "Don’t have a clue where they are."

The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.

Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.

Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.

"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."

By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.

You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.

"The professor tell you that?"

"Mhm."

The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.

Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.

"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.

Soulmates.

Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.

You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.

Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?

Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.

"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.

The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.

Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.

"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."

Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.

You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.

"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.”

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.

"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.

You shrugged.

"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.”

The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.

"A shove?"

"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"

A congested laugh escaped him.

"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"

You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.

Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.

"Gosh, you're cocky!"

Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."

You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.

Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?

A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.

"So what's your mark?" You asked.

Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.

And that maybe his cockiness was justified.

He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.

Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.

It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.

Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.

When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.

You, though? He didn’t need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.

What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?

Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.

Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.

You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.

"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."

Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.

Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.

A soft smile remained.

"Good night, Logan."

When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.

"Night, sweetheart."

Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.

Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.

a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585

[julietsf1]

Post-Race Snuggles - Franco Colapinto x Reader

Summary: After an intense Singapore GP, Franco’s idea of the perfect cool down is snuggling up in his girlfriend’s lap; very fluff <3

warnings: possibly incorrect Spanish?

AN - I can't keep lying to myself I think I am not just on here to read anymore lmao, this one is just 1k but I have another longer story coming tomorrow or so! enjoy my lovelies

----------------------------------------------------

The sticky warmth of Singapore’s night air clung to me as I sat in Franco’s motorhome, waiting for him to return. I flicked through some post-race coverage on my phone, knowing how drained he must be after a race like that. The screen showed him smiling during the interviews, but I knew better—Franco’s green eyes gave away just how tired he was.

When the door creaked open, I glanced up and saw him there, looking utterly exhausted, his brown hair messy and damp from the heat. His race suit was unzipped, hanging loosely around his waist. Franco didn’t say anything—he didn’t need to. He walked over with heavy steps, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face into my shoulder.

“Hi there.” I laughed softly, reaching up to run my fingers through his hair. It was fluffier than usual, curling slightly from the sweat and humidity. “Tough day?”

He let out a low groan, not bothering to lift his head. “Si…” His voice was muffled, and I could feel the exhaustion in the way his body leaned into mine. “So tired.”

I smiled softly, running my hand down his back, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his suit. Suddenly, Franco shifted, pulling back just enough to take my hand in his. His eyes, though heavy with fatigue, met mine for a brief moment, and without a word, he gently tugged me down onto the couch beside him.

With a quiet sigh, he laid back, guiding my body to follow his until I was leaning into him. His head found its way into my lap as he settled in. I felt his hand resting on my waist first, a soft, grounding touch, before it slid down to rest comfortably on my thigh. His thumb moved lazily, tracing small circles, as if he needed to hold onto me even in his tired state.

“You want me to make you something? Mate, or a snack?” I asked quietly, brushing my fingers through his hair, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin.

He shook his head slowly. “No, just this. Esto es todo lo que necesito.” His voice was soft, the Spanish slipping out naturally as his eyes fluttered closed. His arms loosened slightly around my legs, his thumb brushing lazily against my thigh, the lightest touch, as if even that small movement required too much effort.

I chuckled, running my hand through his hair again, smoothing it down where it stuck up in odd places. “You did amazing today. P11! I’m so proud of you.”

A faint smile curved his lips. His breathing started to slow, the tension melting away as I continued stroking his hair. This was my favorite version of Franco—the quiet, soft one who didn’t need to be witty or flirty. Just the one who wanted to be close.

Franco’s weight settled fully against me, his eyes were shut now, his messy curls resting in my lap. His thumb continued its slow, lazy patterns on my leg, the sweet small gesture sending warmth through me. His skin was warm from the heat of the race, his hair slightly damp, and I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful he looked, even when he was this tired. His lashes were long, his green eyes hidden behind them, and his lips, parted slightly as he breathed, were soft, with the faintest smile still playing there.

“You looked so good out there today,” I whispered, knowing he probably couldn’t hear me in his tired state. “Fast, confident… and you know, kind of cute with all that sweaty hair.”

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

I grinned. “Don’t get used to it. I’m only nice to you when you’re too tired to remember.”

His lips twitched into a smile, but he didn’t respond, his breathing evening out even more. The motorhome was dimly lit, casting soft shadows, making everything feel even cozier. The sounds outside—people moving around the paddock, the distant hum of engines cooling down—faded away. It was just us, tangled up in the warmth of each other’s presence.

As I stroked his hair, I could feel him relax completely. His body was fully at ease, and I knew he was almost asleep. He looked so peaceful, his usual spark of energy tucked away for the night. I smiled down at him, my heart full. These moments, after the chaos of race days, were our little slice of quiet, where it felt like the world didn’t exist outside this motorhome.

Franco shifted slightly, nuzzling deeper into my lap. I thought he was fully asleep until his voice broke the silence, soft and raspy.

“Te amo,” he murmured, his eyes barely open, heavy with exhaustion.

My heart skipped a beat. He’d said it before, but hearing it now, with his defenses down, made it feel different. I glanced down, expecting to see him fully asleep, but instead, those green eyes peeked up at me through his lashes, tired but full of something deeper.

I felt a rush of warmth fill my chest. “I love you too,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead again, my fingers gently running through his hair.

His eyes fluttered shut at the kiss, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Más que a nada en el mundo…” he mumbled, his voice trailing off into sleep, the weight of his words lingering between us like a quiet promise.

I stayed like that, holding him close as he drifted off completely, my hand still in his hair, thinking about how easy it was to love him—especially in moments like this.

[whimsiwitchy]

we broke up (one shot)

hugh jackman x f!reader

summary: you get dragged to a work event by your boyfriend of three years when Hugh comes to flirt with you. after you reluctantly tell him you’re taken, he backs off for the most part. a few months later, Hugh tells the story during an interview but little does he know you’re single now. 

warnings: implied age gap (not mentioned), flirting while in a relationship (kinda)

authors note: here's a little oneshot I wrote tonight. enjoy <33

You’d been with your boyfriend, Rowan, for a few years now. He earned a degree in marketing and immediately got a job for a studio. While he enjoys his job and it brings in good money, the events he dragged you to were unbelievably boring. The company he worked for always had big parties after a success on a project. At first they were interesting, often running into celebrities here and there given that it was the success of their movie, but lately you found yourself sitting at the bar more often than not. It was routine at this point. Rowan would show you off for the first hour, then he would toss you aside to fend for yourself. You weren’t the biggest social butterfly, hence why you liked to sit alone, drinking. 

Tonight wasn’t any different. You were at another party for the successful marketing for Deadpool and Wolverine. You’d heard a few whispers that the stars of the movie themselves were somewhere wandering around but you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing them. Rowan dumped you at the bar a little over thirty minutes ago and you’ve been sipping on some fruity little drink ever since, completely in your own world. You made small talk with the bartender every once and a while but you were mainly people watching. 

“Mind if I join?” A deep Australian accent asks. You look up and see a gorgeous older man. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a pair of black expensive looking glasses. He was deliciously tall and had a thich salt and pepper beard. “Uh no, go ahead.” He sits in the bar stool next to you. He orders a drink from the bartender before returning his attention back to you. “Pardon me if this is too forward but you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” The comment takes you aback. “Oh um, thank you. That’s really sweet of you to say.” He looks down to your glass that’s nothing but melted ice at this point. “Can I buy you another drink?” He asks. “You probably shouldn’t. I’m taken…sadly.” You whisper the last part, unsure if he heard it or not. “Oh! I apologize for coming on to you. You’ve been sitting here by yourself for so long, I thought you might have come alone.” You huff out a laugh. “My boyfriend works for the company. He’s out there socializing or whatever.” You shrug and signal to the bartender, asking for another drink. “That’s a shame. If you were mine, you’d be on my arm all night.” He smirks. “Is that right?” You smile at him. Before he can answer, you feel your phone vibrate with a text from Rowan that reads ‘where are you babe? Time to leave.’ 

“Well, the boyfriends calling, I gotta go.” You carefully climb out of the chair and grab your jacket and purse off of the back. As you start to walk away, the man speaks again. “Wait! What’s your name?” You turn back to face him. “Y/n.” He smiles and repeats it. “I’m Hugh.” His answer surprises you. “Oh! Congrats on the movie. I didn’t even recognize you at first with the beard and all.” He laughs. “Bye Hugh.” You wave before walking off.

—

It’s been a few months since that night in July, it being September now. You and Rowan had broken up mid-August, both of you agreeing that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. It hurt for a little bit but you knew it was for the best. Living with him had been awkward as you searched for a new place, deciding that he can keep the current apartment. You wanted a fresh start, which is where you are now. Tonight was your first night in your new apartment. You didn’t have any furniture yet but you were happy. You bought an air mattress to make do until you could afford an actual bed. 

It was around midnight and you were doing your nightly youtube watch. You were scrolling through your recommended videos when you saw Hugh’s face pop up. It was an interview posted a few minutes ago from him on some late night show you’d never heard of. You clicked on it, wanting to hear what the man was up to these days. The interview was a standard one, mostly questions on his upcoming movie about some sheep. You weren’t really paying attention, close to dozing off when a question peaked your interest. 

“So Hugh, it’s almost been a year since the announcement of your divorce and the fans wanna know…How’s your dating life doing? Are you seeing anyone?” The woman asks, wiggling her eyebrows. Hugh lets out a big laugh. “I’m actually not seeing anyone. It’s funny you ask because the last time I even attempted to flirt with a woman she turned me down.” The interviewer's eyebrows shoot up in shock. She gasps before asking, “How could anyone turn you down? We need to know the full story here.” 

“Ryan and I were at this party for the marketing team that worked on Deadpool and Wolverine and I saw this absolutely gorgeous girl sitting at the bar all alone.” The interviewer is nodding her head, engaging with every word Hugh says. “I eyed her for a while to see if anyone was with her but she sat there alone for a good thirty minutes before Ryan hyped me up to go over there. When I finally did, I ordered a drink and tried to play it cool but I felt the urge to tell this girl how stunning she was, so I did.” You giggle to yourself and you hear him tell the story from his point of view. “She thanked me and I offered to buy her another drink. I kid you not, in the prettiest voice I’ve ever heard she says ‘you probably shouldn’t, i’m taken.’” His hands go up to his chest, gripping right above his heart. “My heart broke mate. I flirted a little more in true Hugh fashion but she had to go. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since.” 

“What a lucky woman, I’m sure she regrets it.” 

“Hey, I tried my best.” He shrugs before looking at the camera. “Y/n, if you ever break up with him. I’m all yours baby.” 

Your jaw drops, the sound of cheers blasting from your phone.  

‘we broke up. I’m all yours. @/RealHughJackman’ 

You hit send on the tweet and hoped it would be enough to bring him back to you.

thank you for reading <3

[dragonsholygrail]

While at first your owners were overjoyed about the fact that you, a Mouse Hybrid, and your mate, a Cat Hybrid were getting along so much better than before, their concern quickly grew. They began to wonder if you two were getting along too well, not knowing how far your relationship had already progressed.

They worried that their silly little cat was playing too rough with you. Having seen the way he would tackle you, his hips pinning you in place so he can paw at your body. Or the way his sharp teeth nip along the fold of your neck, leaving dark claiming marks in their place.

They got you for him so he could have a friend but they didn’t want him bothering your cute self too much if you were unable to fight back when the intensity rose.

And as his heat got closer and closer to starting they only began worrying more. They knew he’d become even more rough and raunchy. The last thing they wanted was for their precious plump mouse to get scared or hurt.

So, for your safety, they decided to set up their cat hybrid with their friend’s cat hybrid. With an agreement from both owners she would come stay over at the house so they could mate in peace. Only until his heat had passed and he was able to control himself as usual; if only they knew.

Your big mouse cheeks puff up in anger as the female cat walks into the house. Parading into your territory. Your mate didn’t even notice, too busy loudly purring while licking at his marks on your neck and making sure they stayed dark. Something he was doing more of recently with his heat coming up.

When your bf’s heat fully started, it began to affect all the hybrids in the house. Your bf kept clinging to you, taking every chance he could to get away and take you somewhere he can relieve the heat you cause to burn inside him even hotter.

The other cat hybrid could smell his alluring scent and it grew harder to resist despite being scared off by your scent always mixed so deeply with his.

For you, your bf’s heat only heightened your need to claim him in every way possible.

The tension was growing thicker and thicker the longer things went on without you properly laying claim on your mate. Especially now as the other hybrid eyes your mate from the other side of the living room.

Your bf, too caught up in the consuming lust of his heat to notice anything else, still only ever has his hands on you. Sensing her eyes on you, you finally decide to settle this one and for all.

You straddle your bf and he immediately sighs in relief, already needing to have you all over again. You rub against his hardening cock, letting him know you need him now too.

In the blink of an eye he’s flipping you onto your belly, ass high up in the air. His body molding against your own, his loud purring rumbling in your ear.

“Look at you, such a good mate. Taking care of me when I need you so bad,” he coos.

Your eyes flash as you look at the other hybrid. Your tail intertwines with your bf’s and you reach back, rocking back against his aching cock and sinking your claws into him to keep him close. He growls, pawing at your clothes so he can get to you. Your unusual behavior not going unnoticed by him but it only gets him more hot and bothered.

His eyes follow your line of the sigh to the strange hybrid leaving the room in a frenzy and he growls. The heat within him threatening to explode as he realizes what you’re doing.

With a swipe of his paw he shreds the rest of your clothes off. The sight of your glistening fat cunt has his mind spinning. He yanks you closer and sinks his length deep inside you in a long smooth stroke, stretching you out till your insides are burning just as his are.

“And staking claim on your mate too. Such a good girl f’me. Now let me take care of you,” he growls, wanting to properly reward you for showing another Hybrid what’s yours.

You still have your claws in him, keeping close as he desperately fucks his cock into you. The close proximity forcing his thick tip to slam against that soft spot deep inside of you with every hard snap of his hips. You can feel every inch of him against you and it helps soothe the feelings controlling you.

Loud moans and cries of pleasure echo throughout the house form you both. Ensuring the other hybrid can hear. His ribbed length rubs along your gummy walls. The friction has your toes curling and your back arching into him as you meet every thrust.

Every inch of your form shakes as the pleasure he gives you doubles over. Your body practically seizing as he has you coming hard in his cock. But just when you think he might start slowing down, he quickly pins your wrists over your head and rams his length into you.

“I don’t know if she’s gotten the message, little mouse. Might need to make it a little more clear,” he says, a feral glint in his eye.

He fucks you until you forget another hybrid was ever here to begin with. He makes you forget everything besides his name as he forces you to scream it each time he brings you to release.

When his heat ends not longer after, the other hybrid leaves to go back home to her family. You and your bf watch her from afar, his frame hovering on top of yours as your owners happily chat away.

As soon as goodbyes are shared and the door closes, your bf rolls over to pin you against the couch. That look in his eye making you wonder if some of his heat hasn’t totally gone away just yet.

[m0onlustre]

Only a fool would bargain with the leader of Onychinus

ᯓPairing: Sylus x female reader (afab)

ᯓGenre: somewhat enemies to lovers, smut, porn with oc plot, angst

ᯓWord Count: 5,8k

ᯓ tags - WARNINGS: mdni, reader isn’t the lnds!mc, explicit sexual content, first time sex (not virginity loss) alterations to the main story, dr/y humping, thigh riding, b/egging, f!receiving oral, p in v, unprotected sex, creampies, squirting, dirty talking, use of pet names (kitten, sweetie, baby), violence, mentions of injuries. 

ᯓ Notes: Some of you may have already read my fic, The Price of Desire, in which the reader’s evol is mentioned. If you have, you’ll notice that the evol is the same in this story; however, there is no connection between the two. The concept of a reader with this ability was too appealing for me to resist, and since it was briefly mentioned in the previous fic, I decided to explore it further in this one. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! All likes and reblogs are appreciated. :3

Going on missions for Sylus was nothing new to you by now. You had spent years by his side since he first found you, a wild creature desperate for survival. Sometimes, you could still recall how close you had come to killing each other back then. You had been hunted by nearly every illegal underground group, all seeking your evol, and while on the run, you stumbled upon him like a scared and feral animal.

You had instinctively tried to attack him on sight; it was all you knew how to do, having fought for your freedom for as long as you could remember. You were no stranger to the danger he represented—the bloodthirsty leader of Onychinus. If other groups sought you as a mere experiment for your power, you could only imagine what Onychinus would do if they got their hands on you.

The moment you realized the person you had fallen headfirst into was the white-haired menace himself, you had attempted to fight him with everything you had. Sylus, of course, dodged every single one of your attacks effortlessly, but he was merely toying with you, for he possessed something you were unaware of; he could not be killed.

You had always been feared for your lethal evol—one touch from your bare fingers could send someone halfway to the other world. You were an extraordinary weapon, yet Sylus was not deterred; he was intrigued, even enamored by you.

With his energy manipulation, it was impossible for you to harm him, particularly when he thrived on high levels of adrenaline and excitement.

So, even as you forced yourself to keep trying to touch him, desperate to end the chaos, he reveled in your fierce determination. He loved witnessing the fire in your eyes as you believed you could take him down. When he finally grew tired of your little game and decided to put an end to it, he was blindsided by a fact he had overlooked.

While he had learned nearly everything there was to know about your evol and your abilities, he did not realize one important thing; you were immune to his mist.

No matter how fiercely the red and black tendrils curled around you, the moment your flesh made contact with them, they vanished into thin air.

Sylus had nearly salivated when he realized the challenge you presented. It had been far too long since he had encountered someone so intriguing, and he was determined that you wouldn’t walk out of that valley without becoming his.

That’s how you found yourself in his group now. Unlike everyone else, Sylus had made a promise that night: if you went home with him willingly, he would never force you to use your abilities for his research or personal gain. He needed you to choose to be there if you were going to help him.

His condition was simple: think of aiding him, and in return, you would gain his protection, a life free from fear and the constant need to run for your freedom.

You had taken a significant risk when you decided to go with him, but the white-haired man kept his word. It took you months to contemplate helping him instead of merely enjoying the luxury of his lifestyle, but he was patient. In time, you became not only his most valuable asset but also his right hand. Whenever he was out of town for deals or missions, you handled matters back home on his behalf.

Deep down, back then you knew he wasn’t just a kind-hearted man simply looking to help a struggling girl off the street. What he truly sought to protect was your evol because he believed you would eventually come around to assist him when he needed it most. So when you finally did, it was no surprise to him. He had merely given you a subtle nod and handed you the first files.

Now, two years later, you stood beside him at one of the many auctions taking place in the N109 Zone. He was after a particularly important and valuable protocore—one he had pursued for years—and today presented his chance to possess it.

Being next to him not only amplified his chances of leaving unscathed without extensive negotiation—after all, who was crazy enough to challenge the leader of Onychinus and his lethal right-hand woman?—but it also made it easier for him to operate, as you inevitably drew attention and distraction from other bidders.

His hand curled possessively around your waist as he proudly showcased you to the crowd. The dress you wore was as red as his eyes, hugging your every curve and accentuating your figure. Your hair was styled in a simple updo, revealing your back to the admiring gazes around you.

The less fabric you wore, the more difficult it was for his mist to approach you, and that was one thing you clung to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you—he had come to not only depend on you but to trust you as well. Still, you maintained a small resistance, a defiance that you weren’t ready to surrender, no matter how much it irritated him.

Your gloves were snugly in place, allowing you to interact with him without draining his energy, thus enabling you to warn others of the imminent danger your touch posed. One slip of fabric, and whoever you touched would be lost forever.

“Mr. Sylus, I didn’t think you’d make it tonight,” a distant voice interrupted your thoughts, drawing both of your attention. A young man addressed your boss, his tone a mix of surprise and formality.

“Not happy to see me?” Sylus replied, his voice smooth as silk and sweet as honey, the smugness evident in his expression as he arched a white brow at the man.

“Of course, sir! I’m sorry, sir. I just thought you’d be out of town—”

“Change of plans." Sylus muttered, cutting him off with a tight smile before guiding you forward, his hand resting firmly on the small of your back.

As you walked toward the room where his meeting would take place, you tilted your face up to catch a glimpse of his profile. “He’s right, you know,” you began, curiosity lacing your words. “Weren’t you supposed to return next Tuesday?”

Sylus’s smirk deepened at your question. “If I had known you’d be so disappointed by my early arrival, sweetie, I would have made sure to come back yesterday.”

You scoffed at his remark, subtly flexing your back to shake his arm off, but his grip only tightened, keeping you glued to his side. “Be good now. You know how important tonight is,” He leaned in closer, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it tickled your ear. “Don’t screw this up.”

You couldn’t shake the uneasiness that crawled up your spine from the subtle threat lacing his tone. Sylus had been under immense pressure lately, but you refused to let him take it out on you.

“Sylus.”

He let out an impatient huff as you halted him just outside the door of your final destination, but he turned his body to face you fully, his expression a mix of frustration and intensity.

“I’m not your enemy,” you asserted, holding his gaze with unwavering resolve. “Many people work for you, but aside from Luke and Kieran, no one stands by your side with the same loyalty I do. I know you’ve been struggling, but I’m the last person you want against you right now.”

“Oh, is that right, kitten?” His brows furrowed, drawing closer until your chests nearly touched. To an outsider, you might have appeared to be lovers, but the tension between you was palpable and lethal. “And why is that? Because you’re oh-so-dangerous?”

His provoking smirk ignited your anger, and while you couldn’t fathom what was going through his mind, you chose to avoid making a scene. Stepping away from him, you tried to regain your composure. “They’re waiting for us.”

Before you could take another step toward the door, you were abruptly lifted off the ground, hanging upside down over Sylus’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” you whispered-yelled, frantically scanning for prying eyes. Your surprise deepened when, from the shadows, Luke and Kieran rushed toward you, effortlessly pulling you from Sylus’s grip. “What—”

“Take her to the car and wait for me,” Sylus commanded sharply, his tone clipped and leaving no room for negotiation. As you were carried away from him and the room, you felt a pang of frustration.

“Let me down!” you practically shouted as the twins put distance between you and the auction building.

“Sorry, ma’am, no can do.”

“Yeah, ma’am, we’re sorry, but no one bypasses the boss's orders!”

Your heart thumped loudly in your ears as the events unfolded, anger and frustration boiling within you at how Sylus had treated you. It was the first time since you started working for him that he had dismissed you so callously, and you couldn’t ignore the pang of hurt that coiled deep in your stomach.

You sat in the backseat of the car while the twins chatted and bantered in the front, oblivious to your turmoil. It felt surreal, as if they were living in a different world. Maybe you were overthinking it—after all, you hadn’t expected him to disregard you like that, especially during an auction so crucial to him. You were valuable to him, weren’t you? He needed you by his side, didn’t he?

Your thoughts spiraled until they were abruptly shattered by a loud bang. Before you could process the sound, part of the building in front of you exploded in a fiery eruption. Wait—was that the floor where the auction was being held? The very floor Sylus was on?

Without a second thought, you threw open the car door, sprinting toward the burning building despite the twins’ frantic shouts urging you to stop. Your mind was consumed by one thought: Sylus. He couldn’t be hurt. He couldn’t die. Foolish girl, not even his evol could save him from an explosion of that magnitude.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, sweat clung to your skin as you pushed your limits, charging up the stairs to the floor where you had been just forty minutes earlier. You stumbled multiple times, falling to your knees, but the thought of Sylus pushed you onward.

When you finally reached the floor, it was a scene of devastation. The area lay in ruins, engulfed in smoke and chaos, with scattered survivors struggling to breathe amidst the wreckage. You focused your eyes and ears, straining to find Sylus amidst the agonizing cries of others. Time blurred as you searched, exhaustion creeping in and threatening to overwhelm you.

Just when you thought you might pass out, you spotted it—silver locks, now dirty and disheveled, just a few feet away. Panic surged through you as you fell to your knees and crawled with the last remnants of strength you had left. When you finally reached him, your heart stopped. You had never seen Sylus so vulnerable, so exposed.

You reached out to touch his face, your irritation intensifying at the realization that you still had to keep your gloves on, unable to feel his soft, dirt-streaked skin. With the last remnants of your strength, you shook him gently, your voice coming out hoarse as you tried to call his name.

Slowly, his eyes peeled open, and you let out the breath you had been holding. Unfortunately, you had inhaled too much smoke, resulting in a violent cough that wracked your body.

Clutching your chest, you hunched over, trying to cough out the smoke while moving away from him. Just then, you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you down to him. You attempted to focus on his face, searching for any injuries, but your eyes were tearing up, and your vision was blurred from the smoke-filled atmosphere.

Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, his voice broke through, shaky and hoarse but still as sharp as a knife. “What are you doing in here, kitten?” His eyes were half-lidded, and he groaned as he struggled to sit up. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me outside?”

You tried to help him rise, but his heavy body only dragged you down, sending you sprawling onto the floor. As he noticed your condition, his eyes sharpened with concern, and his features turned serious. He began removing his coat, which was now dirty and full of holes.

“Sylus—you need to get out of here,” you urged, trying to push him away as he attempted to cover you completely with his coat.

“Don’t talk right now, sweetie.” His movements were urgent, almost desperate, as he made sure no part of your upper body was exposed. Your hands were now firmly pinned to your torso beneath his coat. “And don’t fight me.”

His fingers came to your face, squeezing gently until your lips formed a pout and your attention was solely on him. “Stubborn little kitten,” he muttered, his voice a mix of frustration and affection.

Just before you slipped into unconsciousness, you felt the tendrils of his red-black mist enveloping you, pushing through your evol’s resistance and carrying you away from the chaos.

When you finally opened your eyes, it took a moment for your surroundings to come into focus. The unmistakable scent of Sylus’s mattress enveloped you, grounding you in reality. You were back at the mansion.

Your limbs felt heavy, and a dull ache throbbed in your head. Every part of your body screamed for you to stay in bed, to drift back into sleep and forget everything that had happened before you lost consciousness. But your mind was fixated on one thing: Sylus.

With a groan, you attempted to sit up, quickly glancing over your body. To your relief, you realized you were freshly cleaned and dressed in one of your nightgowns, with no significant injuries aside from a few scratches on your skin.

You took a moment to steady yourself, ensuring your vision wouldn’t fade to black before you attempted to walk across the room toward the door. Sylus’s office was just down the hallway, and as you stepped outside, you could faintly hear Luke and Kieran’s voices drifting from inside. You paused, heart pounding, and when you heard Sylus’s gruff tone, a wave of relief washed over you. He was okay.

After a brief moment, you knocked once before turning the doorknob and peeking through the small opening. Sylus’s gaze met yours immediately, and the twins turned to regard you with their rare smiles. It wasn’t often they dropped their masks, even in the mansion, but now their boyish features shone through. Their red hair was pulled back into matching messy ponytails, and a hint of blush colored their cheeks as they took in your appearance in the gown.

Sylus coughed discreetly, and the twins exchanged glances before standing up to give you two some privacy.

As they made their way to the door, Kieran paused to ruffle your hair playfully, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “You gave us a scare there, little crow.”

You regarded both twins with a small, apologetic smile before turning your full attention to the white-haired man seated behind his desk. He still wore his torn shirt, which left his muscular frame fully exposed. With a languid movement, he rolled his chair away from the desk and beckoned you with a finger.

Taking slow, deliberate steps toward him, you felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over you as his intense gaze roamed over your form. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you approached and stood before him, his legs slightly apart, causing your knees to brush against the inside of his thighs as he looked up at you.

Your eyes fell to his toned chest, now marred with scratches and bruises—evidence the damage inflicted, perhaps a sign that he was running low on evol energy and unable to heal completely.

“Are you okay?” Your voice emerged as a barely audible whisper, still tinged with hoarseness. You clasped your hands behind your back, fidgeting awkwardly.

You weren’t quite sure what had come over you; you had never before found yourself in a situation where you needed to actively express your concern for Sylus until tonight, and you hoped he wouldn’t recall too much of what had transpired in that building.

“Worried, kitten?” he asked, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips as his gaze swept over your body. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and touch you, yet he seemed equally torn, grappling with the worry that had gripped him when you had passed out in his arms.

You sniffled softly, your eyes darting anywhere but to him, your body tense and rigid as if your bones were locking into place. Instead of answering his question, you opted to redirect the conversation. “Do we know what caused the explosion?”

His expression was unreadable, and you noticed his jaw tick slightly as he processed your words. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, raising his hand to brush his knuckles gently across your arm. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, and you could see the corners of his lips curl slightly at your reaction. This time, he didn’t bother to hide himself from you.

“I did.”

“What?” Your voice came out louder than intended, earning a deep, rumbling chuckle from Sylus. He relaxed further into his chair, locking his carmine eyes onto yours with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

 “What are you talking about, Sylus? When I came in there…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to mask the emotion in your voice. “When I came in, you had fainted. What would have happened to you if I hadn’t found you in time?”

Amusement danced freely in his eyes at your small outburst. You truly were exquisite in your concern. “You underestimate me too much, sweetie.”

“You’re the one underestimating your enemies, Sylus!” You raised your voice, your hands gesturing in disbelief. “Just because you’re the leader of Onychinus doesn’t mean they can’t get to you if you’re unconscious.”

“Burnt men can’t walk, kitten.”

A small gasp escaped your lips at the speed and bluntness of his response. His smugness only fueled your anger at his reckless behavior. Leaning down, you gripped the arms of his chair, effectively caging him in. You were about to respond when you suddenly realized the position you had put yourself in. It gave him a full view of your breasts, the fabric of your nightgown flowing away from your skin and leaving little to the imagination.

Your ears and cheeks burned a deep crimson as you tried to pull away just as quickly as you'd leaned down. However, Sylus’s arm had already wrapped around your waist, anchoring you in place and pulling you impossibly closer. Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his pupils had dilated, his lips parting slightly as he fixated on your slowly hardening nipples.

“Sylus…” Your voice was barely a whisper now, heat pooling in your core under his intense gaze.

Finally, Sylus’s eyes met yours, and he began to stroke your back slowly, his tone low as if he feared shattering the delicate bubble that enveloped you both. “The explosion; It was my plan all along. Why else would I want you out and away from the building, sweetie?”

A frown crossed your face at his admission. Despite your initial shock, your body grew more compliant under his gentle strokes as he pulled you in, guiding you to straddle his thigh. His red irises darkened just a bit when your pulsing core made contact with his jeans and you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the realization that he could probably feel just how wet you were.

Yet, he continued speaking, his voice smooth and steady. “Tonight had no other way of going. It was necessary and inevitable.”

“But why?” Your eyes had softened since you’d first entered his room, and you found yourself relaxing more beneath his touch as he explained the events of the night.

“Because, kitten, tonight’s transaction was off the table the moment it was proposed by the other side, a few days back when I was still away."

By now, confusion began to cloud your understanding of Sylus’s motives. “But…” Your gaze drifted to his desk, where numerous files lay scattered. “Is this why you came back earlier? Tonight’s transaction was for that protocore you needed, Sylus. I thought nothing could screw this up for you. Weren’t you after it for years?”

Sylus let out a small scoff, his lips pressing into a thin line as he studied your face intently. “You never asked me what the price of that protocore was, kitten.”

Curiosity piqued, you looked up at him again, instinctively leaning closer. Your breasts brushed against his chest, heightening the tension between you as if his answer were a secret he needed to share. “And what was the price?”

“You.”

Your eyes widened in shock, and a dark cloud crossed his features as he spoke. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, causing you to squirm on his thigh, which elicited a low grunt from him.

Your emotions were a chaotic mess, thoughts swirling together and leaving you breathless as you tried to process what he was implying. “So what you’re saying is…”

“The deal was off the table the moment they thought you were for sale.” Sylus’s leg bounced suddenly, and you couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped your lips. Your hands instinctively flew out to clutch the fabric of his open shirt for stability. “I came back because I had to send a message.”

His voice dripped with malice as he continued to move his leg, sending shockwaves of sensation through your core as it ground against his thigh.

The pleasure mixed with confusion made you feel light-headed; even if you wanted to resist, your body had already betrayed you. There was no stopping your hips from chasing the friction, no way to quell the whimpers that escaped your lips. Sylus’s fingers curled tighter around the fabric of your nightgown at the sound.

As you continued to grind against him, he spoke with a dark intensity. “They had to know, kitten; Nobody lives to say they tried to bargain with what belongs to me.”

“I—I don’t belong to you,” you breathed out, unsure whether you were trying to lie to him or to yourself.

“Is this why you’re drenching my thigh, sweetie?” As if to emphasize his point, he bounced his knee again, causing it to press against your sensitive nerves with a force that made you moan involuntarily, your head falling to rest on his shoulder.

“You poor thing,” he cooed in your ear, his hand sliding to your lower back, urging you to grind down against him.

“Tonight—you put yourself in danger, Sylus.” You struggled to form coherent thoughts as you chased your orgasm on his thigh, your mind slowly turning to mush. “That was so stupid, even for you.” You finished your sentence with a moan, and Sylus groaned, instinctively moving his hips upward, his own hard-on seeking friction.

“Were you worried about me, kitten?” He dipped his head to your neck, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses as he awaited your response, which never came. Sensing your hesitation to voice your concern, his hand slipped between your bodies, his fingertip pressing onto your throbbing clit, making you cry out. “Answer me.”

“I—yes. Yes, I was s'worried.” Your head fell back in bliss, granting him access to suck and nibble on your throat as your hips moved faster and harder. The tight coil in your belly was only a few movements away from bursting. “I thought I’d—”

“Go on.” Sylus urged, his fingers dancing over your clit as he bounced his knee in sync with your movements, relishing the way you were making a mess on him, your whole body heating under his touch.

“I thought I’d lost you.” The words escaped your lips just as your orgasm washed over you, making your vision go black and your entire body shake with its intensity. Sylus’s arms wrapped around you, caging you against his chest as he let you ride it out, offering the small comfort you sought after your confession.

When you finally came down from your high, you were breathless, panting, and a few tears had escaped your eyes. But he was there, holding you gently and running his fingers through your hair. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, sweetie.”

You pushed your head off his chest, your eyes meeting his soft red ones. Without thinking clearly, you reached out to cradle his face. The moment your fingertips made contact with his skin, his whole body visibly flinched, and just like his heartbeat, it felt like time had stopped.

Horrified and regretful, you realized you had let your emotions get the best of you and forgotten about your evol. You stood up from his lap, pressing your hands tightly against your chest, the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Just a few seconds. Just a few seconds, and he’ll wake up, like he always does, right? Doubts gnawed at you; he was so weak after tonight, but his evol would heal him. It had to.

Just when you were about to scream for help, Sylus’s chest began to rise and fall again. His eyes fluttered open, and relief flooded your entire being. Your shoulders slumped, and your body shook, even though he was alright. How could you have been so careless?

“Sweetie.” His voice was soft as he stood from his chair, towering over you. “Look at me.”

You tilted your head up hesitantly, your regrets gnawing at you for what you had just done. You tried to open your mouth to apologize, but no words came out; instead, his lips found yours, silencing any sound you might have made. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling gently to angle your head to the side and deepen the kiss until you thought you might faint from lack of breath.

This time, you made sure to keep your hands glued to your sides, not daring to touch him again. When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. He rested his forehead against yours and moved his hand to the back pocket of his pants, retrieving something.

You tilted your head to watch him unfold two pieces of leather gloves. He carefully took your wrist, drawing it toward him before placing the glove on your hand, then moved to the other to do the same. It was a temporary solution, one that frustrated you to no end, but you wouldn’t jeopardize his life just for a touch of his soft skin.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your thoughts crashing over you like a tsunami of negativity at the prospect of harming him. Your frustration only fueled your desperation, and you found yourself clawing at the remnants of his shirt, trying to pull him closer. “I need you, please, Sylus, ’m so sorry.”

Sylus groaned as he felt you tugging him nearer, his own hands finding refuge on your body, touching and caressing anywhere he could reach. “Are you sure, kitten? Once we start, I don’t know if I can hold back.” His voice was low and controlled, while your legs trembled with desire and need.

“Then don’t hold back. Give me everything you have. I can take it, Sylus.” You pressed kisses all over his exposed chest, making him gasp and thin his patience. In one swift motion, you found yourself lifted off the floor, your body cradled in one of his arms as he carried you toward his desk.

“You really know how to bring a man to his knees, sweetie.” He placed you gently on top of the desk, taking his position between your legs. Your lips connected again as his hands deftly worked to rid you of your clothes.

Once you were bare before him, he stepped back, his gaze roaming over your body like a starving man taking in a feast. “Breathtaking.”

He fell to his knees in front of you, throwing your legs over his shoulders with a force that sent you backward, your elbows bracing against the desk for balance. He was too impatient to tease; he dived right in, his tongue lapping at your folds with urgent fervor.

Your back arched immediately, moans and whimpers spilling from your lips as he worked his mouth on your cunt, devouring you as if you were his last meal. Your legs tightened around his head, the pleasure overwhelming, which only made him groan and feast on you harder.

His tongue plunged into your tight hole, sending shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body. You thought you could hold on a little longer, but when his large hand spread across your tummy, pressing down, you exploded in his mouth. Your vision went white as you drenched him, your thighs shaking violently around his head.

The realization of what you had done hit you when he pulled away, his chin and exposed chest glistening with droplets of your release. You shot your gloved hand to cover your mouth, your legs instinctively closing in embarrassment.

Yet, he looked even more exhilarated, his hands gripping your thighs and spreading them apart as he positioned himself between them, his lips finding yours once more. “You’re going to do this again. And this time, you’re going to do it on my cock.”

He pushed you back, a firm hand on your chest as you lay spread out on top of his desk. Your eyes focused on his hands as they deftly undid his pants, pushing them down along with his briefs. The moment you saw his girthy cock—veiny and the tip angry and red for you—your mouth went dry.

You craved to satisfy him as he had satisfied you, but when you tried to sit up, his hand pressed you back down against the desk.

“Not tonight, sweetie. Right now, I just need to be inside you.”

Even though he spoke, he made no move to get on you, waiting for your consent first. You nodded, your eyes clouded with lust.

“Use your words, kitten. I need to hear you.” He was pumping his cock with his hand, his fingers barely wrapping around it. Standing before you in all his naked glory, he resembled a Greek statue, and your chest tightened at how wickedly beautiful he looked.

“Yes. Please, Sy, need you inside me.” Your voice came out breathless, and that was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped an arm around your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the desk and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to spread you open exactly as he desired.

He pushed the tip in at first, making you clench around him instinctively, as if trying to suck him deeper. An unsteady breath escaped him, and his body stuttered momentarily. You were killing him in the sweetest way. “So goddamn tight.”

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he pushed further inside you, his grip on your thigh tightening the moment he was fully buried in you, his pelvis pressing against yours. You could feel him all the way up into your stomach, and your legs began to shake, even though he remained still.

His breathing had turned erratic, and the moment your hips squirmed forward, his other hand came down to keep you in place. “Shit, baby, don’t move. Give me a moment.”

You were a whimpering mess, sweat beading on your forehead from the anticipation. But the instant he started moving, your whole body unlocked, turning to pudding under his thrusts. He began with a slow, deliberate pace, his lips parting as small grunts escaped him, each thrust igniting the fire building within you.

The more you clenched down on his cock, the faster he moved, until the desk scraped against the marble floor. “Fuck, kitten. You’re squeezing me so tightly.” His voice was thick with lust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin only intensified the fire burning deep in your core. “Do you love my cock that much?”

Your mind had turned to mush, thoughts consumed by how he stretched you and filled you to the brim. You nodded uncontrollably, crying out every time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Yes! I love it so much, Sy.”

“Good girl.” Sylus’s thrusts quickened as he heard your pretty sounds, the way your walls sucked him in making his thighs tremble slightly as he felt his release drawing near. “Such a good girl, so cock-hungry for me.”

“Ah— fuck.” Stars began to form behind your eyelids, your whole body rocking on the desk. If it weren’t for Sylus’s hands gripping your thighs, you would have slid right off and ended up on the floor from his relentless force. The desk shook violently from his pounding, and you were certain the whole house could hear you.

Sylus’s hand reached for your face, his thumb brushing against your lower lip before slipping past it to press down on your tongue, making you clench around his cock instinctively. “That’s it, sweetie,” he breathed, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in pleasure as your cunt hugged him tightly. “Give it to me; I can feel how close you are.”

You were indeed on the brink, your whole body burning and trembling under Sylus’s powerful thrusts. But what sent you over the edge was a sudden knock on the door, followed by Luke’s voice calling out to see if everything was alright.

The moment you realized you had been caught, and Luke could turn the doorknob at any second to find you spread for Sylus, his cock pressing against your cervix, you exploded. Your loud moans were partly muffled by the white-haired man's finger in your mouth. The pressure you applied around his cock as you climaxed made Sylus falter, his own orgasm crashing over him with a force he hadn’t anticipated.

His hot seed coated your walls, filling you to the brim and spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he continued to thrust, ensuring every last drop found its way inside. You were a crying, spent mess on his desk, while he tried to catch his breath, slowly lowering your leg back down from his shoulder.

Luke was long gone from outside the door, having heard enough to realize what was happening between you and Sylus.

You could only look up at him with a small shared chuckle before he leaned down to kiss your lips, his newfound gentleness contrasting sharply with the intensity of the moment. “I believe they received a lesson about eavesdropping now,” he murmured, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

ps; this story has the potential to delve into other parts, either of Sylus and reader in the future or of their shared past from the moment he found her. You can always comment and let me know if you'd like to see something more from this fic:))

[userchai]

𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 - 18+

𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵…. 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨.

word-count 2.2K

thank you so much for reading feedback is appreciated I love you all dearly! sorry if there are any mistakes! 🖤

“If you love me right then who knows?”

You knew this was a terrible idea, letting him back in, but when he had shown up at your door, shivering and crying you just couldn’t say no. The soft morning glow of the sun illuminates his face beautifully as you stand at your bedroom door.

His eyelashes flutter as he turns a little in his sleep, the long black curls you’ve always loved are wild and messy. “What are you doing to me Eddie?” You whisper, shaking your head and fighting back tears.

He came to you because he didn’t know where else to go, having moved away from Hawkins years ago. It was hours away and you were only fifteen minutes down the road, so Eddie did what he knew best, he came back to you.

This isn’t the first time he’s shown back up since the two of you split years ago, but for some reason in this moment the air feels different. He looks so peaceful in your bed, he looks like he fits, like this is his home too.

You glance at the calendar above your bed, it’s Sunday. You have nowhere to be but right here with the man that you’re still so in love with, it’s painful.

You slowly make your way over to your bed, gently setting yourself down on it, not wanting to wake him yet. The fight the two of you had gotten into last night when he just showed up was still fresh in your mind.

“You can’t just come right back Eddie! You always do this!” You had screamed, tears streaming down your face as you leaned back against your front door.

The night ended differently than you would’ve expected, Eddie had kissed you, and he didn’t stop kissing. You both knew this would only lead to more hurt down the road but neither of you cared.

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear Eddie wake up until his hand gently brushes your arm. “Hey.. you okay baby?” He whispers. ‘Baby’ you wanted to tell him that’s not who you were to him anymore, but you couldn’t.

“I’m alright. Did you sleep okay?” You ask, brushing a piece of his hair away from his face. He nods slowly, sitting up. You both stare at each other for a minute, Eddie’s eyes are puffy with sleep and it only makes him look even more attractive.

You smile timidly, damn him for making you feel every single feeling you’ve been working so hard on pushing down for years. “Good, I was gonna make something to eat if you’re hungry?” You ask, going to stand up before Eddie’s grabbing your hand, pulling you back down.

His dark eyes may as well be looking right through you as he keeps you in place. He’s very obvious, you’ve seen that look a million times before, the only thing Eddie is hungry for at the moment is you.

“Ed, I don’t think that’s such a good idea-” you start off, chewing your lip nervously as he pulls you closer to where he’s leaning back against your headboard. “If anything, let me have you for just one more night, I understand if you want me to leave forever after that. I just need to feel you one more time.”

Your heart is pounding beneath your chest, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time, you knew you wanted him. You needed him. Your body reacts before your mind can make up words to say back to him, you straddle yourself over his lap and gently reach down to hold his face. “I’ve never stopped loving you Eddie Munson.” You whisper.

The prettiest smile breaks out over those pouty lips that you could kiss for hours, “Show me then.” He says back, it’s a challenge. You bite back a laugh at how desperately Eddie’s clinging to you right now. His big hands are gripping onto your hips, you hope they bruise you want to remember this forever.

Eddie can be soft sometimes, even if he doesn’t look like it, and this is definitely one of those times. You could break him, and he would let you. You wanted to wreck him and rebuild him after. He groans lowly beneath you as you slowly circle your hips, grinding down against his lap for just a few seconds before stopping.

“Please don’t stop, I need to feel you.” He almost whimpers out, so pathetic, how much he needs you. You lean down slowly and kiss up the side of his neck, biting down against his jaw hard enough that it draws out a little blood. You wanted pain, you wanted him to feel everything that you’ve felt, you wanted him to know that if he fucks up this time he will never see you again.

“Fuck. You little vixen.” He bites out as you run your hands down his shoulders, you keep them going as you shuffle back off of his lap. “Gonna ruin you, is that what you came here for?” You ask as he bites his lip. He nods quickly, watching you pull your sheets back away from his body. “Oh, how cute baby, look how hard you’ve gotten and all I did was sit in your lap for a minute, admit it, you need me.”

You pull the covers all the way off of him, shuffling down to lay on your stomach in front of him as you run your hand teasingly against his length that’s straining behind his tight boxers. “I-fuck, I need you, I love you, I’m sorry for being such an idiot and leaving before please, even if you don’t want me anymore just use me today, that’s all I want.”

You smile up at him, that’s exactly the answer you wanted. If he thinks he can just come back and instantly win you over he is sorely mistaken, he’s going to work for it. You dig your nails into his skin a little as a hiss breaks its way out of his mouth, before you’re pulling his boxers down. You must be going far too slow for his liking because you swear you hear him start begging as his cock finally slaps back against his stomach.

You’ve missed him so bad, and you’ve missed feeling him inside of you almost more than the relationship you once had shared. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick length, the head is leaking pre-cum against his stomach as you tap your fingers lazily against his thighs. “Why should I suck you off baby? I don’t know if you deserve my mouth anymore.” He moans loudly, pushing his hands against his eyes before he’s grabbing the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him.

You laugh quietly, he’s so hard it must be hurting by now. “Fuck…. Please I know I don’t deserve it okay? I don’t, but just, please I’ll be so good I’ll do anything to have you again baby.” You lick your lips slowly, before you’re spitting down onto the head. “Fine, but it’s at my pace, don’t you fucking move.” You can hear the air leave his lungs as you slowly wrap one of your hands tightly against him, stroking him slowly and spreading your saliva all over him.

You know just how he likes it, sloppy and loud, you are determined to make sure he remembers this, if today really is the last time. Focusing back on him you lean down and kiss up the side of his cock before you’re at the very top, you flutter your eyelashes up at him as his stomach tenses. He’s so beautiful, you sink your mouth down around him and the most beautiful sound comes out of his throat. Sure, Eddie is a good singer, but the sounds he makes for you have always been better than music.

It only takes a few more minutes of absolutely setting out to ruin Eddie, before his hips are threatening to lift off the bed. You know he wants to fuck your mouth, but you specifically told him not to move, so you pull off of him and slap his thigh. “I thought I said no moving, don’t you wanna be my good boy?” He looks like he’s on the verge of tears as he frantically apologizes, reaching to grip onto you. You can feel him shaking as you sit back up onto your knees.

“Don’t deserve my mouth anymore, you can’t even listen to instructions baby, but I’ll let you have my pussy. The only thing is, you’re not cumming.” Your stomach is already wound tight at the thought of having him inside you again, you waste no time in pulling your panties off and throwing them down onto the floor. Eddie looks like an absolute wreck already, his hair stuck to his face, eyes blown full of lust and love as he looks up at you. “Please just fuck me.” He whispers.

Reaching behind yourself to grab his cock again you rub the tip against yourself over and over, you can feel it pulsing against your hand. You knew how bad he needed to cum but for now things were going to be about you. You tense up as you slowly slide yourself down onto him, he’s so thick it almost hurts. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He gasps out, his hands gripping the sheets below you as you finally bottom out around him.

You wait a few minutes to adjust before you are lifting yourself back up, the drag of his cock inside of you is addicting and you don’t know if you’ll even last very long. You drop back down again, moaning loudly as every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. “Fuck, I’ve missed you baby, please, want you to fill me up when I say you can, need to feel you leaking back out of me for days Eddie.” His hands are all over your body, pulling, gripping, never wanting to let go. The both of you are breathing into each other’s mouths, crying out in pleasure and love.

It’s like nothing had ever happened, you wanted this for life, and you know at this moment he wants it too. He’s barely holding himself together as you bounce on his lap like some sort of angelic nymph. He can’t decide whether he wants to sing filthy praises or spill his heart out about how much he loves you as his cock rubs against that spot in you that sends both of you into a frenzy. “That’s it, fuck Eddie please, oh my god, cum now baby, fill me up, give me all of your love and let me feel it.”

‘Bad idea!’ Your mind was screaming, but your heart and body didn’t care, all the nasty thoughts of how much you hated what he did to you were slowly being stripped away from you. Eddie doesn’t know a lot, but right now he knows he is never letting go of you again. He stops holding back as you tense down around him again, leaning your forehead against his as he runs his hands down your back, gripping onto your ass. The neighbors must be getting a good show with how loud you both are.

You can feel him break beneath you, his body trembling as ‘I love you’ spills out of his lips over and over, your own orgasm washes over you quickly when Eddie bites down on your collar bone, sucking a bruise right into your soft skin. The both of you cling to each other as your highs slowly come down, you feel like you could nap forever with how spent your body is.

Another quiet moan slips past your lips as Eddie lifts you off of him slowly, you can feel his cum leaking out of you and down onto your thighs. “What a beautiful mess you are.” He whispers, leaning over to kiss you on your forehead as tears well up in your eyes. “Eddie?” You ask quietly, your throat hurts from how loud you’d been only moments ago. He doesn’t reply right away, instead he reaches for his Metallica shirt that’s on the floor, slowly pulling it down over your head and helping you put your arms through.

It smells like heaven, it smells like everything you’ve missed. “Yes baby?” He asks. “Please, don’t hurt me again. Don’t let me go.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek before it’s quickly being wiped away by his calloused fingers. “You’re never leaving my sight again, I was such an idiot when we were younger, but I want you, I want us forever.” He leans his forehead against yours as you both sit there in silence, maybe you could work again. Who knows?

The rest of the morning is softer, after you both had a moment to catch your breath Eddie had helped you into a bath, getting in behind you to rub your sore muscles as you laughed quietly while sharing things you’d missed out on since you’d last seen each other. This was easy, it was familiar, it was love. You couldn’t fight back smiling as you watched him standing at your oven, flipping a pancake over in a frying pan and almost dropping it onto the floor.

You knew opening the door for him was potentially opening your heart up to be broken again, but for Eddie you would risk everything, even your heart.

tag list 🏷️

@loserboysandlithium @gri959 @eddies-esposa @undeadmfs @perfectlymellowthing @multi-culti-girl @iamnotoverlyfondofwhatfollo-blog @catherinnn @ainelantv @quinnyficsy @ali-r3n @edsbug @hippiegoth97 @thepurplelovewitch @munson-mjstan @ironictechtonicplatonic @xplrnowornever @hellfiremunsonn @mmunson86 @cremeve @ohburrryoureabsolutelyridiculous @munsongirly @jamdoughnutmagician @raratasome @alivinggirl @honey-flustered @ho-for-joequinn-fics @eddiemunsonfuxks @melodymunson @usersallyskellington @dickchomper @cryingglightningg @xsinfullxlover666 @myspacebrat @taintandviolent @eddiesghxst @josephquinnsfreckles @vecslut @tlclick73 @woahlifehitsyahuh @rose1518

[gguk-n]

Fading Shadow (Lando Norris x ex-Reader)

Part 2 of Last Straw Inspired by this request

Summary- Y/N moved on. Lando is still stuck, on what they had and what he lost.

{Reader's POV}

The moment I landed back home, I felt relief wash over me when I cried in my mother's arms. I had been holding on to too much, it seems. My father brought my favourite food and we ate together and we laughed together. This was the therapy I needed. My siblings weren't very happy with Lando since they had seen everything unfold on social media but they were happy to have their sister back. I was happy to be back home. I needed this, I needed my people.

I decided I needed a change of pace, a change of scenery. I had been mourning my relationship while I was still in it. Now, I was a new me, I was going to do everything I wanted.

I applied at the company I always wanted to work at but due to there being no vacancies I was assigned a job in a different country and I was ready to take on the world. I knew Lando would never search for me, he never truly loved me but I still wanted to leave. I needed a fresh start.

{Lando's POV}

The silence after the break up was exactly what I needed, or so I thought. I could leave as I wished. I could go out whenever I wanted. I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. It's so much better to be single then to be tied down.

I didn't think I would ever miss Y/N, but I did. I remember exactly when I missed her for the first time; it was after a difficult race and I had finish decently with the shitty cards I had and I just wanted someone to tell me how well I did; but there was no one; no one who knew what I wanted to hear. I felt so alone even when I was surrounded by hundreds of people for the first time in a long time.

The second time I missed her was when I was stood on top of the top step of the podium. I wanted to have her around so I could share my highs with her. I didn't get a 'do you wanna go out to celebrate?' like the last two times and I aired her both time to party with random girls. Right now, I was in the club celebrating my third win of my career and season and I felt empty and alone. Not even the alcohol helped.

The house we lived in was a stark reminder of the time we spent together. All our dates we had. All the times she would teach me how to cook but we would always end up with a big mess and half cooked or burnt food since I would get distracted. In retrospect, I loved every second of it even though I never admitted it then. I love all the time we spent together or the laugh she would emit when I messed up. I missed her and I wish she was here; I was too stupid to admit it then but I do now.

Oscar was getting sick and tired of me using his phone to check on Y/N's social media accounts since she had blocked me every where. I would end up borrowing the other driver's phone to check, just in case. Until one day, her account stopped showing up for Oscar too. I went through almost everyone on the paddock's phone to see if she had blocked my friends. Turns out, she had deactivated her social media accounts; I realised that after one of the gossip pages posted about her deactivating her profiles, across all the platforms.

I would wake up from dreams about her and I would fall asleep to the thought of her. No woman interested me anymore; I wish I was this loyal when we were dating, when she could see that I loved her, not now when she couldn't even see I had changed.

My PR team was losing their shit when I tweeted that. I had to sit through a stupid meeting after everything. It was miracle I didn't start crying in the middle of the meeting.

People had started to notice I guess, since Carlos approached me. "Cabron, what's up?" he asked while I was lying on my couch after media day. "Nothing" I hummed. "I fucked up right?" I asked. "I can't say no" Carlos said. I laughed painfully. "I didn't know how good I had it until it was all gone. I'm an ass and I deserve everything I'm getting" I cried. Carlos comforted me, hugging me tightly. "I just wish she would talk to me, at least once. So, that I could show her that I've changed. I really have Carlos. I love her so much, it hurts" I cried into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Lando" he said patting my back.

There's a saying, You don't know what you've got until it's gone. I was living that nightmare and I will never stop living it.

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter one of ten

wc. 2.7K

prologue | part 2

The decision settled in your heart like a stone—cold, hard, and undeniable. You couldn’t stay at Jujutsu High anymore, not after everything that had happened. There was nothing left for you here but the constant reminder of Gojo’s rejection, and the emptiness it left inside you. Suguru Geto had offered a new path, one that resonated with the bitter anger building in your chest. It was risky, dangerous even, but at this point, you didn’t care. What did you have to lose?

The world outside Jujutsu High seemed vast and unforgiving, but it was nothing compared to the loneliness you felt within its walls. Geto’s name was whispered among the students with fear and disdain, but you saw something different now. He had the strength to break away, to challenge the system that had let him down, and if anyone could understand the pain of rejection, it was him.

The first step was to find him, which was easier said than done. Geto was no longer a visible presence in the sorcerer world. He had gone underground, building his own network of cursed users and spirits. The whispers about his whereabouts were few and far between, but you clung to the faintest rumors like lifelines, searching for any clue that would lead you to him.

Your chance finally came one evening, as you overheard two upperclassmen talking in hushed tones about a recent sighting of Geto. They mentioned a remote area where cursed energy had been felt, a place known for being a hideout for rogue sorcerers. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

You left that night, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination. You knew the consequences of what you were about to do—if anyone found out, you’d be labeled a traitor, just like Geto. But that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting away from the pain that had consumed you and finding a new purpose.

The journey was long and arduous, taking you through unfamiliar streets and rural roads. With each step, the doubt in your mind grew louder. What if he didn’t want you? What if he turned you away, just like Gojo had? The thought of facing yet another rejection made your stomach twist in knots, but you pushed forward. You had to know. You had to try.

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, you arrived at the rumored hideout—a dilapidated building on the outskirts of na abandoned village. The air around the area was thick with cursed energy, almost suffocating. You hesitated at the threshold, fear creeping up your spine, but you steeled yourself and stepped inside.

The interior was dark, lit only by the faint glow of cursed energy radiating from various objects strewn about. You could sense the presence of others, though you couldn’t see them. Shadows moved in the corners of the room, watching you, but you kept your focus straight ahead.

And then, you saw him.

Suguru Geto stood at the far end of the room, his back turned to you as he spoke quietly with one of his followers. Even from this distance, his presence was commanding, the air around him heavy with power. There was something about him that felt both intimidating and strangely familiar, as if you were looking at the reflection of everything you had been feeling—the bitterness, the anger, the sense of abandonment.

He turned around slowly, his gaze landing on you with a piercing intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. His dark eyes seemed to see right through you, reading every thought and emotion as if they were laid bare before him. For a moment, you wondered if you had made a mistake—if this had been a foolish, reckless decision.

But you had come too far to turn back now.

“What do we have here?” Geto’s voice was smooth and calm, but there was a dangerous edge to it. He studied you, his expression unreadable. “You’re not one of mine.”

You swallowed, your throat dry, and forced yourself to speak. “I came to find you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—I’ve been studying at Jujutsu High, but I can’t stay there anymore. I’ve seen… I’ve read about what you believe in. And I… I want to join you.”

There was a flicker of amusement in Geto’s eyes as he raised na eyebrow. “You want to join me?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism. “And what exactly do you think you have to offer?”

Your heart sank at his words. You knew you were nothing compared to the powerful sorcerers that surrounded him. You were just a student, someone who had been cast aside by the very person you had admired most. But you also knew that your desire to serve his cause, to belong somewhere, burned stronger than anything else.

“I don’t have much,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I’m not the strongest sorcerer, and I don’t have any followers. But I understand how it feels to be abandoned, to be rejected by the world. I’m ready to serve your purpose, whatever it takes.”

For a long moment, Geto said nothing, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence was suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. You stood there, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for his judgment. In that moment, it felt as if your entire life hung in the balance. If he accepted you, you would have a new purpose, a new place to belong. But if he rejected you…

Finally, after what felt like na eternity, Geto’s expression softened, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You’re eager,” he said quietly. “That much is clear. But eagerness alone isn’t enough. My cause isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s dangerous, and it requires a level of conviction that few possess.”

You nodded quickly, desperation creeping into your voice. “I understand. I’ll prove myself, if you give me the chance.”

Geto regarded you for another long moment, as if weighing his options. Then, with a slight nod, he turned away from you, signaling the conversation was over. “Very well,” he said. “If you want to join me, go back to Jujutsu High. Pack your things. Leave everything behind. Once you’ve done that, come back. If you’re serious, I’ll know.”

Your heart leapt in your chest at his words—he was giving you a chance. It wasn’t a full acceptance, not yet, but it was something. You bowed your head quickly in gratitude before turning to leave.

As you stepped out of the hideout and into the cool night air, your mind raced with a mixture of excitement and fear. You had taken the first step toward a new life, toward leaving behind everything that had hurt you.

Now all that was left was to return to Jujutsu High, pack your things, and leave for good. There was no turning back now.

The night was unnervingly quiet as you made your way back to Jujutsu High, the soft rustling of leaves the only sound accompanying you. The moon hung low in the sky, its pale light casting long shadows across the ground. Your mind buzzed with the events that had just unfolded—Geto had accepted you, even if it was only tentative. The prospect of belonging to something, of having a purpose again, gave you a strange sense of comfort, but it was wrapped in na unsettling realization.

To fully embrace this new path, you had to leave everything behind.

As you approached the school grounds, a wave of nostalgia hit you. The familiar hallways, the training grounds, even the library where you had spent so many hours—all of it felt like a distant memory, as if you were already na outsider looking in. These places had once held significance, but now they were nothing more than relics of a past life. You had made up your mind; you would abandon all of it for a chance at something more—something that could give meaning to the ache you carried inside.

The dormitory was dark and still when you returned to your room. Your belongings were strewn about, a quiet reminder of the life you had lived here. You hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway and letting your gaze drift over the small space that had been your home for so long. It was strange how quickly it all felt irrelevant.

With a deep breath, you began packing your things. You moved with mechanical precision, folding clothes and stuffing them into your bag, taking only what you absolutely needed. As your hands grazed over small personal items, you realized how little they meant now. There was no point in holding onto these things—mementos of a life you no longer wanted to be part of. A gift from a classmate, a framed photo of your team during a mission, a charm you had once carried for protection—they all seemed to mock you now.

Your hand hovered over the chocolates you had made for Gojo, the same ones he had so casually rejected weeks ago. They had been sitting untouched for so long, the once carefully crafted gift now rotting and forgotten. A bitter taste filled your mouth as you stared at the box, the last remnant of your foolish hopes - now laying in your trashcan.

As you zipped up your bag, you felt a strange sense of liberation. You were finally doing it—leaving behind the person you had been, the person who had been too afraid to act, too afraid to take control of her own fate. You were stepping into a new future, one where you could be strong, where your pain had a purpose. Suguru Geto had shown you that.

You slung the bag over your shoulder, taking one last look at the room. It felt distant already, like a ghost of a life you once knew. Without hesitation, you turned and left, walking silently through the darkened halls of Jujutsu High. Every step away from the dorms felt like shedding na old skin, leaving behind the memories and emotions that had weighed you down for so long.

Your feet moved automatically, each step taking you further from Jujutsu High and further from Gojo, you didn’t dare look back, afraid that if you did, you might falter, might hesitate. You had made your choice. You had committed to this path, and there was no turning back now.

The night air was cold against your skin, and with every step, the familiar halls and grounds of Jujutsu High faded into the distance. There was na ache in your chest, a deep, gnawing pain that threatened to overwhelm you, but you forced it down, telling yourself that this was the right choice. That Geto would understand, that his ideals would give you the strength you needed to find purpose.

By the time you reached the outskirts of the town, the sky had started to lighten, a soft glow spreading across the horizon as dawn approached. You kept your head down, avoiding the few early risers who were beginning their day. No one paid you any attention. To them, you were just another traveler, just another person passing through.

Your destination was clear—the same dilapidated building you had found before, where Geto’s presence had been strongest. The cursed energy in the area was unmistakable, and the faint pulse of it called to you like a beacon, guiding you back to him.

As you walked, the reality of what you were about to do began to settle in. You were leaving everything—your friends, your teachers, your life as a jujutsu sorcerer behind. The people you had trained with, the ones who had fought alongside you, they would all consider you a traitor. But for some reason, that didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. You were tired of being invisible, of feeling like na outsider in your own life. With Geto, maybe you would finally belong somewhere.

After hours of walking, you finally reached the hideout once again. The building loomed before you, dark and foreboding, just as it had before. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there the first time, as if the entire area was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

You hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside.

This time, the space felt different. The shadows seemed heavier, and the cursed energy more oppressive. You could sense other presences here—Geto’s followers, cursed spirits lurking just out of sight, their eyes on you, watching, waiting. But you didn’t waver. You had already made your decision.

As you ventured deeper into the building, you found him in the same spot as before, standing with his back to you, his long dark hair spilling over his shoulders. He was speaking with one of his followers in a low voice, but the moment you entered the room, his attention shifted. Without turning around, he acknowledged your presence with a quiet, “You came back.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine—not out of fear, but because of the power it carried, the certainty in his words. It was so unlike the doubt you had felt at Jujutsu High. Here, in Geto’s world, there was no room for second-guessing. Everything he said, everything he believed, had a purpose. You wanted to be part of that.

“I did,” you replied, your voice steady despite the nervousness you felt. “I left everything behind, just like you said.”

Geto finally turned to face you, his eyes sharp and assessing. He looked you over, taking in the sight of you with your bag slung over your shoulder, your expression determined despite the fear you tried to hide. A slow, almost approving smile curled at the corner of his lips.

“And why, exactly, should I take you in?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with a challenge. “What can you offer me that my other followers can’t?”

You had expected this question, but it didn’t make answering it any easier. You had thought about this moment the entire way back, rehearsing what you would say, but now that you stood in front of him, words failed you. What could you offer? You weren’t the strongest sorcerer, you weren’t experienced in battle. All you had was your conviction, your desire to follow him.

“I—I’m not the strongest,” you admitted, your voice faltering for just a moment before you regained your composure. “But I’m ready to dedicate myself to your cause. I’ve seen how the world works, how it doesn’t care about people like us. I want to change that, to be part of something greater.”

Geto’s eyes remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. He studied you for what felt like na eternity, and you could feel the weight of his judgment pressing down on you. Then, finally, he spoke again, his voice softer, but no less commanding.

“Conviction is important,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “But dedication without strength is a liability.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, Geto raised a hand to silence you. “Still, you’ve come this far, and I can see that you’re serious. I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Relief flooded through you, though it was quickly tempered by the realization of what that might entail. Geto wasn’t someone who handed out second chances easily. Whatever he asked of you, it wouldn’t be simple.

“You’ll stay here, for now,” he continued, gesturing to the room around you. “Train with my followers, learn from them. When the time comes, we’ll see if you’re truly ready to stand by my side.”

You nodded, your heart pounding with a mixture of fear and excitement. This was what you had wanted—a chance, a purpose, something to fight for. And now, Geto had given it to you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, bowing your head in gratitude.

Before you could fully process it, a voice rang out from the entrance of the hideout, sharp and commanding.

“So, this is where you ran off to.”

Your heart froze in your chest.

Satoru Gojo stood at the threshold, his blindfold gone, revealing his piercing blue eyes that glowed with a mixture of anger and something else—something deeper, more intense.

He had found you.

notes: thank you for reading the first chapter! if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

taglist: @username23345 @arminswifee @tomiokasecretlover @ffyona1214 @tojirin @eggrollforyou @ironicsss

©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[romugh]

THE WIDOW'S LACE - NR

pairing- stripper!natasha romanoff x fem!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, strappie (n rcv), strappie suckie (r rcv), fingering (n rcv), oral (r rcv), rough'-ish' sex? - i think that's all!

wc- 7.7k (of pure smut) I'M SORRY I'M TRYING TO WRITE SHORTER FICS I PROMISE

a/n- part 1, because YES i have THREE parts ready for this. have fun reading! (big shoutout to @traveler-at-heart; your post made me go feral, i adore you)

synopsis- you find yourself in a stripclub, then suddenly you find yourself in a stripper.

taglist- @lost-mortemanghel - dm or comment to be added to my taglist! x

Natasha wasn’t just any stripper. She was the stripper. The one everyone fell in love with the moment she stepped on stage. Her body moved like sin wrapped in silk, her confidence radiating like a flame that drew every pair of eyes in the club to her. She knew exactly what she was doing, and more importantly, she knew exactly what effect she had on people.

Men and women alike couldn’t help but stare, their lust and admiration hanging thick in the air as they watched her every move. She thrived off it, fed off the power she held over them. They came in hoping for a glance, a smile, a touch. And she delivered—just enough to keep them coming back, but never enough to give them what they really wanted. That was how she liked it. She held the control. Always.

But tonight, something was different.

Amidst the usual sea of desire-filled gazes, she noticed you. You weren’t like the others. Your eyes weren’t filled with the same desperation, the same helpless longing. You weren’t staring at her like she was a goddess to be worshipped. No, you looked at her like she was a challenge. Like you could see right through the seductive veil she’d carefully crafted. It made her stomach twist in a way she hadn’t felt in years.

As she danced, her eyes would flick to you now and again, curious and intrigued. She was used to adoration, not this steady, controlled gaze that almost felt like it was pulling her in. And when the set ended, when her body stilled but her heart raced, she found herself making a decision she hadn’t made in a long time.

She led you to the back room, a place few had ever been. Not because it wasn’t allowed, but because Natasha rarely felt the need to take anyone there. She didn’t need the intimacy the room allowed for, she didn’t crave connection. But there was something about the way you looked at her, like you were waiting for her to slip, waiting for the moment her confidence faltered, and it made her want to see how far you’d push her.

The door clicked shut behind her, the faint thrum of bass from the bar fading into the background as the two of you were swallowed by the dimly lit room. Natasha leaned back against the door, her chest still heaving slightly from the exertion of the performance, but her eyes were as sharp as ever.

“You think you’re something special, huh?” she asked, her voice smooth but with an edge of amusement, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. She tilted her head, watching you carefully, as if expecting you to crumble under her stare like everyone else did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped closer, your movements slow, deliberate, the weight of your presence filling the small space. The air grew thicker with tension, and for the first time in a long while, Natasha wasn’t sure if she was the one in control anymore.

“Do you?” you countered, voice low and calm, your eyes never leaving hers.

Her smirk didn’t falter, but the challenge in your words sent a thrill through her, one she hadn’t expected. She straightened, pushing off the door slightly, closing the gap between you even more, her body mere inches from yours. She could feel your heat, and it made her pulse quicken despite herself.

“You’re not like the others,” she said, her voice dropping an octave as her gaze raked over you, taking in the steady confidence in your stance. “But you’re still here.”

“So are you.”

The silence that followed was heavy, charged with something that neither of you wanted to name just yet. Natasha could feel the tension, thick and suffocating, like static in the air before a storm. Her body was taut, her skin prickling with anticipation, but she refused to show it. She wouldn’t let you see the effect you were having on her. Not yet.

Then, in one smooth movement, you closed the remaining space between you, your body pressing into hers, pinning her gently but firmly against the door. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat at the sudden proximity, but she didn’t pull away. Her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Instead, she lifted her chin, eyes defiant even as her pulse raced beneath her skin. “What’s your plan?” she asked, her voice still steady, but with a hint of breathlessness now, a tremor that betrayed the control she was so desperately clinging to.

Your lips were so close to hers now that she could feel the warmth of your breath against her skin. But instead of kissing her, you hovered, the tension between your mouths almost unbearable. She was used to people taking what they wanted from her, always rushing to close the gap, always desperate for her touch. But you held back, and that restraint was driving her mad.

“You’ll see,” you murmured, your voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest, her body betraying her, a flush rising in her cheeks as the weight of your presence pressed down on her. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next, and the thrill of that uncertainty coursed through her veins like fire.

Then, without warning, your hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back, forcing her to look up at you. Natasha gasped, her lips parting in surprise, but her eyes remained defiant, daring you to do more, to push her further.

“You want this, don’t you?” you asked, your voice steady, commanding.

Her lips curled into a smirk, though her breath hitched slightly under your firm grip. “Maybe,” she replied, her voice dripping with defiance, even as her body arched toward you, craving more.

“Then show me,” you demanded, and with that, you released her hair, watching as she slid down to her knees with a fluid grace that still spoke of her control, her pride. Even now, on her knees, she wasn’t submitting. She was choosing to allow you to do this, and that made all the difference.

She looked up at you, her eyes gleaming with that familiar challenge, and then her gaze flicked to the strap you had tucked out of your pants. Without a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of it, soft and teasing at first, like she was still testing the waters, still holding on to that last shred of control.

But the moment she tasted it, something shifted. Her tongue darted out, swirling around the tip before she took it into her mouth, her eyes never leaving yours. She wasn’t rushing, no, the Black Widow never rushed for anyone. But there was an urgency now, a tension in the way her hands gripped your thighs as she worked the strap deeper into her mouth, her cheeks hollowing with effort.

You watched as she swallowed her pride along with the length of the strap, her eyes watering slightly as she struggled to take it deeper. But she didn’t stop, didn’t pull back. She pushed herself further, her throat constricting around it, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she gagged softly around the toy.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice laced with dark amusement as you thrust your hips forward, pushing the strap deeper into her mouth. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her body trembling as she struggled to take more.

Her nails dug into your thighs, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as you fucked her mouth, the wet sounds filling the room. Her control was slipping, piece by piece, and you could see the frustration in her eyes when she looked up at you, her gaze filled with a mix of defiance and need.

You pulled back suddenly, the strap slipping from her lips with a wet pop. Natasha gasped, her chest heaving as she panted, her lips swollen and red from the effort, saliva glistening on her chin. She looked wrecked, but not broken. Not yet.

“Something wrong?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

She narrowed her eyes. "You could help," she murmured, trying to regain some of the control she was losing, had already lost. 

“You want help?” you asked, your tone low, teasing. You pushed her head back toward the strap, watching her struggle against her own desire for dominance. She needed this—needed you—but she wasn’t ready to admit it, not fully.

Natasha’s lips parted, taking the strap back into her mouth, but you didn’t let her have it easy. Your hips thrust forward, forcing her to take it deeper than before. Her throat constricted around it, her eyes watering slightly as you pushed deeper. She gagged, her nails digging into your thighs, but she didn’t pull back.

"Is this what you wanted?" you asked, your voice harder now, more demanding. Natasha’s eyes fluttered shut, her body tense as you fucked her mouth, using her. The wet sounds filled the room, mixing with the faint bass from the bar outside.

Natasha choked slightly as you pushed in deeper, but she didn’t stop, her body trembling as she tried to take more of it. But you could see it—her frustration. The realisation that she wasn’t fully in control was pushing her over the edge.

Her breath was ragged when you finally pulled back, saliva glistening on the strap as she panted, lips trembling with effort. Her eyes met yours, and for the first time, she looked... needy. Desperate, even.

“You need more, don’t you?” you asked, gripping her hair tightly. “You think you can handle it?”

She didn’t answer right away, her throat working hard to swallow her pride along with the saliva pooling in her mouth. And then, quietly, she nodded. Just once.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please.”

That was all you needed to hear. You yanked her up by the hair, spinning her around and pressing her up against the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, but she didn’t protest. She wasn’t giving up, but she was giving in.

You crashed your mouth against hers, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for doubt. This wasn’t about control anymore—it was about possession. You bit down on her lower lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from her, her body arching toward you as if she couldn’t help herself.

Natasha's gasp filled the small room, her lips bruised and swollen from your punishing kiss. She should have hated it—the loss of control, the way you commanded her body with nothing more than your presence—but instead, it made her burn. Her skin was flushed, her breath coming in short, shallow pants as you pressed her firmly against the door, your hand still tangled in her hair, holding her exactly where you wanted her.

Her body betrayed her, arching into you, her hips moving instinctively, desperate for any friction to relieve the building pressure inside her. She was wet—soaking, even—and you hadn’t even touched her properly yet. The realisation made her cheeks flush hotter, though whether it was from embarrassment or arousal, she couldn’t tell.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your eyes dark, predatory, as they swept over her flushed face, her heaving chest, and the slight tremble in her legs. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low rasp, sending shivers down her spine. “All that control you like to have… where is it now?”

Natasha swallowed hard, her throat bobbing, but she couldn’t find the words. She had no clever retort, no sharp quip to throw back at you. She was too lost in the way you were looking at her, too consumed by the need coursing through her veins.

Your grip on her hair tightened, pulling her head back slightly, forcing her to look up at you. “Answer me,” you demanded, your lips brushing against her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “Where’s all that control, Natasha?”

She shuddered, her eyelids fluttering as her body arched toward you once more. “Gone,” she whispered, barely audible, her voice trembling with the weight of her admission. It was a small crack in her armour, but it was enough. The moment you uttered her off-stage name, the one no one else knew, Natasha’s brain short-circuited.

You smirked, satisfied with her answer. “Good girl.” The praise made her stomach flip, a rush of heat spreading through her as the words sank in. She didn’t realise how badly she had wanted it—needed it—until you gave it to her.

Without another word, you spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold, hard surface of the door. Natasha’s breath hitched, her hands splaying against the wood as she tried to ground herself. You stepped closer, your body pressing against hers from behind, your fingers tracing a slow, deliberate path down her spine.

She was tense, muscles coiled tight, every nerve ending on fire as your hand slid lower, lower, until your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her panties. The moment you touched her, a low moan slipped from her lips, her hips bucking back against you, desperate for more.

“Patience,” you murmured against her ear, your lips grazing her skin. “I’m not done playing with you yet.” Your fingers teased her, slipping through her slick folds, but never giving her enough pressure to satisfy the ache between her thighs. Natasha groaned, her head dropping forward, her forehead pressing against the door as she struggled to keep herself together.

But you didn’t let up. You kept her right on the edge, drawing out every gasp, every shiver, every desperate sound she made until she was trembling beneath your touch, her body begging for release.

“Please,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible, but it was enough for you. You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear as you pressed two fingers deep inside her without warning.

Natasha gasped, her whole body jolting from the sudden intrusion, but she didn’t protest. She couldn’t. All she could do was moan, her fingers curling against the door as her body surrendered to the pleasure you were giving her.

You moved slowly at first, your fingers thrusting in and out of her with a measured precision, building her up, making her crave more. Her hips moved in time with your hand, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts as she chased the release that was just out of reach.

But then, just when she thought she might finally tip over the edge, you stilled your movements.

“No!” The word slipped out before she could stop it, her body still writhing, desperate for the release you kept denying her. She turned her head slightly, looking at you over her shoulder, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please, don’t stop.”

You chuckled softly, your breath warm against her neck as you leaned in closer. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice a low, dangerous rasp. “Begging for it. You really are desperate, aren’t you?”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushing hot with shame and arousal. She should have hated the way you were toying with her, should have fought back, but she couldn’t. Not when her body was burning like this, not when she was so close to falling apart beneath your touch.

Your fingers curled inside her, pressing against that spot deep within her that made her see stars. Natasha moaned, her hips bucking back against you, her whole body trembling as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level.

“Come for me, Natasha,” you whispered against her ear, your voice soft but commanding. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

It was all she needed. With a sharp cry, her body tensed, her muscles clenching tight around your fingers as she came hard, her release washing over her like a tidal wave. She gasped for air, her body shaking as you worked her through it, your fingers never stopping, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was a trembling, panting mess.

When it was over, when her body finally stopped trembling, you pulled your fingers from her, a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips as you watched her slump against the door, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glistening with sweat.

“Good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing now as you brushed a strand of hair from her face. Natasha shuddered at the praise, her heart still racing as she tried to catch her breath.

Before she could fully recover, you turned her around again, pressing her back against the door as your lips crashed against hers in a bruising, possessive kiss. Natasha moaned into your mouth, her hands gripping your shoulders, pulling you closer, her body still aching for more, even after the intense release you’d just given her.

Your hands roamed her body, your fingers skimming over her bare skin. She shivered at your touch, her breath hitching as your hands moved higher, teasing the edges of her red corset.

“Do you want more?” you whispered against her lips, your voice dark and teasing.

Natasha nodded, her fingers tightening on your shoulders. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice soft and desperate.

She was still trembling, her breath ragged as she tried to recover, but you weren’t done with her yet. Not even close. You pulled back slightly, your lips brushing over her jawline, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Her head fell back against the door with a soft thud, her skin flushed, pupils blown wide as she looked at you with a haze of lust clouding her gaze. You could see how desperate she was, how badly her body was craving more, needing to be filled.

Your hand slid down her thigh, strong fingers curling around her knee as you lifted her leg, pushing it up to her chest. The position opened her up to you in a way that made your mouth water, giving you the perfect view of her already slick and swollen entrance, quivering and glistening with arousal. Her panties had been soaked through long before, but you ripped them down her legs now, tossing them aside without a second thought. Natasha whimpered, her fingers clutching at your shoulders as her body arched, her hips instinctively pushing toward you, searching for the friction she so desperately needed.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and dark with desire as your hand travelled back up her thigh, tracing the sensitive skin with teasing slowness. “So fucking wet and ready for me.” You reached between your bodies, gripping the base of your strap as you positioned it at her entrance, the thick head brushing against her slick folds. Natasha’s breath hitched, her whole body tightening in anticipation, her hands curling into fists as she pressed back against the door, trying to steady herself.

“Please,” she breathed, her voice barely audible, but dripping with need. “Please, I need it.”

You gave a low, satisfied chuckle, your eyes never leaving hers as you leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear. “I know you do, sweetheart,” you whispered, your voice a low rasp that sent shivers down her spine. You nudged the strap forward slightly, just enough to let the tip press into her, but not enough to give her the relief she craved. Natasha whimpered, her hips bucking toward you, desperate to take more.

“Shh,” you cooed, tightening your grip on the back of her thigh as you pressed her knee further against her chest, opening her up even more. “I’ll give you what you need, but I want to hear you beg for it.”

Natasha bit her lip, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and desire, but she couldn’t deny how badly she wanted it—needed it. “Please,” she whispered again, her voice trembling. “Please, fuck me… I need it so bad.”

Your smirk widened, and without another word, you slowly pushed forward, the thick head of your strap finally pressing into her tight, wet heat. Natasha gasped, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her body jolted at the sudden intrusion. She was tight, impossibly tight, her walls clenching around the silicone in a way that made it difficult to press any deeper, but the resistance only made you want it more.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, her voice a high-pitched whine as you continued to push inside her, every inch stretching her further, forcing her to take more of you. “You’re—too big,” she panted, her head falling back against the door as her hips jerked forward, trying to accommodate the stretch.

“Shh,” you murmured against her neck, your lips grazing the sensitive skin as you gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. “You can take it, baby. I know you can.”

Natasha whimpered again, her walls fluttering and clenching around the thick strap, trying to pull it deeper, even though it was almost too much. You could see how tight she was, almost feel how every ridge and fake vein on the strap dragged against her slick walls, sending shivers of pleasure through her body with every inch you pushed inside. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, her chest heaving as she struggled to take more of you, her body trembling with the effort.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” you groaned, your own voice strained with arousal as you finally bottomed out inside her, the base of the strap pressing against her soaked folds. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into your shoulders as her hips jerked forward, trying to take you even deeper. She was stretched so wide around the strap, her walls clenching and pulsing around the intrusion, desperate for more.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and rough with desire as you glanced down at where your strap was buried deep inside her. The sight was sinful—Natasha’s leg pressed high against her chest, her pussy stretched around your thick strap, her slick juices coating the silicone and dripping down her thighs. “You look so fucking good taking all of this, baby.”

Natasha whimpered, her head tilting forward just enough to look down at the obscene sight between her legs. She could see the way her walls clenched around the strap, the way her slick arousal dripped down her thighs, and it made her body burn with embarrassment and desire. She was so full, so impossibly full, but she needed more—she needed you to move.

“Please,” she begged, her voice a high-pitched whine as her hips bucked forward, trying to get you to thrust inside her. “Please, I need you to move.”

Your smirk deepened, your other hand sliding up her thigh to grip her hip as you pulled back slightly, the thick strap dragging against her sensitive walls with agonising slowness. Natasha gasped, her whole body shuddering at the sensation, her head falling back against the door as her fingers dug into your shoulders.

“You’re so fucking tight,” you groaned, your voice low and breathless as you thrust back into her, the strap filling her once more. Natasha cried out, her body jolting at the sudden movement, her walls clenching around the silicone as you began to thrust into her with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Natasha’s breath came in short, ragged gasps, her body trembling as the pleasure built with every thrust. She was so full, so stretched, every inch of the strap dragging against her sensitive walls, making her burn with need. Her hips bucked against you, desperate for more, and you were all too happy to give it to her.

You quickened your pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the small room. Natasha’s cries grew louder, her hands clutching at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as her body shuddered with every thrust. Her walls clenched around the thick strap, trying to keep you buried deep inside her, but you kept up your relentless pace, fucking her harder, faster, until her whole body was trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“Fuck, you’re taking it so good,” you groaned, your voice rough with arousal as you watched the way her body shook, the way her pussy stretched around your strap.  Natasha’s leg was still raised high, your grip on her thigh unwavering, giving you that sinful view of her slick, swollen pussy stretched wide around the strap.

“Please,” Natasha whimpered, her voice a breathless moan as her body trembled beneath you. “Please, I’m so close.”

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against her ear as you thrust into her even harder, the thick strap filling her completely, dragging against every sensitive inch of her walls. “Then come for me,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “I want to feel you come all over this strap.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body arching into you as the pleasure built to an unbearable level. And then, with one final, deep thrust, she shattered. A scream tore from her lips as her walls clenched tight around the strap, her whole body trembling as the orgasm ripped through her, leaving her gasping for breath.

The moment Natasha came undone, her body arched beautifully against the door, trembling violently as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her walls clenched so tightly around the strap that you could feel the pressure even through the silicone, and the sight of her falling apart in your hands only fueled the fire raging inside you.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second.

With each pull of your hips, the fake veins on the strap dragged against her sensitive inner walls, teasing the oversensitive flesh until Natasha was nothing but a writhing, gasping mess. Her eyes rolled back, half-lidded with pleasure, and her lips parted in a soft, helpless moan every time you thrust back into her. You could feel the way she pulsed around the strap, her orgasm still crashing through her, each thrust prolonging the pleasure, edging her closer to that line between unbearable ecstasy and delicious torment.

“God, you’re so good for me,” you groaned, your breath hitching as you felt the silicone slip inside her once more, filling her to the hilt. Natasha whimpered, her head falling back against the door, her nails biting into your shoulders. Her leg quivered in your grasp, and you couldn’t help but smirk at how utterly wrecked she was beneath you.

With a low growl of satisfaction, you pressed her thigh even higher, opening her up even more, pushing her to the very limit of her flexibility. The new angle had the thick strap sinking impossibly deep, and Natasha gasped, her entire body jolting at the sensation. As her free leg instinctively wrapped around your waist, anchoring herself to you, you felt the shift in her balance—she had nothing keeping her standing anymore, fully depending on you.

“Fuck!” Natasha cried out, her voice cracking as you pulled back and slammed forward again, the wet sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room. “I— I can’t— it’s too much!” You pressed her up against the door even more, using your strength to hold her in place as her body trembled under the onslaught of pleasure, the desperation in her voice only igniting your need for her further.

Her whimpers were nearly incoherent, her face flushed with exertion, but you could see the glint of desire still lingering in her eyes. She was teetering on the edge of overstimulation, but you knew she craved every second of it. She wanted to feel all of it—the stretch, the burn, the fullness. The way the strap forced her walls to accommodate the thickness, how each and every detail of your faux-cock dragged along her inner muscles, heightening her pleasure with each stroke.

"You take it so well, baby," you cooed, your voice dripping with confidence and dominance. "You’re doing so well. Look at you—fucking yourself on my strap like this."

Her breath hitched again at your words, a shiver of arousal rolling through her already trembling body. She was utterly at your mercy, and you loved it. You loved how she fought against the overwhelming pleasure, how she clenched so desperately around the strap, trying to draw it deeper into her slick heat. Her need for more, despite the delicious torment, was written all over her flushed face, her parted lips, her half-lidded eyes filled with lust and desperation.

You picked up your pace again, your hips snapping forward with a relentless rhythm that had Natasha gasping for air, her nails scraping down your back as she arched off the door, her body shuddering with each deep, powerful thrust.

“Oh god—oh fuck,” she whimpered, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The leg wrapped around you trembled, barely able to hold on as her body shook under the intense pleasure you were giving her. Her thighs were slick with her arousal, her pussy dripping with how desperately wet she was, and you couldn’t help but groan at the sight of her coming undone again and again.

“Good girl,” you whispered, your voice soft but firm as you leaned in closer, pressing your lips to her ear. “Look at yourself. Look at how fucking good you look with my cock buried inside you.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze hazy as she glanced down between your bodies. The sight made her moan—a deep, breathless sound that sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through her. She could see it—the thick, veined strap disappearing into her, stretching her wide, her swollen folds glistening with her arousal. Every thrust made her slick pussy tighten around the silicone, and the sight of it only spurred you on.

You adjusted your grip on her thigh, pulling her leg even higher, pushing her closer to the door as you thrust harder, deeper, the wet sound of her slick arousal mixing with her breathless moans.

“Oh god—fuck!” Natasha cried out, her walls fluttering violently around the strap as you drove her toward yet another climax. “I— I’m gonna—fuck, please don’t stop!”

Her entire body tensed, her head falling back against the door as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm. Her walls clenched around the strap, trying to milk every inch of it as you thrust into her with a brutal, unforgiving force.

“That’s it,” you groaned, your voice low and commanding as you felt her walls begin to spasm around the strap, her breath hitching as her climax built. “Come for me again, Natasha.”

With one final, hard thrust, Natasha shattered, her entire body jerking as a scream ripped from her throat. Her walls clamped down around the thick silicone, pulsing wildly as her orgasm tore through her, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing over her. She was trembling, gasping for air as her body convulsed beneath you, her slick juices dripping down her thighs, soaking both of you.

You kept thrusting into her, slow and deep, prolonging her pleasure as you rode out her orgasm with her. Natasha’s body jerked with each thrust, her breath coming in short, desperate bursts as her hands clung to your shoulders, trying to ground herself in the overwhelming sensation.

When her trembling finally began to subside, you slowed your pace, easing her leg down from where it had been pressed against her chest, her body slumping against you in exhaustion. Her head fell against your shoulder, her breath hot and ragged against your skin as you gently pulled out of her, the slick strap glistening with her release.

As Natasha’s trembling body sagged against you, her breath still coming in ragged bursts, you could feel the way her grip on your shoulders loosened and her leg let go of your waist. The aftermath of her climax left her shaky, her muscles quivering from the overwhelming pleasure you’d just wrung from her body. But even in her exhausted state, you could sense her lingering need. It simmered beneath her flushed skin, a wantonness that never quite faded, even when she was wrecked like this.

Without a word, Natasha sank down, her legs buckling as she willingly dropped to her knees. The sight alone was enough to send a fresh surge of heat coursing through you—Natasha, her thighs glistening with her release, her hair dishevelled, and her lips parted as she knelt between your legs. Her eyes, half-lidded and dark with desire, flickered up to meet yours, a silent plea for permission lingering in her gaze.

Your hand instinctively found its way to her cheek, fingers brushing across the warm skin as you gently tilted her face up. Her lips ghosted over your knuckles, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin before she shifted her focus downward. Her gaze dropped to the strap still glistening between your legs, slick with her arousal, and you could see the hunger spark in her eyes.

“Natasha…” you whispered, your voice thick with a mixture of affection and desire.

But she didn’t need any further encouragement. Her hands, still trembling slightly, reached for the base of the strap, steadying it as she licked her lips. The tip was soaked in her juices, glistening under the soft light, and Natasha stared at it for a moment, almost mesmerised by the evidence of her own pleasure. Then, with a soft moan, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the head of the strap, sucking it into her mouth with slow, deliberate movements.

You groaned softly, your hand moving to rest on the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as you watched her work. Natasha’s tongue swirled around the head of the strap, tasting herself on the silicone, her mouth moving in languid strokes as she took more of it into her mouth. Her release coated her lips, shining as she sucked the slickness off, moaning low in her throat as she worked to clean the strap.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her focus entirely on the task at hand as she bobbed her head, her lips stretching around the girth. You could feel the pressure of her movements even through the toy, the way she sucked and licked with such dedication. It was intoxicating—the sight of her on her knees, her mouth filled again with your strap, the faint, almost sinful sound of her moans vibrating against the silicone as she sucked her own release off of it.

“My good girl,” you murmured, your voice low and full of praise. “Look at you…so eager to clean up after yourself.”

Natasha whimpered in response, the sound muffled as her mouth slid down further on the strap, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked harder. Her hands came up to cradle the base, stroking it gently as her tongue flicked over the veined surface, cleaning every ridge, every dip, savouring the taste of herself.

You could feel her submission in every movement, the way she surrendered completely to this moment. Her mouth moved with such deliberate care, as if this was another way of showing her devotion, her gratitude for the pleasure you’d given her. The way she worshipped the strap was almost reverent, her tongue lapping up every drop of her arousal, cleaning it with slow, sensual strokes.

“Does it taste good?” you asked softly, your fingers tightening slightly in her hair.

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with yours as she pulled back just enough to speak, her lips still wrapped around the head of the strap.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly, her voice hoarse with lust. “So good…”

And with that, she took the strap deeper, moaning as her mouth stretched again to accommodate it. The sight was almost too much—her lips wrapped around the thick girth, her tongue working tirelessly to clean it, her eyes dark and hooded with lust as she looked up at you, completely at your mercy.

You couldn’t resist. With a low growl, you tightened your grip on her hair and gently guided her head forward, watching as more of the strap disappeared into her mouth. Natasha didn’t hesitate, didn’t resist. She eagerly followed your lead, sinking down on the strap with a soft, muffled moan as she took it deeper, her tongue swirling around the silicone as she sucked harder.

The wet, obscene sounds of her mouth working the strap echoed in the room, mingling with her soft whimpers of pleasure. Each time she pulled back, her lips glistened with slickness, her saliva mixing with the remnants of her release as she diligently cleaned the strap. The sight, the sounds, the intoxicating feel of her submission—it was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but groan in response. It felt so different from just twenty minutes ago, the air now thick with an emotional tension that left both you and her craving more.

“Such a good girl…” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You love this, don’t you? Love tasting yourself on my cock like this?”

Natasha moaned again, her eyes rolling back slightly as she nodded, her mouth still full of the strap. Her fingers tightened around the base, her tongue swirling with renewed intensity as she sucked harder, her moans vibrating against the silicone in a way that had your own breath hitching in your throat.

You tugged her hair gently, pulling her back just enough to see her flushed, eager face, her lips even more swollen and slick from her efforts. She looked up at you, her eyes filled with lust and devotion, and the sight of her—completely wrecked, completely at your mercy—made your heart race.

“Finish it, once more,” you whispered, your voice soft but commanding. “Clean it all up, baby.”

Natasha’s breath hitched, and with one last, eager moan, she sank down again, taking the strap as deep as she could, her lips stretched tight around the girth. Her tongue worked tirelessly, lapping up the last remnants of her release, her fingers stroking the base as she cleaned every inch of the strap with slow, deliberate care.

By the time she finally pulled back, the strap was glistening with nothing but her saliva. She looked up at you, her eyes hazy with pleasure, her mouth hanging open slightly as she panted for oxygen.

Natasha’s chest heaved, her lips still glistening as she knelt before you, a blend of exhaustion and determination in her eyes. Her body was clearly spent, trembling from the intensity of everything that had just unfolded, yet even in her weary state, a flicker of something more shone through. That relentless desire, the insatiable need to please you, to reciprocate the pleasure you had so generously given her, burned bright within her. It was as if the connection between you two transcended the physical, igniting a fire that she couldn't ignore.

With a shaky breath, Natasha reached for the harness still strapped to your hips. Her fingers, though trembling from exhaustion, worked quickly to undo the buckles, each one coming undone with a soft click. You could feel her need—this wasn’t just about giving; it was about showing you that she was still capable, that she could offer you more. Her eyes met yours briefly, the unspoken plea for permission lingering in their depths before she yanked the harness off completely.

Without a word, she tossed it behind you, the strap landing on the floor with a dull thud, completely forgotten. What mattered now was you—your pleasure, your release.

“Natasha, you don’t have to…” you started to say, but your words were cut short as she leaned forward, her hands gripping your thighs with surprising strength, anchoring you in place.

“I want to,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but resolute. “I need to.”

Before you could protest further, Natasha dove in, her mouth finding you with an eagerness that made your breath hitch. Her lips latched onto your sensitive folds, tongue immediately parting you as she licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your centre, savouring every inch of your heat. A low moan escaped your lips, and as soon as Natasha heard that first sound of pleasure, it was like a spark ignited within her.

She dove in deeper, her tongue working you with relentless precision, swirling and flicking against your most sensitive spots, teasing and tasting in a way that had your head thudding against the door in front of you. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you spread open for her as she devoured you like she couldn’t get enough. Each stroke of her tongue, each gentle nip of her lips, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, and it didn’t take long before you were moaning openly, your hand tangling in her messy hair as you rocked your hips against her mouth.

“Fuck, Natasha…” you gasped, your voice thick with lust and awe. “Just like that…”

Your praise only fueled her further. Every moan, every word of encouragement that slipped past your lips made her work harder, her tongue moving faster, her lips sucking greedily at your clit. She was completely lost in it, lost in the way you responded to her touch, in the way your body trembled beneath her mouth. It was like she couldn’t get enough of your taste, couldn’t get enough of the sounds you made—the way you were falling apart for her.

And as you moaned her name again, louder this time, Natasha whimpered softly against you, her hips involuntarily bucking as if she could feel every ounce of pleasure you were experiencing. The connection between the two of you was palpable, an unspoken bond that seemed to tether your bodies together, each of your reactions sending waves of sensation through both of you.

She could hear the way your breath hitched, feel the way your thighs clenched around her head, and it drove her wild. Your pleasure was her pleasure, your release was her reward. Natasha’s own arousal was building again, the slickness between her thighs only intensifying as she tasted you, her own body responding to the rhythm of your moans, the raw, unfiltered sounds of your ecstasy.

“Oh fuck–Natasha…” Your breath was ragged, your body on the edge, teetering precariously close to that release she was so desperate to give you.

With a final flick of her tongue and a deep, sucking pull at your clit, you came undone. The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, pulling you under in a flood of overwhelming pleasure. Your hands clenched in her hair as your back arched off, your thighs squeezing her head tight as you cried out, your voice echoing through the room in breathless, blissful moans.

Natasha didn’t stop. Even as you writhed above her, she kept her mouth on you, lapping up every drop of your release, savouring every moan, every tremor of your body as you rode out your orgasm. And as you came, something shifted in her—something broke free inside her.

She felt it—the sudden, uncontrollable surge of pleasure that washed over her as your moans hit their peak. It was the mere sight of you, the way you fell apart for her, the way your body shook with pleasure, the way you moaned her name like she was the only thing that mattered that set it off.

Her own release hit her like a lightning strike, her body going rigid as her climax overtook her without warning. Natasha gasped, her mouth still pressed against you as she came, the shock of her own orgasm freezing her in place. The pleasure ripped through her, stealing her breath, her thighs quivering uncontrollably as she came just from the sight of you.

She pulled back from you slightly, her lips still wet with your release, her eyes wide with disbelief as her body shook with the aftershocks of her own unexpected orgasm. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her mind reeling from what had just happened. You were both wrapped in the warmth of the moment when suddenly, your phone rang loudly in the silence.

You reached for it, reluctantly pulling away from Natasha’s gaze. “Yes, I’ll be there in ten minutes, Pepper,” you replied, your voice a mix of disappointment and urgency.

Natasha smiled softly at you, a bittersweet feeling bubbling up inside her as she leaned into your touch, your hand gently stroking her cheek. There was a warmth in the gesture that made her heart flutter, an affirmation of the bond that had just blossomed between you two. She felt seen, cherished, even amidst the whirlwind of everything that had just transpired.

“Tell him to prepare some dessert,” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips. “I haven’t had the chance to have mine here. Hopefully next time I will, the menu looks promising.”

Natasha’s cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as she caught the glimmer of mischief in your eyes. You could see her heart racing, a delightful mix of embarrassment and exhilaration washing over her. The intimate nature of your exchange lingered in the air, and the thought of your teasing words sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Next time,” she echoed softly, her voice barely above a whisper, as the realisation settled in that you would be back for her.

With a final glance at her, you turned to leave, a flutter of anticipation sparking between you two. As you made your way towards the door, Natasha’s eyes followed you, filled with longing and excitement for what lay ahead. And as you stepped outside, you left behind the strap, a tangible reminder of your connection, a symbol of what you had shared.

The door clicked shut behind you, leaving Natasha alone in the room, her heart racing as she thought about everything that had just happened. She picked up the strap, feeling its weight in her hands, and a wicked smile spread across her lips.

She couldn’t wait for your return. She was already crafting ideas for the next time you’d come back, each thought fueling her desire for you even more. Because this was only the beginning, and she was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing that you would both find your way back to each other, intertwined by the widow’s lace.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hi!

Could you write something about a villain finding out their long lost supposed dead brother is his nemesis (the hero)

Dunno, i just love how your write personal drama between rivals and reveals

"Stop," the villain hissed, "talking like you know me."

"I know you're better than this. I know you want more than this-"

The villain advanced, cutting the words off with swift lethal slashes of his blade. It forced the hero to parry, armoured arm bands clanging as he blocked blow after blow in turn, forced to retreat.

Pathetic. Weak. Unwilling to fight properly. To make the kill. It would be the downfall of the hero - the villain would make sure of it! Fury coursed through his veins.

"I know I let you down-"

"-You?" The villain laughed, scornful. In an instant, he had his blade at the tender vulnerabilities of the hero's stupid throat. "You're-"

"-I know," the hero said through ragged pants for air, "that you want to fly away!"

The villain froze.

"Excuse me?"

There was only one person he had ever confessed as much to, and that person was long gone.

"Dale."

His name was soft, a little broken, on the hero's lips. As if the villain had already plunged the dagger through into the hero's windpipe and left them gasping, wheezing, choking on a fatal wound.

"God, Dale," the hero said. "I'm so sorry."

The villain's eyes widened.

The hero grabbed his blade arm, twisting and forcing him expertly to drop the weapon, seizing the other wrist for good measure. They tousled and the movements - the struggling closeness, the precise way that the hero knew to pin him - no. No. He was slammed up against the wall, the other blade clattering to the floor.

"I know," the hero said, against his ear. "That you're better than this. Better than - better than your family. At least you can be. If you want to be. Do you still want to be? Or am I too late?"

The villain wanted to turn, abruptly, as the familiarity of the voice settled over him. It was deeper, rougher, than it had been when they were kids. It was unmistakable, though, once the realisation sank in. His body stiffened.

"Don't you fucking come at me with a dead man's voice."

"Do you still want to be? I don't have long. Dale, please-"

The villain bashed his head back. He was taller than he had been when they were boys, and the back of his head collided with the armoured mask covering the top half of his brother's face.

The hero groaned. His grip loosened just enough for the villain to follow up with an elbow to the ribs, seeking out any weakness the hero was foolish enough to grant.

He snatched up a knife and - damn it. It once again hovered just at the hero's neck. Trembling. The hero grabbed him by the hip and hurling him down. The knife went clattering again. They rolled, reduced to something less like seasoned fighters and more scrapping like children.

"Dale, for god's sake-"

"-Don't for god's sake me," the villain snapped. "You ghost. You - you bloody traitor!"

"We don't have time!"

"YOU LEFT ME! MAKE TIME!"

The hero went quiet, went slack beneath the next roll, letting Dale shove him down against the icy concrete floor. Up close, Dale drank in more of the obvious so damn obvious signs. The hero's eyes. The line of his jaw, less-baby faced, but...

"Henry."

He didn't allow his voice to break. Or maybe there was nothing in him left to break. Maybe that was wishful thinking.

The hero swallowed. "Come with me. I don't - I won't - leave you again. Not here. Not with them."

The villain considered that, chest aching. The hero was being sincere, that much was clear. Ten odd years ago he would have followed anywhere his brother asked. Ten odd years ago he wouldn't have recognised the man - the weapon, the warrior, the oncoming war - that he had become.

"We need to go now," the hero said. "I know a way out, but-"

"-I'm not going anywhere."

He'd never seen the body, it was true. His father had always said it was too ravaged, too terrible a sight. That he should remember his brother as he was. Their most vicious, their best, everything that Dale should aspire to be.

"Dale-"

He drew another of his many blades, and that time he struck. The knife buried deep into his brother's shoulder. Not a kill shot. Enough to really, really hurt though.

His brother bit back the scream, for what that was worth, so maybe they were still blood. Maybe father's training still held.

"-You left me with them, and I made them mine." He leaned in, teeth bared. "So, yes. You're too late. I suppose Dale can rest in peace with his brother's body, can't he?"

He pulled back, leaving the knife in, as he straightened. He stood over his brother's body, feeling like he'd run a triple marathon. He wiped the blood away from his cheek, hoping his eyes were cool but knowing they were not.

The hero leveraged himself up, slow and wary, clamping pressure down on the wound.

Distantly, Dale could hear footsteps. His honour guard. His bloodhounds. The dark throne he had clawed himself a survival out of.

"I never meant to leave you behind," the hero said. "Father he - I can still help you. Let me help you."

The villain scoffed. It seemed he did still have something in him that could break after all.

"Fly away, Henry. You stay any longer and you won't have wings either."

His brother stared at him.

The footsteps grew louder.

The villain raised an eyebrow, drawing another blade, twirling it swift and savage between his fingers.

"I'll be back," the hero said. "Now that I - I'll be back. I promise."

Then, the villain watched him run.

[monstersflashlight]

Patreon commission for @i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this

Request: I was thinking of doing a warlock x bar keep (maybe a minatour or orc, honestly dealers choice), but because the reader is a warlock her patron (a tentacle guy) is always watching, so she warns the bar keep thinking he will wanna stop, but he dosen’t. So while the bar keep and reader are having sex (in the closed bar), some tentacles from her patron come out and help. And maybe if possible have the patron speak to reader in her mind and just is super condensing and dirty. While the bar keep is super nice and praising. So reader warns orc that tentacle monster will be watching and interacting, but orc doesn't really care, or likes the idea!

A/N: The phrases in italics are said inside the reader and orc’s mind. Enjoy!

After closing

Orc x gn!tentacle monster x warlock fem!reader || tentacle sex, sharing is caring, exhibitionism (kinda?), semi-public sex, double penetration, dirty talk, (light) degradation

You were tending the bar, and all night long, an orc had been chatting you up when you weren’t busy. He was handsome and big, and looked good enough to eat. So when he asked: “Can I stay?”

You couldn’t do anything but to agree. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“Let me help you,” he offered as you cleaned the place, taking the broom and doing a quick but efficient job at cleaning most of the dirt on the floor. You weren’t too worried about it, looking at him move and flex was making you all kinds of hot and bothered.

When he finished his helping, you both meet at the table next to the back door. A part of you was hyper-aware of everything around you, of his body getting closer and the predatory shadow in his eyes. He breathed deeply in front of you, his nostrils flaring when he caught your desire in the air. He growled softly, and you whined. You loved your lovers growly.

He launched to kiss you when you softly stopped him with a hand on his chest. “I- I have to warn you, though.”

He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your jaw… “About what?” He asked between kisses, his hands traveling up and down your back, a bit closer to your ass with each stroke. You were slowly losing your mind, but you needed to inform him first, before they appeared.

“The patron…” You started, and your voice broke when he sucked on your neck, his tusks caressing your skin in the most tantalizing way. “He likes to watch and participate,” you finished when your brain came back.

That made him stop. “What?”

“I’m just giving you a heads up, they can appear at any moment and they… they like to participate,” you let out the last part in a whisper. You weren’t sure how he was going to take it, some people left after she told them. Some of them stayed and had the best night of their lives.

You knew he would be one of the second. “Participate, huh?” His smirk and the innuendo in his tone made you shiver in anticipation.

“They are very… enthusiastic.” That was an understatement, but you preferred him to discover that in due time.

His voice lowered a couple octaves as he said: “Are they gonna help me drive you senseless?” And growled a little, making your knees give up under you. He grabbed your ass and sat you on the table, the perfect height for his dick to rub against your clothed pussy. You groaned out loud and he chuckled.

“I don’t know, maybe.” But you knew they would, they had done it every time you dared to have sex at the bar. And if you were completely true to yourself, you’d accept that it was the main reason why you kept inviting some of the patrons to have sex after hours, so you could feel their tentacles over your body again.

“I’m in, I don’t mind sharing, especially if it’s a morsel such as yourself, so delectable.” As he talked he reached to touch your body, his hands finding the hem of your shirt, slipping underneath and touching your soft skin. Your skin was electrified, sending tiny sparks his way, making him shiver in response. “I fucking love sex with warlocks,” he said as he groped your boob, approaching your body and kissing your neck. You send another wave of electricity down his body, making him growl again as you giggled.

“I’m not the first, then?” You joked, not bothered at all by whatever his response might be as you pulled at his shirt and your mouths met. It was exhilarating, to have such a big monster over you, next to you. His green hands traveling over your body like you were a treasure. It was wonderful.

Things got heated pretty quick after that, both of you naked and grinding against each other between frantic kisses when you felt them. It was a tentacle across your ankle, but it rapidly ascended and joined your grinding, wrapping themselves around your orc’s dick and adding texture to it.

Such good sluts for me, the voice of your patron sounded inside your brain, and by the gasp your lover emitted, inside his, too. You two look great all needy grinding against each other, I love to watch that.

You both groaned as the tentacle squeezed his dick and rubbed the suckers against your dripping pussy. Another tentacle joined over the orc’s shoulder, closing around your neck as you gasped for air and parted the kiss. You threw your head back when a third and fourth tentacle groped your tits.

Look at these tits, so perfect to grope, I bet you’d love to be groped in the middle of a service. Yeah, you would… Maybe next time I would just fuck you when everyone is here. You’d like that? Their voice inside your brain was rough and condescending, sending shivers down your body as they kept talking. Of course you’d like that, you are a slut. And our orc friend here… He’s a slut, too. Your orc companion groaned loudly. Look at him all dark green, flustered because a tentacle monster is playing with him.

You looked at him just in time to see some tentacles caressing his body as you watched mesmerized. It was such a turn on to be at the mercy of a powerful tentacle monster… As you got fucked by anther monster, your body was vibrating with pent up energy as hands and tentacles touched you everywhere.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” You chanted as your orc companion groaned, his head thrown back as he was caressed by tentacles.

“Yes. Yes,” he was having problems of his own trying to align his dick with your pussy, the tentacles holding his hands away and sucking on his nipples. He cried out so loud you were worried someone could hear him from the outside, but a part of you found that even hotter. You tried to reach for his cock to do it yourself, but the tentacles stopped you, too.

You two are mine to play, you can’t decide when you do anything.

You were completely at their mercy, both of you were. You felt a tentacle caressing your asshole, probing and pushing lightly, making you moan loudly. Your orc lover wasn’t far behind, probably some tentacles doing the same to him. It was exhilarating to know he was also being fucked, that you two were nothing but toys. And judging by his moans, he thought so, too.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I’ve never- Nobody ever…” He tried, but his voice kept breaking with loud groans. By the time the tentacle breached your asshole, you had half of a brain-cell left. Your body melting against the table as the orc in front of you melted on top of you. His mouth was open in a silent cry as a tentacle breached him. “This is… this is… Oh, Goddess.”

Oh, they sound so good when they are virgins. Your patron chuckled inside your brain. Guess someone is going to discover the wonders of tentacle AND anal sex today.

You wanted to laugh, to agree with him, but you didn’t have time before you felt something against your pussy. The orc’s cock, but it wasn’t alone. The tentacle that was jerking him didn’t let go, it curled around him and helped him inside of you, adding girth and texture to his already huge dick. It broke into you with a pop, your opening accepting them like an offering from the gods.

Such a good slut taking everything I give you, everything we give to you. I love how slutty you get, how desperate when you are stuffed.

You felt everything. The suckers, the ridges, the huge tip of the orc’s cock against your G-spot right before the tentacle moved and latched a sucker there. You screamed so loud you felt your companions shiver inside of you. It was too much, too fast, too far, too tight. You felt fuller than ever, your asshole being fucked by a tentacle, and your pussy overflowing with the combination of your lovers, it was way better than anything you thought possible. It was way better than anything you’ve ever felt before.

“I’m going- I’m gonna… Oh fuck!” His broken cry was accompanied by warm come inside of you, making you scream as you precipitated over the edge with him. It was a blinding orgasm, so powerful and intense that you felt your brain melting inside your brain and your body electrifying itself. “You are glowing, fuck, fuck, you are glowing.” His voice was harsh after screaming, and you realized he was right. Your magic surfacing in the weirdest way when you came, making you glow like a street lamp in the dim interior of the bar.

You came so hard you had to glow? Pathetic. I bet I can make you cry to look even more pathetic than you already are. Such a slut for some monster dick and tentacles… You wanted to answer them, to say something, but their words made you moan, humiliation making you hot all over. Your orc friend wasn’t better, groaning as they kept talking. And you? An orc whore who’ve never been fucked and now is pushing his ass back into my tentacles… ridiculous. But I bet I can make you cry, too. I love when they cry.

And then the tentacles started moving again. Moving his body and his dick, moving themselves inside your assholes. They were playing with you two like you were toys for their entertainment, and you two were powerless to stop them. It was intoxicating.

You came. And he came.

And it happened again. And again. And again.

By the time the tentacle monster decided they didn’t want to play with you two anymore, you were like rag dolls over the table, completely spent and tired, dried of all pleasure in your body. You didn’t even know how much it lasted, but you could hear some rooster far away. It was probably close to dawn… They fucked you two all night long, they squeezed every single drop of pleasure inside of you and left you there when they got bored…

Bar opens again in a couple hours, if I were you I would get dressed. But if you don’t… I guess you’d be the spectacle of the night.

You glowed again, your body responding to their threat as your orc companion got up on shaky legs and got dressed. He kissed your forehead before leaving, telling you he’d be back. You wanted to giggle at his soft whisper, your patron had that effect.

And you couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

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[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

A Day at the Park 🎡🎢

Leah Williamson x reader

warning : smut🔞

summary :

Durning a date, in an Amusement Park, Leah prepares a little suprise for you.

The sun was shining brightly as you and Leah strolled through the bustling amusement park, hand in hand. The scent of popcorn and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and excited screams from the nearby rides created a cheerful atmosphere. It had been weeks since you’d both had a day off together, and you couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than here, exploring the park with Leah.

You’d already been on a few rides, and the adrenaline rush had you both in high spirits. But as the day went on, Leah had been giving you a few sly, mischievous glances, and you knew she was planning something. You just didn’t know what.

After grabbing some snacks, Leah leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I think it’s time for a little break. Come with me.”

Without question, you followed her through the crowds until you reached the bathrooms. Once inside, Leah pulled you into one of the stalls, her lips curving into that familiar smirk that sent shivers down your spine.

“We’re going to make today even more fun,” she murmured, pulling something out of her bag.

Your eyes widened when you realized what it was—a small, discreet vibrator. “Leah,” you whispered, a nervous giggle escaping you.

“Shh,” she teased, her fingers gently lifting your skirt. “You’ll be fine, baby. Just trust me.”

Before you could protest, she pressed the toy against you, carefully adjusting it in place. Once satisfied, Leah gave you a quick kiss and stepped back, watching your reaction. “There. Now, let’s see how well you can handle the rest of the day.”

With a flick of her phone, she turned the vibrator on to the lowest setting. The gentle hum between your legs caught you off guard, and you bit your lip to stifle a gasp. Leah grinned, clearly enjoying the control she had over you.

As you left the bathroom, the two of you continued walking around the park, but you couldn’t focus on much else besides the subtle vibrations. Leah would occasionally bump the setting up, making it harder and harder for you to concentrate. Each time, she’d throw you a casual glance, like she hadn’t just sent a surge of pleasure through your body.

It wasn’t until you reached the line for the park’s most popular roller coaster that things really escalated. The wait was long, with a line that snaked back and forth, but Leah didn’t seem bothered. In fact, she seemed rather amused as she pulled out her phone and increased the intensity again.

Your knees nearly buckled as the sensation grew stronger, and you had to lean against Leah for support. “Leah,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t think I can…”

She chuckled softly, slipping an arm around your waist. “Oh, you can. We’ve got a lot of waiting to do, and I plan on making every minute interesting.”

With the vibrations now pulsing insistently, you did your best to keep your composure. Every minute felt like an eternity as you shuffled forward in the line, and Leah was relentless, switching the settings up and down just to keep you on edge.

By the time you reached the front of the line, your legs were trembling, and your body was buzzing with sensation. Leah gave you a quick kiss on the cheek, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “You’re doing so well, love.”

Just as the roller coaster came to a stop and the ride attendants opened the gates, Leah finally turned the vibrator off. The sudden lack of stimulation left you breathless, and you gave her a look that was half-relieved, half-frustrated.

Leah just smiled, taking your hand and leading you to your seats on the ride. “Now, let’s see how you handle this,” she teased, buckling you in.

As the roller coaster began its ascent, you couldn’t help but think that this was going to be the wildest ride of the day—but not just because of the roller coaster.

You stole a glance at Leah, who was watching you with that same playful grin, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You’d never been more excited, or more nervous, for a day at the park.

The roller coaster slowly climbed its first massive incline, the clicking of the chain pulling you higher and higher only added to the tension building inside you. As you approached the peak, you stole a glance at Leah, who was still watching you with that teasing glint in her eyes. Her hand casually rested near her phone, and you just knew she was waiting for the perfect moment.

When the ride finally crested the top, you braced yourself for the plunge, heart racing. But before the coaster could take its dramatic first drop, Leah smirked and, with a subtle swipe on her phone, the vibrator hummed back to life at full intensity.

Your breath hitched sharply as you were suddenly thrown into both the descent of the roller coaster and the overwhelming rush of sensation between your legs. The speed, the wind, the weightlessness of the drop, it all mingled with the relentless vibrations coursing through you, creating an electrifying mix of adrenaline and pleasure.

You gripped the safety bar tighter, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to stifle a moan. The coaster whipped around sharp turns, the G-forces pulling you in every direction, but it was the internal chaos Leah had caused that really had you on the edge.

Leah, of course, was completely unfazed, laughing along with the other riders, though you could feel her hand occasionally resting on your leg, gently squeezing it in reassurance—or perhaps as a reminder of who was in control. As the ride continued, each drop, each turn heightened the pleasure in ways you hadn’t expected. The thrill of the coaster was one thing, but the constant teasing hum made it so much more intense. You bit your lip hard, trying to keep any sound from escaping, especially with all the other people so close. The feeling was almost too much to bear.

When the ride finally began to slow down and pull back into the station, you were left panting, your body trembling from a mix of adrenaline and overstimulation. Leah shot you a satisfied grin, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “You made it through. I’m impressed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it came out more like a breathless giggle. As you both unbuckled and stepped off the ride, your legs felt wobbly, but Leah was right there, steadying you with a strong arm around your waist.

“We should grab some lunch,” she said casually, like she hadn’t just spent the past several hours torturing you with pleasure. You shot her a look, but she only grinned wider.

The rest of the day was a blur of teasing glances and stolen touches. Leah would turn the toy on at random moments, while waiting in line, walking through the park, even as you sat down to eat. Each time, she played with the settings, keeping you guessing, pushing you closer and closer to the edge, but never quite letting you go over.

By the time evening rolled around, the sun beginning to set and the park starting to wind down, you were completely spent. Your body was still tingling, and your mind was hazy from the constant stimulation. But despite it all, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Leah pulled you close as you walked towards the park exit, her arm wrapped around your shoulders. “You were amazing today,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I think you’ve earned a reward when we get home.”

Your heart fluttered at the promise in her voice, and despite the exhaustion, you found yourself excited for what the rest of the night had in store.

Leah’s promise hung in the air between the two of you, and your body responded to the mere thought of what was to come later. But for now, you were relieved to be heading towards the exit, finally getting a break from the non-stop teasing that had kept you on edge all day. The toy was still inside you, and every step reminded you of its presence, but Leah had dialed it down, allowing you some respite as the two of you strolled hand in hand through the park.

The lights around the park began to glow, giving the entire place a magical, dreamlike feel. Leah glanced at you, catching the soft glow of the lights reflecting off your face. Her smile was tender, and for a moment, it seemed like the teasing was done, like she was content just to hold you close.

But then, just as you were nearing the exit, she paused, her eyes glinting with mischief once more.

"One more ride," she said, her voice low and playful. You shot her a look, half-exasperated, half-intrigued.

"Leah," you began, your voice laced with a mixture of exhaustion and amusement.

Her thumb moved to her phone again, and she raised an eyebrow, daring you. "You up for it?"

You knew that look. She wasn't going to let this night end without one last thrill. Despite how worn out you felt from the constant teasing, a part of you was still excited, craving more of that intoxicating mix of pleasure and thrill.

"Fine," you muttered, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

Leah beamed, leading you toward a quiet, more secluded area of the park where the last ride waited, a gentle Ferris wheel that loomed above, moving lazily in the night sky. It was a far cry from the intense coasters you’d been on earlier, but somehow, you knew this slow, intimate ride would be just as intense in its own way.

You climbed into the small, private cabin of the Ferris wheel, settling in beside Leah. The door shut behind you, and soon, you were slowly lifted into the air, the city lights twinkling in the distance as the ride began its gradual ascent.

The higher you went, the quieter the park became, until it was just the two of you, suspended in the air. Leah slipped her arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, her fingers tracing small circles on your arm.

"You've been so good today," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. "I think you deserve something special."

Before you could respond, she turned the toy back on, this time at a slow, steady pace, just enough to send a wave of warmth through you. The sudden stimulation in the quiet, peaceful setting was a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier. It was almost too much, yet exactly what you wanted.

Leah's fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. "I’m going to let you finish," she whispered, her eyes dark with promise. "But not until we reach the top."

Your breath caught in your throat as the Ferris wheel continued to rise, the anticipation building with every slow rotation. Leah kept the vibrations steady, teasing you just enough to keep you on edge, but not enough to push you over.

You clenched your thighs together, biting your lip to stifle a moan as you neared the top of the wheel. Leah watched you intently, clearly enjoying every second of your struggle.

Finally, the cabin reached the very peak, and the ride paused, leaving you suspended at the highest point, the world stretching out below you. Leah leaned in, her lips grazing your neck as she whispered, "Now."

With a flick of her fingers on the app, she cranked up the intensity, and the sudden surge of pleasure tore through you. You gasped, gripping the edge of the seat as your body tensed, overwhelmed by the combination of the teasing, the anticipation, and now, the release.

Leah's arm tightened around you, holding you steady as you trembled, waves of pleasure crashing over you. She watched you the entire time, her breath warm against your skin as she murmured soft, reassuring words, guiding you through the overwhelming sensations.

As the ride began its slow descent, the toy hummed to a gentle stop, leaving you breathless and spent, leaning against Leah's side. She kissed your temple, her hand running soothingly up and down your arm.

"See?" she said, her voice soft and teasing. "A perfect ending to a perfect day."

You could only nod, too drained to respond with anything more. As the Ferris wheel reached the bottom, you knew that the day had been far from ordinary, but with Leah by your side, you wouldn't have had it any other way.

As you exited the ride and headed toward home, hand in hand, you couldn't help but smile, already looking forward to whatever adventure Leah had planned next.

my first smut :o, i hope it isn't to bad <3

[aangelinakii]

DRUNK WORDS, SOBER THOUGHTS.

— unexpected late night call.

summary : jason's always had a thing for his best friend's sibling. when they ask him to pick them up from a bar because roy would kill them, jason can't help but help a friend in need.

after coming home from patrol tonight, jason wasn't expecting a call from you, especially with your words sounding so slurred. it was unlike you, or at least what he knew about you.

"hey, jace, i've been drinking in your part of town. do you think you can come get me? roy would literally kill me if he knew i'd been drinking down here." those were your words, or, at least, what he could make out through your blurry voice and hiccups.

if jason were your brother, he would kill you himself, too. no blaming roy.

despite being the son of a billionaire, jason preferred to keep out the way, in his own little bubble. it was just a shame the only little bubble he could find was in the dark, dingy cauldron. not a safe place to get drunk in.

he could agree the bars were good, surprisingly. they sold good stuff. but the people couldn't be trusted; even as a man his size, he knew if he wanted to get trashed at a bar, it had to be at a club in bristol, or the safety of his own home.

it wasn't long before jason pulled up outside the bar he had to strain his ears to decipher, and made out your swaying figure lingering on the pavement outside. jesus...

he was quick to hop out his car and hurry to your side, looping a supportive arm around your upper back. your frame bubbled with a hiccup beneath him, and he patiently led your stumbling legs to the passenger's seat of his sedan.

"what are you doing drinking in the cauldron?" jason tried to conceal his sigh as he fell into the driver's seat beside you, and close the door behind him, quick to turn on the heating.

"birthday," you hummed in return, lids falling low over your eyes as you sunk into the warm seat, a nice contrast to both the sweaty pub and nippy air outside.

this time, jason was unable to hide his surprise, turning to you with raised eyebrows. "it's your birthday?" he should've known.

but his surprise quickly bubbled into embarrassment as you huffed out a laugh, shaking your head.

"no, doof," you snickered, peering over at him with your tired, hazy eyes. "friend's."

made sense. he swore it wasn't your birthday any time soon; but he mostly just did that to make himself feel better for jumping to conclusions.

jason's big, scarred hands took hold of the steering wheel, and his feet, still fitted in his heavy boots from patrol, moved to the pedals. with a vrum, the car began to move down the road, lined with drunkards.

a few beats of silence passed between you, and jason watched out the corner of his eye as you leaned forward to press at the stereo, one of his cd's humming to life.

soft shoegaze flowed through the speakers, something you immediately recognised as slowdive, despite your intoxication, and a chuckle brushed past your lips as you leaned back.

"didn't cast you as the slowdive type."

the driver beside you cleared his throat, and he momentarily took his eyes off the road to adjust the stereo, changing it from his cd rack to the radio. "i'm not," he responded sheepishly, although trying to push out a tone of toughness. "where to, then? i guess not to roy."

deciding not to push it, you turned out the window, small bemused smile upon your lips. "roy would kill me." your words were slow as you spoke, an effort to be more inteligible.

wincing as you spoke, you turned to jason with a soft grimace. "can we go back to yours?" a pang gave in your chest as you caught sight of jason's side-eye as the car passed an amber streetlight. now you've done it; gone and called him to pick you up, and then ask him to go back to his. some friend you are, putting him in this position. "i'll make it up to you."

who was jason to decline?

his jaw clenched, and you could hear him breath deeply. your own heart thudded in anticipation.

from beside you, jason let out a gravelly sigh. "fine."

with a dizzy grin, you leaned forward to spin the knob on the stereo, turning up the muffled music. something new on the charts you had yet to hear yet, so there was no use singing along.

soon, jason was pulling up outside his apartment block, and clicking off the music.

"how good are you walking, pipsqueak?" he asked as he pulled the keys from the ignition, and the car gave a grunt as the power left its body.

a scoffed brushed past your lips as your fingers limply grabbed for the door handle, attempting to lift your knees but only grunting. don't get too cocky now.

with a pair of scrunched-together eyebrows, you turned to jason, grumbling at that bemused smile on his stupid lips. you didn't have to speak to answer his question.

he chuckled, and his door clicked open as he pulled on the handle. you watched through the windshield as your brother's best friend grinned stupidly to himself to get to your side.

there would be an unspoken agreement between the two of you to never let roy know about this.

your saviour peeled open the passenger side door and held a hand out, and you noticed that his palm was wrapped in bandage that was beginning to seep a browny-red. best not to ask. chucking wryly, you took hold of his hand, and didn't have to make much of an effort to stand, as jason was strong enough to do so.

roy always went on about how strong he was, often walking into your bedroom in the apartment you shared (gotham rent is too high in the nice parts!) just to flex in your mirror, but when he brought jason round — his best friend — you could tell the immediate winner. jason todd, by a landslide.

shutting the door and locking the car behind you, jason wrapped an arm around your waist, expertly holding you up on your stumbling feet, and escorted you into the lobby of his apartment building. if he weren't trying to help your drunkness, the affection could have been mistaken for something more than friendly. but you were under the influence. he knew better.

it was a struggle getting you up the steps to his floor, but jason got you there eventually, setting you down on the couch, gaze lingering for a moment as you swayed.

hands on hips, jason spoke down to you, voice a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "you eat anything before going out? drink any water at all tonight?"

letting out a soft hiccup, you shook your head slowly, eyes closing to try to eliminate the harsh beginnings of a headache that had began to blossom in the back of your cranium.

in return, the tall man tutted, mouth pursing to the side. he stepped away from the sitting area, and you could hear the distant flush of a faucet coming to life, the muted sound of a glass being filled with water.

he was back, carefully handing you the almost-full glass as he lowered himself to perch on the ledge of the stout coffee table before the couch, hands hovering outside yours as your own grip wobbled with the weight of the cup. after sending him a look, he backed off. you could handle it. maybe.

"the couch okay for you?" jason hummed after a moment, corner of his mouth quirked up, watching you sip gingerly at the tasteless water, although the colour was beginning to return to your face, the blur in your eyes clearing. "or dare i ask if you want my bed?"

pulling the glass from your lips, you swallowed your mouthful before allowing yourself to chuckle and shake your head. "couch is fine." your voice was small, a little crackly and tired.

with another hum, jason stood, and pulled a folded blanket from the back of a bust-up armchair beside the sofa. he traded the blanket for your half-empty glass, and sat against the coffee table again.

unfolding the size of the blanket, watching it get larger and larger, you began to lean back against the plush sofa, prepared for slumber to take over. however, the breath hitched in your throat, and your movements stopped, as the sensation of rough fingertips grazed against your ankle.

when you looked down, vision still owning a blur, jason was helping you with your shoes, so you could put your feet on the couch without a worry.

once you were free, and jason had discarded your shoes by one leg of the coffee table, you tugged your feet beneath the blanket, and sunk down into the cushions. for such a guy jason was, you were surprised by how comfortable he'd made his living room.

head sinking into a plush pillow, you peered up at jason from beneath heavy eyelids. he'd perched his chin in his hand, watching you carefully, eyes and smile soft, black hair touselled.

"jason?" you hummed, and you could see the way his smile widened for a moment before falling neutral.

he leaned closer to you, ears aching to hear you through the slight slur of your tongue and the small volume.

"you know you've always been my favourite of roy's friends." and you couldn't help but chuckle tiredly, the soft laugh morphing into a yawn.

but jason didn't laugh in return, only watching as your eyes slowl fluttered shut. if only you knew that you've always been his favourite of roy's siblings. and he's only got one of those.

[dreamescapeswriting]

Blood and Affection ~ LMH

☪WORD COUNT: 1.6K

☪GENRE: established relationships, minho worried about his girlfriend, cute, fluffy, worried minho, mafia au,

☪PAIRING: Mafia!Minhox Fem!Reader

☪Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2024

☪MASTERLIST

You are in a relationship with Minho, one of the most powerful and feared mafia leaders in Seoul, someone everyone knew never to mess with or lie to which was why you hadn't been surprised when your nurse who was treated you told him where you were.

"Traitor." You whispered to her as you saw his car pulling up in the parking lot. She smirked over at you and shook her head. She, along with everyone else who worked for Minho, had known you a long time.

Your history with Minho ran deep—you were once his top operative, known for your flawless execution of missions and unmatched skill in the field. You'd trained every single day alongside some of the best of the best in the business and you were incredible. Not to toot your own horn anything but you were.

There wasn’t a single task you couldn’t handle, earning you a reputation that made even the most hardened criminals wary of crossing paths with you.

"You knew he was going to find out anyway. I did you a favour." The nurse teased as you rolled your eyes at her playfully. It wasn't anything major. In fact, you felt stupid for it to have even happened in the first place.

You'd been caught completely off guard and left exposed to something that shouldn't have even happened. 

"It's stupid, I wasn't even paying attention." You grumbled more at yourself than the nurse who was with you. But you hated it. How could you have missed something like this? Minho trusted you to be alone without a guard and now you knew that was never going to happen again.

You'd been out in town all morning, taking a rare moment to unwind in town, deciding to treat yourself at the spa and then at the local stores to some new clothes or some books if you'd seen any. But you'd only just left the spar when out of nowhere, you were ambushed by an assailant with a clear intent to kill. 

Though you fought - and incredibly might you add - and managed to eliminate your attacker, you weren’t unscathed. A deep stab wound in your side left you bleeding profusely. The pain had been nearly overwhelming as you'd struggled to stay conscious on the way to the hospital, it was wishful thinking that you could hide it from Minho. The man saw you naked every single night, if you'd somehow managed to hide it from him while your scar healed you'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do for the new scar when you eventually got naked in front of him again. 

"Everyone has an off day," The nurse reminded you as she applied some cream to your stitches, eventually covering it with a bandage as you sighed a little. All you wanted was to go home and pretend the day hadn't even happened.

"But not everyone's off day is going to lead to them needing an armed guard at all times," You smiled at her and she bit her lip softly and nodded in understanding. As you lay back on the bed, trying to process everything that happened, the door burst open with a loud bang and you watched it vibrate off the wall. Minho, your stoic and usually composed former boss and now current boyfriend, storms in with a frantic look on his face. His eyes, usually so cold and calculating, are now wide with panic.

“Are you okay?! I heard what happened...” His voice cracks slightly as he hurries to your bedside, his usual air of control slipping away. Normally he was well put together and didn't show any kind of emotion since they were usually held against him but with you, he always let them out. 

"Minho, don't make this a big thing." You laugh weakly but he shakes his head at you. You knew asking him not to make a big deal with a lost cause but you'd figured you'd try anyway. Within a second he was on his knees next to you, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for yours, his gaze scanning your bandaged wound with a mixture of fear and fury. The thought of losing you had him on edge, his usual cold demeanour shattered by the raw emotion he feels for you.

Minho glances up at the nurse, his voice laced with tension. The whole way over he'd been panicking about what he was supposed to do now, he'd already called his guys to arrange protection for you.

“What’s her condition? How long until she’s fully recovered? Are you sure she’s getting the best care?” He peppers the nurse with questions, his usual calm replaced with a sense of urgency. Your nurse opened her mouth to speak but was quickly cut off as he pointed to the IV that was inserted into your arm,

“And those painkillers—are they strong enough? I don’t want her in any more pain. Is she going to need to stay overnight?” You stroked his hand gently, the small act calming him down within seconds but you could still see just how on edge he was with this whole thing and you nodded at your nurse.

“She’s stable now, sir. The wound was deep, but she was strong. With rest and proper care, she’ll be okay, she should be able to go home as soon as this round of painkillers is done with.” Minho’s gaze flickers back to you, his expression softening as he takes your hand and squeezes it softly. 

“You hear that? You’re going to be okay,” he says, more to himself than to you, as if he needs the reassurance just as much. He placed his lips on top of your hand and kissed softly before shaking his head at you,

"Minho-" You tried to warn but you were quickly cut off,

“But this… this can’t happen again.” He pointed at your wound before leaning in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand and smiling weakly. There was no way he was going to ever let anything happen to you for as long as he lived. 

“From now on, you’re getting extra protection every time you step out. I don’t care if it’s just for a walk or to grab a coffee—you’ll have backup, no exceptions.” His tone leaves no room for argument, the fear of losing you still evident in his eyes. It was going to be pointless arguing with a man who was set in his ways as much as Minho was when it came to your safety,

“I can’t risk anything happening to you again. Not when you mean this much to me.” He whispered, the nurse excused herself once his men began to gather in the room. All of them watched Minho with a smile on their faces. You were the only one that had ever been able to pull any kind of emotions out of their scary boss,

"Is the hospital floor secure?"

"You did not kick anyone out, right?!" You screech at your boyfriend who looks at you with a nervous smile tugging on the corners of his lips.

"If I say no, it won't be a lie...technically

"Minho-" You hiss at him but he shakes his head at you, it wasn't as if he'd thrown them out of the hospital. He'd merely paid everyone to be moved quickly.

"I moved them to different floors," he shrugged at you before you scoffed and nudged his shoulder. You'd have been perfectly fine without him moving anybody.

"I don't need protection from a bunch of old people."

"I don't care," He mumbles, looking at you and then kissing your cheek softly as you playfully scolded him for being so damn overprotective.

"I can't lose you, Yn...I just can't." He finally whispered as you pulled him to sit on the bed with you, your head resting on his shoulder. His men quickly filtered out of the room leaving you alone again.

He’s quiet for a moment, just resting his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your arm as he tries to think of something to say to you. 

Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice low and heavy with emotion. It had been hard for him when he'd heard the news of the attack, he'd gone into overprotective mode within seconds,

“I can’t lose you. I just… I can’t,” he whispers, the words almost a confession. 

“When I heard what happened, it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I’ve always been in control, always knew how to handle things… but when it comes to you…” He trails off, his grip on you tightening slightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him. You can feel the tremor in his voice, the raw vulnerability he rarely shows. 

“I’ve lost people before, but you… losing you would destroy me. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.” You lift your head slightly, your eyes meeting his. The depth of his fear is written all over his face, the tough exterior he usually wears stripped away in this moment. You reach up, cupping his cheek in your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear he didn’t even realize had fallen.

“You won’t lose me, Minho,” you say softly, your voice filled with sincerity. 

“I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, you’ll never lose me.”

His eyes search yours as if he’s trying to believe it, trying to let your words sink in. Finally, he exhales a shaky breath and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I’m holding you to that,” he murmurs, his voice a little steadier now, but still tinged with the lingering fear of what could have been. 

“Because I can’t… I won’t let you go.” He promised you as you nodded at him, cuddling into him softly.

"I'm not going anywhere," You whispered to him, closing your eyes as you laid your head on his chest.

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[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗑 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : anxiety, panic, angst, fluff, overstimulation, implied age gap, pet names, budding relationship au wc : 1.5k a/n : i’m thinking about maybe making the odd prompt list, not sure if anyone would be interested? idk i feel like i have so many ideas on what to write but not enough time to actually write them. lmk if it’s something anyone would be interested in😭

you'd always hated crowded spaces, but this - this was something else entirely.

the pounding bass from the club’s speakers seemed to vibrate through your whole body, and the flashing lights made it impossible to focus on anything for too long. it was all too loud, too chaotic. the mission had been simple: blend in, keep an eye on the target, and extract information. easy enough. except no one had accounted for the fact that a telepath like you could hardly stand in the middle of a packed nightclub without being bombarded by the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions from every single person around you.

the drinks, the laughter, the flirtations happening at every corner - they were suffocating. you tried to block them out, but your mental shields were already thin, your energy worn down from the mission prep. and now, with the music and flashing lights adding to the noise in your head, everything was starting to blur together. the alcohol from earlier wasn’t helping either.

you stood near the edge of the room, trying to focus on anything other than the mental cacophony around you. the team was scattered throughout the club, everyone doing their part to blend in with the crowd. but for you, it was becoming harder to concentrate on the task at hand. the target’s thoughts were buried under a thousand others, each one screaming for attention inside your mind.

you felt sick, like the world was spinning too fast. the room was closing in. your head pounded, and you could feel a sharp nausea creeping up your throat. you needed to get out of there, away from the noise, the thoughts, the people.

a warm hand suddenly brushed against your arm, pulling you out of the spiral you were falling into. you turned, blinking, and found logan standing beside you. his sharp eyes were locked on you, concern written all over his face. he’d always been able to read you better than anyone else on the team, even without telepathy.

“you alright, kid?” his voice cut through the haze, gruff but steady. it was like an anchor, something real and solid to focus on.

you nodded quickly, though it was a lie. “i’m fine,” you muttered, but the words felt weak, shaky.

logan didn’t buy it for a second. “yeah, bullshit,” he muttered, his hand still resting on your arm, grounding you. “you’re lookin’ pale as hell. c’mon, bub.”

before you could protest, logan gently but firmly led you toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with ease. you followed, grateful for his presence. the second you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

logan guided you away from the line of people waiting to get in and toward a quieter spot around the corner of the building, far from the pounding music. the noise from inside was muffled now, and without the sea of thoughts crashing into you from all sides, your head began to clear, just a little.

“better?” logan asked, his voice softer now, though still carrying that rough edge that was so inherently him.

you nodded, taking a deep breath. “yeah… yeah, much better. thanks.”

he leaned back against the brick wall, folding his arms across his chest, watching you carefully. he didn’t push, didn’t demand an explanation, but you could tell by the way his eyes narrowed slightly that he knew something was wrong.

“it’s just... the noise in there,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “not just the music, but the people. their thoughts. it’s... it’s a lot.”

logan’s expression softened, just a little. he might not understand telepathy the way you experienced it, but he got it in his own way. he knew what it was like to have too much going on in your head, to feel overwhelmed by things out of your control.

“should’ve said somethin’,” he muttered, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “i would’ve gotten you outta there sooner.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t want to mess up the mission.”

“the mission doesn’t matter if you’re about to pass out,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with irritation - not at you, but at the situation. “you gotta take care of yourself.”

you sighed, leaning against the wall beside him. “i know. ‘s just... hard. when you’re in a place like that, and everyone’s thinking all at once, it’s like - ” you shrugged, trying to find the right words. “it’s like being underwater. you can hear everything muffled, but it’s all too much at the same time. i couldn’t block them all out.”

logan was quiet for a moment, processing what you said. then he nodded, as if he understood. “well, you’re outta there now. you don’t need to go back in. the rest of us can handle it.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “no, i can’t leave the team like that. we’re supposed to - ”

“hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but firm. “you’ve done enough, kid. let us take it from here.” his gaze softened as he looked down at you. “besides, you ain’t leavin’ us hangin’. you’re just takin’ a breather. nothin’ wrong with that.”

you met his eyes, feeling a little less guilty under his steady gaze. he was right, of course. but it still felt wrong to step back when the rest of the team was inside, working.

“how about this,” logan added, his tone softening. “you stay out here for a bit, get your head straight, and if you’re feelin’ up to it, we’ll go back in together. but only if you’re ready.”

his words made you relax a little more. the pressure to keep pushing through was gone, and the idea of taking a break, even if just for a few minutes, didn’t feel so bad when he framed it like that.

“okay,” you agreed softly. “i think... i think i need a few minutes.”

logan nodded, satisfied with your answer. he pushed away from the wall and motioned toward a nearby bench. “sit down for a sec. no rush.”

you followed him, sinking onto the bench gratefully. the fresh air felt good, like it was clearing away the fog in your mind. logan sat beside you, silent but present, his arm resting on the back of the bench, his fingers grazing your shoulder lightly.

“how do you do it?” you asked after a few minutes, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “do what?”

“stay so calm,” you murmured, staring down at your hands. “you’re always in control. even when everything’s going crazy, you just... keep it together.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “you think i’m calm?”

you looked at him, a little surprised by his response. “well, yeah. you always seem like you’ve got it under control.”

logan’s gaze softened as he met your eyes. “darlin’, i ain’t always calm. most of the time, i’m just as pissed off or frustrated as the next guy. but i learned a long time ago that lettin’ it take over don’t do any good. doesn’t mean it’s easy, but... you get used to it.”

you frowned slightly, processing what he said. “so... you’re just used to it?”

“nah,” he corrected, his voice softer now. “i’m used to dealin’ with it. there’s a difference. but i had to figure that out the hard way. you’ll get there, bub. more easily i hope.”

you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. it wasn’t the same as what you were dealing with, but in a way, it felt like he understood more than anyone else on the team ever could. and the fact that he was here, sitting with you, offering quiet support, meant more than you could express.

“thanks,” you said after a moment, glancing up at him with a small smile. “for getting me out of there. for... everything.”

logan looked at you for a beat, his expression softening. “anytime,” he muttered, his voice gruff but genuine.

for a while, the two of you just sat there in the quiet, the night air cool against your skin. the noise and chaos of the club were distant now, and with logan beside you, the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that had threatened to drown you finally felt manageable.

“you ready to head back in?” logan asked after a few minutes, though his tone wasn’t pushy.

you hesitated for a second, then shook your head. “not yet.”

he smirked slightly, nodding. “good. let’s stay out here a bit longer.”

you smiled, leaning into his shoulder, and he didn’t pull away. instead, his arm settled around you, holding you close as the night stretched on, the two of you finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

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