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d1stalker · 14 days

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Origin [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Two people, one shared past, and decades apart.

Warnings: fem!reader, angst, fluff, longing, things get bad before they get better! WC: 14k - MASTERLIST

A/N: there are plot points that are inspired by Logan's origin story (thank u marvelwiki), but they are so non-canon compliant its funny so don't call me out tyyy 😙

----

Before he was known as Logan, or as Wolverine, he was James.

Your James.

—

It’s quiet in the Howlett estate, the kind of stillness that only comes when everyone has long retired for the night. But while the rest of the mansion sleeps, you remain wide awake. Dressed in your nightgown and nestled under the blankets, you glance at the small, brass pocketwatch resting on your bedside table. The hands read 10:22 PM. Any minute now, you think to yourself.

Then, like clockwork, you hear it—a faint knock on your door. Three slow, deliberate taps, followed by two quick ones. The secret signal never fails to make you smile. You spring from the bed, feet softly padding across the floor as you hurry to the door. You open it as quietly as possible, your grin widening the moment you see who’s waiting on the other side.

James.

He stands there, dark tousled hair and that familiar mischievous smile that always manages to light up the dim hallway. You’ve known him your entire life, growing up together under the roof of the Howlett estate. Your parents, both loyal servants to the Howlett family, were fortunate enough to be granted permission raise you alongside their son.

From the moment you could walk, you and James were inseparable, sharing countless adventures in the woods, running across the estate’s gardens, and whispering secrets to one another under moonlit skies.

"About time," you whisper, teasing him with a playful glint in your eyes. "You really know how to keep a lady waiting, don’t you?"

A soft snort escapes his lips as he grabs your hand, pulling you gently into the hallway. "My deepest apologies, M’lady," he replies with mock formality, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "I had to... attend to urgent business in the necessary."

You snicker, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Ah, I see. Was it a fulfilling experience, sir Howlett?"

He glances over his shoulder, rolling his eyes with exaggerated exasperation, though you catch the small smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t respond, but his silence confirms everything. It was.

The rest of the trip is quiet, the two of you moving stealthily through the darkened corridors, careful not to disturb anyone or draw unwanted attention. After all, your mother would certainly disapprove of such late-night rendezvous. It is improper, she would say.

But what choice did you have? The day offered no time for moments like this. You were busy training to take over as the next chief maid, learning the endless routines of the household, while James spent his time with his family or other highborn friends. It was only after hours, when the mansion finally settled, that the two of you could steal away for these secret meetings.

Finally, you reach the gardens. The crisp night air greets you as you slip away from any prying eyes. There’s a familiar sense of peace here, among the fragrant flowers and the towering trees that shield you from the world. James leads you to your usual spot, a stone bench tucked beneath the shadow of the hedges. Wordlessly, he slips off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders before taking a dramatic bow.

"To keep you warm, M’lady," he says softly.

"Hush, James," you laugh, finding his antics endearing.

You’re grateful, especially as the cool night air nips at your exposed skin. The nightgown, while comfortable, offers little protection against the chill. You pull his jacket tighter around yourself, then pat the empty spot next to you, gesturing to him to sit, to which he does.

“How was your day?" you prompt.

James sighs, leaning back on the bench, his hand casually resting behind you as he stares up at the sky. "Same old, same old," he starts, a familiar twinge of annoyance creeping into his voice. "You know how it is. Dinners with my parents, listenin’ to old men talk about businesses I'll never care about, trying not to fall asleep while they drone on about investments or land expansions. It’s all so posh."

You stifle a giggle, nudging him playfully with your elbow. "Posh? You sound like you're living the dream."

He rolls his eyes dramatically. "If by 'dream,' you mean sitting there pretending to care while wonderin’ how quickly I can escape to see you, then yeah, it's an absolute dream," he quips sarcastically.

Sniggering, you bring your hand up to your forehead, acting distressed. "Oh, how tragic. The poor Lord James Howlett, trapped in a world of lavish dinners and fancy wine. Whatever will you do?"

"Mock me all you want, but it’s unbearable," he groans, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "I hate it. All the stuffy clothes, the fake smiles, the way everyone acts like they're better than everyone else." He pauses for a moment, then glances sideways at you. "You're the only real thing here."

The sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter, and you’re suddenly grateful for the darkness hiding the faint blush creeping up your cheeks. Looking away, you try to play it off. "Well, if that’s the case, I guess I should charge you for my company," you tease coyly.

He lets out a huff of amusement, shaking his head. "I'll pay whatever price you want.”

There's a pause as you both sit in comfortable silence. Just then, a soft breeze sweeps through the garden, catching the edges of your nightgown and fanning it up slightly. Before you can even react, he swiftly moves his jacket from your shoulders to your lap, covering your legs. His hand lingers, making sure you're covered before he hastily wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you close against him.

The warmth from his body contrasts with the cool air, and you can't help but laugh softly at his sudden behaviour. "Wow, you really are a gentleman, James."

He tenses slightly, his grip on your shoulder loosening as he looks away, clearly flustered. "I—I just didn’t want you to get cold," he mumbles, his usual confidence faltering.

You smile at how shy he suddenly seems, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Thank you. It’s sweet."

For a brief second, he says nothing, but you can feel the way his heartbeat picks up just a little. Then, almost too quietly, he mutters, "I’d do anythin’ for you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and you tilt your head to look up at him. But you can’t respond, because he clears his throat, looking down at you with a small, sheepish smile. "What about you? Any exciting adventures in the life of a future chief maid?"

Grinning, you recognize his attempt to shift the conversation, and decide to let it go for now. "Oh, you know, the usual. A thrilling day of dusting, folding linens, and trying not to spill tea on your mother’s favourite rug."

He chuckles, pulling you a little closer. "Sounds way more exciting than my day."

You hum in acknowledgement, letting the moment linger. Neither of you speak for a bit, just relishing being in each other’s presence.

"So, do tell," you say after a while, breaking the silence, "if you could get away from all the fancy dinners and boring conversations, what would you do?"

He smiles slightly, his gaze still fixed on the star-filled sky. "I’d leave. Go far away from here, maybe somewhere quiet. Live in the countryside, where no one cares about wealth or titles." His eyes drop to meet yours. "Maybe you’d come with me."

You laugh gently. "And who would take care of your family if we both ran off?"

Shrugging, his expression grows more serious. "They don’t need me. They need someone who’ll do what they want—someone to follow in their footsteps. That’s never been me."

There’s a weight in his words, and you feel a pang of sympathy for him. You’re about to respond, to tell him you understand more than he realizes, when—

BANG.

Your body stiffens instantly, heart beginning to pound in your chest as you straighten up, eyes wide.

"What the hell was that?" James asks sharply. He turns to you, his face mirroring the confusion and unease you're feeling.

Shaking your head, you swallow the lump that’s forming in your throat. "It sounded like a gunshot."

The two of you stare at each other for a beat, then, right when you’re going to speak again, you hear it—his mother’s scream. It’s high-pitched, panicked, and it sends a jolt of fear through you both.

"Help!" she shrieks from inside the mansion. "James, help!"

Without a word, you bolt to your feet, the peaceful night forgotten as you rush back inside. Your heart is racing as your bare feet fly across the grass, nightgown fluttering behind you. James is ahead of you, moving fast, his expression shifting from confusion to pure fear.

As you reach the back entrance, your mind races with possibilities, none of them good. You burst through the door into the hallway, your breathing laboured from the sudden sprint. Something is terribly wrong.

"Mother!" He calls, his voice sharp with panic as he leads the way toward the main staircase. You follow close behind, anxiety coiling tight in your chest.

Once you get to the bottom of the stairs, you hear footsteps—heavy, hurried—and then you see her. Mrs. Howlett, wide-eyed and pale, comes hurrying down from the upper floor, clutching the banister for support. Her hands are trembling.

"James!" she cries. "Your father—he’s been shot!"

The boy beside you freezes, face going white. "What?" he breathes, disbelief etched into every syllable.

"He—he was in his study, and I—I heard the gunfire. I—I don’t know what happened. I don’t know who—" Her voice breaks, and tears stream down her face as she struggles to speak. "We need to get help!"

He doesn’t waste another second, taking off up the stairs, his long strides making quick work of the distance. You trail after him. How could this happen? Who could’ve done this?

When you reach the second floor, you see the study door slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hallway. James' hand wavers over the doorknob for only a moment before pushing the it open wide.

Inside, the scene is worse than you imagined.

There, slumped over his desk, is Mr. Howlett. His once pristine office now looks chaotic—papers scattered, a window broken, and blood, so much blood. A crimson stain is spreading across his shirt.

"Father," James chokes out, rushing to his side, his hands shaking as he reaches for him.

You stand paralyzed for a moment, the sight rendering you speechless, but then the adrenaline kicks in, and you move further into the room. Your mind is screaming at you to do something, anything, but all you can do is watch as James desperately tries to wake his father, calling his name again and again.

Trying to make sense of the horrific scene, your attention is dragged away by the sound of footsteps shuffling behind you. Thomas Logan, the groundskeeper, stumbles in, his movements clumsy, his face twisted with drunkenness. His bloodshot eyes are manic, and in his trembling hand, he’s clutching a gun—the same one that must have been used to end Mr. Howlett’s life.

"Thomas!" Mrs. Howlett yelps. "What are you doing?"

James turns sharply, still kneeling beside his father’s body, his expression hardening immediately. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Thomas lets out a low, slurred laugh, staggering further into the room. His eyes flick between you, James, and Mrs. Howlett, but his focus remains hazy. "I’ve had enough of this, enough of all of it," he mutters, waving the gun in the air. "Your precious mother thought she could keep the truth from you. But it’s time you knew the truth, boy."

"What truth?" The younger man demands harshly.

Swaying on his feet, he points the gun directly at James, his finger twitching dangerously on the trigger. "I’m not just the groundskeeper, you idiot," he snarls venomously, "I’m your damn father."

It’s as if the room has been put on pause. You feel the air leave your lungs, your mind scrambling to make sense of what you just heard. Glancing at your friend, you see the disbelief wash over his features, his eyes widening with shock, denial.

"No," he whispers, shaking his head, backing away slightly. "You're lying. You’re drunk."

But the older man just laughs, the sound hollow and bitter. "You think John Howlett was your father? That man never wanted you! He raised you because he had to, not because you were his. You’re mine, boy. My flesh and blood,” he jerks his head in the direction of Mrs. Howlett. “Go ahead, ask your mama."

You hear Mrs. Howlett begin to blubber in the background at the accusation, but your attention is solely on the boy in front of you.

Betrayal is written all over his face.

His breath quickens, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. You want to reach out to him, concern puling you forward, but then he lets out a scream—a sound so full of pain that you stop in your tracks.

"James!" you cry, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. His eyes squeeze shut, and his body convulses, as though something inside him is tearing him apart from the inside out.

The sickening sound of skin breaking fills your ears, and bone claws shoot out from his knuckles. They gleam in the dim light of the room, sharp and lethal. The sight of them is nauseating, but you’re unable to look away as James blinks, gazing down at his hands, dumbfounded.

"What—" he rasps, his chest heaving. "What’s happening to me?"

“What the hell is this?” Thomas sneers in disgust. He stumbles, reaching for the wall to steady himself. “Figures... Of course my son’s a freak.”

“You were always a fuck-up,” he continues in his drunken rage. “Useless, soft... a disappointment from the start. Just like your mother. Look at you now, boy.”

“I’m not your boy,” James snarls through gritted teeth, rage building inside him. His eyes flash dangerously. It’s as if something inside him has snapped, some deep, instinctual part of him that has been lying dormant, waiting for this very moment.

“You’re right. You’re no son of mine. Just a goddamn mistake. Should’ve left you in the dirt with your—"

Before he can finish, a roar rips from James’s throat. So raw, so animalistic, you get goosebumps. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, and then, with terrifying speed, he lunges.

In an instant, his claws sink deep into Thomas’s chest with a thunk. The force of the blow sends the older man crashing back, disbelief and agony seizing his face as blood sprays across the room, spattering the walls and floor. His body thrashes, his hands weakly grasping at his son’s wrists, but there’s no strength left in him.

A gurgling gasp bubbles from his throat, and then it's over. He collapses to the ground, lifeless, as James stands over him, claws retreating back into his skin.

"James!" Mrs. Howlett screams, her voice piercing. "What have you done?!"

You don’t know how to react. You can’t process it, can’t breathe. All you know is that you need to get out of here—get James out of here, away from this nightmare before it consumes him. Without thinking, you rush to his side, grabbing his bloodied hand.

"We have to go!" you say urgently.

His eyes dart to you, frantic and unfocused but he doesn’t resist as you pull him toward the door. His mother's cries echo behind you, but you can’t stop, can’t look back.

You run—both of you—through the hallways, out the back door, and into the dark of night. The wind whips around you, stinging your face, but you don’t stop. You run until your legs burn, until you’ve entered the surrounding forest, and the Howlett estate is nothing but a distant shadow behind you.

All the while, James’s hand stays locked in yours.

Branches scratch everywhere, at your arms, your face, and the underbrush tugs at your clothes as if trying to hold you back, but you push on. Only after the first light of dawn begins to creep in, does the exhaustion hit. Bodies aching and bruised, the two of you collapse beside a small stream.

You’re on your back, catching you breath, when you tilt to your head to look over at your friend. He’s sitting down, with his hands out in front of him, leering at them. He struggles for air, his breaths coming in short, panicked bursts, and his clothes are torn, stained with blood—his father’s blood, Thomas’ blood.

His claws are long retracted, but the scars of where they came out of his skin are there, fresh.

"James," you whisper, but he doesn’t respond. Slowly, you crawl over to his side, pain flaring with each movement. When you reach him, you sit on your knees, looking up at him, trying to meet his gaze. You repeat his name, more firmly this time.

He finally looks at you, but he’s broken. His lips tremble as he opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a choked, almost inaudible, "What did I do?"

Your heart aches for him. Reaching out, you gently take one of his bloodied hands in yours, and as soon as your skin touches his, he flinches, pulling back slightly. "I killed him." he whispers, more to himself than anything. “I—I didn’t mean to, I swear I didn’t mean to!"

"Hey, listen to me," you say. "You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known this would happen."

"I killed him," he repeats. "I killed Thomas. I—" He glances down at his hands, at the scars along his knuckles, and his expression crumples completely. “He was my father.”

You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to fix this, but you know you have to try, so you wrap your arms around him. At first, he stiffens, but then he collapses to the ground, pulling you down with him. You land on top, your chest pressed against his as the weight of your bodies crashes into the soft earth. He squeezes you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, his face buried in your shoulder as his breath comes in short, broken sobs.

"I didn’t mean to do it," he repeats, the words muffled against your skin. "Something just changed inside me. What am I? What am I turning into?"

“Hush," you whisper, moving one of your hands to brush his hair. "Look at me. Just breathe, okay? You’re not alone in this. We’ll figure it out together, I promise."

His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. It’s overwhelming, but you don’t push him away. Instead, you let him hold you as tightly as he needs, your fingers gently stroking the back of his head, trying to console him in any way you can.

"I’m a monster," he whimpers. "What if I hurt you, too?"

"You won’t," you affirm, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper. "You’re not a monster. This… this thing that happened, it doesn’t change who you are. You’re still you."

Beneath you, his body shakes, overcome by emotion he holds onto you. Your forehead is pressed to against his, your breath mingling with his while you continue to whisper reassurances, telling him over and over that it’s going to be okay, that he’s not alone.

Minutes pass, maybe longer—you lose track of time as you lie there together. Gradually, his cries begin to quiet, his breathing slowing as the storm inside him starts to subside. His grip on you loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go fully, still cradling you in his arms.

Shifting, you raise your head to look at him. His eyes are red, his face pale, but he’s calmer. You start to pull yourself off of him, but as you're standing up, he grasps your hand again, and he looks at you with a tired, grateful expression, squeezing it gently as if to say everything he can’t put into words yet.

Then, you continue. Hand in hand, you move deeper into the forest. And finally, after a few more hours, you notice something in the distance. Through the trees, there are rooftops, small and clustered together, their chimneys trailing thin lines of smoke into the evening sky.

“A town,” you whisper, the first word you’ve spoken in hours.

He follows your gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the sight of the small mining town nestled in the valley.

In it, the people’s faces are etched with lines of hard labour and even harder lives, but still, you know you’ll be safe there.

—

Initially, it’s difficult—this new life you and James have carved out is a far cry from the comforts of the Howlett estate. The town you’ve settled in is rough and unpolished. You both share a modest shack on the outskirts, a place that feels foreign and strange, but over time, it starts to become home.

He finds work in the mines almost immediately. The foreman takes one look at him, his broad shoulders and strong arms, and practically shoves a shovel in his hand without asking any questions. The job is tough, but it suits him.

Every evening, he comes back to you covered in soot and dirt, his hands rough and calloused, his face lined with exhaustion. You can see the toll the work takes on him, how his body aches, but there’s something else too—a measure of peace that wasn’t there before. It’s as if he’s found a way to silence the chaos inside him, at least for a little while.

It’s not long before everyone in town begins to call him Logan, a name he offers with indifference when asked.

A new identity.

Logan is a man who works hard, who keeps to himself, who doesn’t ask for anything more than a paycheck at the end of the week.

Logan is a man who doesn’t need anyone, who can survive on his own.

To you, he’s still James.

In the quiet moments, when it’s just the two of you, he lets down the walls, lets you see through the façade. And when you whisper his name—James—he closes his eyes as if that one word alone soothes something deep in his soul.

After weeks of watching him silently carry the weight of the world on his shoulders, you offer him a rag to wipe his face as he sits down at the small table you’ve cobbled together from scraps. He takes it without a word, rubbing at the grime on his skin.

“You don’t have to do this forever, you know,” you say softly, leaning against the table as he tosses the rag aside. "There’s more to life than breaking your back underground."

He glances at you. "It’s all I’m good for now."

"You’re good for more than that," you reply walking up to him, reaching for his hand. He lets you take it, like he always does. "You can’t let what happened define you."

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gives your hand a small squeeze, his eyes drifting to the floor as he mumbles, "What’s inside me… it’s different. You don’t know what it’s like."

You don’t argue. How could you?

The changes in him, the way his strength has grown, how his senses have sharpened, it all impacts him. He can hear things no one else can, smell the rain long before it falls, and even in complete darkness, he sees as clearly as if it were day. His powers are evolving, changing him.

But you know, deep down, that the man sitting in front of you is your friend—your James—no matter what he’s become.

You’ve seen him wrestle with the fear of what he might turn into, the fear of losing control, but you also see the man who leans into your touch, who lets you bandage his hands after long days in the mines, who presses his forehead to yours when the nights grow too heavy with silence.

And as your time together in the town goes by, there is a shift.

It starts with small things—a lingering glance, a brush of your fingers as you pass each other in the kitchen, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

Then, it moves to bigger gestures. When you’d pack him his lunch fo the day, you slip in a small piece of parchment with a heart hastily drawn on it, or at night time, instead of falling asleep backs turned toward each other, awkwardly trying to ignore whatever tension is brewing, you fall asleep in his arms, and wake up the same way.

It gets to a point where you can neither of you can deny it.

You’ve fallen in love.

—

It’s late, and you’re sitting by the fire outside the small cabin, waiting for him to return from one of his now-frequent disappearances into the woods. You used to worry about where he went, afraid he was distancing himself from you, so one night you followed him. What you found took your breath away—him, sitting out on a ledge, with some wild animals surrounding him. There was something in him that they must have recognized, a mutual respect that seemed to transcend anything human.

Since then, you’ve let him go without asking questions, trusting that those nights in the woods bring him the peace he can’t find anywhere else. But tonight, when he returns, he’s different. He doesn’t just brush past you to head inside. Instead, he sits beside you by the fire.

You turn to him, about to ask if everything’s alright, but the words catch in your throat when his hand cups your jaw. His grip is gentle, hesitant, as if he’s afraid to break the moment, but in his eyes, you find a longing, a yearning, that mirrors your own.

His thumb brushes over your cheek, and for the first time in a long time, there’s no hesitation in his movements. Your heart stutters, and when he pulls you closer, you let him. His lips meet yours, careful at first, but as you kiss him back, you feel the stress drain from his body.

The kiss deepens, slow, tender, and everything you’ve ever wanted.

—

The next few years are a kind of peaceful bliss you never expected. With each passing day, you and Logan seem to fall deeper into each other, the bond you share growing stronger, more intimate, like you’ve finally found the rhythm of the life you were always meant to have together.

Mornings are your favourite. He always wakes up first, moving quietly so as not to wake you, and he’s gotten into the habit of making you breakfast. You always sneak out of bed and snake your arms around him from behind, pressing your face into his back as he grumbles about you not getting enough sleep. “You’re always up too early,” he’d say.

“I like being up with you,” you’d mumble in response, and he’ll turn around, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his eyes soft and full of that quiet, steady love he’s never really put into words. And then he’d kiss you like he has all the time in the world, even if he has to head over to the mines.

On your days off from your job at the pub, you’ll spend hours together, finding little ways to enjoy the simplicity of your life. He will sometimes take you out to the woods behind the house, where you’d walk the trails together. He points out the different wildlife, the plants you don’t recognize, and you tease him about being a mountain man. He’d smirk, giving you that low, raspy chuckle that never fails to make your heart seize in your chest, and tug you closer to his side.

In the evenings, oftentimes, you sit together while you knit, something that started as a hobby but quickly became one of your preferred pastimes. He always pretends to be uninterested, but he’ll watch you anyway. “You’re getting good at that,” he’d say gruffly.

“Want me to make you a sweater?” You smirk, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” he’d grumble, but you can tell he’s secretly pleased at the idea.

The town itself becomes part of your life together, too. You’ve made friends with the locals, joining a small knitting club. If he has time, Logan drops by the pub on your shifts just to check in, sitting at the bar with a beer and watching you work. When your gazes connect very now and then, he gives you that look—the one that says he’s proud of you, that he’s content.

“We’ve got a good thing here,” he murmurs one night, holding you close.

“Yeah,” you agree softly, kissing his cheek. “We really do.”

But, all good things must come to an end.

The mining town, though small and isolated, isn’t immune to the tensions that fester beneath the surface. Harsh conditions, grueling work, and the endless grind wear people down, turning frustration into anger, and anger into violence. Fights break out often, especially in the saloon after a long day when men try to drown their sorrows in whiskey. You both have learned to keep your distance from such skirmishes, knowing nothing good ever comes from getting involved.

Still, one night, as you return home from your evening shift at the pub, you hear the unmistakable sounds of a brawl breaking out in the middle of the street. Shouts reverberate through the cold air, followed by the crash of breaking glass. Your heart races as you recognize the deep, guttural growl cutting through the noise—a sound you know all too well.

On impulse, you rush toward the commotion, dread pooling in your stomach. You know this won’t end well. Not here. Not for him.

When you reach the scene, your worst fears are confirmed. He stands in the centre of the chaos, fists clenched at his sides. Two men circle him, their faces twisted with drunken aggression, goading him. The small crowd that’s gathered seems almost entertained, too caught up in the spectacle to understand the true danger festering.

“James!” you shout, trying to get his attention, but to no avail.

One of the men—a burly miner you’ve seen around town a few times, always looking for trouble—lunges forward, his fist swinging. The punch connects with your man’s jaw, hard enough to stagger him back, but instead of falling, you see something shift in Logan’s expression. His eyes darken, his jaw tightens. Then, his claws slowly begin sliding out of his knuckles.

The crowd gasps, and the laughter dies immediately.

“Don’t come any closer,” he growls, his voice low and full of warning. His chest heaves as he struggles to keep control, but you can see the fire burning behind his eyes. He’s on the edge, teetering dangerously close to losing himself.

But the miner, too drunk and furious to notice or care, spits on the ground. “Freak!” he slurs, venom lacing every word. “You think you scare me?”

He charges at Logan again, fists swinging recklessly. Your heart leaps into your throat, and you scream for him to stop. But it’s too late. Logan tries to pull back, to stop what’s about to happen, but the man is too close, too fast.

Everything slows down, the world moving in fractured seconds. Claws slice through the air, meeting flesh with a sickening thud. The miner gasps, his eyes widening in shock as he stumbles, clutching at his chest where the claws have sunk deep. Blood blooms around his hands, staining the dirt beneath his feet.

And suddenly, you’re thrust back into the past. You see James as he was all those years ago, his claws dripping with blood after killing Thomas. The memory crashes into you—the look of fear on his face, the horror in his eyes, the way he stumbled back, realizing what he’d done.

Just like now.

Logan’s eyes go wide, his expression mirroring that same devastation. He steps back, staring at the miner who crumples to the ground, gasping for breath. What follows is a deafening silence, the air thick with shock and disbelief. The townspeople that had been so eager for a show now stand frozen, eyes wide, faces pale.

The man gasps one last breath, then goes still.

Logan stares at the body at his feet, his claws still extended, still dripping with the man’s blood. His chest heaves, his breath shallow, and he mutters under his breath, barely audible, "Oh god… Not again."

You rush to his side, grabbing his arm in desperation. "Come on, let’s go home."

He doesn’t move. He’s locked in place, staring at the man he’s just killed. His hands tremble, the claws still out, and you can see the raw pain in his eyes as the reality of what’s just happened sinks in.

"I didn’t mean to," he whispers again, his voice cracking. "I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…"

—

That night, while you're sleeping, Logan makes his decision.

And when you wake up the next day, the space beside you is cold.

The shack feels too quiet, too still.

All you can do is stare at the empty spot in your bed. You tell yourself that maybe he’s outside, chopping wood or he’s already left for work. But deep down, you know.

Throwing on your boots, you don’t bother to change out of your nightclothes, and rush outside. His name is the first thing out of your mouth, sharp and desperate. "James! Logan!" Your voice barrels through the small yard, bouncing off the trees and fading into the cool morning air.

There’s no answer.

Panic grips you as you search the familiar places—around the shack, the small trail he likes to take into the woods, by the creek where he often spends time when he needs to clear his head. There’s no sign of him.

No footprints, no lingering scent. Nothing.

The townspeople stare as you move through the streets. They know what happened. They saw the claws, the blood. And now, they see you—a reminder of the violence that tore through their quiet lives. But you don’t care about their judgment right now. You’re too focused looking for him, too frantic to worry about the whispers that follow in your wake.

"Have you seen him?" you ask one of the miners who had once shared a drink with him, but he shakes his head and pulls away from you, muttering something under his breath. Everybody keeps their distance, their faces closed off, avoiding your gaze.

By the time the sun climbs higher in the sky, the truth settles in your chest like a heavy stone. He left. You wander the streets a little longer, until exhaustion finally forces you back to the shack.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t even leave a note. The man who you shared your life with, who you fell in love with, is gone—and he isn’t coming back.

In the days that follow, everything changes. The people who once greeted you with a nod or a smile now avert their eyes when you walk by. They speak in hushed tones, voices thick with suspicion and disdain.

Nobody cares that you had nothing to do with what happened in the street that night. To them, you’re guilty by association.

It starts slowly, but the gossip spreads like wildfire. Saying thinks like: you knew what Logan was all along, that you hid his secret, allowed him to kill their men. Their anger turns to you, and before long, you become the pariah—cut off, unwelcome, the person responsible for the death of one of their own.

The day they decide to exile you is gray and heavy, the sky thick with the promise of rain. No one has the decency to say it to your face. Instead, you wake to a note slipped under your door, the word leave scrawled across it in angry, uneven letters.

You pack what little belongings you have—a few clothes, some keepsakes from the life you left behind at the Howlett estate—and sling a small bag over your shoulder. Then, you walk away without looking back.

Stretching out before you is a desolate, abandoned looking road. Your legs ache with every step, your feet blistering inside your boots, but you don’t stop. The memories of Logan, the town, the life you tried to build together swirl in your mind.

The sound of a a horse whinnying pulls you from your thoughts, and you turn to see a carriage approaching. The coachman—a man with kind eyes and a weathered face—slows as he pulls alongside you. His voice soft and cautious as he asks, "Need a ride?"

Nodding, you’re too exhausted to respond with words, and climb into the passenger seat. He doesn’t ask many questions, sensing perhaps that you’re a soul in need of silence more than conversation. He drives in quiet companionship, the horses' feet against the dirt the only sound breaking the stillness.

He takes you to the nearest town, dropping you off with a quiet wish for better days ahead. You thank him and give him a few coins. You’re standing on the edge of a new beginning, unsure of where to go next but knowing, with painful certainty, that the past is behind you now.

—

In this new place, you slowly begin to rebuild what you’ve lost. It isn’t easy—there are nights when the loneliness threatens to swallow you whole and days when the weight of losing your best friend feels too much to bear. Still, you find work at a small shop, rent a modest room in the quieter part of town, and painstakingly, you carve out a new existence.

Though no matter how hard you try to move forward, he’s always there. A shadow, lingering in the corners of your mind. You can’t forget him—the way he looked at you with those intense, searching eyes, the way he held you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this world, the way he left without a word. Your entire childhood, your early adulthood, revolved around him. He was the best part of your life. Every moment spent with him was cherished, imprinted in your memory like a brand you can’t erase.

Nights are the hardest. When the world is quiet, and it’s just you and your thoughts, that’s when the ache becomes unbearable. Each night, your mind drifts back to him. You tell yourself it wasn’t his fault—he must have believed he was protecting you by leaving.

Maybe he thought you would hate him for killing another man with his claws, for unleashing the violence he tried so hard to contain. Maybe he thought you could never forgive him.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize: if he truly believed that, then he didn’t know you at all.

And that hurts. A lot.

You start to feel like him in some ways, burdened by secrets and anger with nowhere to go. More often than not, you slip out of the town in your nightgown and into the nearby forest, hoping the solitude will offer some kind of peace. It doesn’t, not really, but it’s better than suffocating in your room, choking on memories of what was and what could have been.

—

A year passes since the night he left, and you find yourself standing among the trees once again, lost in thought. It’s not fair—none of it is. You lost everything, and for what? Because you loved him? Because you could look past his mutation?

All of the emotions you’ve done a decent job at managing bubble to the surface, a torrent of grief and rage with nowhere to go. Mindlessly, you draw back your fist and slam it into the trunk of a nearby tree. The impact shoots a sharp pain through your arm, but it’s fleeting, drowned out by the rush of anger. You pull back to punch the tree again, harder this time, desperate for some kind of release.

But the tree doesn’t just splinter. It explodes.

The force of your punch obliterates the trunk, sending shards of wood flying in all directions. You stagger back, staring at the destruction, stunned. What was just a tall, beautiful arbor is now reduced to nothing but rubble, the strength of your blow far beyond anything a normal person could achieve.

Your breath hitches when it dawns on you. You’re standing in the middle of the forest, surrounded by the evidence of your newfound power. You aren’t just grieving the loss of Logan anymore; you’re discovering that you are, just like him, a mutant.

Except, unlike him, you’re alone.

He’s not here to hold you, to help you make sense of what’s happening. He’s not here to run away with you like you once ran away with him. You have no one to share this terrifying revelation with. You have only yourself.

Looking down at your trembling hands, the faint ache in your knuckles nothing compared to the pain in your chest. It’s as if your heart is breaking all over again.

If you had known—if you had discovered this power when he was still with you—would things have been different? Would he have taken you with him? Would you still be together?

You can’t stop the questions, can’t silence the what-ifs that plague you.

Finally, the dam breaks, and you cry.

Pressing your fists against your eyes, you try to stifle the sobs, but it’s no use. The grief crashes over you in waves as the life you tried to build together all plays out in your mind like some twisted, unending loop.

—

The days bleed into one another.

Each is marked by the slow, steady march of time. You continue to live, to survive, but the discovery of your mutant powers changes everything, setting you on a path you had never imagined.

You learn that you can channel energy through your body, whether that be your emotions, or external, and then amplify it for your own gain. It’s a power that protects you, that makes you feel invincible, but the more you use it, the more distant you become from the life you once knew.

And then there’s the other side of your mutation—the ability to heal others by absorbing their injuries.

The first time you did it, it was an accident.

You were closing up shop, and as you walked along the cobblestone roads, you saw a man lying face down. Instinctively, you quickened your pace, and crouched down beside him. Was he drunk? Dead? Gently, almost hesitantly, you reached out, placing your hand on his back with the faint hope that he was simply unconscious. Your intention was simple—just to check if he was breathing, to see if he would stir at your touch.

But the moment your fingers brushed his coat, a violent surge of pain exploded in your mind, like a thunderclap within your skull. The agony was so sudden, so sharp, that it nearly knocked you off your feet.

It was more than pain—it was as though the man’s suffering had become yours, pulling you into his darkness. Your vision blurred, and for an instant, you could feel it. Blood. Hot and sticky, trickling down your forehead in a slow, steady stream. You raised a trembling hand to wipe it away, expecting to feel the warmth of it on your fingertips.

But there was nothing. No blood. No wound.

Just the phantom sensation of pain that wasn’t your own.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain vanished. You blinked, gasping for air, trying to steady yourself. When you looked down at the man again, he was stirring, groaning softly. His eyes fluttered open, and he sat up, as if waking from a long sleep. He looked up at you, confused but grateful, oblivious to the power you had just unleashed.

It feels like a curse, the pain of others transferring to you in ways that leave you gasping for breath. But over time, you learn to control it, to take on only as much as you can handle, and to let the rest fade away.

You never stay too long in one place. Town after town, you move, always careful to keep your powers hidden. The people you encounter are kind enough, but you never allow yourself to get close. You can’t afford to—not when the memory of him still haunts you, his absence a constant ache in your heart.

What if they leave you too?

Every now and then, there are some nights of passion with a stranger, but you never find another lover, never allow yourself to even consider it.

As the years slip by, and you move through life like a ghost, always on the fringes, never fully there. In the beginning, you don’t notice it—time is something you stopped paying attention to long ago. But then, one day, nearly ten years after he left, you catch sight of yourself in a mirror.

Your reflection stares back at you, unchanged, unmarked by the years that have passed. It’s as if time has forgotten you, leaving you suspended in a state of perpetual youth. This knowledge—that you could live indefinitely—fills you with a sense of purpose you haven’t felt in years.

So, when the First World War breaks out, you volunteer as a nurse, determined to use your abilities to save as many lives as you can. The troops who come to you are broken, their bodies ravaged by the horrors of war. You take their pain into yourself, healing them with a touch, until there is nothing left but faint scars—a reminder of what they have survived.

It’s during the Second World War that you first hear the rumours. Injured men speak in hushed tones of a man they saw—a soldier who seemed invincible, fighting with a ferocity that borders on the inhuman. They talk of claws—long, sharp claws that can cut through anything, and a healing ability that allows him to shrug off injuries that would kill anyone else.

Could it be him? Could he still be out there, after all these years?

You dismiss the thought almost as quickly as it comes. It can’t be. He would be dead by now, just like everyone else from your past.

He is gone, and you are alone—that’s the truth you’ve come to accept.

—

Somewhere along the way, you meet Charles Xavier. You don’t know how, but he knows you. He knows you’re a mutant—how you helped in the war. And he wants you to join his team.

You’ve spent so long on your own, relying on your powers to survive, that the idea of joining a team feels foreign, almost impossible. But there’s something in his eyes, something in the way he speaks of his vision for the future, that resonates with you. This isn’t just about survival—it’s about making a difference, about using your powers to protect those who can’t protect themselves.

And, perhaps, it’s also about finding closure.

Maybe you can help mutants who struggle with their identity, like he did. Maybe this time, you can stop them from running away from themselves, the way you wish you could have stopped him.

So you agree.

And when you arrive at the mansion, you’re introduced to the others who will become your teammates—Jean Grey, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Ororo Munroe.

The early days are challenging. Learning to work as a team, to trust one another, isn’t easy, especially for you, after so many years of solitude. But a camaraderie that develops between all of you, and it feels right. You’re no longer just a group of shunned mutants—you’re a family, united by a common goal.

—

This mission is supposed to be simple—investigate a remote facility rumoured to have ties to illegal mutant experimentation. Charles had briefed the team before sending you out, warning that there might be danger but nothing you couldn’t handle as a group. You’ve faced threats before, so when you arrive at the facility, it’s with the usual caution but no real alarm.

The structure looks forsaken at first glance, the exterior covered in years of grime, windows cracked and dark. But as you all approach, something feels wrong. There’s an energy in the air, a hum of activity beneath the surface. You can sense it, and by the looks of the others, they feel it too.

“We should be careful,” Scott mutters lowly as his hand hovers near his visor.

Jean furrows her brows. “I’m sensing...something. There are people here. This place isn’t empty”

Your stomach twists, and once the team cautiously makes its way deeper into the facility, you start to hear it—the muffled sounds of machinery, the low hum of voices, and then...a scream.

You freeze.

You’ve heard that scream before, in the dead of night, in memories you’ve tried to bury.

James.

Without thinking, you push forward, your body moving on instinct as you race toward the source of the sound. The others call after you, but their voices fade into the background as panic claws at your chest.

The scream grows louder, more desperate, until you burst into a large chamber. And there, in the center of the room, suspended in a tank of bubbling liquid, he is.

His body is thrashing against the restraints that bind him, wires and tubes connected to his skin. Machines whir around him, injecting something into his body—something molten, silvery.

A team of scientists in lab coats and armed guards surround the tank, all of them focused on the cruel procedure unfolding before your eyes.

You can barely breathe. The sight of him, after all these years—being tortured like this is too much. Pain and rage surge through you, and before you realize what’s happening, you’re moving again.

“What the hell are you doing?!” you scream.

The guards whirl toward you, but you’re already on them. The first one goes down with a single blow, your fist connecting with his chest and sending him flying into the wall. You barely register his body crumpling to the floor before you move on to the next.

Behind you, Jean and Scott rush in, their powers flashing as they help subdue the remaining guards, but your focus is on the man in the tank, whose eyes are squeezed shut in pain, body convulsing. You can’t think straight—you can only feel the overwhelming need to make this stop, to save him before the experiment finishes.

But it’s too late.

In a roar of destruction, he breaks free from the tank, glass and metal exploding outward in every direction. His eyes are wild, erratic, his mind lost to the pain and the transformation—he’s a force of nature now. A whirlwind of violence and fury.

You try to reach him, but Jean steps forward, her eyes glowing as she raises a hand. “I’m sorry,” she strains. Her telekinetic force slams into him, knocking him off his feet, and his body crumples to the ground, unconscious, the rage finally quieted.

Standing there, panting, your hands are shaking as you stare at his still form. You’re overwhelmed—by the sight of him after so many years, by the pain of seeing him like this, by the fear that you might lose him before you even got him back.

Scott places a hand on your shoulder, his voice gentle. “We need to get him out of here.”

You nod, unable to speak, and together, the team lifts Logan’s unconscious body and carries him out of the facility. The entire time, you keep your eyes on him, terrified that if you look away for even a second, he’ll disappear. When you finally make it back to the jet, Jean lays him on a stretcher, her powers keeping him sedated for the trip back to the X-Mansion. You sit beside him, your hand hovering just above his, too afraid to touch, too afraid to hope.

The jet lifts off, and your mind races with a thousand questions.

How did he end up here? Why did they do this to him?

But above all, one thought consumes you: He’s alive.

After all these years, after all the heartache and loss, Logan—James—is still here.

—

He remains unconscious for three days, his body healing from the horrific procedure he endured. You barely leave his side, watching over him as if your presence alone could somehow anchor him back to himself. His breathing is steady, but his face—it’s both exactly the same and entirely foreign to you. He looks like the man you’ve known and loved, but it’s what is on the inside that worries you.

You swallow hard, your gaze tracing the familiar lines on his skin. Where are you, James? you think. Are you still in there?

Jean had done a body scan soon after you brought him back to the mansion, and the results confirmed your worst fears: they’ve bound adamantium to his bones and buried his personality underneath the most powerful brainwashing you’ve ever heard of.

It’s devastating. Whatever relief you’d felt—if any at all—at finding him alive is now eclipsed by the crushing reality of what he’s become.

The day he is scheduled to wake, Charles calls a meeting. The team gathers in the briefing room, and you sit quietly in your chair, replaying everything that led up to this moment.

Following a seemingly endless stretch of silence from you, Charles clears his throat. “If you’re ready, perhaps you could tell us more about your history with him. It might help us understand what we’re dealing with.”

A deep breath fills your lungs as your hands clutch the table’s edge tightly. Talking about him, about everything you’ve been through together, feels like peeling at old wounds that never really healed. But you know it’s necessary. If anyone is going to help him, they need to know the truth.

“I met Logan—James, as I used to call him—over a hundred years ago, when I was very young” you begin, and you can see the surprise ripple through the room at the admission of your age. “We grew up together. My parents were servants at the Howlett estate, and I spent most of my childhood by his side. He was my best friend… and eventually, he became so much more.” Your voice cracks, and you pause for a moment, collecting yourself.

“After a tragedy involving his family, we ran away together. We lived in a small mining town for years, trying to find some semblance of a life, but things fell apart. He left, and I—I spent years trying to forget him, but I never could. He was—is—everything to me."

Jean leans forward. “I can’t imagine how hard this has been for you,” she says softly. “But you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that when he wakes up… he may not be the man you remember, and not just because of how much time passed.”

You look up at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She hesitates, exchanging a glance with Charles before continuing. “The brainwashing they used on him wasn’t just designed to make him forget. It was meant to strip away his sense of self entirely. His mind was… broken down, piece by piece. What you saw back at the facility—his rage, his lack of control—that’s what’s left of him right now.”

Hank speaks next. “We’ll do everything we can to help him, but Jean’s right. You need to be ready for the possibility that he won’t recognize you. He might not even recognize himself.”

Nodding slowly, your heart sinks further and further with each word.

“We have tools, ways to work through the brainwashing,” he continues, “but it will take time. And patience.”

“Time,” you echo quietly. “I’ve already waited so long.”

Ororo reaches across the table, her hand hovering near yours. “I know this is overwhelming. But you don’t have to do this alone. We’re here to help.”

“I need to see him,” you whisper, your voice firmer than before. “When he wakes up, I need to be there.”

Charles nods gently. “Of course.”

—

When he finally stirs, it’s not a gentle awakening. His whole body jerks, his head whipping around in wild confusion. His breaths come in sharp, uneven gasps, and his eyes dart frantically across the room, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings, and just as his eyes finally land on you, he freezes.

And for a long moment, neither of you speak.

There’s a lump in your throat, and you wait with a bated breath for some flicker of recognition in his eyes, some sign that he remembers you—that he knows you.

But it never comes.

Instead, his gaze narrows, studying you. “Where the hell am I?” he grunts. “And who are you?”

It hurts more than you expected. You knew this might happen—Jean and Charles had warned you—and you thought you had prepared yourself, but it doesn’t make hearing it any easier.

He doesn’t remember you.

“Just take it easy,” you manage to say softly. “You’ve been through a lot, James.”

His eyes flicker with confusion as he shifts in the bed, wincing at the movement. "James?" he questions.

You quickly correct yourself. "Logan."

His hand instinctively goes to his chest, fingers brushing against his side as if testing for wounds that aren’t there anymore. “What is this place?” he asks again.

“You’re at the X-Mansion,” you explain. “You were... rescued. We brought you here to heal.”

“Rescued.” he repeats dryly. “From what?”

You hesitate, unsure how much to tell him. How do you explain everything—the horrors of Weapon X, the brutal experiments, the torture that nearly destroyed him? You can’t even bring yourself to speak the full truth, not yet.

“You were taken,” you say carefully. “By people who wanted to use you for something terrible. But we got to you before they could. You’re safe now.”

Logan lets out a short, bitter laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “Safe,” he mutters, his voice low and sarcastic. “Right.” He rubs a hand across his face.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing somethin’?” he mutters, his irritation growing. “Like... like there’s something important I should remember.”

Swallowing hard, your heart twists at his words. He is missing something. But you won’t tell him that now. He’s already grappling with so much, and the last thing he needs is the weight of your shared past thrust upon him before he’s ready.

“Don’t worry about it.” Your voice is gentle, coaxing. “It’s... normal to feel confused right now.”

Frowning, he runs a hand through his hair. “Like I’m supposed to believe that.”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” you say softly. “But it’ll get better. You’ll remember in time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as if he’s searching for answers that aren’t there. After a moment, he sighs, his eyes returning to yours. “Alright. Who are you, really?” he asks. “Why do I feel like I should know you?”

Because we grew up together.

Because we were everything to each other.

Because you were the one person I never stopped loving.

“Just focus on resting,” you say, forcing a soft smile.

He studies you briefly, as if trying to figure out whether or not to trust you. Then finally, he nods, thought you can tell he’s still wary “Yeah... okay.”

The awkward silence returns.

“I should go,” you murmur, standing abruptly. The chair scrapes against the floor, the sound jarring in the quiet room. “You need rest.”

He doesn’t stop you, doesn’t ask you to stay. He just watches as you turn toward the door, and leave.

Your chest tightens painfully as you walk out of the room, the familiar ache of loss settling in once more. It’s worse this time, though—worse because he’s alive, and yet, in every way that matters, he’s gone.

You leave the room in a daze, your mind swirling with a storm of emotions. Your feet carry you down the hall, and before you realize what’s happening, you find yourself in the washroom.

The moment the door clicks shut, your stomach lurches. You barely make it a toilet before you’re retching. Tears sting your eyes, and you brace yourself against the cold porcelain, gasping for breath as your body shakes with sobs.

Standing up and flushing, you walk over to the sink, and press your forehead against the mirror. How did it come to this? You found him, after all these years, but the person in that bed isn’t the Logan—it isn’t the James—you once knew.

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you try to pull yourself together. It's not the time to breakdown, you think, and after splashing some water on your face, you turn toward the exit.

Pushing open the door, you’re met with the familiar gaze of Ororo. She stands in the hallway, her white hair cascading down her shoulders, her eyes filled with something that feels like both understanding and pity.

Your eyes widen, caught off guard, not expecting to see anyone, least of all her.

“I saw you come in here,” she whispers empathetically, “but thought you might need a moment.”

You pause, trying to blink away the redness in your eyes, trying to pretend you’re stronger than you feel. But she sees through it. She always has.

“I’m fine,” you say, the words slipping out automatically.

Stepping closer, her gaze softens as she studies your face. “No,” she disagrees, “you’re not.”

The vulnerability you’ve been trying to keep at bay rushes forward again, threatening to swallow you whole. You open your mouth to argue, to brush it off, but the moment you meet her eyes, the words die in your throat. The pity, the compassion—it’s too much.

Silently, she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. It’s a small gesture, but it feels grounding.

“I saw him,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “He doesn’t remember me.”

“I know,” she says quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

—

The next few days are a blur. You keep yourself busy—too busy—hoping that constant movement will keep the gnawing ache at bay. If you let yourself stop, if you let yourself think about what’s happened, the hurt would consume you, so you don’t stop.

Most of your time is spent in your room or the garden, taking refuge in the places where you can hide from everything, everyone.

Sometimes, you train, pushing your body past its limits in a desperate attempt to silence your thoughts. Every hit you land, every punch you throw, never feels like enough.

It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Easier to avoid him, to pretend he never came back into your life. Because the alternative—watching him live here, knowing he doesn’t remember you, doesn’t understand what you once shared—that’s too painful.

You’d rather pretend he’s still a memory than face the reality that the man you love is here, but not really.

When you walk through the mansion, you see him from afar. You can’t help but notice how he’s begun to soften around the others, how the confused man who woke up in that bed is slowly adjusting to life at the mansion. He has daily appointments with Charles, who you imagine is sifting through his mind, doing his very best to retrieve something, anything.

While there is still a distance in his eyes, still a guarded edge to him, but you can see the small shifts—the way he listens when someone speaks, the faintest hint of a smile when Hank tries to crack a joke.

And sometimes, your eyes meet.

From across the room, you’ll catch him watching you. In those moments, your heart skips a beat, wondering if there’s a reason why he’s zeroed in on you specifically, but then he looks away, and it passes. You never approach him, never ask him how he’s feeling or if he’s starting to remember anything. You’re too afraid of the answer.

One night, you sit in the garden, letting the soft breeze play with your hair, eyes closed.

“Mind if I sit here?”

The voice startles you, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyelids flutter, and as you turn, your heart jolts upon seeing Logan standing at above you. And momentarily, it’s like you’re teenagers again—sneaking out at night into the gardens to talk.

“Sure,” you nod, gently patting the space beside you, as you always did.

He steps closer and sits down, though not without leaving a small space between the two of you. “I’ve been seeing you around,” he says after a beat.. He doesn’t look at you, his gaze focused on the flowers in front of him. “But... you’ve been avoidin’ me, haven’t you?”

A small laugh escapes you, bitter and self-deprecating. “You noticed, huh?”

“Yeah, not much gets past me. Even that one guy’s attempts at being a leader.”

Despite yourself, you snort. “Scott?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “He’s too easy. Guy looks like a human stoplight with those stupid glasses.”

You bite back a snicker, feeling like a teenager again. The banter, the lighthearted teasing—it makes it seem like maybe, just maybe, there’s still something left of the man you knew.

He turns his head slightly, his expression growing more serious. “You know, I’ve been trying to figure it out,” he says, quieter now. “Why it feels like something’s missing. Every time I see you... I know you’re related to it.”

Shifting a little to look at him, you take in the way his facial hair is a little bit more kempt, how he still has his hair tufts. You miss him, and he’s right here with you.

“I... thought it would be easier,” you admit, staring down at your hands. “For both of us. If I kept my distance. I didn’t want to add to your stress.”

Frowning, his brows furrow as he processes your words. “Add to it? How?”

“Because you don’t remember me,” you say softly. “And I didn’t want to be a reminder of something you can’t recall.”

He stares at you for a long moment. Then, “you’re right. I don’t remember everything,” he says slowly, “but I know there’s something about you.”

You nod, your throat tight, but you don’t push him. You know it’s only a matter of time before the pieces fall into place. “You’ll remember,” you whisper. “I know it.”

He grunts. “I don’t want you to keep your distance.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.” The idea of him wanting to spend more time with you, fills you with joy.

—

For the next few weeks, it becomes a quiet routine—the nightly conversations in the garden. It’s like slipping into an old rhythm, the two of you always finding a way to gravitate toward each other once the sun goes down. You talk about small things, but it's never too heavy. Sometimes he teases you, and you tease him back, exchanging sarcastic quips. Nothing and everything has changed at the same time.

You’ve started training together too, spending more and more time together each day. It’s almost as if there’s a magnet between you that not even time could weaken.

This night, you’re in the gym together on the sparring mat. It’s the usual scenario playing out—dodging, blocking, throwing punches. He’s fast and strong. And it means a lot to see you see him finally embrace his mutant powers and use them, rather than try to hide and run.

You’re both breathing hard, the exertion pushing your bodies to their limits. You land a solid kick to his side, and he grunts, stepping back for a moment. Without warning, his claws extend, and your gaze locks in on them.

Of course you know about the adamantium, but seeing it like this, so up close, it’s different.

“What?” Logan asks, noticing your sudden stillness. His brow furrows, and he glances down at his claws, as if he’s only just realizing they’re out. “What are you staring at?”

“Does it hurt?” you question, clearing your throat. “When they come out?”

He tilts his head, his gaze flicking between you and his claws. “Everytime” he sighs. “But not as much as the old ones.”

Your eyes snap up from his claws to meet his. “... What?” you ask. The old ones?

“They were bone,” he continues, “Hurt like a bitch.”

Your heart starts pounding in your chest. Could this be it? Could he be remembering?

Stepping closer, your voice trembles slightly as you push for more. “What else do you remember?”

His eyes widen, and then he blinks, his stare glazing over for a second, like he’s trying to chase down a memory that’s just out of reach.

“I… I don’t know,” he admits with a bit of frustration. His claws retract, his hand flexing unconsciously as he stares at the empty space where the blades once were. “It’s all bits and pieces. I get these flashes, but nothing sticks. Charles said... he said the barriers in my mind are comin’ down, but it’s slow. Like finding a damn needle in a haystack.”

But the fact that he remembers even a sliver, is enough to fill you with hope.

—

This continues, the small fragments of memories coming back to him. They come unexpectedly, at random times in the day. It’s never anything big, never the full flood of memories you’re hoping for, but each time it happens, it feels like another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

You suggest a walk one afternoon. The mansion has felt a little too closed in lately, and you think maybe the fresh air might help clear his mind. Together, you wander along a little pathway that connects the mansion to a nearby river, the sound of the water in the distance a soothing backdrop as you walk side by side. He’s quiet, more so than usual, and as you glance at him, you notice his expression has grown distant.

“Logan?” you ask softly, nudging his arm. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. His brow is furrowed, like he’s trying to fit together pieces of a puzzle, his thoughts distant, swirling. “I remember…” he starts, his voice quiet, as if he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

Your fingers begin to twitch at your side. Every time he remembers something, it feels like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see if he’ll fall into the past, if this will be the moment he remembers it all.

“A cabin,” he says finally, his voice rough but certain. “There was a shack. In a small town. I used to stay there.”

You nod, urging him to continue, anticipated building within your chest. “Go on.”

“It was small. Cold most of the time. But I don’t think I cared.” He lets a chuckle. “I liked it. Felt... peaceful.”

You can’t help but smile a little at the memories he’s bringing up. His steps falter, and he stops in the middle of the path, turning to look at you. “Mining,” he mutters, as if the word itself is triggering something. “I remember mining.”

“That’s good,” you say. ‘I’m happy for you.”

—

The memories keep coming.

You’re in the mansion, passing through one of the long hallways together on your way to eat, when he suddenly stops, his hand reaching out to steady himself against the wall. You turn, concern flooding through you. “Are you okay? What is it?”

He frowns, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to force something into focus. “There was a girl.”

“A girl?” you repeat, not wanting to push him but unable to stop the question from spilling out.

“Yeah,” he confirms. “In a big house—like a mansion, I think. We'd play together. She was... she was always following me around. Always gettin’ into trouble.”

You know exactly who he’s talking about.

“Do you remember her name?”

Shaking his head, you can see the frustration etched onto his face. “No. But she must have been important, I can feel it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you try to hold yourself together. It was me, you want to say. That little girl was me.

“It’s okay,” you say instead, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. “You’ll remember. You’re already so close.”

He looks at you then, his eyes searching yours for something—answers, reassurance. Once a few seconds pass, he sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know how you put up with this,” he grumbles lowly. “With me.”

“Because I know you,” you whisper back.

To have a chance at another lifetime with him, you’d put up with anything.

—

He’s busy with Jean and Charles this morning, the duo having started to work together last week, trying to finally break down the wall stopping Logan from recovering his memories. With nothing else to occupy you, you’ve retreated to the mansion’s library, seeking solace in the endless rows of books. The familiar smell of paper and ink is comforting, and for a while, you manage to lose yourself in the words on the page.

You’re curled up in one of the oversized armchairs, a book resting in your lap, when your ears pick up the sound of heavy footsteps—fast, purposeful, ringing out through the mansion’s quiet halls.

Concern rises in your chest. Those footsteps aren’t casual; someone is rushing, and you’ve been around long enough to know that in here, that usually means something’s wrong.

Setting the book down on the small table beside you, you stand and head toward the entrance of the library. The sound grows louder, the footsteps coming closer, and just as you reach the doorway, you collide with a solid wall of muscle.

"Ho—holy sh—" you gasp, stumbling back, startled. Your hands fly to steady yourself, and you look up, wide-eyed, to see Logan standing there. "Logan, you scared m—"

“James.”

You still.

"What?" you whisper, your mind racing as you stare at him. His face is different—not just the usual irritated-by-himself expression he’s been wearing lately, but something else. There’s a certainty in his eyes, relief and maybe even—

“My name is James,” he repeats. “I was born in Alberta. We grew up together. I... I killed my father.” His voice falters slightly at that, but he pushes through, his gaze locked on yours, unwavering. “You were the little girl in the mansion. You’ve always been there. And I—” His eyes brim with emotion. “I love you.”

The words slam into you, leaving you breathless. You can feel the blood drain from your face, your heart jumping so hard it feels like it might burst. “You... you remember?” You’re barely able to get the words out.

Logan—James—stares at you. “I remember everything.”

A sob escapes your throat, and you throw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the floodgates open. His arms come around you immediately, holding you tight, his chin resting on the top of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so damn sorry. I should have never left. I should have gone back to find you.”

You shake your head, tears soaking into his shirt. “It doesn’t matter,” your voice breaks. “None of that matters anymore. We’re together now. That’s all I care about.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that won’t stop falling. There’s so much love—so much everything—in his eyes, your knees nearly buckle. All you do is hold on to him, as tightly as you can, afraid that if you let go, this moment will slip away.

But it won’t, because he’s really here, he remembers, and he still loves you.

For what feels like hours, you stand there in the hallway, wrapped in each other’s arms. Eventually, you take a small step back, unwrapping your arms and instead grabbing his hands, squeezing them. “We have a lot to talk about.”

He squeezes your hands back in return. “Yeah, we do.”

—

You sniffle, wiping away the last of your tears as you lie in bed with him, pressed so close it feels like you’re trying to merge into one person. His warmth surrounds you, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist, hands drawing small circles. It’s like all the years apart never happened, like you’re finally back where you’re meant to be.

“So, what made it all come back to you?” you ask softly, your voice a bit hoarsefrom all the crying you’ve done in the last hour.

James takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly. “I guess having two strong telepaths diggin’ around in your mind will do the trick,” he responds. “Shit was brutal, but... worth it.”

Tilting his head down, he presses a small kiss to your temple. If even possible, you nestle yourself further into his hold.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” you whisper. “All those years... I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Same for me. Thought I lost you too,” James murmurs, his hand running gently up and down your back. “After I left the cabin, I tried to forget. Tried to convince myself you were better off without me, but...” He trails off. “I was wrong—a coward. I shouldn’t have been runnin’ away. Especially from you.”

You look up at him, your eyes searching his. “What did you do all those years? Where did you go?”

He lets out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes. “I wandered. For a long time, I didn’t stay in one place. Fought when I had to, drank when I couldn’t forget. Got into a lot of trouble.” He grimaces slightly.

You frown. “What kind of trouble?”

“The kind where people like me aren’t supposed to be walking free,” he remarks bitterly. “I gave into the monster I thought I was.”

His words sink in, and you can feel the toll those years took on him, the way they left him scarred, not just physically, but emotionally. “It must have been so hard,” you whisper, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Living like that, without... anyone.”

Leaning into your touch, “Yeah,” he admits. “It was. But... I didn’t know how to live any other way. Not after everything that happened.”

There’s a long pause, the two of you lying there, bodies tangled together as you both process the weight of what’s been lost and what’s been found. Then, he kisses the inside of your hand, looking at you with a faint, curious smile.

“What about you?” he asks softly, tugging you closer. “When did you... ya know, find out you were a mutant?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve never really talked about that part of your life to anyone, at least not in detail.

“I didn’t know for about a year,” you begin. “After you left, I was... lost. And then one day... I punched a tree.”

James raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. “A tree?”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the seriousness of the memory. “Yeah. I was angry—angry at everything. And when I punched it... the damn thing exploded.”

He stares at you for a moment, processing your words. Then, a slow, amused grin spreads across his face. “Exploded, huh? Guess that’s one way to find out you’re not normal.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Yeah, it wasn’t exactly subtle.”

His smile fades slightly. “What did you do after that?”

Taking a deep breath, you let the memories of those early days as a mutant flood back. “I tried to keep it hidden for a while. Didn’t really know what to do with it. But then... the wars started.”

Eyes narrowing, his expression changes instantly. “The wars?”

Nodding, you continue. “Yeah, the First and Second. I volunteered as a nurse. I figured if I could use my powers to help people, then maybe I could make up for everything I lost. I moved station to station, healing soldiers. I couldn’t save everyone, but I tried.”

He’s momentarily quiet, gaze never leaving yours, even as he processes what you’re telling him. Then, slowly, his features shift into disbelief.

“You were on the frontlines?” His voice low, almost incredulous. He reaches out to brush a few strands of hair out of your face.

“Yeah. I wanted to make a difference.”

Letting out a sharp breath, James sits up slightly in bed as he stares at you. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “I fought in those wars, too. In the trenches.”

You’re speechless, and the realization washes over you slowly. The whisperings you’d heard from the troops, the rumours you’d chalked up to be nothing more than drunken tales, suddenly come flooding back. A man who couldn’t be killed, who healed from every injury, who fought with claws that could tear through anything.

It was him.

It was always him.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. “So it was true…all those rumours about the man who couldn’t die... that was you.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Guess it was.”

All those years, all those battles... and you were both there, so close, yet so far apart.

“We were so close,” you say, moving forward in to give him a kiss. “And we didn’t even know it.”

He kisses you back, his grip on you tightening. Then, when you pull away, he sighs, leaning back against the headboard. “It’s all so different now,” he begins gruffly. “You’re not the little maid in training anymore, runnin’ around that mansion, worried about getting caught”

You smile faintly at the memories of your younger selves, the girl you used to be, and the boy who was so much more to you than just a young lord.

“And you’re not sir James Howlett or whatever—Lord—anymore” you tease. “You’ve come a long way from the boy who used to sulk in the garden because he had to attend another dinner party.”

He lets out a noise that sounds like a mix between a huff and a laugh “Yeah,” he agrees. “That feels like a lifetime ago. And in a way, I guess it was.”

While neither of you are the same people you once were, in this moment, you can feel that connection—the one that has always been there.

“I’ve thought about you every day,” he speaks up again. “All those years.”

“James…”

“I love you,” he confesses. “And I’ve loved you my whole life. Before we ran away, after I left, even after I thought you were gone... I couldn’t forget. Didn’t want to.” He sucks in a harsh breath, grabbing your hand once more. “I shouldn’t have left. I should have stayed. We could’ve figured it out together, but I was so... so damn scared. I thought if I stayed, I’d only hurt you.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes again. “You did what you thought was right,” you whisper, intertwining your fingers. “You were scared, and so was I.”

“I wish I could take it all back,” he says, regret bleeding into his tone. “I wish I could’ve been there for you... We could’ve had so many more years together.”

“We have time now,” you say softly, assuring him. “We have all the time in the world to make up for it.”

He doesn’t respond verbally, but rather he edges forward, brushing his lips softly against yours. “I love you,” he murmurs before closing the gap completely, kissing you passionately.

You smile against his lips, because while he may be known as logan, or Wolverine, he’s still James.

Your James.

----

A/N: I'm going to have to either write some crazy smut or excessive fluff now because this took it out of me LOL also I hope none of you got confused with the name switching! Thank you so much for reading <3

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velvetcrimsonkisses · 3 months

Text

Nanami wants you to ride his face...

It was no secret that Nanami read books. Any kind of book. But sometimes he would read something not so wholesome…

Laying on the futon of his home office, eyes half lidded, glasses sitting low on his nose. As he reads, his mind wanders to you. His cock growing tighter in his pants, thinking about what it would be like to reciprocate these acts in the bedroom with you. One specific part caught his attention though. His hand absentmindedly wanders down to his hard erection, his mind racing with the thought of you sitting on his face.

A soft knock on his door puts him out of his trance. “What would you like for dinner, Ken?” you ask softly from outside the door. Nanami froze. His face reddening as he shuts the book. Not sure if he should be more embarrassed about what he was reading or what he was imagining. He adjusted himself before walking up to the door himself and opening it. He appreciated how you were always respectful of his personal space and knocked.

“Oh, hi honey…” your face brightens as he opens the door. The sight of your smile filled Nanami with love, but it wasn’t helping his erection. He doesn’t say anything besides wrapping his arms around, bringing you into a tight embrace. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you returned the hug. “Someone feels a little clingy today?” you chuckle, running your hands over his back.

Nanami burrows his face into your hair. Inhaling your sweet scent he adored. His fingers run over the natural curves of your body, as he presses gentle kisses to your cheek. “I apologize, I feel… I need you right now.” Nanami murmurs into your ear, his declaration runs a shiver up your body. The way he was leaning onto you caused you to hold onto his shoulders, exposing your neck to him. He wastes no time in attacking it, placing his “needy” kisses on it.

Nanami had many ways he liked to kiss you. You have his sincere kisses when he wants you to know he's there for you and he loves you. Peck on the cheek and hand kisses in public. But your favorite kind he gives you are the ones that always lead to more. Where he becomes a little more flirty, nipping at your skin, digging his teeth in, hands roaming all over your body. Squishing anything he could get his hands on.

It’s not long before you both stumble into the room, not being able to get your hands and mouths of each other, until Nanami breaks the kiss, his expression now restless, with desire behind those honey-brown eyes. “I have a request…” he clears his throat. You smile at the way he breaks eye contact with you because he’s nervous. “What kind of request?’ you bat your eyelashes at him. Nanami swears he could die then and there if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough. He walks over to the bed, awkwardly laying flat on it.

“You want me to ride you?” you laugh at how he just lays down. Nanami shakes his head. “Sit. On my face. Please.” he stutters out, giving you a quick glance before he breaks eye contact again, leaving you speechless, this wasn’t something you had tried out before. The desire in his eyes told you he was desperate for this. He looked like he was on the verge of getting on his knees and begging you. “We haven’t tried that yet…” you smirk at him, leaning closer to him. “Is that a no?” he looks at you again, eyes urging you to give in.

Nanami couldn’t help himself once you were hovering over his face. He takes in your scent, closing his eyes, his nose tickling your entrance. Your breath hitching as you look for something to hold on too, eventually resting your hands on the headboard in front of you. Nanami’s breath catches in his throat, he could not believe it was actually happening. His hands find purchase on your thighs, groping them like his life depended on it.

“Keep your eyes on me Kento…” You coo as you look down at him. He could moan at just the sound of your voice, he couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense as he begins to worship you with his tongue. Savoring the taste of you, hands roaming all over your hips and ass, devouring your cunt desperately.

The moment you think he is finally satisfied, he’s not. Only pulling you down more on his face, sharp eyes still on you just like you told him. He didn’t want to miss anything. Music to his ears the way you say his name like a spell, your victim being him and only him. The way you cried out when he would tease your clit just right. And the way you grind against his face was all he could ever ask for. He could die a happy man right then and there.

“Fuck…” you whine, your hand coming down to grip his hair, only driving him more insane. His grunts grow louder as the pleasure and pain mix together delectably. His tongue lapping you up with a new found energy, with confidence you didn’t know he could possess. Eager to chase your orgasm so you cream all over his face. His own arousal building up every second you're on his face.

"Oh god Kento… i'm so close,” you continue your ministrations on his face. His fingers tightening around your ass. He gazes up at you with the most sexy bedroom eyes filled with adoration and desperation, his just pleading for one chance to watch you fall apart on and all over his face. To make a mess on him. “Go ahead, sweetheart…” he mumbles against your sopping, sensitive cunt.

A cry of ecstasy echoes the room as your orgasm finally takes over your body, holding onto the headboard again to stabilize yourself. The man under you is still lapping up everything you are willing to give him. You continue to grind yourself on his face, riding out your orgasm. Nanami’s eyes rolling back in complete and utter bliss, your slick coating his chin and cheeks. Waves of pleasure run through your body, your only thought being Nanami. The way he looked under you, making you hot all over again. Intimacy so intense you could burst.

Realization hits you after your orgasm, finally deciding to remove yourself from his face so he wouldn’t suffocate. Nanami gasps for air as you lift off him, a small giggle escaping your lips. His chest heaving with the exertion that just happened. His eyes still glazed over with lust, taking in the sight of you.

“So where did you get this idea from?” you tease him, poking his shoulder.

A dorky smile spreads across his perfect face as he climbs on top of you, meeting you face to face.

“I read about it…”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader smut #nanami kento x reader smut #kento nanami #kento nanami smut

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kamitv · 5 months

Text

▷ Body Art

Sypnosis . Suggesting tattoos/piercings in the middle of sex. / Pairings . (Separate) Choso x f!reader, Geto x f!reader, Toji x f!reader, Gojo x f!reader, Sukuna x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex m!receiving, established relationships, unprotected sex, etc. / wc . 6.5k

A/N: I'm in heat. [MDNI]

★ Choso Kamo — back dermals

He kinda just blurts the idea out.

You’d be riding him in reverse, legs spread over his thighs as his cock rests deep inside you, his big hands latched to your hips with his fingers digging into your skin.

Choso’s eyelids are heavy as he loses himself in the tantalizing rock of your hips, dark locks of hair messily splayed down as a few strands stick to the skin of his forehead.

Back and forth and back and forth— you were riding him so slowly and sensually, pussy clenching tightly around his cock and pulling a groan right out the back of his throat.

His head rests back on the headboard of your shared bed, groans leaving his lips every now and then as he doesn’t hesitate to hold his voice back from you.

“Fuck, baby,” Choso moans, “You always ride so fuckin’ good-, shiiit…”

You angle your head back to catch sight of your boyfriend, his facial expression leading you to rotate your hips in a slow circle so you can watch the way his brows push together and his lips part into a sigh.

“Yeahhh, jus’ like that,” He grunts, trying to fight the urge to fuck up into you so soon. Then his eyes narrow at your lower back, specifically the area near where his thumbs are digging into.

He guides your hips a little, letting out a low huff as he watches you ride him so languidly. Then you lean your body forward and arch your back, hands pressing down into the mattress in between the two of your legs as you shift your hips skillfully.

Choso’s thick cock was knocking around your insides as you moved, your cunt squelching sloppily around his shaft with your every movement and making you moan just as much as he was groaning.

Bach and forth, left and right, up just a little before sinking back down so that his tip nudges exactly where you want him.

“Mmmh,” You hum slightly, lips parting a bit as he presses his thumbs into you suddenly, “Cho…”

“Babyy…” He drawls out, mesmerized by your steady movements and pussydrunk already, “Have you uh… mmgh, you’ ever thought ‘bout gettin’ back dermals?”

You sigh heavily, “W-What? Back dermals?” You question as your movement stutters a bit, cunt gripping his cock tighter in surprise.

“Uhuh,” Choso nods in a slight daze, “Y’know… the piercing?” He explains, his voice deep as his eyes never leave your lower back.

“Y-Yeah, I know what you’re talkin’ about b-but-, aah…” You moan as he lifts his hips into you ever so slightly, cockhead pressing into your sweet spot, “Why?”

“‘Cause princess….” Choso smirks and watches your hips roll upward in a circular motion to almost match his movements below you, “Fuuuck they’d look so good on you.”

You turn your head back again, “Think so?”

“Mhmm, shit-, you gotta’ get ‘em baby,” Your boyfriend huffs out as his head tosses back slightly, pulling his lower lip into his mouth for a moment just to grit out a low, “M’gonna cum jus’ thinkin’ about it.”

A smile graces your face for a moment and you increase your pace a little, still ridding him a bit sloppy but dizzying just how he likes, “What’s so… mmh, s-special about them?”

His hands shift a little and slide up to your waist, holding you carefully as you rock your cunt over his cock. “Wanna stare at ‘em while you ride this dick, baby.”

You face forward and moan, “Cho…”

“Hm?” He cracks a smirk. He’s no stranger to the way his words make your body tense up sometimes, “I say somethin’ wrong?” Choso teases.

“N-No but-, hahh… are you serious?” You ask before leaning back, grinding your hips forward, and fucking his cock into you as you move a hand to rub over your clit.

Choso scoffs loudly to make sure you hear, “Does it sound like m’joking?” He asks.

You toss your head back and his eyes trail up to the way you look on top of him, “I dunno…” You whine.

“Aww, you dunno?” He chuckles as he mocks you, “Baby I’m so fuckin’ serious. I’ll pay for it too if you want…“

Letting out a sigh, you purposefully narrow your walls around his dick, earning a moan from him and feeling how he twitches inside you.

“F-Fuck, y’like that, huh?” Choso taunts, “P-Please baby, I’ll spend every fuckin’ penny I have on ya’ just t’see you with that damn piercing.” Hands slipping down to your hips yet again, he tugs your body back a little and his cock knocks somewhere inside you that has you moaning his name.

“Choso… shit-, o-okay… I’ll-,” Your jaw drops as his cock grazes that spot you like yet again, “Hhgnn… I’ll get it,” You whisper desperately.

He doesn’t miss your words at all, “Y-Yeah?” He unintentionally thrusts up into you and your pussy quivers around his dick, “You will? Fuck, I love you. Love you s’much-, shiiiit….”

And then he’s thrusting consistently, making you lose yourself on top of him as Choso envisions that damn piercing on you— oh he can’t wait for you to get them now.

★ Geto Suguru — a tattoo of his name

Well, he just wants everyone to know who you belong to of course. You already moan his name nearly every night so why not get it printed onto your skin?

Geto wonders where he’d want such a thing but one day it just comes to him.

It was early in the morning and the two of you had woken up needier than ever, both of you lying on your sides as he woke you up with a million kisses pressed into your neck.

You grumbled something in your sleep and it made him smile against your skin as he slipped up to your ear just to whisper, “G’mornin’ gorgeous,” His voice was so deep yet soft with you.

A sigh slips past your lips at the sound of his words in your ear and you shift around where you lay, “Suguru…”

“Hmm?” He hums, still against your ear purposefully. One of his hands was latched to your waist, his fingers drawing small circles against you as he felt against you wearing his t-shirt.

You pout and angle your head back to him ever so slightly, “What’d I tell you about doin’ that?”

Geto raises a confused brow, “Doin’ what, baby?” He asks, an innocent little smile pulling at his lips as his hand slips down along your body.

“Talkin’ in my ear when you first wake up…” You huff, turning to face forward again and comfort yourself.

Your boyfriend leans down to your neck and kisses you tenderly, “Mmmh…” He hums against you, still smiling a little, “I don’t remember. Remind me?”

Your body shifts a bit and your ass presses back into his crotch, “Said’ it turns me on,” You explain.

He’s quick to flash a smile and pull away from your neck, “Oh yeah?” Geto taunts, moving his lips back to your ear and kissing the crown of it.

“Mhmm,” You hum tiredly in response.

That hand of his begins to slide around your body and to your stomach, fingers slipping under your (his) shirt and feeling your bare skin.

You sigh as he touches you so softly, knowing exactly where this is going once you feel his heavy cock poking against your ass.

Geto’s low in your ear as his hand slides down past your abdomen, “Feelin’ needy for me now, huh?” He murmurs, fingertips grazing the thin band of your panties.

“Hahh…” His voice alone had you so wet. It was all groggy and low with you yet still soothing just how you know it to be. Which is why you’re uttering a quiet, “Yeah…” In response as he runs his fingers over your panties to tease you.

Geto shifts to kiss under your ear, “Lemme’ check how needy y’are…” He whispers to you, “S’that okay?” You swear his request for consent has you over the edge already.

“Mhm,” You hum hastily in response.

His hands carefully slip under your panties and he quickly runs two thick fingers down and in between your wet folds, “Mmmh, baby… she’s soaked already,” Geto talks low into your ear, feeling how your cunt twitches against his fingertips.

You smile a little and push your hips back against him, “Y-Yeah, I know…. S’your fault,” You huff out as Geto just gathers your slick onto his fingers.

Then he pulls his hand out and brings it up to his mouth, sucking the thin coat of your slick off of his fingers and groaning slightly. “I better take responsibility then, huh?” He suggests before dropping his hand back down.

You’re already on the same page as him so you quickly shift to pull your panties down and then kick them off your legs, “Mhmm.”

Geto smiles at how quick you are as his hand is quick to return to your dripping cunt, fingertips rubbing over your clit teasingly and making him bite his bottom lip as you squirm.

The two of you are no strangers to morning sex. It happens quite often if anything. Sometimes it’s slow and sensual and other times it’s rushed and messy.

Like now for example, as your boyfriend goes from finger fucking you and spewing filth into your ear to kissing and sucking on the side of your neck and teasing you with his words.

“That feels good Sugu,” Is all you’d get to say while his two long fingers drag against your gummy walls, curling deep inside you perfectly.

“Yeah?” Geto would whisper, “Bet my cock would feel better.”

You’d just nod eagerly and mumble out a quiet, “Uhuh,” Before he’s moving already.

Your pussy narrows around his fingers and he groans, thumb rolling over your clit, “You want it? Want my cock inside you, baby?” Geto teases.

You could already feel his dick pressing against your ass, his hips lightly pushing into you every now and then for some friction.

“Please,” You sigh out.

And then he’s moving. Fingers drawing out of your messy cunt and going to tug his sweats down. He had no plans of changing positions either, fucking you sideways was one of his favorite things to do anyway.

Hence why he’s all in your ear, lips brushing over your skin, “Lift ya’ leg up f’me, pretty girl,” Geto instructs, to which you begin to do so and he hooks an arm under your leg, “Yeahh, just like that-,” He grunts as the tip of his cock grazes your wet hole, “Fuck, m’gonna slip right in.”

His words leave him just as he angles his cock into you, quickly stretching you open and causing your eyes to roll back.

“Mmmgh,” You moan, turning your face into the pillow a bit more.

Not that the action helps you escape Geto’s voice because he simply pushes his face forward. He won’t allow you to move your ear away from him, especially not when his every word causes your pussy to squeeze around him.

Whispering, “Feel me in there princess?” To you so softly as he rolls his hips into you, his cock bottoming you out completely and making your jaw drop.

Your folds were spread so lewdly around his girthy cock, length searing against your slick walls and leading him to groan into your ear.

“Yeahhh-,” You answer your boyfriend as best as you can, eyes flickering shut as he draws his hips back and pushes forward slowly, “Fuck you’re so deep.”

“Mhmm,” Geto hums steadily. Then he kisses your neck again and thrusts forward harshly, earning a filthy squelch from your cunt, “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ loud, shit…” He huffs.

You just lay there and pant as he ruts his heavy cock in and out of you, filthy words causing your core to burn with arousal, “Hahh, Sugu…”

“Listen t’her,” He coos, smiling against your ear, “Hear how sloppy she is f’me?”

All you can do is nod, “Mhmm.”

Geto lets out a heavy groan and his hips snap into you— your body would’ve jerked and you probably would’ve fallen over if not for the steel hold he had on your leg.

“Words, baby, wanna hear your voice,” He huffed against you, tone a bit lighter than he intended it to be.

“Yes, Suguru,” You answer correctly, a bit of drool escaping the corner of your mouth as his pace picks up.

Your whiney voice makes his cock ache inside you, tip leaky against your cervix as he knocks into you, “Yeahhhh… fuck, keep sayin’ my name,” Geto encourages.

Your jaw goes a bit slack, “Suguuu…”

“Right here, princess,” A soft pair of lips press against your ear as he fucks deeper into you, “M’right here.”

“Aahhh, mmgh-, S’guru,” You slur out, feeling him thrust almost desperately inside you as if to invoke more cries of his name.

And maybe that was why he got a little rough because then he’s angling his head down to your neck, then your shoulder, kissing you so softly despite the constant clash of his hips against you.

“Y’know…” Geto licks your shoulder before sucking on the exposed area, “My name would look s’pretty right here,” He murmurs.

Your brows twist up a bit, “Hmm?”

“On your shoulder-, fuck…” That curve of his angles somewhere inside you that makes your vision blur for a second, “Could’ stare at it while I fuck you like this.” Geto explains with a sudden smile growing on his face.

“Yeah? Y’want me to get your name tatted on me?” You pant out, lips parting and pretty moans spilling more freely.

“Fuuuuck, please,” Geto begs, nearly cumming at the thought of his name on you.

“Mmh, I’ll think about it Sugu.” You whisper in response. That earns a sloppier thrust of his hips, cock rubbing against your gummy walls widely as your words excite him.

“Yeah? Really?” He asks, excitement embedded into his words.

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Shit,” He nearly whines, “Thank you princess.”

Just as those words leave him, his mouth is moving to mark the area he’s envisioning his name, lips cupping over your shoulder as he sucks on your skin and his cock practically rearranges your insides.

“Uhuh, anythin’ for you Sugu,” You moan, a hand of yours moving to hold onto the nearby bedsheet and brave yourself.

Geto groans deeply against you, the sound coming from deep within, “Fuuuck, don’t say that… y’re gonna make me cum.”

You just flash a slightly-fucked out smile, “Go ahead.”

“Yeahhh, m’about to….” He chuckles, planting one last kiss yo your shoulder, “You’re gettin’ that tat’ later today f’me, okay?”

All you can hum out is a quiet little, “M’kay…” In agreement before he’s fucking his cum into you, whispering your name into your skin as his eyes roll back.

You’re all his and he wants everyone to know that.

★ Toji Fushiguro — nipple piercings

He swears they’d be the sexiest thing on you.

The thought came about as he watched you walk around his apartment with no bra one morning, cock springing up at the slightest imagination of some pretty jewelry poking out against your thin shirt.

Sure, Toji loved your tits just as they were but thinking about nipple piercings on you just makes his head spin.

Which is why when you find yourself bouncing on his cock later that night, his lips are latched to your nipples and he’s messily sucking on them with those lustful green eyes up on your face.

Pussy dripping all over the damn place as you’d already made plenty of messes on him thus far— Toji’s drunk off you and his cock won’t go down even after the numerous orgasms he’s had.

His tongue lulls over your nipple as he suckles it into his mouth, free hand busy groping your other tit messily while he groans against you. Toji’s always had a thing for your tits but today he was more eager for them than normal.

Your jaw was slack and you couldn’t understand what was up with him today, slightly cockdrunk and unable to stop the steady rock of your hips as his cock stretched you open so dizzyingly. Your thighs were a bit sore from how long you’d been on top of him but that wasn’t gonna stop you anytime soon.

Especially not when Toji’s mouth pops off of you and his tongue hands out as he looks at you, “Fuck, y’re goin’ too fuckin’ slow.”

You frown at the man, “Huh? No m’not…”

Toji scoffs and leans back a little, “Yeah y’are,” He huffs, raising a brow at your slow pace, “I know you can fuck me better than this.”

“I can, but I don’t want to,” You explain to the man, confused about how he seems to have lost track of how long you’ve been on his dick, “M’tired, Toji.”

“M’tired Toji,” He mocks patronizingly, “Y’weren’t tired when you crawled on top of me beggin’ for dick.” He huffs out, rolling your perky nipples in between his fingers as you rock your hips back and forth.

“That was three hours ago,” You gasp, cunt gripping onto his shaft as you lift yourself ever so slightly just to ease back down even slower.

Toji shakes his head a little, “Yeah well, don’t stop now.”

Your eyes narrow at your, currently annoying, boyfriend, “And you’re the one that wouldn’t stop touchin’ me today.”

He cocks his head to the side and one of his hands drops, snaking around your body to grab a tight hold on your ass, “Can’t touch my girl now?” Toji scoffs.

“You can but-, mmh!” You hum as he smacks your ass, “Y-You’ve been gropin’ my breasts all day ‘nd they’re gettin’ sore…”

“Can’t help it, doll,” He shrugs so casually as if your tits aren’t covered in hickeys and markings from his rough hands, “Thought about you gettin’ nipple piercings ‘nd now I can’t unsee ‘em.”

Your eyes widen at that. Then you almost laugh, “Oh hell no.”

Toji’s baffled by your response, brows furrowing as your hips come to a stop and your pussy twitches around him, “Excuse me?” He questions.

“You heard me. You can barely keep your hands off me now,” Your eyes roll as you explain yourself, “Why would I get nipple piercings for you?”

Twisting his face up slightly at your cunt sucking the soul out of him despite your lack of movement, “Cause’ they’d be sexy, y’fuckin’ brat.” Toji huffs out.

You scoff, “Well, unless y’re payin’, I’m not gettin’ shit-“

Toji shifts around beneath you, pressing his hips up into you and causing his cock to jerk deeper inside you. Your eyes flicker back because he’s so damn thick and you can never really handle him properly.

“Yes, you are,” He tells you with a slight smile tugging at the corner of his scared lips.

You scoff and roll your eyes, “No m’not.”

Toji, not a big fan of the attitude this has brought on, shakes his head, “Yes the fuck you are,” He tells you.

The two of you glare at one another, as if both of you aren’t equally fucked out and panting after having sex for so long.

Toji carefully leans up and toward you, his face nearing yours before you start leaning back as if to escape him. Then, he wraps one of his big arms around your waist and tugs your torso toward him, your chest pressing into his.

The eye contact was intense and his cock was aching inside you. You try to keep the stare up but he sneaks a hand in between you two and his thumb suddenly flicks over your clit, making you moan and break the eye contact.

“Fuck, you get on my nerves,” You whine as your stern expression sinks into something pleased.

“Mhm,” Toji grunts, “I know. Tha’s why you love me.”

Your upper lip twitches, “Whatever.”

“Don’t whatever me, watch y’fuckin’ mouth,” He warns, face once again nearing yours and his lips brushing over your skin.

There’s a throb in your cunt at his little warning and challenging Toji is something you find yourself enjoying all too much. Which is why you breathe out a simple, “Or what?” To him.

And then he’s flipping you over. His bulky frame looms over yours before he shoves his swollen cock into your sloppy hole, earning a loud moan from you.

“Done’ lost ya’ damn mind, huh?” Toji groans as he quickly starts beating his angry cock into you at a merciless pace, heavy balls smacking against you and harsh thrusts echoing throughout the room.

Your jaw hangs open and you’re pretty sure you came around his dick just now, “Ahh, T-Toji-, fuck,” You flash a fucked out little smile, “Was’ jus’ jokin’….”

His hands are forcing your thighs apart, fingers digging into your flesh as your body had been folded exactly how he wanted you.

“Jokin’ my ass,” He huffs out, thrusts growing heavier and heavier as he fucked you down into the mattress, “First y’told me I can’t touch ya’, then you wouldn’t even consider gettin’ a piercin’ for me and now, you forgot how to fuckin’ talk t’me,” Toji says to you, cockhead pounding into your tight cunt and quickly getting smothered in your release.

“M-M’sorryyy,” You whine, “I-, a-ah, I just…” Your words fall off your tongue as he fucks you stupid, thoughts jumbling and drool slipping out of your mouth.

“You just what? Hm?” Toji huffs, brows pinching together, “Get it out.”

Your eyes just barely meet his and tears coat your gaze, “Like’ fuckin’ with you-, hahh, y’know that, Toji,” You explain in a light whine.

“Yeah?” He almost smiles at you, “Y’like pissin’ me off, huh?”

“Uhuh,” You nod desperately.

He groans, “Why?”

“Like’ the way you fuck me when y’re angry,” You breathe out, body jerking with his constant and unforgiving thrusts.

“Yeah?” His head tips to the side, “Y’like when m’rough with ya’, huh?”

“Mhm,” You hum quietly, eye contact intense once again as he watches how your eyes cross slightly.

“S’that why your pussy’s droolin’ ‘round me right now?” Toji asks, pressing down on your body and feeling your gushy walls slick up his cock so sloppily.

All you can do is pant and nod in response, “Uhuhhh…”

“Use ya’ fuckin’ words. Y’had so much shit t’say before so don’t stop now,” Your boyfriend scoffs at you, glaring at your teary eyes as he fucks you through yet another orgasm.

Your legs and your lower lips were quivering, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “Y-Yeahh-, yes Toji.”

“Mmhmm, that’s what the fuck I thought. Now,” His face inclines down to yours, “You gonna get that piercin’ f’me or not?”

“I am,” You whisper.

His lips graze yours and his cock twitches, “You are?”

“Yeahhh,” You hum against him.

Then he’s nodding slightly and grunting a quiet, “Good.” Into your mouth, tongue pushing in afterward as he swallows up your moans.

★ Gojo Satoru — a tongue piercing

Gojo can barely handle your mouth as is sometimes but when he earlier passed by a body artistry place, spotting some lady getting her tongue pierced— he couldn’t help but wonder if you’d be down to get one.

And then later that day the thought returns to his mind as he watches your pretty pink tongue swirl around the tip of his hard cock.

“Hey babyy I have a question,” Gojo smiles down at you innocently, legs spread nice and wide for you as you suck on his flushed pink tip.

Your eyes bat up at your boyfriend, lips popping off of him before you let out a sigh, “Hm?” You hum, hands moving to jerk him off slowly.

His cock was smothered in saliva and precum, a messy mix that you stroked against him in quick pulls and earned a heavy pant from him.

“You ever uh,” His eyes narrow at your hand sliding up and down his lengthy dick, “E-Ever thought about gettin’ a tongue piercing?”

You smile at his question before sticking your tongue out and moving to tap the tip of his cock on it. Gojo stifles a moan as you tease him and his body twitches when you lather his cockhead up with spit.

“No,” You whisper, tilting your head as you then roll your tongue around him again, “Why?”

“Cause… I just uhm,” Gojo’s thoughts stutter for a second as you maintain casual eye contact and wrap your lips around his dick, sucking on only his tip whilst your hand handles the rest.

He goes quiet for a moment, safe for the slight groans leaving his lips, as he watches you. You blink a few times trying to get him to continue what he was saying but when Gojo just stares at you sucking him off, you remove your mouth from him.

“You just uhm….?” You question teasingly, smiling up at him.

He sighs, “Sorry, I uh, I think it’d feel-, look nice on you,” Gojo explains, nearly slipping up and revealing why he really wanted you to get that piercing.

You tilt your head a little before kissing his tip, “You think it’d look nice on me, huh?”

Gojo nods his head, “Yeahh…”

“Sure you don’t want me to get a tongue piercing for any other reason,” You ask as your head angles to the side and your tongue lulls out of your mouth to lather him up with more salvia.

His brows push together at the sight of you teasing him so messily— enamored by your sloppy mouth and how much you taunt him.

“Y-Yeah m’sure,” Gojo hums, “I mean…. What uh-,” You start taking him into your mouth again, suckling more inches down into your throat, “W-What other reason would I ha-, hahh, have?” He stutters.

“Mmmh,” You hum against him before moving your hand, taking his cock all the way down your throat and licking the underside of his shaft.

“S-Shit,” Gojo hisses, “Guess it’s hard f’you to talk when you’ve got a throat full of cock, huh?” He says in almost one breath, bringing a heavy hand to the top of your head and patting you lightly.

Your lips simmer against his base as you keep him deep in your throat for a moment, your gaze still locked on his and giving the man chills at how good you’d become at such a thing.

Gojo starts moving a bit— extending his leg for a second just to bring it back into place moments later, leaning back just to lean forward again, abs tensing… You had him all jittery and he forgot how to keep still.

“How long are y’gonna k-keep me in your throat like that? Fuck-, you’re gonna make me cum,” He huffs out with fully tensed brows, hips shifting slightly.

You slowly pull your mouth up and off of his cock, a thick string of saliva hanging from your tongue as you do so. “Toru, you can barely handle my tongue as is…” You say softly.

Gojo scoffs, “Tha’s not true.”

Your hand starts slipping up and down his cock again, the messy shlick sound following your movements and making you grin, “You already came in my mouth twice.”

“S-So?” He huffs, rosy lower lip poking out into a pout.

You giggle, “It’s barely been fifteen minutes.”

“Okay well, s’not my fault you know what you’re doin’,” Gojo results in saying. He had no other argument for you, not after being sucked off so good by you— of course he came in the first five minutes, you know all his sensitive spots.

Smiling up at your boyfriend, you angle his tip toward your mouth again and your lips graze him as you speak low in a whisper, “But it is your fault though,” You tease, “You’re the one who spent night after night fucking my throat so I could get used to you…”

“Shut up,” Gojo huffs out as he turns to the side.

Opening your mouth and taking your hands off of him completely, your palms press down into the floor and your back arches a bit as you lean forward, “Shut me up, c’mon.”

Gojo grumbles something under his breath before he moves to stand up, his hand angling your head a bit so you can comfortably look up at him.

“Promise you’ll get that piecing f’me,” Gojo says as he tips his head to the side.

You nod, “S’long as you put another load in my mouth, yeah.”

Oh he nearly came at that sentence alone. His dirty talk had rubbed off on you significantly and he loved every second of it, smiling down at you as he nods and pushes his cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, your mouth’s gettin’ filthier than mine,“ Gojo comments as his hips ease forward.

You suck him in with no problem, his dick slipping down into your mouth perfectly as you soon close your throat around his lengthy cock, making him grunt in surprise.

“S’tight,” He huffs, “Jus’ imagine this with some metal on your tongue, pretty,” Gojo starts smiling to himself at the thought, working up a steady pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth.

You purposefully flatten your tongue on his cock as he pulls out and spit messily collects at his tip, to which he moans as you slurp it off of him and whirl your tongue around.

Tipping his head back slightly, “Yeahhhh,” Gojo gasps, spreading his legs a bit as he starts rutting into your mouth, “And hey… maybe I’ll get a matchin’ one so you can feel good too.”

You whine around him at the thought and your thighs are quick to press together. The motion doesn’t go unnoticed and Gojo chuckles.

“Y’want that, baby? Wanna get matchin’ piercings?” He suggests with a toothy grin on his face.

You nod, eyes pleading and mouth full of him, humming a quick, “Mhmm,” Against him as you do so.

His dick twitches inside you and he heaves out a heavy breath, “Alright, let’s go right after this then.”

★ Ryomen Sukuna — a spine tattoo

If he has a body full of tattoos, why can’t you? And what better place for one to be than trailing down your spine?

Naturally, this thought comes about in the man’s head while he’s got your face pressed down into the mattress, ass up in the air for him and his cock shoved all too deep inside your overstimulated pussy.

If he’s not staring at your ass while he fucks you from behind then Sukuna’s always staring at that spine of yours.

The way it curves into that perfect arch for him— he can’t help but wonder what dark ink would look like trailing along the area. Thoughts of how he’d trace his fingers along a tattoo if it were there come to his mind and he smiles at how he’d probably end up tuning out your cries just because he’s too focused on reading your tattoo.

And he just knows he’d tease you about it, pretending not to know what the tattoo signifies and asking you questions about it just to hear your broken explanations.

Sukuna did enjoy forcing you to talk during sex anyway so, a tattoo would be the perfect topic of conversation. But first, he has to convince-, order you to get one.

“S’kunaa,” Your muffled voice would hit his ears so suddenly, his hands latched onto your hips so tightly that he was leaving marks.

The man hadn’t realized how lost in his thoughts he was, having nearly fucked you down into the bed completely. “What?” Sukuna huffs out in response to the meek call of his name.

You pant and pant into the sheets, drool collected so messily below your face as your wet lashes flutter open, “Y-You stopped, hnngh… t-talking,” You breathe out, catching him slightly off guard.

Sukuna smirks at you, his lovely fiancée, “Did I?” He coos, cock still stretching you open and stuffing you nice and full despite his sudden lack of words.

He’s always talkative during sex, whether he likes to admit that or not— he’d tease you non-stop, dirty talk you until you physically couldn’t take it anymore, and became nothing more than a squirting mess on his throbbing cock.

“Uhuh…” You mumbles out, fingers curling into the bedsheets as you sniffle lightly.

Of course he’d already fucked you to tears. When did he not?

“S’that a problem?” Sukuna asks as he leans over a bit, quickly finding your hand and placing his much larger one on top of it, fingers intertwining slightly as he presses your hand further down.

“N-No… but… mmh,” You moan as his hips slow against you, rolling his fat cock deep inside your cunt and making your words leave in a mere whisper, “I like hearin’ you…”

Sukuna weighs his body into you a bit more, thick tip throbbing against your cervix, “Hm? Speak up.” He orders, despite hearing you just fine.

“I l-like hearin’ your voice ‘Kuna,” You breathe out, lifting your head slightly off of the mattress and angling it so that you could meet his fiery gaze.

“Yeah?” He asks, that wide and sexy smile of his taking over his sweaty features.

Your heart just swells at the sight and you nod thoughtlessly, “Uhuh.”

Sukuna resists the faint urge to press his lips into your messy wet ones, his eyes narrowing at the sight of them open and practically inviting him in. “Why?” He questions.

“C-Cause’ you… hahhh,” You pant as he leans up again, hand leaving yours and moving to your ass, “Your words are so-, mmh!” A hum escapes you as he slaps your ass harshly, leaving yet another mark on you, and smiling down at the sight.

Your cunt was stretched lewdly around his base, sucking every inch of him so deliciously that he could hardly take his eyes away from the sight, “So what? Get it out, c’mon,” Sukuna encouraged, thrusting his hips forward just to watch the way your body jerks and then bounces back onto him.

“Filthy.” You gasp, back arching impossibly further and pussy taking him in deeper.

“Well,” Sukuna scoffs, “How can they not be. Pussy’s back here talkin’ dirty t’me so I talk back,” He explains casually as his rough pace with you returns, “What’s the problem?”

Your jaw drops a bit and your eyes flicker to the back of your skull, “N-Nothing-, ah, m-mmgh….” You moan in between your words as his thrusting distracts you from speaking properly, “I like it.”

He smiles at that, “Yeah? Y’like it? Like it when I tell you how this pussy gets so fuckin’ sloppy f’me?” Sukuna huffs out instantly, your cunt squelching around him so obscenely that it makes him groan.

Your mess was all over the damn place— coating his thighs, your thighs, the bed below-, just everywhere. “Uhuh…” You babble out in response, dropping your head back down into the bed.

“…How she cries f’me, sucks me in deep, and takes my cock so well,” Sukuna continues, his every word coming out with that low raspy pitched voice of his that just makes your stomach flip and churn in arousal.

“Fuu-uck,” You whimper amid his heavy pounding, cockhead unforgiving inside you as he never once slows.

Your body naturally tries pulling away from him and you attempt to crawl away ever so slightly just for a moment's rest.

“Stop that, don’t run from me now,” Sukuna hums before leaning all the way down to your ear, “Thought’ you liked it when I talked t’you?” He whispers, feeling how your walls grip onto him so suddenly due to how close he’d gotten.

You pout, “Y-You’re too close-, fuck.” You explain to him.

That earns a scoff, “Tell me somethin’, slut of mine…”

“H-Hm?” You hum oh so obediently.

Sukuna’s lips press into your ear and a hand snakes under your body, fingers pinching your clit as he questions you, “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Fuck-, I-, ahh… Kuna…” You whine, legs attempting to close on him for a moment, “S’yours ‘Kuna.”

His veiny cock twitches inside you at your response and he grunts against you, “Right, so who the fuck are you to tell me I’m too close, huh?” Sukuna asks, thrusts picking up in speed and practically knocking the air out of your lungs.

All you could do was gasp out a little, “I-“ Only to be cut off seconds later.

“Cock has you actin’ stupid it seems,” Sukuna growls into your ear, leaning away afterward and moving both hands to the arch of your back and pressing you down.

“M’sorry.” You gasp, “S’kuna-, p-please, m’sorry,” Your mouth hangs open as desperate pleas and apologies pour out of your mouth.

Sukuna ignores you at first, fingers digging into your skin as he fucks his dick in and out of you. Cock splitting you open over and over and over until you’re crying for him again, grunts and slight groans leaving his throat as he does so.

It’s only when your legs are quivering for the nth time that night that he smiles to himself “It’s okay, you’ll make it up t’me,” Sukuna finally tells you.

Your brows push together and you look back over your shoulder, “H-Huh?”

His eyes meet yours, “You’re gonna get a tattoo f’me.”

“What?” You gasp at his sudden revelation, realizing that’s probably what had him distracted earlier on.

Sukuna shifts to trail his nail down your spine, “Riiiight along here,” He explains, his soft touch giving you chills.

Excitement coats your gaze and he doesn’t miss that light glint in your eyes as you gasp, “R-Really?”

“Yeahhh,” Sukuna can’t help but smile mischievously, finding you oh so pretty with your face all fucked out, “How’s that sound?” He asks. Though, you and he both know you’d get that tattoo no matter what.

“Sounds good.” You huff out in one breath, earning a sloppy thrust of his hips, tip dripping along your walls the more he thinks about it.

“It better,” Sukuna says before moving his hand to your jaw and lifting your face to him, “Now, tell me you love me,” He whispers.

He always did this when he was about to cum, rarely ever saying it back to you but still enjoying the way you tell him such an affectionate claim anyway.

“I love you ‘Kuna,” You whine out to your fiancé, whose dick throbs inside you at your words.

Sukuna’s lips near yours and his other arm wrap around your body, holding you close to him, “Such a good girl f’me, say it again,” He whispers.

“I love you.” You moan, watching how his brows tense and feeling him cum inside you seconds after that claim leaves your lips.And instead of saying it back, he finally presses his lips into yours, mumbling something about how you’re all his and how you’re so good for him.

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yandere-writer-momo · 4 months

Text

Yandere Head Canons:

Hypnotic Affection

Yandere Merman x Mermaid Reader x Merman

TW: manipulation, hypnotism/ drugging, tentacles, kidnapping, yandere themes, delusional behavior, etc.

Since you were young, you had been betrothed to a shark merman named Marin. Marin was a cantankerous individual and was quite rude to you since you weren’t a shark mermaid. The only reason the two of you were even betrothed was so your clans would stopped fighting… yet you knew you’d be miserable with Marin.

You often attempted to court him with various shells you’d find but he’d always rebuff you. “These shells are too small, you’ll need something better than some measly clams to have me look your way longer than a few minutes.”

His words were always as sharp as his teeth. His clawed hands would always chuck your clam shells away no matter how pretty they were, it broke your heart. You really wanted to make this marriage work… maybe he’d budge if you found a conch shell?

You bowed your head to your fiancè before you headed off back toward the sea. Marin had no idea this would be the last time he’d see you in awhile…

You swam farther and farther from home until you spotted a conch. You were on the edge of deep sea territory, so it was best to be careful or else you’d get swept up in the current… but it would be worth it if you’d gift the conch to Marin and he’d finally accept you, right?

Your eyes lit up as you slowly swam towards it but you were quickly snatched up in large tentacles, a screech left your lips when the tentacles tighter around you.

A different merman quirked their head at you as they shimmied out from their hiding spot in the coral. “A-a mermaid? I’m sorry.”

The coral colored tentacles quickly released you before ghostly pale hands began to examine your body in worry. “I just thought you were a fish… I hadn’t meant to lunge at you.”

You were surprised by how shy this merman was, his hands trembled as he shakily checked your arms to make sure there were no marks.

“I’m perfectly okay, I’m (your name). What’s your name?” The octopus merman’s cheeks went aflame when you asked him for his name.

“I-I’m Ren! I’m an octopus.” Ren’s tentacles folded into one another as if they were comforting his nerves. “I still apologize for scaring you… I’ve never seen another mermaid before.”

You smiled at Ren and offered him your hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ren. I hadn’t meant to trespass your area… it seems I wandered a bit too far.”

“I-it’s no issue at all!” Ren beamed, his dark eyes filled with stars while his tentacles flailed in excitement. “If you want, you can stay in my burrow with me! It’s quite comfy in here.”

“That’s so sweet of you.” (Your name) beamed at Ren who ushered her inside. The merman began to become a bit jittery when she accepted so easily. He’s been wanting a mate for so long… and now she was finally here!

Ren sealed his den shut as soon as she swam in. His tentacles blocked the exit watch a large boulder. “It’s to keep predators out!” Ren reassured her as he lead her around his small home. She marveled at the various jars and vegetation he kept. “I’m a sea witch.”

“Wow! That’s really fascinating!” Ren blushed again when you didn’t mock him for being a sea witch. It made his heart flutter. You were so sweet and that made him even happier… the only issue was that you were a different species than him…

“How about I show you a few tricks?” Ren was so happy when you accepted. The octopus merman showed you a very simple spell that made his home brighter. He was thrilled when you clapped your hands and smiled. Ren was so happy to no longer be alone… and he would never let you go.

Ren offered you a meal and you happily ate with him. The vegetation made your brain a bit foggy, but the taste was delightful. Had Ren always been so attractive?

Ren smiled at your sleepy form as you yawned. “Here, how about you spend the night? It’ll be so much safer for you that way.”

You nodded and allowed him to lead you into his den. His tentacles pulled you into an embrace as he smiled. This was just too easy…

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you entered Ren’s burrow since Ren would often feed you every time you tried to leave. Ren made you such lovely meals that you slowly began to forget what even brought you to this end of the sea. You really liked Ren, so why did you have to leave again? You felt as if there was some strange phenomenon happening around you and yet you didn’t care anymore… you liked being with Ren!

Meanwhile, Marin was in shambles. You had been missing for a week now. You always showed up every other day with your stupid smile as you held up some shells you found to him… you were never away from him for long. Marin searched your home in the anemones and he searched all the reefs around yet you were nowhere to be found… were you okay? You didn’t try to go find a bigger shell for him, did you?

You didn’t know it, but Marin always gathered up all the shells he’d throw. He just wanted to look tough in front of you… but now he knew it was a mistake. You wouldn’t risk your life for a shell when you were already engaged to him, right? You were already enough… you were always enough.

A month had went by and you were still missing. Marin now took more desperate measures of swimming out farther and farther… until he spotted a conch. The shark merman rushed towards the shell and began to examine the ocean floor until he spotted a sealed off den. The merman quickly swam toward the rock and searched for a crack until he could peek in there. The sight before him horrified him.

Ren’s purple appendages slid up and down your delicate tail as his hands grasped at your hips. “Would you like to be my mate, (your name)?” Your head felt so dizzy and you could only nuzzle into him. Ren smiled down at your obedient form. What a perfect mate you’d be! It was just so easy to ensnare you and to hypnotize you with his potions… it was all so easy-

Ren was shocked when the boulder to the den was shoved open and a shark merman lunged at him. Ren screamed when one of his appendages were bitten off by the shark. Marin’s large gray form quickly scooped you up and made a swim for it. Ren tried to snatch you back, but Marin easily evaded the tentacles. Ren began to scream as he tried to give chase, but the blood gushing from his missing arm would attract more sharks… he’d have to come back for you another day…

Marin didn’t look back once until the two of you were an hour away. The shark set you down on a rock as he began to examine your body for any wounds. “You’re okay now… we’re going home.”

You tilt your head to the side in confusion at Marin’s words. Who was this merman and why did he seem so familiar? “But I was home? I live with Ren.”

Marin felt a sob rack through him before he bent down and pulled you into a hug. What had that octopus done to you? Marin would protect you this time, he’d help you get back to normal. “You’re safe now… you’re safe.”

You often sat in a trance in Marin’s den. It was as if you were in a whole other world despite being next to him, a world where Marin could no longer reach you.

“Look! I have all the shells you gave me on the walls.” Marin gestured to the various colorful clamshells with a smile. “I’m sorry I was mean before, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like you! I really do care for you, I swear.”

Marin was filled with hope each day when you’d glance at the shells but his hopes would always be dashed when you’d tilt your head off to the side. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Marin... I’m your fiance.” Marin was so frustrated that you couldn’t remember him. He had tried everything… from taking you to every spot you two grew up together to your old den, yet nothing clicked. You only ever wanted to ask about that damned octopus merman.

Marin often cuddled beside you when it was time to sleep. His muscular arms felt so strange around you compared to Ren’s slender ones. You really missed Ren…

“Psst, (your name).” You perked up when you heard Ren’s voice. You gave him a big smile before you slinked out of Marin’s arms. “Let’s go home.”

You quickly swam towards the octopus merman who scooped you into a tight hug. A big smile on his face when you accepted him. He almost felt bad for Marin if it wasn’t for the fact that the shark merman was the entire reason the two of you met! What a sucker…

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ssunnysdream · 5 months

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big tits reader

🧷 NSFW (18+ minors dni), afab reader, reader has big tits, consensual sex, titfucking (sampo), nipple play (sunday, kaveh), nipple piercing (wriothesley), cuming on tits (wriothesley), they are basically all obssessed with you oops ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

"No matter how many times I fucked you, you're still as tight as ever baby... I love your pussy, could spend hours taking care of it" Aventurine's breath is hot, his hips stuttering as you clench around his lenght. "And don't get me started on your breasts..." he moves back from your neck to look down at your bouncing tits, flushed and covered with lovebites. "They're yours to use", you murmur softly as you know Aventurine is obssessed with them. "That's right, all mine." He eagerly grabs your legs, bending you in half, fucking you deeper and harder. He fondles your tits all the while fucking the shit out you, whispering the nastiest words into your ear.

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐎

"Here you go, you're doing such a nice job for Sampo. I will reward you well, you won't be disappointed", Sampo chuckles breathlessly as he stares down to watch you squeeze his cock between your tits. "You better keep that promise this time", you mumble before squeezing his lenght tighter, earning a surprised gasp from Sampo. Before he could reply something back, you slowly open your shiny lips and swallow his flushed tip, swirling your warm tongue over it to collect all of his salty precum. Sighing in pleasure, you suck the tip all the while working his cock up and down between your tits. Sampo hisses but he simply tightens his grip on your hair, encouraging you for more. And how could you refuse ?

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

"M-mh fuck... this feeling is delightful my dear", Sunday is struggling to keep his composure as you ride him into oblivion. What's even harder for him is to keep his cool from the sight of your tits bouncing up and down. The urge to grope, to pinch, to lick... Sunday can't stare away, those sinful thoughts leading him to attach his lips on one of your nipple as the other makes its way to grab your breast. The sudden sparks of pleasure is making you slow down, shivers running all over your body. You flush as Sunday stares up at you, "Dearest, why did you stop ? Keep riding me as I take care of your pretty nipples." You oblige, rising your hips up and down over Sunday's cock, his moans muffled as he keeps on nibbling your nipples desperately.

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"You're gonna be the death of me I swear", Kaveh takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer to admire what you're offering him. Your breasts are covered with a lovely lacy bra, the fabric embracing your clevage and making it look perkier. Kaveh's cock twitches at the thought of gropping them as he fucks you nice and deep. You let out a tiny sob as he lazily traces some patterns over your bra with his skilled tongue, paying more attention to your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Kaveh looks out of it already, eyes filled with arousal and mouth slacked. You widen your legs, giving him more space as he pulls down your bra, your tits on full display for him. "I'm so hard for you baby, feel that ?" Kaveh grinds his covered cock against your pussy. "Got hard just looking at them", he groans as you roll your hips up against him, ready to make him cum just like this.

–‧˚꒰💌꒱༘⋆ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

Pupils blowed with lust, Wriothesley can't hold back his grunts when all he can focus on his your nipple piercings. The cute jewels making your tits even more gorgeous. And to Wriothesley, it makes them sexier. "Look at you, you're loving this uh ?" he says lowly, twisting your pierced nipple and watching you squirm over his lap. His thick cock streching you open is overwhelming, but so is the constant tug on your perky nipples. "I'm gonna fuck you properly now. Be good for me and pinch them as I destroy that pretty pussy of yours". Your arousal is clearly messing Wriothesley's thighs but he doesn't seem to care as he keeps bouncing you up and down on his lenght, manhandling you like you weight nothing. It soon becomes too much, Wriothesley's cock twitches and he quickly pulls out and pumps his cock over your chest until hot cum spills all over you.

#genshin impact smut #genshin smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #sampo smut #sampo x reader #sunday smut #sunday x reader #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader

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pixxyofice · 1 month

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#the magnus archives #... dont look at me like that.#i didnt include eye and end btw. the es get excluded.

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nanaslutt · 6 months

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baby making

ʚ pairing: husband nanami x reader

ʚ cont: fem reader, established relationship, talk of pregnancy, breeding kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f!r), dacraphillia, rough sex, cockwarming, Nanami is whipped

ʚ note: it’s not necessary, but a little context to the plot u can find here on this smau i wrote :3

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You placed your phone down on your bedside table and rested your head on the pillow under you, sticking your arm underneath it. You could hardly contain your excitement waiting for Nanami to get home. You were unable to resist pressing your thighs together at the thought of Nanami's pure excitement when talking about getting you knocked up.

Starting a family was only something the two of you talked about when your relationship first started, as the two of you made sure you were on the same page before things got serious, and thankfully they were. Both you and Nanami eventually wanted to have kids.

Your eyes darted over to your phone on the bedside table every few minutes, your heart racing as you watched the time tick by, knowing with each growing second, Nanami was on his way home to you. You squeezed your thighs tighter together and rut your hips forward, trying to bring yourself a little relief from the friction of your clit being pressed between your thighs.

Sooner than you were expecting, you heard the familiar clicking and jingling of Nanami trying to work the door open with his keys, making you shoot up from the bed in excitement and rush out of the bedroom, running toward the front door. Nanami sighed when he finally stepped foot into the familiar environment being his own home, the scent of you filling his nostrils, making him even more antsy to see you.

As the blonde-haired man loosened his tie and started undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, you slid out from behind a wall, rushing toward him with a beaming smile on your face. Nanami's expression changed into a warmer, happier one as you quickly made your way over to him. Nanami hummed quietly as he took you into his embrace, wrapping his large arms around your body as you pressed the side of your face into his chest, inhaling his scent.

"Someone missed me." Nanami joked, rubbing his hand over the back of your head, the other rubbing your back soothingly. "You got here so quick." You responded, pulling back a bit to look him in the eyes. Nanami moved his hands in front of him to grab your soft cheeks in his warm palms, the head from his hands radiating into your skin. "You really were needy huh?" Kento cooed, watching carefully as you leaned into his touch, your facial muscles relaxing.

You let your eyes shut when Kento leaned forward and pressed a lasting kiss to your forehead, his soft lips tickling your skin before he pulled away, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "Let's move this conversation to the bedroom, hm?" Kento said softly, his deep voice melting away your tenseness. Nodding at him, you let Nanami take your hand in his and stroll in front of you, leading you to the bedroom.

You started to grow antsier by the second as you grew closer to the room, knowing exactly what conversation waited for you there. Nanami placed his hands on your thigh as you sat down on the bed against the pillows, legs folded crisscross as he sat in front of you, one leg hanging off the side of the bed.

His hand rubbing against your upper thigh should've felt soothing, but it only fueled your neediness more and more. "Why don't you tell me what you told me earlier," Nanami said, smiling at you sweetly. The scent of his cologne was filling your nose and making you dizzy, his words that put you on the spot made your heart race. You placed your smaller hand on top of his that rested on your thigh and looked into his eyes, fighting every urge that said to look away.

"I want you to get me pregnant Nanami." You said quietly, slowly stroking up his wrist and forearm before sliding back down. The small, comforting action sent shivers down his spine, his eyes following your hand's motion. "And you're sure you want this?" He asked, gripping your thigh to emphasize his words. You waited till his eyes found yours again before you gave him a small smile and nodded.

"I wanna start a family with you Ken, I think we're ready." You said, swallowing whatever saliva was left in your dry mouth. Nanami's smile grew, the tips of his ears growing red at your words. Keeping his eyes on yours, he slid his hand out from underneath yours and placed it on top of your own, caging your hand against your thigh for a moment before he gripped your wrist and started pulling it towards his body.

You held your breath, only releasing it when he finally placed your hand down on top of something hard, hot. The bulge your hand was forcefully placed on top of twitched several times under your palm, making you throb between your legs. You didn't have to look down to know what you were touching. "You know, I've been like this since you texted me at work," Nanami said calmly, his deep voice making your body tingle.

You nodded slowly in understanding, your eyebrows barely furrowing together as your arousal for him grew. Nanami started palming your hand, making you rub his bulge through his pants. The blonde-haired man released a long, low groan, his eyes falling shut as he relished in the feeling of your hand rubbing his cock through the fabric. He could feel his dick leaking pre-cum against his boxers, antsy to get out of the tight confines of his work slacks.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Nanami said, leaning forward, keeping your hand pressed against his cock. You let his body guide yours to lay down against the sheets, your legs spread around his hips, making room for him between your legs. You gasped as Nanami leaned down into the crook of your neck and pressed a kiss to the soft skin there before he groped your hand on him harder, a moan spilling from between his lips and seeping into your ear.

Kento released your hand, trusting you would keep teasing him over his pants while he reached between you and placed his hand right above your pelvis. Your thighs squeezed around his waist when he pressed down, hard, making you feel his touch from the inside. "Gonna let me put a baby in here tonight? Hm?" Kento teased, rubbing your lower tummy in circles, making gasps and small moans fall from between your lips.

"Yes," You breathlessly replied, nodding at him. Kento's eyes darted back and forth from your tummy to your lustful face as he kept rubbing you there, reminding you what would be filling you up soon. "Kento's mouth fell open into a larger O when you gripped the outline of his cock through his pants, your palm rubbing against his tip just right.

"Oh fuck," He moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head for a moment before they found your face again. "Come here." Kento rushed forward and pressed his lips against yours, greedily swallowing your hums and moans. His hand on your tummy released the pressure and slid down your pelvis, quickly finding that most sensitive spot between your legs through your pants.

Nanami hummed against your lips as he started rubbing that spot with two large fingers, his face growing hotter and hotter after every moan that escaped your lips. You stroked Nanami over his pants the best you could, your cunt growing wetter as you felt Kento throb against your hand, his hips humping into your touch. He was rushing more than usual.

You knew Kento had a breeding kink, he didn't even try to hide it. The man would rather die than finish anywhere but inside of you when the two of you were fucking, he said it was a waste. Always babbling on and on about how he was going to fuck you full, knock you up, and this time when he said those things, he would really mean it. It would be more than just dirty talk to work the both of you up.

Even at the beginning of your relationship when the two of you used condoms, he still came inside you with the rubber surrounding him, pretending as if his cum was filling your womb instead of the stupid condom. Your eyebrows raised and your eyes fluttered in their sockets when Kento rubbed quick, hard circles against your clit through your pants, making your strokes on his cock pause as the pleasure clouded your head.

"Yeah? Feel good?" Nanami moaned against your lips when you broke away from the kiss, breathy moans leaking from your lungs. You nodded dumbly at his words, feeling how the heat spread through your body. "I know," Nanami responded, nodding at you. The man pulled back seconds later only to slip his fingers under the hem of your pants and panties and jerk them off your body in almost one fell swoop, his urgency making you giggle.

When Nanami turned back to you after discarding your clothes on the floor, he watched as you pressed your thighs together, hiding yourself from him as you giggled, covering your mouth with one of your hands. Nanami pouted, the blush on his face deepening as he placed his hands on the tops of your knees and forced them apart, keeping his eyes on your giggling face. "What?" He asked, keeping that stoic, pouting look on his face.

"Nothing it's just-" You reached up and grabbed his face in your soft hands, making Nanami's eyes flutter at the soft touch, his head leaning into the touch. "You're just being so needy, I like it." You said, smiling at him. Nanami turned his head in your hands and placed a kiss on your palm before he leaned back, making your hands drop back down to your sides.

Nanami lowered himself on his stomach between his thighs, placing your thighs around his head. The pressure of the soft mattress against his clothed cock felt good, bringing him a little relief while he worked you open. You sucked air in through your teeth when Nanami placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thighs, his hair tickling your skin. "How can I not be?" He responded, looking up at you, his other hand mindlessly reaching for your cunt and spreading you open, all muscle memory.

"My wife told me she wants me to give her a baby, it's hard to be calm," Nanami said before he leaned in and let his eyes close as he licked a fat stripe up the expanse of your cunt. Immediately your hands reached between your thighs to card through his hair, your neck craning itself up to watch him work between your thighs. Kento's eyebrows knit at the familiar, sweet taste of you, making him hungry for more.

That single touch of his tongue on you was the sweetest he was going to be. Kento dove in after that, like a carnivore who just had its first taste of blood after starving all winter. You squeezed his head between your thighs, allowing yourself to move your hips against his face how your body needed, just like he always told you to do. "Oh fuck Ken, oh fuck-" You whined when he shook his head back and forth against your cunt while sucking your clit between his lips.

"Mhmmm...mmmm." Nanami moaned into your cunt, acknowledging your curses and cries of his name as he fucked you with his tongue. You were unable to keep your head up any longer when Nanami's finger joined the assault on your cunt. He rubbed the tip of his finger against your entrance to warn you he was going to penetrate you before he pressed it in, his finger sliding in with barely any resistance thanks to how wet you were.

Kento got to work quickly, thrusting his finger in and out of you in time with his sucks and flicks of his tongue against your cunt. You cried out his name and gripped his hair hard between your fingers when he curled his finger straight into your g-spot, making your back arch. "Fuck- Kento right there- r-right there," You whined, your head thrashing back and forth against the pillow under your head.

You never lasted long when Kento ate you out, he was so good with his tongue and knew each and every spot that made you lose your mind. His other hand had a firm grip on your thigh, squeezing the fat of it whenever your legs around his head squeezed too tight, restricting his mobility. "Ken I'm gonna cum- s-shit-" You felt your orgasm barrel at you quick.

Kento nodded and hummed against you before he pulled his finger out of your dripping cunt to the hilt before pressing in another finger, immediately going back to the quick pace he started before in curling and thrusting his fingers inside you, abusing your g-spot. Your body shook and writhed against the sheets, almost seeming like it was trying to escape the pleasure.

"God-" You grit the word out through your teeth just before you came. Nanami sucked hard on your little bud, flicking it around with his tongue, drawing circles, and spelling his name. With one last movement of his tongue, the ball in your tummy unraveled and you were cumming all over Nanami's tongue. The man groaned feeling your walls squeeze around his fingers as he kept fucking you through it, bulling his fingers into your g-spot.

You cried broken moans of his name as you came, your head jerking side to side, eyes squeezed shut. Nanami's eyes were barely open but they were open as he watched your face screw into pleasure as you let go all over his tongue. Nanami pulled back from your cunt when your hands pushed him away feeling yourself start to go into overstimulation from his ruthless tongue.

You swallowed air greedily, fighting to catch your breath from such an intense orgasm. Your cunt clenched and twitched around nothing after Nanami slid his fingers out. The man sat up and placed your shaky, weak legs over his thighs, rubbing them soothingly as you fully came down from your orgasm.

"How was that?" Kento asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he placed his hand back on your thigh. You gave him a drunken smile, staring at his messy face and ruffled hair. "You're a mess." You smirked, reaching up to drag your hand down his chest. Kento watched your hand drag down his body and rest on his belt, your other hand joining it.

He looked back up to your face, finding your eyes already on his. The clinking of the belt echoed through the room as you worked on getting it off of him, along with unzipping his pants. Kento grabbed your hand before you could pull down his pants. The man grabbed your wrist and leaned over your body, lacing his fingers with yours as he pinned you underneath him, your hand above your head.

Kento's own hand reached down and reached into his boxers through the hole in the crotch, pulling his cock out through it, his pants still resting on his hips, just a little lower so it was more comfortable for him. You dropped your eyes to watch him jerk himself off, rubbing the pre-cum he leaked along the length of his shaft.

"I can't wait any longer, I'm sorry." Kento said, almost remorsefully. You noticed how shaky his hand was, he must really be holding back. You reached out and grabbed the first half of his cock, jerking it off with him. The man groaned at the touch, his hips jerking into your touch. "It's okay Ken, I'm ready for you." You replied, smiling genuinely at him, reassuring him you were okay.

Kento leaned forward and connected his lips with your own, his tongue pushing past your lips and entangling with your own, as he continued stroking himself, the head of his cock poking the inside of your thigh, smearing wetness on your skin. "Ken-" You tried to speak against his lips but his kiss was too hurried and forceful, drowning out any words you had to say.

You wrapped your one arm that wasn't pinned down around his neck, your nails scratching against his shirt, the fabric wrinkling under your grip. "Put it in k-kento put it in." You whined, forcing your head back against the soft pillow, allowing you to escape his life for enough time for him to hear your words. Kento groaned against your lips, not answering you with any real words as he directed his cock to your cunt, the fat, warm head of his cock rubbing against your cunt.

"Mhm, mhm." You encouraged him, moaning into the kiss, nodding against him. You could feel Nanami's hot breath tickling your face as he breathed out heavily through his nose, mixing your juices together as he rubbed himself against you. Your breath halted when Nanami caught the head of his cock against the opening of your cunt. You felt the pressure of him pushing against you, slowly feeding you his cock.

Nanami's lips separated with yours and the two of you groaned in unison when his fat head penetrated your warm walls and started sliding inside. You could feel every bump and vein of his cock rubbing inside you as he slowly pushed himself in. "Shit, I got you, I got you." Nanami groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck, his fingers entangling with yours tighter above your head.

His breath was shaky against your neck, choked moans and breaths of air escaped him as he fought to not thrust the entirety of his cock inside you and mess you up already, you needed to adjust first. You opened your legs further around him, giving him some room as he pushed himself deeper inside. "You're so soft inside after you cum." Kento groaned into your ear.

You squeezed your eyes shut and grit your teeth as Kento fully thrust himself inside you, his balls pressing flush against your ass, his chest pressed to yours. He was letting a little bit of his body weight rest on top of you, and it felt so nice, grounding. "God-" You moaned in response to his words, your cunt tightening around him, making him release another choked groan.

Nanami leaned back and released your fingers with him, placing your legs over his shoulders before he leaned over you again, your body now folded in a mating press. "H-hah- you feel so deep like this," You whined, your voice high-pitched and whiny. You wrapped both arms around his shoulders and pulled him close, not wanting to lose the pressure of his body against yours.

Nanami slipped a hand between your bodies and found your clit with his fingers with expert precision. He began rubbing the bud in circles slowly, making your pussy squeeze around him in response, a feeling that went straight to his balls. "You should try b-being in my position, I feel like I'm in your stomach," Nanami responded, rolling his hips in circles against you, trying to stretch you open like that.

Moans and whines were pulled from your lips as each rotation he made with his hips pressed his cock against your sweet spot. The combination of his finger rubbing your clit and his cock gyrating inside you made your eyes roll back in your head. "Good, need y-you to be deep so it takes." You replied, your words needy and breathless, which you whined straight into his ear. You felt Kento's cock jump inside you before you felt his head fall limply into the crook of your neck, undoubtedly from his body going weak with pleasure.

"Please, please let me move." He begged, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You turned your head towards him and kissed his forehead, your hands rubbing his back. "Move Ken, fuck me, fuck a baby into me." You whispered into his ear. The blonde man wasted no time in pulling his cock out of you almost entirely before he slammed it back inside, starting up a brutal pace inside you.

Moan after moan was being forced from your lips as Kento's cock bullied right against your g-spot. You felt tears well up in your eyes immediately, just a few thrusts and he was already fucking you dumb. "You feel so good, so fucking warm." Kento babbled, his eyes pressed firmly shut, his lips pressed to your neck, occasionally pressing kisses and sucking hickeys into the skin when he wasn't spewing filth and groaning with an open mouth.

"I love you- I love you." Kento moaned, his hand gripping the underside of your thigh stronger, keeping you folded in place for him as he pulled his head up from the crook of your neck to find your fucked out face. Tears had started streaming down your cheeks, your eyebrows were knit together in pleasure and your eyes fought to stay open with each thrust. Nanami placed his forehead against yours, your skin rubbing against his with each strong thrust of his hips against yours.

"L-Love you Kento, I love you so much-" You replied, feeling yourself squeeze around him at your own words. You felt his soft lips press against your forehead softly, gently, a stark contrast from his rough hips beating your pussy up before he leaned back and held the underside of your thighs down as far as they could go, the backs of your thighs touching your body.

Kento's balls slapping against your ass were creating a loud, lewd, squelching sound that made you feel dizzy. You looked down at where your bodies were connected and watched his cock drag in and out of your cunt, a thick white ring of cum forming at the base of his cock from how wet you were. You could only watch for a few seconds before your head tipped back agaisnt the pillows, your eyes screwed shut as wonton moans left your lips. "You're taking me so well, doing so good honey." Nanami praised, shaking his head at you in awe as more and more tears spilled down your cheeks.

Nanami released you from the intense position right when your thighs started to burn, your legs falling limply over his thighs as his body was back on yours again. You were brought back down to earth when you felt Nanami's warm hand caress your cheek, his thumb wiping away the stream of tears that had spilled. Although his effort was futile as more spilled down anyway, the gesture made your heart swell.

Kento's lips found yours again, his hand sliding between your bodies again to find your clit and rub it soothingly in little circles, making the knot in your tummy tie tighter. Kento's groans and moans were much more frequent now, louder too. He wasn't one to hold back in bed, but he also wasn't super loud in terms of the volume of his moans. Tonight was different, however. He couldn't stop picturing you knocked up, your tummy round with his child after the events that were happening right in front of him. It was driving him crazy.

Nanami's lips disconnected with yours unexpectedly with a noise that sounded suspiciously like a whimper, as his head found its home in the crook of your neck once more. His hips were losing their pace, and his finger rubbing against your clit was more erratic now too as he grew close to his orgasm. "H-hahh." He moaned, his teeth sinking into the spot where your neck and shoulder connect before he released, replacing the bite with kisses.

"Kento, y-you close?" You asked, your voice shaky and broken. You already knew his answer, but you knew how much he loved when you talked during sex. "F-fuck, yes. I'm not going to last much longer." He whined, trying to bury his face deeper in the crook of your neck. The feeling of him rubbing his face against your skin, trying to hide, trying to find comfort- it made you fall in love all over again. Just that little gesture showed how much he loved you, how safe he felt with you.

"Cum inside me Kento, get me pregnant, w-wanna make you a daddy." Nanami was sure his brain had short-circulated at that moment. He had no particular kink for that word, it was just the reality of the situation had hit him when you called him that. He was going to be a father, the father of your children. "Y-you drive me crazy, you know that?" He moaned, fighting back a whine when his cockhead rubbed against a particularly soft spot inside you.

Nanami kept aiming for that spot, noticing how tight you got when he did. "I-I'm gonna fill you up, fuck a baby into you, make us parents." He groaned in return, kissing your neck wherever his lips could reach. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the attention, he was touching all of your sweet spots inside and out, you weren't going to last much longer either.

"God p-please Kento, cum with me please." You cried, pulling his body closer to yours, using whatever strength you had left in your legs to squeeze around him. Nanami's thrusting grew more erratic, his pace got faster, sloppier, as loud groans and whines spilled from his lips before his hips stilled against yours.

Both of your jaws fell open as you came together. Nanami's hot cum flooding inside the deepest part of your cunt was just the push you needed to fall over the edge. Kento's hips stuttered and rolled into yours as he pressed himself balls deep, making sure his cum would get into your womb. His finger slowed against your sensitive, throbbing clit, which was starting to hurt from all the attention.

The two of you gasped and whined against the other, holding onto each other for dear life as you rode the aftershocks of your orgasm out together. Nanami didn't stop moving his hips until he was sure he had fucked each and every last drop of his cum inside you, even fucking himself into overstimulation as long as it meant he was sure he got you pregnant.

"Fuck... I'm so full." You whispered, sliding your hand between your bodies to press on your stomach. Nanami groaned through his teeth, the moan getting cut off halfway as he felt the pressure of your hand against his dick. Kento gripped your wrist when he felt his cum move around him, flooding towards the base of his dick. "Don't," He said quietly, his voice hoarse and breathy. "You're going to push my cum out. Need to keep you full." Kento said, almost cutely.

You smiled and placed your hands on his cheeks, making him pick up his head from the crook of your neck. "Ken, you came inside me enough to make 400 kids, I'm sure one of the swimmers will stick." You joked, but Nanami's face was stone serious, he wasn't going to take any chances. His lack of reaction only made you smile harder. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his nose, a lasting kiss, one that transferred all the love you felt for him.

"Maybe if we're lucky we'll get twins," Kento said, the tips of his ears turning red at the thought. You shook your head and smiled, kissing him again, on the lips this time. "Someone's ambitious." You replied. "I wouldn't be surprised though. Seriously, you came so much. I don't think I've ever felt this full before." Nanami's face turned a deep crimson at your words, his eyes averting from yours. "What? Feeling shy now? After all that?" You giggled, watching how his eyes fell shut when you rubbed his cheek. He was like a cat.

"Are you alright?" Kento asked, ignoring your teasing. You nodded, wrapping your legs around his hips. "I feel perfect." You replied, smiling honestly at him. Kento sighed before resting his head on your chest. He practically purred when your hands started raking through his hair, scratching down the nape of his neck, and under the collar of his shirt, teasing his shoulders.

"You should get those pants dry-cleaned." You said, not even wanting to look at the damage your sopping cunt did to them. Nanami made a noise of acknowledgment as his body relaxed against yours, his cock now fully soft inside you. "We should clean up sleepy head, need to change these sheets." You said, trying to act responsibly even though you too felt the tiredness creeping over your body.

"Not yet, need to keep you plugged up. Let's just fall asleep like this." Kento suggested, snuggling against your chest, his hair tickling your chin. You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you stared at the ceiling. Who knew a man of Kento's age could be so childish? "I'm setting a timer for an hour, I wanna take a bath with you." You replied, raking your hands across his scalp. Nanami made a semi-coherent noise of acknowledgment, even though you know he didn't hear you.

You tried to reach over to the side table to grab your phone but Nanami's heavy body on top of yours kept you from getting very far. Sighing in defeat, you placed your hand back in Kento's slightly damp hair and began running your hands through it again, making the man hum in pleasure. You decided if he wasn't worried about it, you weren't going to be either. You were exhausted, after all, a little sleep after such a workout couldn't hurt.

When Kento felt you fully relax under him, submitting to his idea to just relax with one another, you heard his deep voice rumble your chest ever so faintly as he spoke, "You're going to be an amazing mother."

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cosmosis · 1 year

Text

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy

miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!

Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much.

Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later.

For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes.

Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)

Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy.

“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.

“No.“

“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask.

“Jess.“

“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“

“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter.

You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go.

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes.

Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place.

Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head.

“Whipped.“

“Shut the fuck up.“

. . .

Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core.

Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.

“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area.

“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“

Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman.

“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit.

“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips.

Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face.

“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is.

“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“

Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...

Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you.

Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream.

And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem.

“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out.

“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars.

“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“

Miguel then leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time.

Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close.

“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy.

You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.

And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”

“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“

He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out.

“Aw, crap.“

“Finally.“

You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”

“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever.

“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“

“One of literally thousands!“

“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“

“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“

Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.

“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters.

“When?“ You ask.

“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster.

“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.

“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.

“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief.

He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv lyla #atsv #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse x reader #fluff #romance #x reader #reader insert #lyla #spiderman #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

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incognit0slut · 7 months

Text

Beyond the limit

>> Part two: the breaking point

Spencer is hesitant when you ask him to be rough, but when he realizes how much you enjoy it, he wonders just how far he can push your limit.

warnings: (MDNI, 18+) dom spence, guided/mutual masturbation, dirty talk, degradation (use of slut), orgasm control, hairpulling, choking, overstimulation, creampie, cumplay, squirting, rough sex, so many body fluids

a/n: 4k words for 4k followers! Thank you all so much, consider this as a token of my appreciation. This one is for you, I love you all ♡

Spencer considered himself as someone with a strong sense of self-control... until he found himself on top of you, right between your legs. How could he resist when your body felt so soft against his? When all his restraint seemed to vanish into thin air?

He had you pinned against the bed, his palms tracing your hips before moving to your breast. You moaned out his name as your nipples hardened against the thin material of your shirt—his shirt, to be exact. After all, it was how it all started.

The moment he was greeted by the view of your perfect ass when he came home from work, barely covered by his shirt you were wearing, something in him snapped. You looked so damn good, so damn tempting, practically begging to be touched.

It didn’t take long for him to discard his bag onto the floor before scooping you in his arms. You simply giggled, amused at his sudden urgency yet eagerly welcoming it as he led you into your shared bedroom.

Now he was right between your thighs, pressing his hard erection right against your panties. You could feel yourself getting wet by the friction and you found yourself parting your legs even further, grinding your hips along with his as his mouth continued to suck on the spot right below your ear.

Anytime you whimpered, he gripped you tighter, and your shaky hands clutched onto button-down shirt. There was something about him still dressed in his work clothes while you were nearly half-naked, his shirt bunched around your waist, leaving your lower half exposed. And you liked it. It made you feel vulnerable being pressed under him like this, sparking a strange desire to submit to him completely.

And now you craved more. You wanted to surrender to him, to let him take the lead. But to your dismay, his movements suddenly slowed down, leaving you momentarily confused because you could feel the way he was holding back. His hands were trembling against your body as if he was consciously avoiding being rough.

You slid your hands up to his chest, lightly pushing him away and he quickly drew back. His brows furrowed as he gazed down at you. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking your head, you reassured him. "No," you replied softly. "But... you don't have to hold yourself back for my sake, you know.”

His eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "I mean, I know you're trying to be careful, but... I want you to take control, without holding back. I want... more.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his features. "You want me to... be rough?" he asked cautiously.

You nodded, a flush creeping up your cheeks. "I do."

"But I- I don't want to hurt you."

You reached out, cupping his cheek tenderly. "I trust you, Spence. I trust us. And I want you to trust yourself too."

His expression softened under your touch. You took it as enough of a sign to push forward as your thumb swept back and forth across his jaw.

"If it's too much I'll tell you," you assured him.

He searched your eyes for a moment, uncertainty flickering within his gaze. "What if I hurt you?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

You bit your lip, studying his face for a moment before responding. "I think I'll like it if you do," you confessed, your cheeks flushing slightly. "But we don't have to do anything crazy you're not comfortable with. We don't necessarily have to do something you don't want to."

Spencer swallowed hard, processing your words. "So what do you want then?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hand slid up the length of his jaw until your fingers slipped into his hair. Very carefully you gripped a handful of his curly strands in your fist. "Do whatever you want, baby," you answered. "Mark my skin. Pull my hair. Talk me through it."

You noticed the way his lips twitched at your words and you smiled.

"Fuck me hard," you demanded boldly.

His breath hitched as he searched your eyes. He definitely wanted to do those things, too. When he finally relaxed into your touch, a rush of anticipation surged through you, your heart beating rapidly.

"Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

You nodded, gripping his hair a bit harder, enjoying the way his breathing grew shallower. "Please," you whispered, your voice filled with desire.

With a barely audible groan, Spencer gave in to your request, his resolve melting away as his lips crashed against yours. Your pulse sped up excitedly in your chest in response—this was exactly what you wanted. That pure, raw desire that was too strong for him to contain. When he finally pulled away, he was breathing even heavier now, his shoulders heaving with each audible inhale.

"If we're going to do this, we'll do it my way," he declared firmly. "You will listen to me, understood?"

You nodded, feeling a shiver of anticipation run down your spine at the commanding tone of his voice. "Yes," you replied breathlessly.

And just when you thought he was about to delve into another kiss, he surprised you by pulling away. He sat back, his eyes narrowing as he focused on you. "Sit up and lean back on the pillow," he commanded.

Your heart raced as you complied, eagerly following his lead.

"Take off the shirt... leave your panties on."

You followed, leaning forward, your fingers grabbing the hem of your shirt before pulling it off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to his eyes. His predatory gaze was locked on your breasts, noticing the way your nipples hardened as the cold air brushed your skin. When you leaned back again, he dragged the tips of his fingers up your thighs, gripping your waist for a moment before another demand left his lips.

"Spread your pretty legs," his soothing voice told you, staring intently between your thighs. You did as you were told, parting your knees, your feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

"Now touch yourself." You gulped at his tone, sliding your fingers inside your panties. He suddenly called out your name in a warning, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks. "Over your panties, I'll tell you when to touch yourself directly."

You nodded, letting your fingers hover over the fabric of your panties. You let out a gasp when you felt how drenched you were before you found your clit. You were hyperaware of every movement you were making, you realized, and it turned you on way more than it should. You choked on your next moan, squeezing your eyes shut as felt the sensation growing along your body.

You suddenly felt a hand gripping your jaw and you quickly opened your eyes, greeted by him staring down at you. "Keep your eyes on me."

There was nothing else for you to do but to oblige. Your fingers continued to press down your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud desperately as he released his hold on your jaw before trailing down your chest, teasing your aching nipples. You whimpered and watched as his eyes traveled down your body.

Spencer hungrily took in the way your legs were spread apart before him, the way you were touching yourself so eagerly. Your fingers moved rapidly over your panties, the material now too drenched as it slipped between your folds every time you moved. Your pussy was barely covered and he could see your arousal dripping down your legs.

"Look at you," he mused, his hand traveling down your body, resting slightly at the inner part of your thigh. "You like putting on a little show, don't you?"

Your breaths came out in shallow, eager gasps, but when you attempted to increase your pace, he quickly shook his head. "Slower. We don't want to rush."

You complied, adjusting your movements to match his pace, and he rewarded you with a smile. "That's it. Nice and slow," he praised, his gaze locked on yours with intensity.

Through hooded eyes, you watched as he began to undress, each deliberate movement teasingly slow. His tie came first, followed by his shirt which he discarded carelessly onto the floor. His pants followed suit, and when he was completely naked, your eyes hungrily drank in the sight of his exposed body.

Your fingers on your own body slowed down as you took in the sight before you, the way he slowly gripped the base of his cock before squeezing it hard.

"Don't you stop, I didn't tell you to stop," he reminded you, his voice firm.

With a sharp inhale, you resumed your movements, the urgency returning as you focused on pleasuring yourself under his watchful gaze. Then as if to taunt you, he began pumping his length slow and steady as your eyes focused in on the motions.

"S-Spence," you whined, pushing your hips faster against your hand, trying to keep your rhythm in check though the sight of him pleasuring himself had you so weak in the moment. "I- I wanna take my panties off."

He gripped his cock tighter, working his fist quicker along the length as his breaths deepened. "Yeah? You wanna see how wet you are?"

His words sent a surge of warmth through your body, spreading from between your thighs to your cheeks as your fingers quickened in pace and your legs spread further for him to see. "Yes-yes- please," you begged.

"Such a desperate slut," he muttered. His crude words shouldn't have brought you pleasure, but they did, and your tight walls clenched around nothing. He noticed the effect it had on you and smiled. "You liked that, huh? You liked being called a slut?"

You gulped, your fingers moving faster. "Y-Yes."

He simply hummed in response, snaking his hands between you, finally slipping off your panties down your legs. His fingers then gripped the soft plush of your thigh, spreading you open for him, exposing your cunt to the open air as he massaged soothing shapes into your skin.

He sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth, taking in the mess between your legs. His gaze traveled your stomach, up to your perky breasts, before meeting your half-lidded eyes. He then slowly took your hand and your jaw slacked open when he abruptly sucked your fingers into his mouth.

His tongue felt hot, searingly so, as he laves over the pads of your middle and ring fingers, then dipped between them to caress your knuckles down to where they meet. A wave of heat traveled through you as he held your gaze, licking off your fingers one last time before guiding them back between your thighs.

"Keep going," he instructed, and you wasted no time in rubbing your clit feverishly. Your face twisted with pleasure, brow wrinkled, body tense, and each circle around your sensitive flesh brought you closer to the edge. The bedroom was filled with the sounds of crisp, rustling sheets underneath you and the slick motions of your fingers roaming your folds.

"Do you hear that? You're getting so loud. So wet," he gritted out. His eyes flickered up to your face, observing the delicate scrunch of your nose and your parted lips. "You're close, aren't you?"

You looked over to him. The view of his hand gripping his cock drew you so close to the edge you were balancing on, all the while attempting to feign control to give him the show he requested.

"Y- Yes," you admitted breathlessly, your body trembling with need.

He hummed a reply, soothing your thigh with his other hand. "Be a good girl and beg for it."

A choked whine escaped your lips.

"P-Please, let me come," you pleaded, the desperation evident in your voice as you sought his permission to release the tension coiling in your stomach.

"Ask nicely," he said, his tone firm yet encouraging. "Can I what?"

"Can I... I-I come?" you stammered, your eyes fluttering close, fingers moving rapidly on your clit.

"Look at me. Ask again."

Your eyes flickered open, meeting his intense gaze. "Can I-I come?" you begged, the desperation in your voice echoing your urgent desire.

"I can't hear you."

A moan ripped out of you, your body shaking uncontrollably under his gaze. Tears threatened to spill from the corners of your eyes as you struggled to hold on. "P-Please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. "Please let me come, I-I can't hold on much longer..."

"Louder," he demanded, his voice cutting through the haze of your desire, and that was when everything snapped. It was no longer a plea; instead, you were babbling incoherent words, unable to contain the overwhelming need coursing through your body.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I-I can't—" you cried, your voice strained with the effort of holding back.

But it was too late. Your resolve shattered, overwhelmed by the intensity of your desire. With a tear falling down your cheek, you locked eyes with him desperately as your climax crashed over you, consuming you entirely in its wave of ecstasy. It crept up on you, a gentle crescendo that abruptly peaked before slamming right into you.

Something in him snapped. Spencer never imagined he would enjoy having this much control over your body, but in this moment, he did. It was twisted, and although a hint of remorse flickered within him, his desire overpowered any sense of guilt.

Even as your body trembled uncontrollably from the intensity of your orgasm, he acted on impulse, flipping you over to lie on your stomach. The shift in position only fueled his desire further, igniting a primal need to dominate and possess you completely.

A moment later his hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that drew a gasp out of you. He then crawled over you as his knees landed on either side of your thighs, the mattress bowing under his weight. Both of his hands dropped roughly down onto your ass, kneading the soft flesh.

You felt him lining his cock up with your entrance, your eyes closing in anticipation of him filling you. And then he plunged himself into you in one swift, sharp thrust which had your head dropping down into your pillow, burying your face in it as you tried to muffle the cry of pleasure that flew out of you.

He began pumping into you, his pace was slow at first, long strokes of drawing his cock out and back in earning quiet whimpers from you against the pillow. One of his hands released your hip before you felt him grabbing a fistful of your hair, just at the base of your skull, and sharply pulling.

"Stop burying yourself," he grunted. "Let me hear those pretty sounds."

You let out a moan, body shaking with every thrust of his hips, the room spinning as he picked up his pace. You felt the slow withdrawal of his cock as his hips drew back from you, but you weren't prepared for the way he rammed himself swiftly forward into you seconds after while tightening his grip on your hair.

A high-pitched, breathy noise of pleasure tore out of you at the feel of it. Encouraged, he repeated the gesture, the tug on your hair even rougher. You moaned loudly in response, your hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

"That's my girl," he praised. "Just like that, let me hear how good my cock makes you feel."

Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his words, your mouth going slack. Spencer was as loud as you as he repeatedly buried his cock in you over and over again. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had your eyes rolling back behind closed lids, your mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

He then lowered onto his left forearm as his front molded over your back. The hard, solid feel of him behind you had you pressing back up into him, teeth gritting together as his cock buried itself somehow further inside of you. He released his grip on your hair, his hand swiftly moving to encircle your throat.

A moan escaped your lips as you felt the slight pressure of his grip, a surge of arousal coursing through you. His hand slid up further, encircling the bottom of your jaw as he carefully pulled your head backward, drawing it towards his shoulder until his mouth was beside your ear.

"Is this what you wanted?" Your breath hitched at his proximity, the heat of his body searing against your back as you struggled to form a coherent response. You could only manage a breathless nod in response.

"Let's see how far I can ruin you," he murmured, his voice a seductive whisper that sent a thrill through you despite the underlying threat in his words.

As his grip on your throat tightened ever so slightly, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips, surrendering completely as he picked up his pace, his hips rocking more rapidly into you. You were panting hard, your head tilted back against his shoulder.

His lips pressed onto the sensitive spot just between your shoulder and your neck, sucking on the skin while he mercilessly fucked you, his sweat-slicked body still flush to the back of you as he continued his fast, relentless pace. You were vaguely aware of his ragged, drawn-out groan and you could tell he was close.

It was evident in the way he was starting to lose control, his grip tightening around your throat as his breath grew hot and heavy against you. He was on the brink of spiraling, and you welcomed it, giving yourself over completely to please him.

"T-That's it, baby," you moaned. "You fuck me so good."

It was enough to make him come undone. He released inside of you, panting and huffing as he gave into the bliss. His motions slowed but he continued spilling inside your drenched walls, sweat beading against his forehead, lips parted, and face flushed. You squeezed yourself around him just to hear him suck in a sharp breath, gulping and exhaling with his brow wrinkled before he pulled out.

But when you thought he was done with you, he flipped you onto your back again. You were so wonderfully disheveled, your cunt clenching around nothing, gleaming with your arousal and his own release. He ran his fingers over your outer lips, spreading you open to have a better view of the white liquid trickling down your ass. He was quick to collect it with his fingers, tracing it up your folds so he could messily rub it over your clit.

"S-Spence..."

Spencer was known for his aversion to getting dirty, yet he didn't mind the mess he made between your legs. "You should see yourself," he muttered. "You're so pretty like this."

And then to your surprise, he positioned the tip of his cock right at your entrance again. You gasped, prompting yourself on your elbows as you looked down between your legs, wondering how on earth he was still so hard. Then a moan left your lips as you watched him slowly sinking into you again.

"Look at how I'm stretching you," he murmured, pushing his hips further. Both of your eyes were locked on the way your pussy stretched so wide around his girth. His previous release slipped back inside you every time his cock disappeared into your wet cunt, white cream coating around his length.

He moaned when your walls clenched around him, his eyes flickering between your face and the way his cock was stretching you. Spencer should have stopped. You were both too tired and too sensitive to continue further. Even his body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn't stop himself from thrusting forward as your walls swallowed his cock eagerly, practically begging for more.

The rational part of his brain urged him to pause, but the primal, carnal desire within him overrode any sense of restraint. Ignoring the way your body shook with exhaustion and the tension in his own muscles, he focused solely on the intense heat between your legs. So he continued to fuck you.

He was fucking you to the point where you couldn't even moan anymore, your voice caught in your throat with each thrust. He was fucking you so good there were tears in your eyes but you couldn't whimper or blink, you were just staring up at him, wordless and in awe, nails digging in his arms while your knees brushed up close to your shoulders.

He was fucking you roughly, dipping down every so often to press his lips to yours, the times he was not whispering encouragement, telling you how pretty you look, how wet you were, how much of a slut you were, and good you felt wrapped around him. And you could feel it, you could feel how good you were as your walls clamped down, sucking him in.

He thrust into you ruthlessly, consumed by a primal need to push you to your limits, to explore just how much you could take of him. Then when you felt that coil spreading along your limbs, you finally came without saying a word. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you into your next orgasm, and even when the sensation began to feel too overwhelming, he abused your clit with his thumb.

That was when everything blurred. The overwhelming pleasure finally consumed you entirely, rendering rational thought as a surge of liquid gushed out between your legs. He moaned in surprise at the sensation, his desire only fueled further by your response.

"Do that again," he begged, his voice husky with need as he continued to roll his hips into you. And you did, another wave of pleasure crashing over you as you drenched everything around you—his body, the sheets, every surface within reach. He moaned again, acutely aware of the mess you created.

Your grip on him slowly loosened and a pang of guilt hit him as he realized your body was already exhausted. Yet he couldn't resist the urge to use you once more. Your silence urged him to continue, thrusting into you relentlessly, your slicked-sweat skin sliding against his as he chased his second orgasm of the night.

He finally came with a grunt, his hips pumping into you with desperation, once, twice, before finally stilling. You cried out at the sensation, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all—the quickening of his breath, the hard grip of his hand on your skin, the throbbing ache between your legs.

Your vision suddenly became a hazy blur, and you gasped for breath, struggling to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. Despite your shaking form, Spencer managed to pull you into his embrace.

“I-I got you," he whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of emotions as the rush of dominance that had driven him moments ago was replaced by a wave of panic. He continued to hold you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

You focused on controlling your breathing, inhaling and exhaling slowly as you sought to regain your composure. Gradually, the haze began to lift, and after a moment passed, you found yourself able to see clearly once again. Your eyes traveled to him, and with a tired and sleepy smile, you leaned into his touch.

Spencer released a breath he wasn't aware of holding. "We are never doing that again."

"What? Why?" you asked, confusion evident in your voice.

"You scared me!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with both relief and exasperation. "What if you passed out? What if I had to take you to the hospital and—and explain that—"

"That I passed out because your dick was too good?"

He shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're impossible," he teased, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You grinned up at him, feeling a warmth spread through you at his affectionate gesture. "But you love me anyway."

His smile softened as he gazed down at you. "I do."

"And I love you," you assured him. "Don't worry, I'm alright. And be honest with me, you seriously don't want to do that again? Wasn't that hot?"

His cheeks flushed slightly at your question, and he hesitated for a moment before meeting your gaze. "It was..." he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. "Intense," he finally admitted, a hint of uncertainty in his tone. "But maybe we should take it slow next time."

"Spencer, you were the one that kept going."

He gave you a sheepish smile. "I guess I got carried away a little," he admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring his tone.

“A little?”

“Fine, more than a little,” he confessed. “But you didn't stop me either."

"That's because I was enjoying myself."

His embarrassment faded into amusement. "You're going to be the death of me one day, you know that?"

You grinned playfully at his remark. "Only if you're lucky," you teased, a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head fondly as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. He studied you, taking in the warmth in your eyes and the happy but serene smile that graced your lips as a surge of affection washed over him. "Then I must be the luckiest man alive."

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