#like what the fuck how do you pick words straight from my brain that I’m not even aware are there

[lizarddealer]

Hey, Chloe Gong? How dare you write something that felt simultaneously like being punched in the face with acknowledgment but also being gently hugged by acknowledgment, so much so that I now need to go question some things

[not-neverland06]

broken promises

pt two

bodyguard!logan howlett x congressman's daughter!reader

a/n: the fact that he was canonically a bodyguard makes me absolutely insane someone congratulate me, I finally figured out how to make my own dividers Summary: He's learned from past mistakes that no matter how tempting the girl is, it's better not to get involved. He just needs some cash, he doesn't give a fuck how pretty you are. He doesn't care about you. He makes it clear he wants nothing to do with you besides seeing you sign his check. But, is that really all he wants? You're not blind to the way he looks at you. 18+ MDNI Shameless smut at the end, I'm not sorry about it at all.

Logan had gotten used to this. The long drawn-out wait to meet with the man who wanted to hire him. He always arrived right on time, not a moment earlier. They all had the same game they liked to play. 

The secretary would greet him, a pretty girl in her 20s that the men were screwing or trying to screw. Then they would make him sit in the lobby for half an hour. They’d apologize by pushing the blame on someone else, saying a meeting had gone on too long. But there wasn’t a meeting. There never was. 

They liked to make themselves seem more important than they were. It was a power game, an intimidation tactic that he had always scoffed at. He didn’t give a fuck what government ties they had or otherwise. He just wanted his paycheck. 

This one was no different. A congressman who had only recently begun to make waves when he started up an anti-mutant agenda. Ironic that he had specifically requested Logan for the very thing he was trying to eradicate. 

There was a buzz and then the secretary was picking up her phone. She spared Logan a fleeting glance before whispering something into the receiver. She looked over at him and he already knew what she was going to say.  “He’s ready for you now.” 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” she gave him a coquettish smile as he made his way towards the large office at the end of the hall. The door was closed when he reached it, three quick knocks and then a quiet Come in. 

The man didn’t even look up to greet him. He continued signing something on his desk. Logan took a seat in one of the chairs, waiting for another few minutes before he was deemed important enough to address. He received a tight smile and narrowed eyes as the man took in the way he was dressed. 

He never dressed up for these things. He’d learned a while ago that a suit wasn’t going to get him any further than his leather jacket was. Might as well be comfortable while talking to these pricks. 

“Had a phone call with an associate of mine. Ran on longer than I meant it to.” Always an excuse, never an apology. 

Logan scoffed and shrugged. “I was fine.”

The man sniffed, “I’m sure. Look, I’ll cut straight to the chase. You come highly recommended by my peers and I need help fast.” Logan nodded, motioning for him to continue. The man’s eyes lingered on his fists for a long while before he finished. “It’s my daughter. Things have been a little rough for her at school, for lack of a better word. Especially since this new campaign started. I just need someone to keep a closer eye on her.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, “She a party girl or something?” He wasn’t sure he could handle another bratty daddy’s girl again. The last one had nearly made him blow his brains out. They always think flipping their skirts up will let them get away with more and he can’t stand it. 

The man’s face blanched and he shook his head so vigorously that his jowls moved with him. “Oh, no, not at all. But she’s,” he paused and lowered his voice. He leaned in closer to Logan and waited for Logan to do the same. He rolled his eyes but did it anyway. “She’s like you, you know.”

Logan shot him a grin, “You mean a mutant.”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed, face tightening up in anger. “But, yes, a mutant. And I need one to guard her.” Ironic, this man was driving a campaign to make mutants second-class citizens, and his daughter was one. But Logan needed a check, he didn’t give a fuck about the morals of it all. 

“Sounds good to me.”

“Perfect, you can pick her up from school for me.”

You had your earbuds in, head lowered while you made the trek across campus when you noticed him. He was difficult to miss, tall and buff. Very buff, you’re surprised that tank top of his hasn’t ripped every time he flexes. 

Your dad’s newest campaign has you hyper-aware of your surroundings. You can’t afford to let your guard down. Not after the last attack. 

There’s something about this man that tells you he isn’t someone looking to jump you, though. You’re not sure what it is. Every part of him screams danger, but not the type you’re looking out for. The cigar perched between his lips, the glistening muscles you want to bite, he’s trouble. 

When you spot him outside your lecture hall for the third time that day, you finally figure out what’s happening. Your dad had told you he’d hired someone new to watch over you at school. You hadn’t voiced just how against it you were, but you didn’t like the idea. 

You didn’t mind this guy, though. He wasn’t busting into your classes and embarrassing the shit out of you by making everyone empty their pockets like the last guy. He just lingered. You could deal with lingering. 

What you couldn’t deal with was the way he was leaning against his motorcycle, smirking as you slowly approached him. 

“Did my dad hire you?” You call out, tugging your earbuds out. “Who are you?”

He speaks around the cigar like it's second nature. “Your new bodyguard, sweetheart.” You suck in a deep breath when you hear his voice. He’s extremely attractive, you're surprised your dad would risk this. 

One of the other ones had kind of gotten a little obsessed, stalking you even in his off hours. You didn’t think your dad would want another pretty boy around you. Though, you suppose this one isn’t pretty. He’s extremely handsome, ruggedly so, very manly. Jesus, you might end up being the stalker this time. 

His lips curl up like he knows what you’re thinking about. You clear your throat, shifting your backpack higher up your arm. “You planning on taking me home on that?” You ask, pointing at his bike. 

He straightens up and shrugs. “Got a problem with the bike?”

You grin, “Not really,” but your dad will. “No, not at all.”

You walk towards him and he reaches out, grabbing your backpack straps and tugging you towards him. You stumble, hands bracing against his chest so you don’t land flat on your face. “Sorry, kid,” but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. He buckles the straps of your backpack together and tightens them, puffing smoke in your face while he does. “Don’t want this flying off.”

“Mhm,” you hum. You’re not paying attention at all. The only thing you care about right now is just how ripped he is under your hands. You’re not sure how long you gawk at him but he seems to be ridiculously amused by it. 

“Ready to go home, or what?” You jump back from him, brushing your hands off on your leggings and clearing your throat. 

“Yes, yeah.” You rip your eyes off his body and instead focus on the bike. “No helmets?” You ask.

“You heal, don’t you?” You nod and he shrugs. “Don’t need them then, do we?”

You can’t help the giddy grin on your face at that. It’s gotten tiring being treated like glass. You’re about to get on the bike when you finally process what he said. “Wait, how do you know I heal?”

He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead, his gaze darts down to his fists. Your eyes widen when you see the metal poking through the skin. Of course, your father would only tell another mutant about his abomination of a daughter. You scoff and roll your eyes. He’s such a fucking hypocrite. 

Logan climbs on the bike and you follow after him. You're hesitant to wrap your arms around his waist but he just reaches behind himself and jerks you forward. 

You suck in a sharp breath, pelvis tight against his ass while he squeezes your hands. “You want to go flying?” You shake your head and he chuckles, starting the bike and driving off without another word. 

Part of you loves the ride home, the other part detests it. For once you get to experience a little freedom. You’re not trapped in a steel box staring at the back of a car seat while the man beside you pretends he doesn’t exist. 

You can feel the wind in your hair, get a taste of real speed, and enjoy a moment uninterrupted by someone’s expectations of you. On the other hand, Logan does not respect speeding laws. And healing abilities or not, you don’t actually want to experience road rash. 

He manages to get you home in one piece, parking the motorcycle in the driveway and waiting for you to get off. But you can’t, your thighs have been clenching the seat so tight you think they might need to scrape you off. 

“Kid?” He mutters. You shake your head against his back, arms still strangling his waist. It was actually kind of fucking terrifying being on one of these things. You can’t tell if you loved or hated it. 

He lets out a rough sigh, forcibly moving your arms and then tugging you off the seat. Your legs are like jello while you try and straighten out. “Wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks. You can’t manage much more than a strangled hum and he laughs. 

You turn to your front door and spot a leering face peering out the window. “Shit,” you huff. Your stepmother sees you spot her and disappears from view. You feel your hopes of ever getting back on that bike go with her. 

“You took her home on your bike!”

“Well-”

You flinch at the volume of your father’s voice. “I don’t give a fuck what your excuse is! I will not have my daughter seen riding that monstrosity! You are not to do this again, do you understand me?”

You don’t know what Logan says, but you’re certain it’s not the submissive Yes, sir your father is looking for. He continues shouting at him for another ten minutes. When you hear the door to his office open you scramble to look like you hadn’t been listening in. 

But you’re a bad actress and if his huff of laughter is anything to go by, Logan knows what you were doing. “Did you know that was going to happen?” He asks, pointing back to your father’s, now closed, study. 

You nod, pursing your lips with an apologetic smile. “If it helps, I was really hoping he wouldn’t do that.”

He shrugs, “I don’t really give a fuck how much he wants to scream at me.” It’s refreshing, to finally have someone in the house who doesn’t kiss your father’s ass. It makes you smile, a real genuine smile for the first time in a while. 

You stand from the chair you’d been sitting in, gesturing further into your home. “Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day so I was thinking about making something.”

The smirk drops from his face, expression suddenly serious. It makes you tense up. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m here to get paid. I don’t want to be your friend, kid.”

You suck in a sharp breath, trying not to let the rejection sting. He’s a professional, it should be a relief after the last one. “Right, yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that.”

He nods, “Right,” tone stiff. You stare at him for another awkwardly long moment before you finally turn on your heel and walk toward the kitchen. You rush there, speedwalking so you don’t have to look at him any longer. 

You open up your fridge, keeping your back to him for as long as humanly possible. You can hear him take a seat at the island, can feel the way his eyes bore into you. It’s a physical thing, his gaze, makes chills scrape their way down your spine. 

You make yourself a sandwich and finally force yourself to turn around. Like you’d expected, he’s already looking at you. Lips ticking up just slightly when you finally get the courage to look up at him. 

Logan feels a little guilty. You weren’t coming onto him earlier, you were being genuine with your kindness. He knows there were no ulterior motives to it and there’s a very slight part of him that feels bad for making you so quiet. “Why’s your dad so pissy about the bike?”

You’re a little startled by the question, after the comment he made you’d thought he wouldn’t want anything to do with you. You swallow down the rest of your bite and cough a little when the bread gets stuck on the roof of your mouth. 

“He doesn’t want me to crash.”

“But you heal,” he points out bluntly and you can’t help but laugh a little. 

“Yeah, that’s the problem. He doesn’t want me to crash and for someone to see that I miraculously healed. Having a freak for a daughter wouldn’t exactly help his campaign, would it?” You can’t even attempt to hide the bitterness in your voice. And you know Logan picks up on it because he doesn’t ask any more questions. 

Your gaze drops to your plate and you finish the rest of your meal in silence. Or, you try to. “Got any plans tonight?”

You chuckle and give him an odd look. “No,” you respond sardonically. “None at all, prepare yourself for a very boring job. I don’t even know why he hired you, I never leave the house unless it's for school.”

“Yeah?” he muses, but he doesn’t seem particularly interested. More like he’s talking just to pass the time. “I heard you’ve been having a hard time at school.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a sudden wave of anger roiling through your gut. The cabinets behind you begin to shake and you wince in embarrassment, tamping down on your powers before you accidentally blow up the kitchen. 

Logan watches the moment with subdued interest like he’s not all that surprised or impressed with the display. “Unless they were a PoliSci nerd, I was a nobody up until last year.” There’s no concealing the hate lurking within your words, “And then my dad took up this whole anti-mutant regime. Well, you can imagine how much the activists love me. I’ve just had a few incidents with some particularly passionate protestors.”

“Do you believe in it?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, you hadn’t expected him to actually continue the conversation. “What do you mean?”

He leans back, arms crossed across his chest in a way that makes his biceps bulge. He shrugs, “The anti-mutant regime, do you agree with it?”

You open your mouth, the perfected script almost rolling off your tongue. But this isn’t some politician's son you’re wooing. You’re not the perfect daughter, you’re in your own home, finally talking to someone else like you. 

“No.” You answer, voice strong in its conviction. “And every time I see one of his PAs running around with their little signs I want to ram the stick up their ass.”

He barks out a laugh, eyes crinkling up in amusement. “I think we might get along, kid.”

You try to ignore the way your cheeks warm at his words. You don’t want to be this affected by him, you’ve barely spoken to him. But this is the first person in a long time that you know with absolute certainty you can be honest with. He doesn’t care about protecting your political image or bowing to your father’s every whim. 

It’s a relief, like a constricting weight being taken off your chest. You give him an easy smile and get up to wash your dishes. His eyes are on you again but they feel less oppressive this time. You’ve already forgotten the rule he’s set in place, you’re not supposed to be friends. 

It’s going to be hard to remember that. 

Your father tightens his grip around your waist until you feel like you might squeal. “Smile, now.” You raise your hand, taking the stairs up the stage and waving out at the crowd that’s formed. It’s hot today, your makeup would be melting off if it weren’t for the artists who put it on for you. 

Always have to look good in front of the camera. All of you. Seeing Logan in a suit was certainly a surprise. You’re almost completely sure that your father had to give him a bonus to even consider wearing it today. 

He looks good, but you honestly prefer him in the normal beater and leather jacket. It’s something so uniquely him. This is just a reminder of your reality, that nothing around you is real. It’s all pretty lies wrapped up in expensive clothes. 

You have to bite your tongue and hold back a grimace when your father begins his speech. “First, we had to let them into our jobs. Now they’re in our schools! Our children aren’t safe, not when they’ve got loaded weapons sitting beside them! Because that’s exactly what they are, weapons of mass destruction that will take apart-”

“Fuck me,” you hiss under your breath. Your cheeks hurt from keeping this smile on your face. You’re struggling not to flinch every time the crowd surges up to agree with him, bigoted shouts making your ears bleed. 

Logan’s brows raise and he gives you a brief glance over his shoulder. Your face pinches in confusion only for a moment before you quickly correct it. Still, you keep your lips nearly completely motionless as you whisper, “Can you hear me?”

You dart your gaze back down to him and catch the barest of nods. Your smile softens, becoming something real if only for a moment. You don’t say anything else, you don’t need to. It’s just a comfort to know someone else is there with you, seeing through the painted faces and plastic smiles. 

There’s movement in the crowd. It cuts your father off midsentence. He peers over the podium, trying to get a better look at what’s happening. You hear someone scream and then the entire crowd is getting knocked to the ground. 

You jump back in shock, everyone on stage still. The security, however, is rushing to get to you and your family. It’s too late, though, there’s a mutant in the crowd and his eyes are set on you. “Fuck you,” he screams out your father's name and lugs something at the stage. 

You hear someone shout your name but it’s too late. Glass shatters against the side of your face. It takes less than a second for the pain to start. You can feel holes being burned through your skin, like living fire melting through your bones and gums. A scream rips out of your throat, your hands coming up to block your face too late. 

“Get her out of here!”

As agonizing as it is, you can already feel your skin working to mend itself. You can practically hear the flesh bonding back together. But the acid is dripping down you. It keeps moving steadily through your clothes and skin, your abilities on overdrive trying to repair the damage. 

You can’t focus on anything except the sensation of being burned alive. Suddenly, there’s an arm being thrown around your shoulder and you’re being lifted off your feet. Your skin scrapes against the rough material of someone’s blazer and it makes you grit your teeth and scream again. 

“I know, hold on kid, it’ll be over in a minute.” Logan rushes you behind the stage, where there are no cameras to watch you heal. You don’t know how your father’s PR team is going to spin this. Everyone saw it, saw the way your flesh bubbled and boiled. There’s no hiding the fact that half your face should be melted off. 

“Car,” you grunt out when he puts you on your feet again. 

His hands are clamped firmly around your shoulders, inspecting you for any further damage. “What?”

“We gotta get to the car,” the words are a struggle to get out. Your lungs constrict painfully in your chest while you force the rest out. “Can’t let them see.”

He looks pissed off that that's what you're worried about and not the fact that you were just attacked. Finally, after a minute of just staring at you, he nods. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and runs with you back to the limo. He throws the door open, pushing you inside and sliding in beside you. 

You take in a deep breath the second you’re no longer in view of the TV cameras. “Fuck,” you gasp out. Your dress is in tatters on your left side and you quickly cover your chest. You pray that you didn’t accidentally flash anything while you were still on stage. Your father would never forgive you for that. 

It’s silent in the car for a moment. You feel something being draped over your shoulder and look over to see Logan passing you his jacket. When he catches your gaze he gently grabs your jaw and titls your face towards his. 

His eyes rove over the left side of your face and he gives you a tight smile. “You’re fine, kid.”

You pull your chin out of his grip and pull his jacket closed around you. “See why my father wanted you around? How would he have ever explained his daughter surviving an acid attack?”

There’s something pinched in his gaze. A deep-seated irritation and something else you’re too tired to identify. He’s looking at you oddly and you wish he wouldn’t. You press your forehead to the cool glass of the window and slump against the car door. 

You don’t know when you fall asleep but by the time you wake up, Logan’s already carrying you up to your room. He sees you shift awake and places you on your feet. You steady yourself against the stair banister and walk the rest of the way to your room, trying to shake off the pain of the day. 

You look back just in time to see Logan at the front door. “Goodnight,” you call down to him. You know he can hear you, but he walks through the door without another word. You bite your lip, ignoring the sinking feeling of your gut. 

You toss your destroyed dress to the floor and turn your TV on. You surf through the channels for a bit before finding a clip of today’s incident. “-apparently part of a protest for mutants against the government. I don’t know Bill, they seem to just be proving everybody’s point. They are unsafe.”

“I agree, my thoughts and prayers go out to…”

You roll your eyes as they say your name. They’re saying it wasn’t acid, instead it’s some sort of chemical compound that causes extreme pain. Even you don’t believe that bullshit. You have a feeling your father is going to be looking for a new PR team tomorrow. 

Your attention is snagged by the replay of the accident. You don’t focus on the acid, you don’t want to. Instead, you see how quickly Logan rushed to your side. He seemed to be right there even as the acid was being thrown. 

Your brows pinch together and you glance at the jacket beside you. He’d forgotten to take it back before he left. You pick it up, eyes skating over the fabric before you find what you’re looking for. There’s a large hole in the right sleeve, acid having burned through it. 

You hadn’t even realized he was in pain. You know he can heal, but it doesn’t get rid of the fluttering feeling in your stomach. You’ve never had someone look after you like that. 

You grin to yourself, tucking the jacket in the back of your closet. You’re sure he wouldn’t want it back and you’re not planning on parting with it anytime soon. 

You’re on house arrest for a week after the acid incident. Which includes no school. Your father has to play into the idea that you’re recovering from the trauma and healing. You don’t know how much longer he’s planning on keeping you locked up but you’re going stir crazy. 

Not only do you not get to go to classes, but Logan isn’t around either. He doesn’t need to be, not when the only place you’re in is your room. He’s not a friend, he’s made that clear, but he’s something. And you are desperately craving that specific something. 

“It was a sickening attack against my daughter that my wife and I are still trying to recover from.” You roll your eyes as you listen to your father spew his bullshit to the interviewer in the next room. 

You’re not allowed to be out and about, of course. You can’t risk someone seeing you. But that doesn’t stop you from lurking. 

“It was an incredibly traumatic experience for her, I’m sure.” You grin to yourself, picking at your nails. You like this one, whoever the reporter is interviewing him. She hasn’t let him catch a break. Especially not when he tries to capitalize on your trauma. Even though he hasn’t checked in once with you. 

“Well,” he splutters for a moment. “Yes, of course,” he tries to sound humble but anyone can tell he’s just covering his ass. “And it just further proves what I’ve always said about mutants. They are animals, they’re not like us.”

You’d think at a certain point you’d go numb to it. You’ve been raised hearing this rhetoric from him all your life. But the sting never eases. That cloying ache in your chest never quite leaves you. Not when you know the only reason he publicly accepts you is for political gains. So everyone can see what a wonderful father he is and vote for him.

You feel sick to your stomach and you don’t think you can listen to much more of this. But right as you’re about to tap out a hand clamps down on your shoulder. You nearly scream but you catch a whiff of the man’s aftershave and your mouth snaps shut. 

You leap out of your chair and whip around, a grin plastered on your face. “Logan, what are you doing here?” You can’t disguise the giddiness in your voice. He might constantly be reminding you that you hold nothing more than a professional relationship, but you don’t give a shit. He’s a constant in your life and that’s rare for you, so you’ll latch onto whatever comfort you can find. 

His gaze briefly darts to the connecting wall to your father’s study and you flush. He’d probably heard all of that. You’ve never had someone see the side of your father that you do. There’s something shamefully embarrassing about it. 

He looks back at you and gives you a sly smirk. “Wanna get out of here?” You’d have to be an idiot to say no.

“Uh,” you can hear the music from where you stand across the street. You shuffle uncertainly on your feet beside Logan, glancing up and down the sidewalk like your father’s going to pop out of an alleyway. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

Logan tugs his cigar out of his mouth. He’s leaned up against a lamppost and he’s watched you struggle for the past ten minutes. “Live a little kid, would ya?”

You look back at the dingy bar and grimace. “Okay, there’s a difference between living a little and having my face blasted on the news. How’s it going to look if I’m photographed at a bar while I’m meant to be healing?”

Logan points with his cigar to the entrance of the bar. “I can promise you, no one in there gives a fuck about who your daddy is.” Comforting, and a little humbling. 

You take in a deep breath and Logan must sense the change in your demeanor. He flicks the cigar to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He holds his arm out, “Ready, kid?”

You nod, hurrying to his side and slipping under his grasp. He lets his arm hang heavily around your shoulder, hand squeezing your bicep gently to try and quell your nerves. You’d be swooning at the touch if you weren’t about to throw up from anxiety. 

You used to have a life. Until your father had blown it up. You haven’t been around this many people in ages. Well, you haven’t been around people who are just having fun and not sucking up to every politician’s kid they meet. 

The music gets louder as you step over through the threshold of the bar. The soles of your shoes stick to the floor. People laugh loudly all around you, some of them shouting up at TV screens for whatever sport is currently playing. You’re sure half of them don’t even normally watch the game. They just need an excuse to get their wives off their backs. 

The thought brings a small smile to your lips. Logan glances down at you and frowns, “You are old enough to drink, aren’t you?”

You roll your eyes and move out from under his hold. “Yes, Logan. I’m going into a master’s program, my frontal lobe is fully formed.”

He huffs a little at the attitude, cheeks twitching with a suppressed smile. He nods towards the back of the bar, “Find a seat, I’ll get us drinks.” He walks towards the bar without another word and you resent him a little for it. 

Without him beside you, it’s like everything comes crashing down all at once. The songs playing grate on your ears. Every laugh feels like they’re screaming in your face. You’ve never been more in tune with your sense of smell and you hate it. 

Your hands tremble by your sides and you nearly miss the man in front of you spilling his beer down his shirt. It looks completely unnatural, the way it just flips out of his hand. And you know it’s your doing. 

You shove through him and his friends, running to the back and sliding into the first booth you see. You dig your nails into your palms, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate down a bit. 

Logan slides into the seat across from you, placing a beer in front of you. It’s barely touched the grimy wood of the table before you tip your head back and drain it. You’ve never been a particular fan of beer or any alcohol for that matter. 

But right now you need a buzz before you accidentally level the whole bar. You slam the bottle back on the table, taking in a deep breath, and sitting back. Logan gives you a hard stare, glancing between you and the empty bottle. 

He clicks his tongue and stands up, “I’ll go get another one.”

You bite your lip and give him a sheepish, “Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for the buzz to settle in. There’s a slight tingling in your legs and the tips of your fingers. It almost feels like how you get when you’re starting to get aroused. But you don’t know if that’s from the alcohol or the way Logan looks in his slutty little t-shirt. 

Definitely tipsy, you think to yourself, nudging your third beer to the side. 

“Always been a lightweight?” He teases, watching you with amusement in his gaze while he works on what must be his fifth whiskey. 

You shake your head with a soft smile. “No, I used to go out with my friends all the time.” You laugh a little at the memories and lean in a little closer like you’re sharing some horrible secret. Logan rolls his eyes but acquiesces, leaning in to listen to you speak. “We made up alter egos for our drunk selves. Wanna know mine?” You ask, wiggling your eyebrows at him with a stupid grin.

His brows pinch together and he frowns, “I don’t think so.”

You laugh and lean back in your seat. “You’re the worst!” He places his glass down on the table and fixes you with an odd look. You shift around uncomfortably, “What is it?”

“What happened to your friends? Why are you hanging out with me and not them?”

“Oh,” your gaze drops to the table and you suddenly find the stains on it very interesting. It’s practically abstract art. You swallow harshly around the lump in your throat and shrug. “Um, just all the stuff with my dad happened, and,” you shrug, “I don’t know. My life kind of fell apart.”

You try and shake off the funk, bring back the happy-go-lucky feeling you were in only minutes ago. “I had to move out of the dorms and head back home. My friends stopped talking to me. My boyfriend dumped me. It all just kind of blew up.”

Logan frowns and you swear he seems angry on your behalf. It’s a nice feeling, having someone care enough to hold a grudge for you. “You ever tell him how it was all affecting you?”

You snort, “Of course I did. He was overjoyed. He never liked my friends, especially not my boyfriend, they encouraged me to be too independent. He thought I was losing the values he raised me with. He just never cared to learn that I never agreed with them in the first place.”

Logan doesn’t say anything for a while and you let your gaze drift to the karaoke stage. Two women are singing a bad redemption of Led Zeppelin and it makes you smile. You don’t see the way Logan’s eyes linger on the curve of your lips and then drop to your chest. 

You never seem to notice how you make him squirm. There is something so interesting about you. Something so different from the families he worked with before. He doesn’t know if it's the whole mutant thing, if you two are somehow kindred spirits in that regard. He doubts it, he’s never really cared much about that. 

But he knows that there is something magnetic about you. It draws him in and makes him hate his own rules. He promised not to get involved with another client. It always ends messy, most times bloody. 

You turn back to him and smile. Your voice is a low purr as you ask, “You wanna get out of here?”

Of course, he’s never been one to follow the rules. 

“I am so sorry about this. Really.” 

Logan glares down at you while you straighten out his tie. You duck your head so you don’t have to meet his gaze and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

“Forget it, kid.” He says it with a smirk but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty. 

This will be your first public appearance since the incident. It’s a gala, of course, because your father hates you. He’d demanded you find a date, someone to look pretty on your arm because he doesn’t want you talking while you’re there. You’re meant for pictures and nothing more. 

Considering the fact that no one wants to talk to you on campus, the acid incident not helping at all, you had no luck finding a date. You’d had to beg on hands and knees for days to get Logan to agree. 

You don’t know what it is that finally made him cave but you’re grateful for it. You think your father was expecting you to fail. To come crawling to him and be forced to go with who he wanted you to go with. 

You were not going to spend the whole night listening to some political major try and explain your own father’s campaign to you. You’d rather swallow acid than go through that for another night. Your father, of course, doesn’t know that Logan is taking you. 

You’re planning on ambushing him with it. He can’t do anything about it now. He wants you to have a date for some reason and there’s no way for him to find a backup now. You take a step back from him and turn to look in the mirror. 

Side by side, you do make an incredibly attractive couple. He looks amazing in his suit, his muscles just slightly pushing against the fabric. And as much as he hates the tie and constricting material, he makes it work. 

And you feel pretty for the first time in a long time. You actually got to do your own hair and makeup for once. You’re a lot less heavy-handed than the assistants your father hires. You feel comfortable in your own skin, finally, wearing the deep red dress your stepmother had gotten for you. 

“We look good,” you muse. 

Logan looks down at you and smiles slightly, “You do.”

You give him a confused grin, “I said we.”

He leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he whispers, “I know what you said, sweetheart.” Your heart nearly beats out of your chest at the proximity. Gooseflesh raises on your arms where he’s touching you and your knee buckles ever so slightly. 

You can perfectly imagine his husky voice whispering something much, much dirtier to you. He pulls back with a slight chuckle and forcefully turns you around. “Come on, kid, we’re gonna be late.”

He nudges you towards your bedroom door and you nod your head mutely. He keeps doing that to you. These little things that could be so easily dismissed as you reading into his actions. But you know, deep down, you’re not reading into anything. 

But you don’t know what to do with this information that he might possibly be into you. Or at the very least, attracted to you. He made it clear early on that he wants nothing but professionalism between the two of you, yet he continually breaks his own rule. 

Your father and stepmother are waiting at the bottom of the stairs for you both. Your stepmother smiles when she sees you but your father’s face screws up in anger. “Are you fucking kidding me? The goddamn bodyguard?”

You shrug and slip past him, already walking to the front door. “A date’s a date.” You pause and grin over at him, “What are you going to do about it?” It’s a taunt, one you don’t give him a chance to respond to. 

You’re already slipping outside and heading to the town car. Something about Logan being with you emboldens you to act in ways you never would. Even when he’s not there, when you’re just having family dinner and your father says something off-putting. You fight back, you don’t let him steamroll you and your opinions. 

You feel better than you have in ages with Logan beside you. Still, the ride there is incredibly awkward. 

The hotel is grand and luxurious. But they all are. You feel guilty complaining about your life when this is your weekend. What do you have to be upset about when you regularly stay in five-star motels and wear designer dresses without glancing at the price tag?

Sometimes you feel guilty around Logan. You wonder if he ever resents you for your privilege. You might be a mutant like him, sure, but you’ve never had to struggle to make ends meet. Or try and scrap together enough money to get your next meal. You’ve never had to worry about where you’re going to sleep next or if you’ll have a roof over your head. 

Your struggles have been so different that you worry if something ever did happen between the two of you, you might not work together. 

But those are spiraling thoughts for another time. Right now, you’re just trying to get through the front door without someone bombarding your father with questions on his stance about whatever. 

When it’s clear that he’s going to be there for a while, he sends you and Logan off to the ballroom on your own. You feel bad for your stepmother, having to stay behind and pretend she’s interested as they bore her with stories that have no real meaning. 

“Poor woman,” you mutter, watching her struggle to keep the smile on her face. 

“You don’t call her mom,” Logan muses. You turn to look at him and he just shrugs. “Just a little weird.”

“Well, she’s not my mom.” His head tilts in confusion and you elaborate. “My bio mom left the second she figured out she gave birth to a mutant. We lie to the public, stepmom’s interfere with the perfect nuclear family ideal my dad’s pushing for.”

“If he cares so much about family then why don’t you have your dad’s last name?” A good question, one you had to field a lot when you first started school. 

You give him a sly grin, “Took my mom's maiden name the second I was eighteen, just to piss him off.” There’s no true reason behind it other than being vindictive and petty. “He’s been trying to get me to change it for years but he can’t force me to. Besides, I like having my name separate from theirs. Lets me pretend I’m not a part of the family. Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all, we just never really had the chance to bond.”

Someone passes by you. A couple you know you’re supposed to recognize but you can’t place their names. The man calls out your name, coming toward you with his arms open wide. You can see Logan tense up slightly beside you, bodyguard instincts coming out for a moment. 

You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping forward to hug the man. “So nice to see you, again.” You tell him. He grins and squeezes you a little closer to his chest than necessary. 

Logan clears his throat, glaring at the man’s drifting hands. Before either of you can react, Logan is pulling you back, hand resting lightly over the small of your back. He holds his hand out, forcing the man to shake his hand and take his attention off of you.

You can’t hold back the smile on your lips when you see how much smaller the man is under Logan’s intense stare. You’ve gotten used to the men at these events treating you however they want. They don’t see you as a human, you are your father’s accessory and their toy. You envy Logan for how easily he can dismiss these men, take away their larger-than-life personalities, and reduce them to the sniveling rats they truly are. 

He doesn’t even speak, simply tugs you towards the ballroom and away from the man’s wandering hands. You can’t help the stupid smile on your face while you look at him. He glances out the side of his eye and huffs, “What?” He snaps, tone impatient. 

You shrug and shake your head. “Nothing, you’re just…” You trail off, unsure how to continue. You don’t want to make him uncomfortable by telling him how you really feel about him. How deeply you appreciate him, how horribly you desire him. You’re afraid it will all just blow up in your face. That you’ll have truly been reading into everything and gotten his intentions all wrong. After all, he’s made it abundantly clear that there’s meant to be nothing between the two of you except a paycheck. 

You take in a deep breath, smile faltering, “Nothing.” You finally spit out, slipping out of his grasp and walking quicker towards the doors. His hand lingers on your back, fingers trailing slowly down your spine until you’re completely out of his reach. 

The chatter inside gets louder the closer you get to the entrance. You listen to the indiscernible voices, the quartet playing in the corner, and the clink of metal on the glass as they all eat. You straighten out your shoulders and put on your best smile, mentally preparing yourself to keep it stiff on your cheeks for the rest of the night. 

Logan catches up to you, the both of you stopping the second you see the inside of the ballroom. 

People Against Mutants

Evolution or Monstrosities

Parents for the Removal of Mutant Children

Your eyes widen as you take in the banners and signs hanging off the walls. More and more uncreative rhetoric all for the annihilation of mutants. Of people like you and Logan. Your smile drops immediately and you know you should have expected something like this from your father. He’d been refusing to tell you what this gala was for, saying offhandly he was just raising some money. 

You thought it was another charity. Not this. Not people, quite literally, calling for your head. For Logan’s head. You suck in a sharp breath and glance towards the silent man beside you. His jaw is clenched as he takes in all the finely dressed people around you. They’re all laughing and chatting like they’re not actively campaigning for the destruction of children. 

“Bar?” You ask, already walking towards it. 

“Sounds good to me.” His hand is on your back again and you’re grateful for it. The glower on his face, the attitude that screams I don’t belong here keeps people away from you. He shoulders through the men huddling around the bar, forcefully clearing space for the two of you. 

And when they turn around, posturing like they’re going to say something, he only has to look at them for them to retreat with their tails tucked. It’s ridiculously attractive seeing someone command these men so easily. 

“Whiskey,” Logan grumbles, he looks back at you and you slide beside him, leaning your elbows against the cool counter. 

“Just champagne, please,” you tell the bartender. He nods, quickly making your drinks and handing them to you. You turn with the flute in your hand, surveying the room. It feels less like a gala and more like a production of false niceties that will never end and never be genuine. 

“Don’t know how you deal with these fuckers all the time,” Logan mutters, glaring as a man slams into him and keeps walking without apologizing. 

You let out a short huff of laughter, “Honestly,” he glances over at you and you shrug. “I’ve got no fucking clue either.” He scoffs and takes a swig from his glass. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. You feel the words on the tip of your tongue, weighing you down until you feel like you have no choice but to spit them out. 

“You,” his brows quirk up and he glances over at you. You take in a deep breath and start over, nerves making your palms sweaty around the glass. “You make it bearable.”

Logan’s face falls and he sucks in a deep breath. You see the expression on his face, you know what he’s going to tell you. And you hate how apologetic he looks. You especially despise the way he’s making you feel pitied. He’s never done that before and you don’t want him to start now. 

“Don’t,” you tell him before he can say anything. You let out a self-deprecating laugh and place the champagne flute on the bar so you don’t have to look at him. “I know what you’re going to say, alright. So, just, don’t.”

Logan purses his lips and grabs your jaw. You try and jerk your face out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you, he forces you to look at him. He only lets go once you reluctantly make eye contact. You’re surprised by the look on his face. There’s no pity in his gaze like you’d expected. 

This is something else, something darker and more twisted. You can’t put your finger on what exactly you’re seeing but you know it makes your heart race and your thighs clench. “Listen, sweetheart, I-”

“What the hell are you doing?” You jump away from him but Logan just clenches his eyes shut with a short huff of irritated breath. You clear your throat and turn to face your father. He’s glaring between you and Logan, but smiles warmly anytime someone looks your way. “I didn’t bring you here so my contributors could see what a fucking whore you are for the help.”

“Dad!” You exclaim, eyes widening in horror. But Logan doesn’t seem bothered by your father’s words. If anything it seems to incense him, his hand drifting from your jaw to drape itself over the nape of your neck. You try not to show just how much the possessive grip is affecting you but you know they can both tell. 

Your father’s face pinches and he nearly stomps his foot as he looks between you and Logan. He looks like he wants to say something else but your stepmother, thankfully, calls his name. She waves him over towards her and you hold your breath, waiting to see what he’s going to do. 

He takes in short puffs of air, straightening out his suit jacket and glaring at you. “You’re not going to be a fucking wallflower all night, got it?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s stomping off. He calls out a warm greeting to someone across the room and you feel like you can finally breathe again. 

You give Logan a tired smile and nod towards the rest of the party. “Time to mingle.”

He laughs, loudly, enough to make people’s heads turn. You can feel your skin heating up from embarrassment and flinch away from the sound. “Sorry, kid, mingling ain’t part of my contract.”

Your jaw drops as you glare at him. “Are you serious?”

He turns back to the bar, flagging down the bartender for a refill. “Deadly,” he tells you firmly, barely looking at you. You roll your eyes and walk away from him, glaring at his back the whole time you do so. 

He thought coming to one of these things, being stuffed in a scratchy suit, would be his worst nightmare. He was proven wrong when he heard them talking to each other. Bitching about golf and their mistresses wanting more attention. Their kids nagging them and their wives being bitches. 

All of it made him want to down a whole bottle of whiskey and then blow his brains out. His worst nightmare turned into ever having to hold a conversation with one of these pricks. 

Then, he turns around, surveying the room for wherever you were lurking. He expects you to be by your father’s side or hiding somewhere in a corner. Instead, you’re standing close -extremely close - to some pretty boy. 

His hand is on your waist and you’re laughing at whatever boring fucking story he’s telling you. Logan tries to pick up on your conversation but there are too many things happening at once already. His senses are on overdrive and he’s already struggling against a migraine. 

He feels something brewing in his gut, something he’s been trying to just shove down for months. He doesn’t know what it is he hates about this picture but it makes him sick to his stomach. He hears something crack and looks down to find the glass of whiskey split on one side. 

“Shit,” he hisses, slamming the glass on the bar behind him. He shakes his hand out and tries to unclench his fists but it’s hard. He couldn’t have possibly been standing here long enough for you to suddenly find the love of your life. Why the fuck are the two of you so close?

This was so unlike you. Rarely did you ever have something good to say about the men you would encounter at these things. He’d heard you bitch about it enough times. Something about this isn’t adding up and he doesn’t know if it’s his own jealousy or intuition. 

Still, he finds himself pushing away from the bar and stalking towards you both. Closer, he can finally see what the problem is. Your hands are on the guy's chest but you aren’t leaning against him, you’re actively trying to push him away. 

It makes Logan’s blood boil, jaw clenching as he tries to keep himself at bay. He didn’t want to cave some kid’s head in in the middle of the gala. But the closer he got the clearer he could hear your hissed warnings to take his hands off of you. 

Logan finally reaches you and the look of sheer relief on your face makes him want to bring the claws out. He’d love to see that smug smirk ripped off his face, but he holds back. If only so he doesn’t traumatize you. 

“Alright, bub, hands off,” he warns. 

“Why don’t you just leave us alone?” He had to give it to the kid, he’s got balls. Rarely did anyone ever buck up to him like this. Normally, he might entertain him a bit, drag this on longer than necessary to get a kick out of it. 

But he still hasn’t taken his hands off of you and Logan’s not interested in fucking around tonight. Without a word, he grabs the kid by the collar of his jacket and tosses him away from you. 

He lands roughly on the floor with a loud gasp and people turn to look. Logan pays no mind to the onlookers. He places his hand on your back and leads you out of the ballroom, unwilling to have eyes on you for the rest of this conversation. 

“Logan,” you start, tone nervous. 

“Don’t,” he snaps. He regrets it immediately from the way you jump in surprise. He lets out a rough sigh, running his hand down his face, and walks through the first door he finds. “I’m sorry, kid, I just-”

“Logan,” you cut him off. The tone of your voice is enough to get him to finally look at you. Your arms are crossed and you’re glaring at him. “Why the fuck did you drag us into a closet?”

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances around, finally realizing what he walked into, “Fuck,” he hisses. He gropes blindly around the room for a light switch. There’s a small click and then an unflattering fluorescent light is shining down on you both. He’s managed to drag you both into a small, incredibly cramped, cleaning closet.  

You’re grimacing as you push a few mops away from your head. You look over at him and something about the look on his face must be funny because you start to laugh. “What were you thinking?”

Your smile makes one curl up on his own lips. He can’t help it, something about you eases a bit of the tightness constantly lurking inside him. “Thought it was one of those stuffy conference rooms.”

You scoff and reach for the handle, “Just a stuffy closest, good going, Logan.” You roll your eyes and tug on the knob. Your brows furrow together as you jiggle the handle every which way, desperately pulling on it. 

“Move over,” Logan mutters, nudging you to the side. He wraps his hand around the handle and yanks on it, expecting the door to swing open. When it doesn’t his face falls. 

“Did you miraculously unlock it, genius?” You demand sarcastically. Logan feels his shoulders tense up, frustration levels steadily rising. He’s already got a shit temper, he doesn’t need you adding to this. 

“No,” he snipes, “but I don’t see you coming up with any wonderful solutions.”

You throw your hands up in the air, wincing when your elbow collides with the shelving unit behind you. “I didn’t drag us into this mess! Why did you even come in here?” You demand and he can see how angry you are. 

It shows in the way you tapped your heeled feet against the floor and glower at him like he’s the bane of your existence. He doesn’t know what happens, what comes over him, or why this is the moment he chooses to break his rule. 

Your back slams into the shelves behind you and you gasp as he surges towards you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks and before you get a chance to question him, his mouth is covering your own. Logan buries his hand in your hair, ruining the perfectly styled curls. You don’t seem to mind much if the way you arch into him is anything to go by. 

His tongue runs across the seam of your lips, tasting the cherry-flavored gloss you’d applied earlier. He wants to devour you. Consume you body and soul, take everything you have to give, and then keep going. He doesn’t want to stop, but he’s not sure he wants the first place you have sex to be in a janitor’s closet. 

He pulls back, tugging you back when you try to chase his lips with your own. “Shouldn’t do this here,” he mutters. He’s struggling to hold back. And when you look up at him, lips swollen from his kiss, and you mutter why, how is he meant to resist?

He tugs you away from the shelves, pushing you against the door so he doesn’t have to see your face twist up in pain every time the corner digs into your lower back. Your hands drop down to his belt, lips desperately carving a path down his neck. 

He’d laugh at your eagerness if he wasn’t just as desperate for you. He reaches for the hem of your dress but it’s one of those floor-length gowns with no slits. He struggled for a minute before getting too impatient and just muttering, “Fuck it.”

You gasp when you feel the metal of his claw against your leg, eyes dropping down to watch as he makes himself a slit. He slices the fabric along your thigh and then just rips it. “Logan,” you hiss as he hikes the silk over your hips. 

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” You glare at him, eyes darting between him and his pants before you finally shake your head. He laughs slightly, hand drifting under your dress and reveling in the way you shiver under his touch. “Yeah,” he whispers, “that’s what I thought.”

His fingers move gently along your thighs, easing you into his touch. You let out breathy whimpers, tucking your face in his neck the closer he gets to your core. He lets his hand drift lower, searching out the band of your underwear. 

He’s pleasantly surprised when he’s met with nothing but you dripping for him. “Shit, you’re not wearing any underwear?”

You freeze and keep your face stubbornly buried in his neck. Logan laughs slightly, tugging you back and forcing you to look up at him. You mumble something under your breath. It’s said so quickly he can barely understand you. “What was that?”

“Ugh, god, Logan.” You groan and let your eyes drop down to his shirt, fiddling with the end of his tie. “I was hoping this would happen.”

When he doesn’t say anything your face shifts, worry gnawing away at you. You glance up at him and are surprised by the intensity of his gaze. He’s staring down at you like he wants to eat you whole. His pupils have consumed all the color of his eyes, there’s nothing but want on his face. 

“You wanna know why I agreed to come with you, kid?”

Your mind is completely dulled just by being this close to him. It takes you a moment to process what he’s saying before you nod your head. “Why?”

The look on his face reminds you of a wolf guarding its territory. It’s predatorial, animalistic, it makes you want him even more. “I didn’t want any of these little boys getting a chance to have their hands on you.” His gaze drops down to your lips and he leans in until your breaths are mingling together. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.” He dips his head down and his kiss isn’t as intense as it was the first time. His lips move lazily over your own, tongue stroking against yours like he’s savoring the taste. 

You can taste the whiskey he’d drank earlier, can still smell cigars on his breath. It should be revolting, you’ve never liked kissing smokers. But there is something so intoxicating about him. Everything he does is enchanting to you. 

It’s a naive train of thought but you trust him wholly. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you’d let him willingly. His hands continue their exploration down your body and you can’t help but arch into his touch. His fingers stroke languidly over your center and you moan into his mouth. 

Your lips part with little gasps and your head thunks loudly against the door. Neither of you notice or care, you’ve all but forgotten the gala outside. The government employees and rich socialites that you’re supposed to be entertaining. 

And when he slips a finger inside you, you don’t care who hears you call out his name. The rough pad of his finger creates a feeling you’ve never been able to produce on your own. There’s something so exhilarating about this whole situation. 

Stuck in this tiny closet, no air to breathe but each other’s. No room for anything other than your bodies pressed as closely together as possible. You're completely surrounded by him and you never want to leave. 

“Logan,” you gasp out his name and shove at his shoulders. He momentarily stops his ministrations, giving you a worried look. “Please, I just want you.” You tug at his wrist, hissing when his fingers leave you with a lewd pop. 

He looks hesitant, but you can see the way he’s straining against his boxers. You let your hand trail down his stomach, palming him through the thin fabric. His hips buck into your hands and he lets out the most attractive noise you’ve ever heard. You’ve always liked guys who aren’t afraid to be vocal. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispers. He swats your hands to the sides, tugging his boxers down and squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. “Come on, up.”

You jump and he slings your legs around his waist, lining himself up with your entrance. He drags you slowly down his cock, resting your back against the door and giving a hesitant thrust inside you. 

You can’t help the low groan that leaves your parted lips. It’s like you’re full of nothing but him. You’d been mentally prepared for the stretch he would present, but you probably should have given him more time to warn you up. 

You don’t care though, this is all you’ve been craving for months. To feel nothing, taste nothing but him. You’ve been praying that he feels the same way you do, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he does. 

He looks completely wrecked, head resting on your shoulder while you both take a breath. It’s overwhelming, this feeling of finally having what you’ve always wanted. Someone you can give yourself to completely and still feel safe with them. 

You drag your hand up his back, burying it in his hair and reveling in how soft it is. You tug him back by the roots, tilting his neck until he’s forced to look at you. Your gaze drops to his reddened lips and you smile at the gloss you’ve smeared across his chin. 

“Come on, Logan, don’t tell me you’re all talk.”

His eyes narrow but you can see the amusement swimming within them. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“Oh, yeah?” You goad, grinding your hips down against his and biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. You’re trying not to make a noise, trying to make sure he doesn’t see just how much he’s affecting you. But you can already feel your orgasm forming, it’s a low tingle in the tips of your toes, a burning hot desire rushing through your thighs as you clench around him. 

“Yeah,” he promises, thrusting sharply into you. This time the moan is forced out of you, your lips parting unbidden as you slump over him, burying your face in his neck. He doesn’t waste any time, using your hips as handles to pump you over his cock like you’re nothing more than a toy. 

The door rattles behind you, each thrust of his hips makes it shake in its frame. His hands fist the back of your dress, grip so tight you think it might tear. You don’t care. He could rip it off of you and you’d walk outside naked right now. 

You don’t care what happens, not when he’s beside you. There’s a feeling of security that comes from being around Logan and you can feel it in this moment. You trust him to take care of you in every way. 

Maybe you shouldn’t. After all, you two haven’t known each other long. But there’s not much you’re worried about when he’s moving steadily inside you. You can taste the desperation you share for each other in each pump of his hips. 

He whispers it into your ear while you claw at his back. The shelves around you shake and you worry you might bring them down if you can’t rope yourself in. But you can feel the wave building in the back of your throat, your vision blurring as you tighten your legs around his waist and begin to match his rhythm. 

“There you go,” he mutters, pinning you to the door and keeping your hips still while he moves inside you. “Come on, I can feel you clenching around me, sweetheart.” He manages to hold you up with one hand, the other diving between your legs to rub tight circles around your bundle of nerves. 

It doesn’t take much longer for your muscles to seize up, back bowing as you clench desperately around him. “Oh, fuck, Logan,” you shout his name, and his hand quickly comes up to smother your cries. He squeezes your cheeks until your eyes snap open and he drags you down to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t want to lose my job, need you to be quiet for me,” he grunts out, his tone breathy and strained. He loses his rhythm, movements speeding up erratically while he lets out low groans and whispers of your name. You almost cum again when he finally finishes inside you. 

Your limbs are twitching in overstimulation by the time his hips still. You feel completely boneless, body slumped lazily in his arms. He wraps both arms around you, squeezing you a little before slowly lifting you off of him. 

It’s a relief of pressure when he pulls out. His cum leaks out of you, dribbling down your thighs and dripping onto the floor of the closest. Your face screws up at the feeling and you internally cringe. No condom was probably a stupid call.

But you don’t really want to think about the repercussions right now. Not when he’s stroking your hair and rubbing a soothing hand down your back, waiting until you can form a coherent sentence before he lets you go. “Alright?” He asks, voice bordering on something smug. 

“Mhm,” you push away from him, legs shaky as you try and straighten out your dress. It’s a loss cause, trying to hide what happened in here at all. You’ve got a tear going up to your hip and you’re pretty sure there are holes in the back. Logan’s tie is gone and you don’t even remember taking that off. His shirt is completely wrinkled and your lip gloss has stained his face. 

You’ve both got horrific sex hair and the room reeks of it. You don’t know how you're going to sneak out of here. You still try and relax your hair, patting down the flyaways while Logan retucks his shirt. 

It’s silent between the two of you, heavy but not awkward. You don’t think either of you knows what to say now that you’ve physically acted on what you want. A sudden thought hits you, makes your heart clench painfully and your tongue ties up in your mouth. 

He’d confirmed that he wanted your body. That he desired you sexually. But you don’t think he actually said anything about a real relationship. There would be problems, of course, your father for one would have a lot to say about it. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about any of the consequences, you just want to be with him. 

You open your mouth to ask him what he wants when the door swings open. Both you and Logan whip towards it. But where you look like a deer caught in the headlights he looks like the epitome of male pride. 

Especially when he realizes it's your father on the other side. “Dad-” You start, but you have no idea what you could even say. Your dress is in tatters and both you and Logan are still mussed up. There’s no hiding what happened here. 

He doesn’t let you finish, holding up his hand. His voice is eerily calm as he says, “I thought I heard something banging around in here.”

“You did,” Logan scoffs, crossing his arms and glaring at your father. You feel your heart jump to your throat, staring over at him with a horrified look on your face. How could he think that was okay to say? It was so dismissive of what you believed had happened. 

This was more than just a quickie in the dark to you. This meant something, but you’re seriously starting to doubt that it was the same for him as it was for you. And that just makes you feel like the stupid little girl everyone seems to believe you are. 

Your father says your name but you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye. “You’re feeling sick,” he tells you, no room for argument. “Your date had to take you home. It was just too much too soon after the incident at the rally.” When you don’t say anything he shouts out, “Understood?” That makes you jump. 

“Yes,” you clear your throat and face him. “Yes, understood.”

Your father has made his stance on mutants clear. He hates them, despises them to their very being, and wishes he could kill every last one. And as much as you were raised with those ideas, they were never truly turned on you.

But he’s looking at you right now like he wishes you were never born. You feel like shit on his shoe. Something to be hidden away and buried. It makes your shoulders slump like a hundred pounds was just tossed onto your back. 

You try to run past him but he jerks you back, fingers so tight around your bicep you feel the skin tear. You gasp in pain but don’t say anything, too afraid to argue. “Put his jacket on, I won’t have you looking like a whore.” He releases you with a rough shove and storms off. 

You can feel something burning at the back of your eyes. A moment later Logan drops his jacket over your shoulders, pulling you back into his chest and running his hands over your arms. “Come on, kid,” he mutters. There’s something resigned in his voice that makes your heart drop, “Let’s get you home.”

The walk through the lobby feels like you’re walking through a dream. You’re not completely present for it, or the ride home. Your mind and your heart are warring and you feel like you’re going to be torn apart if you keep lingering on what just happened. 

You just can’t understand how you could go from having everything you wanted to feeling like the scum of the earth in less than two minutes. Logan doesn’t speak as he drives you home. His knuckles are turning white around the steering wheel and you’re afraid to even try and start a conversation. 

You don’t want to hear him tell you that he didn’t desire you past your body. You don’t want to discover that you’re just another notch on his belt. He seems to do this a lot, sleep with the girls he guards. The idea of just being another job, another fun night, makes you absolutely disgusted with yourself. 

When he pulls into the driveway of your house you both just sit in the car. Neither of you knows what to say. And the air between you is so thick with tension you feel like you could choke on it. You stare down at your hands, fingers fiddling with the ripped seams of your dress. 

You pick at the threads and feel his stare on you. You can’t do this. You can’t deal with the possibility of rejection. Not after what happened between you and certainly not after what your father said. 

You undo your seat belt and Logan watches as you go through the movements of getting up. His eyes never leave you and it’s like a physical caress, his stare. Normally it would make you warm inside, comforted by his presence. But right now all you can feel is the chill of where his cum has dried between your legs and the icy-hot stab of nausea in your gut. 

You throw the door open and you’re nearly out when he calls out a quiet, “Goodnight.”

You don’t look at him, you can’t. You slam the door shut and walk silently to the front door of your house. You don’t look back, don’t respond, you just slip inside your house and finally let the weight of the night come crashing down on you. 

You don’t cry until you hear him pull out of the driveway. 

Your father and stepmother usually stay at the hotel the night of a gala. Most nights you come home and enjoy the house to yourself for once. Tonight, you’re woken up by the front door slamming so hard your walls shake. 

You can faintly hear your stepmother’s voice trying to console your father. She’s muttering something to him you can’t make out. You shoot out of bed, running to pull some sweatpants on. After you’d cried yourself out you’d taken a shower. 

You’ve scrubbed your skin raw but you swear you can still smell him on you. You rush to your bedroom door, turning the knob quietly and slowly peeking your head outside. Your father’s at the bottom of the stairs, the second he spots your open door he’s screaming your name. 

Your stomach twists painfully and you can feel panic starting to overwhelm you. Your hands shake and your legs are stiff as you slowly step into the hallway. You’re a grown woman. You shouldn’t feel like this because your dad is going to yell at you. 

But he’s been so good at forcing you to rely on him. At forcing you to bend and break to fit his beliefs and mold. You don’t know what to do if you’re not striving for his approval. And right now it’s very clear that he’s never been more disgusted by you. 

If the look on his face isn’t enough to twist the knife deeper, his words are. “I have never,” he screams at you. You take a step back, keeping the stairs between you, refusing to meet him in the middle. “Been more embarrassed to call you my daughter. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for me? Do you know how many people saw you being dragged outside like a fucking whore off the corner?”

You clench your eyes shut, turning your face away from him as the shame becomes a physical thing inside you. You can feel it making its way up your throat. Because he’s right. Tonight you were nothing more than a slut without any self-respect. 

But you’re also pissed off. You’re fucking enraged at yourself for being so stupid as to ever believe Logan wanted you for anything more than your body. You're mad at Logan for knowing how you feel about him and taking advantage of it. And you’re so fucking tired of doing everything you can to make your father proud and it never being enough. 

“Have you ever once asked me what I want?” You raise your voice, screaming down at him with a ferocity that surprises even you. His eyes widen, frame trembling with unreleased rage. You plow through, not stopping because you know if you do, you’ll never get this out. “No, you haven’t. Not once. Because you don’t fucking love me! And it has taken me years to accept that, to finally realize that you’re incapable of loving anyone but yourself.”

You gasp, the noise wet and painful as something warm trickles down your cheek. You stare down at him with your eyes wide in realization. “It’s so clear to me now, I feel like an idiot for missing it for so long. You never loved me. You’re incapable of it!” 

You’re embarrassed at the way your voice cracks. As much as you want to pretend you’re stronger than him, not afraid of him. There’s still a little girl inside you who wonders why Daddy doesn’t love you. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck what you want, Dad. I don’t care what you want my life to look like or if I embarrassed you. I’m glad I did, glad someone finally saw a sliver of the truth you try so desperately to hide-”

“Enough!” He shouts and it startles you so bad that you jump back, your abilities reacting and a vase behind you flying off the shelf. You duck as glass shatters across the stairs and floor. You glance at the scene with shocked eyes, looking down at your father to see that he’s not even a little bit surprised. 

Instead, he just looks so deeply disappointed that it makes you shrink into yourself. The anger within you is extinguished in a second. He rubs his face, shaking his head and turning his back on you. “Dad?” You call out, voice trembling. 

“Go to your room,” he tells you quietly. “I don’t want to look at you anymore.” You hover by the top of the stairs for a moment, not quite believing him yet. And when he realizes you're still there, that you’re not taking him seriously, he finally looks at you again. 

“I wish every goddamn day that those doctors had just put you down. I’d rather have a dead daughter than one like you.”

You stand there, stunned, even after the rest of the house has gone to bed. You clean up the pieces of glass while you try and swallow down your tears. Let the sharp edges dig into your skin and tear until you can feel any type of pain besides the one inside you. 

A week of solitary confinement. You’re surprised that you haven’t just been kicked out of college. You’re sure that your father’s many donations to the university are the only thing stopping your professors from dropping you from the class. 

You don’t care if they do or not, though. You never actually care about what you studied. You’d just always hoped that it would be a way for you to escape the tight grip around your neck your dad has on you. 

You’ve figured out that no matter how hard you fight, you’ll never escape him. He hates you and yet, he can’t let you go. You’d laugh if you weren’t busy wallowing in your depression. 

Someone keeps leaving food by your door but you can’t find it in yourself to be hungry. You’ll nibble on something, but you feel like you’re going to throw up when you so much as breathe the wrong way. 

You haven’t heard from Logan since that night. You knew your father would fire him the second he woke up. But you’d held out hope - foolishly - that he might still try and reach out to you. You have this childish image in your head of the prince coming to rescue the princess from the dragon. 

But you’ve been naive your whole life, you don’t want to keep going down this road. You don’t want to keep expecting the best of people and live your life in perpetual disappointment. 

You haven’t seen or spoken to your father since that night. Wordlessly, he’d banned you to your room. No one’s said it, but you know you’re not allowed to come out. You don’t know when he’s going to deem you useful again and drag you back out into the public eye. 

Contrary to his belief, no one had seen you leave that night with Logan. You hadn’t been in any tabloids or shitty news articles. Besides emotional estrangement from your father and losing the only guy you’ve ever really liked, there were no consequences to your whorish behavior - as your father so lovingly puts it. 

You roll over in your bed and picture yourself taking a shower. It feels like such a workout but you can’t stand lying in your sweat and tears for much longer. With a long drawn-out groan, you throw yourself out of bed and enter the bathroom connected to your room. 

You know you’ll feel better afterward, but everything besides sleep sounds like too much work. Still, you force yourself inside and finally clean the grime of laying on your ass for a week off. 

You walk naked through your room, making a beeline for your dresser. You feel a little better after washing yourself off and moisturizing. But not much. Physical health can only do so much for how you feel inside. 

You hope this will blow over soon, you’re not sure how much longer you can take feeling so awful. You hate pitying yourself, and that’s exactly what you’re doing right now. You huff irritatedly, digging around your drawers for your favorite shirt. 

A hand clamps around your mouth, rough and big, yanking you back into a muscled chest and keeping you quiet. You still try and scream, hands clawing at the skin of their hand until you feel blood. 

“Fuck, quit that, would ya?”

Your erratic movements slowly come to a halt. You still feel your heart pounding against your chest, adrenaline warming your blood and making you feel like you're on fire from the inside out. But, you recognize the voice, recognize there’s no danger to the situation. 

That doesn’t make you any less pissed off. When Logan is sure you won’t keep attacking him, he lets you go slowly. You immediately whirl around on him, uncaring that you’re still naked. Energy moves quickly through you, becoming a physical thing under your skin. 

He smiles at you and you push the energy out, throwing him across your room. He flies into your bookshelf, crashing to the ground with a loud slam. “What the fuck are you doing?” You scream at him. 

There’s no one home right now, luckily, or else you both would be screwed. He shakes his head off, brushing pieces of wood out of his hair and slowly getting to his feet. “Well, I was coming to say hi-”

“You say hi by ambushing naked girls?” You interrupt, grabbing the clothes closest to you and pulling them on quickly. 

Logan rolls his neck out and shrugs. “No, that was just a plus,” he gives you that insufferable smirk and you want to scream. 

This is the first time you see him in a week since you had sex together and your father officially disowned you. And this is what he’s leading with? Seriously? “You’re a real fucking prince, Logan.” You shake your head with a scoff and glare at him.

He narrows his eyes, looking to be in disbelief at your attitude. “What happened?” You expect to hear irritation in his tone. Anger that you’re being such a bitch right now. Instead, he sounds concerned, like he can see right through you. 

You hate that. You used to love having someone who could see past all the pretenses and walls, but it just hurts now. “Nothing,” you tell him, unable to hold eye contact any longer. “Look,” you take in a deep breath, and your brows furrow in confusion. “How the hell did you even get in here?”

Logan doesn’t look like he wants to drop the topic just yet but he relents. He nods towards your window and you fix him with an astonished look. “I climbed, I didn’t want your dad to risk seeing me on the security cameras out front.”

You feel suspicion brewing inside you, tone turning defensive. “Look, if you came here because you want to fuck again, I suggest you go find another girl. I’m not interested anymore.”

“Well,” he scoffs, “I find that hard to believe.” How easily he just dismisses your words. Like they hold no real importance. It makes you want to scream. Instead, you just flick your wrist, throwing him into another wall. You don’t know how you’re going to explain these holes in the wall to your father but you don’t really care. 

“Enough,” he snaps, brushing himself off and glaring at you. Your lips curl up in amusement, the first thing you’ve felt besides anger and depression for the last week. “Look, I was coming here to get you the hell out, kid. Clearly, I’m not wanted.”

He walks towards your window, intent on climbing back down the side of your house and leaving. You almost let him, if only to see him scurrying down the wall. Instead, you take a step forward and stop him with a small, “Get me out?”

He sighs, running an aggrieved hand over his face and propping the other on his hip. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Look, I can’t stand the thought of you cooped up in here, isolated from the rest of the world. It’s not fair, I was gonna see if you…” He trails off and roughly swallows. 

Your interest piques. Whatever is this hard for him to get out has to be interesting. “Logan,” you call his name softly. “See if I what?”

He huffs out a rough breath, turning around and staring you down. There’s something in his eyes, something reflected in yours. He’s looking at you the same way you always look at him. “You wanna come with me, kid?”

Well, you’d have to be an idiot to say no. 

You don’t leave a note. You don’t give them any clues or hints as to where you might have gone. They can draw their own conclusions about what happened to you. They can tell the news whatever twisted lies they want. 

You don’t care, that’s not your life anymore. Your life is packed away in a backpack in the back of Logan’s trailer. Your new life is in the passenger seat beside him. You’re equal parts terrified and excited to figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of it. 

a/n: can you tell I know fuck all about politics?

Also, smut, wow, this was hard and rough to write. I don’t know why it’s such a struggle. I just feel guilty writing such dirty words, it’s absolutely diabolical that I have no problem being crazy over a guy whose age gap with me is the same age as my parents, but I can’t write smut.

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp♡

[kyunzin]

𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞

character; 𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮, 𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮, 𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢, 𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

cw; picking up the phone while they’re fucking you (f!reader)

tags; slight voyerism/missionary position/ teasing (gojo), teasing/ doggy style/ degradation (geto), vouyerism/ degradation/ praise/ chokehold/ back shots (toji),sex tape/ voyerism/degradation/ objectification / missionary (sukuna), [yuuji makes an appearance at the end] (f!reader)

a/n; I haven’t posted in a while, if you requested it is in the making I promise, by the way if the spelling/grammar is bad it’s cause i’m writing this at 1 am my brain ain’t function properly rn

𝐆. 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

✰ would tease you, pick up the phone and tell the person that picked up that you’re busy while still fucking you.

“why don’t you answer it baby, it might be important?”

he smirks down at you as he watches you glare at him even though your moaning, letting out a weak “fuck you” at his childish antics.

“c’mon, all you have time do is see what they want it can be that hard”

his pace doesn’t let up and you watch in horror as he picks up the phone to answer with a devious smirk on his face. he knows you didn’t actually expect him to pick up the phone.

“this is gojo speaking, ah nanamin it’s you. sorry shes busy but I can help you”

your quick to slap your hand over you mouth and gojo feels the way you clench around him and he watches in amusement as you try to contain your noise though he’s sure the sound of his hips slapping against yours are making it through the speaker.

“yeah, I’ll be sure to pass on the message don’t worry”

once the call ends he throws the phone to the side and continues fucking you however the smirk never leaves his face. you’re sure to call nanami back and apologise for gojo’s behaviour.

𝐆. 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

✰ he would tease yout at first baiting you but he wouldn’t actually pick up.

“what would they think if they heard the pathetic sounds you’re making baby, you wanna find out?”

he watches as you shake your head and whine at his suggestion from below him but he feels the way your cunt tightens around him at the idea.

“you sure baby, then why did your pussy squeeze so tight when I mentioned it, clearly you want them to hear how much of a cock hungry slut you are don’t you”

it’s the first time something like this has happened so you’re not sure if he’s actually going to pick up or not, you’re oulse raising in anticipation.

“you think I don’t feel the way your sucking me in even tighter, someone would think that you actually enjoy the idea of someone hearing you, is that what you want?”

“no sug, please” you don’t know if your pleas will work as the way his hands grip onto your waist tighter say otherwise as well as the way he starts to reach for the phone ahead your pulse increasing. you believe he’s going to follow through with the suggestion until he picks yo the phone to decline the call and you sigh in relief.

“don’t worry princess, I’m the only one that gets to hear your slutty moans”

𝐅. 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

✰ would pick up straight away and make you speak to the person on the phone as he fucks you.

“tell them you’re busy, make it quick”

your not ready by the time he puts the phone up to your ear and you don’t even recognise the voice speaking to you not that you have half the brain right now as toji fucked the sense out of you but you have to comply with his wishes as you dont want to be punished even though you know hes only doing it to humiliate you.

“make sure you speak properly otherwise they won’t be able to understand you baby”

it’s hard for you to speak as he has you held up by your throat so your words come out choppy in between your moans and theres no doubt that the person on the phone can tell whats going on. “ye -fuck! hello s-sorry about that. shit, can I um -oh fuck, can I c-call you back later?”

“taking to long princess, hurry up”

“fuck! m’ trying, please! no not you -fuck sorry. m’ b-busy right now so I’m gonna call you back- fuck!” toji doesn’t wait for you to finish your sentence sending one particularly harsh thrust just before the call ends throwing it back to it’s place.

“such a good girl doing as i asked, but now they know what a dirty slut you are, taking calls while you’re being fucked”

𝐒. 𝐑𝐲𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧

✰ puts the phone next to your pussy so that the person can hear the obscene sounds then next to your mouth to hear your moans.

“keep making ‘em pretty noises for me”

you don’t even notice when he picks up the phone but you soon realise that he is holding your phone down to where his balls slap against your ass making the wettest sound and you know that he’s recording a video as he usual does when the two of you fuck, he says he saved it for when he can’t fuck you l.

“hear that it’s the sound of quality pussy, she’s sucking me in so tightly. bet you wish you were me huh?”

you don’t even have half a mind to question what he’s doing right now as even though he’s occupied with the phone he’s still fucking you brutally shaking the bed with the force of his thrusts eliciting loud and long moans from you.

“my pretty little whore can take my dick so well, she even makes the prettiest noises for me wanna hear?”

you’re not sure how long he records the sounds your pussy makes but the next thing you know is that the phone is placed next to your ear for it to hear the profanities leave your mouth one after the other a proud smirk on his face as you do “ryo please- oh fuck, feels s-so fuckin good”

“my cunt takes cock so well, pretty sure it’s all she’s good for. just to be used as my fleshlight”

you soon later come to learn that it was yuuji the video was for yuuji after hearing your moans he may or may have not fisted his cock all night in jealousy wishing it were him fucking you instead.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐉𝐔𝐉𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐍

@tyunixia @riowmie

[jflemings]

— speak your mind

pairing: kate martin x reader

synopsis: upon realising that kate’s feelings for you might not run as deep as yours do for her, you spiral. kate’s there to set the record straight.

warnings: a lil angsty, a lil bit of anxiety, overthinking, insecurity if you squint

a/n: this is long and not fully proofread!! i hope this is okay for my first kate fic 😬 lmk how you feel!!

୧ ‧₊˚ 🎰 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

one of your favourite things to do was look at kate, admiring her had become somewhat of a hobby for you. you’re certain that you’ve memorised the placement of every faint freckle on the bridge of her nose; absolutely positive that you could pick out paint swatches that match her eyes perfectly. her side profile is committed to your memory, burned in your brain for the rest of time, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

for so long you had pined after her and hoped that one day you’d finally work up the nerve to actually talk to her instead of spending your time gawking at her.

your hopes were met when the two of you found yourselves sat on the porch of some frat house talking the night away. she’d left her friends for some fresh air only to find you, and before you knew it she was giving you her number and waving you off in an uber at the end of the night.

now, the two of you lounge around on her couch lazily, trying to find something to watch. she’s got one arm around you, keeping you tucked safely under her chin, whist the other fiddles with the remote.

“stupid fucking remote” she mumbles to herself “i change the batteries three times and still, it doesn’t want to work. might as well just get a new one”

you allow yourself the time to trace her features with your eyes like you have so many times before, letting your thoughts run wild whilst she’s distracted.

you knew how you felt about kate. you knew all too well.

you loved her, wholly and deeply. if someone asked you to list off reasons why you loved kate, you’d be sitting for an eternity. there was no one reason for your feelings, and there was no one thing that led you to them, it was just a fact.

the sky is blue. grass is green. you love kate.

simple.

you’d often wonder how she got to you, though. of course, you knew how she physically came to be yours but you often found yourself wondering how emotionally, she could belong to you.

there had been others before you. others that didn’t really need to wait for kate to come around.

she wasn’t known to date or be a player, but she definitely wore her heart on her sleeve a bit. any girl that she dated knew that kate was all in, and it made your stomach churn to know that maybe you weren’t one of those girls.

what if she waited so long to ask you to be her girlfriend because she didn’t know if she wanted that? what if you dove in too quick?

“see anything you wanna watch?” she says before turning to you “or were you just not paying attention to anything other than my face?”

you crack a faint smile and sit up, suddenly feeling sick. kate’s hand falls to your waist “you okay?”

the bitter taste of doubt dances on your tongue and trickles it’s way into your stomach “i’m honestly not feeling too good, i think i’m just gonna go” you say quickly as you stand.

kate’s quick to follow your movement, sitting up and tossing the remote to the side “are you sure? you can lay down here. i’ll get you some water”

“no, no” you say holding up your hand to her as she stands “i’m just gonna go. i’ll call you later”

the blonde doesn’t get another word in before you’re running out of her door with your shoes in your hand. she stands in the middle of her living room puzzled, looking at the back of her door.

it’s been a week since you’d practically jumped up and out of kate’s arms and ran out of her apartment, and she’s barely heard from you.

since you said you weren’t feeling well, she’d offered to go over and just hang out. you declined and said you didn’t want her to get sick and that you’d just catch up with her when you felt better.

then when she tried to call you and you didn’t answer, you told her you’d been sleeping, or studying, or taking a shower, or doing anything that didn’t require you to have your phone on your person.

kate never really thought of herself as controlling, but not knowing how you were was certainly making her feel out of control. she was worried. she had the thought to maybe message your roommate leah, but ultimately decided against it when she realised that that might be overdoing it, especially since you told technically did tell her what was wrong.

there was a feeling deep in her belly that she couldn’t shake though, and it was beginning to eat her alive.

the feeling was only amplified when she crossed paths with leah on campus and still didn’t get an answer. your roommate had nervously shrugged and said that you hadn’t spoken to her before rushing off.

jada squints at her friend from across the room as she takes another slow bite of her bagel. she watches as the blonde seemingly zones out completely, a blank look etched upon her face.

the same blank look that had been plaguing her for the past week.

“what’s up with you?” she calls.

kate snaps out of it with a shake of her head “what?” she asks

“i said” jada starts again, dusting her hands of crumbs “what’s up with you. you’ve been acting strange all week and it’s really unsettling”

kate purses her lips “it’s not unsettling”

“it is when you see it first hand”

the blond rubs a hand over her brow bone and sits up straight, rolling her head on her neck before putting her head in her hands “it’s y/n” she says “we have barely spoken all week”

“i thought you said she was sick?”

“that’s what she told me, but i know something’s wrong. i can feel it in my gut”

kate is quickly beginning to resemble a kicked puppy, the slouch of her shoulders and her sad eyes making her look smaller than she actually is.

jada frowns “what about her roommate leah? have you tried talking to her?”

“we ran into eachother but she wasn’t much help” kate says as she shakes her head.

the brunette takes her bagel and plate and stands, walking over to plop herself down next to her friend and teammate “maybe you should just go over there” she suggests softly

kate slumps back again “do y’think?”

jada shrugs “you obviously know her a lot better than i do but, yeah, i do”

kate ponders for a moment before jumping up from the couch and slipping on her shoes by the front door. she grabs her keys off the hook, makes sure she has her phone, and gives jada a half assed wave before she’s out the door.

she doesn’t even bother walking or taking her time, she runs. the route is burned into her brain. she’s on autopilot as she goes as fast as her legs will take her. she’s run this route plenty of times, more times than she’d ever like to admit.

as late rounds the corner to your building she comes to a stop to catch her breath, ignoring the odd onlooker that was curious as to what she was doing. she waves them off and kept going, never once faltering as she got to your door.

she knocks three times and bounces on her toes impatiently, almost barging in when the door cracks slightly.

leah pokes her head out curiously “kate?” she cocks a brow.

“is y/n here?” kate has to resist the urge to just look straight over her head and into your place “i just need to speak to her”

“no, she’s not” leah says whilst opening the door wider , her expression telling the basketball player that she knows more then she’s letting on “but you’re more than welcome to wait for her if you’d like”

you slam your front door open and kick it shut, flinching slightly at the loud bang “i’ve fucked it!” you practically yell through your apartment “once again, i am my own worst enemy” you begin to ramble to your roommate as you dump all of your stuff on the kitchen table.

leah freezes and her eyes go wide at the sound of your voice ringing through your shared place. you barely acknowledge the way she’s gone stone still like a deer in headlights, too caught up on the fact that you have basically ghosted your girlfriend.

“what if she hates me, what if she never wants to speak to me again because of this week? oh my god” you groan loudly, the anxiety continuing to bubble inside of you “i feel fucking horrible, lee, she doesn’t deserve someone who’s gonna shut her out like this. i wouldn’t even know how to start making it up to her”

you begin to messily organise your things. you dump the water out of your waterbottle and rinse it and put your laptop on charge, your train of thought never faltering “an apology would be a good start, y/n” you mumble to yourself as if you’re stupid “hey kate! sorry for avoiding you for a week, that was super shitty of me, but i’m ready to talk about my feelings now!”

“y/n” leah hisses

you swiftly look at her and frown. her brows are pinched together and her teeth are clenched in an almost comical way, making you cock your brow “what’s that face for?” you ask.

her eyes shift from the direction of your bedroom and back to you once, twice, three times, before she raises her brows. you shake your head slightly to show her you don’t understand until dread washes over you like a tidal wave. a deep pit forms in the bottom of your stomach.

you screw your eyes shut momentarily before walking down the hall to your bedroom, puffing your cheeks up and releasing a breath as your hand grips the handle.

from behind you, leah gets up from the couch “i’m going out for a little while” she says just loud enough so that both you and the person occupying your room can hear. you turn and face her briefly, catching the sympathetic look on her face.

you turn the doorknob and push yourself into the entryway of your bedroom, coming face to face with kate.

she’s sat on your bed with her hands tucked neatly in her lap and her head hung. her shoulders are hunched slightly as she lifts her head to look at you, offering the smallest of smiles “hey” she says quietly “leah let me in, told me i could wait for you”

“oh” you say dumbly, not moving from the spot you stand in.

kate nods her head once “have— have i done something to upset you?” she asks quietly

you shake your head “no” you shut your door behind you “you haven’t done anything, kate, i swear”

“is there a reason you’ve been avoiding me?” she raises her head fully to look at you now but her hands still stay neatly tucked in her lap. she doesn’t look like she’s been crying, but the frown on her face and her glassy eyes tell you that she’s very close to it. you feel your heart crack, you’d never seen her like this.

you sigh and cross the room to her, placing your hands delicately on her shoulders “it was me” you start “i— i was getting in my head and i didn’t know how else to deal with it. i’m so sorry kate. it wasn’t fair of me to do that, especially since i’ve made you feel like you were the one at fault”

the athlete’s hands uncross themselves and come to hold your hips. she looks up at you with wide eyes like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head “i don’t understand” she says “we tell eachother everything”

“i know” you mumble, flexing your hands against her broad shoulders “i’m sorry”

kate looks down at your feet before spreading her legs slightly and pulling you towards her by your hips. you step further into her space just as she looks back up at you “you can talk to me about anything, you know that right? i’m always here for you”

you nod “i know that” you say quietly. kate squeezes you hip.

“you didn’t fuck anything up” she assures you, referring to your words as you walked through your front door. “more than anything, i was worried. i didn’t know what was going on and you weren’t answering me”

“i’m sorry for worrying you” your hands shift so that they settle in the curve between her neck and shoulder “but i still shouldn’t have just shut you out like that. it wasn’t fair”

her hands slither around your hips and hold your lower back. she tilts her head “do you wanna tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

you take your hands back and chew slightly on your bottom lip before taking a sudden interest in your ceiling. behind your eyes feels heavy as you try to push down the lump that has lodged itself in your throat.

the hands that are around you suddenly feel too cagey, too suffocating, and you take a step back from your girlfriend. a twisted look of confusion and concern crosses the blonde’s features as she furrows her brows and allows her hands to fall back to her lap.

“i love you” you say before taking a deep breath “and i avoided you because i didn’t think i could face you knowing that you might not feel the same” you screw your eyes shut just as the tears slip out.

kate’s face relaxes into something softer, and she slowly holds her hand out for you to take “babe” she says softly “c’mere”

you hesitate for a moment before taking her hand. she pulls you back in to her space and swipes a thumb under your eye “you got yourself all worked up because you didn’t think i’d say it back?”

“i—” you begin, only to then realise that she, in fact, hadn’t said it back. you shut your mouth and play with the hem of your shirt, quickly wiping away tears with the collar.

kate’s hand moves to cradle your face “i do love you” she says softly, ducking her head slightly so she can make eye contact with you “and i have for a while”

your lip begins to wobble and you cover your face with your hands in an effort to hide from her. she isn’t having it though, and hooks a thumb in the belt loop of your jeans so that she can drag you into her.

one arm loops securely around you whilst she uses her other hand to try to pry your own off you face “babe” she says.

she smiles as you reveal your face to her and she takes one of your hands in hers “why did you think that i wouldn’t feel the same? i tried to show it, but maybe it didn’t communicate well”

you chew your lip nervously out of habit “i just thought maybe you didn’t feel the same since it took you so long to ask me to be your girlfriend” you mumble “like, maybe you weren’t sure of me or something”

kate frowns “i waited so long because i didn’t want to mess it up” she says as she squeezes your hand “i knew i liked you from our first conversation, and i didn’t want to scare you off or make you think that i was moving too fast. i’m sorry, baby”

you furrow your brows “it wasn’t your fault” you say as you shake your head “it was just me and my way of thinking”

“we’ll next time that happens i want you to speak your mind, okay?” kate stands and drags her hands delicately up your sides before she cups your face “but there’s nothing you need to worry about. my feelings for you don’t come close to anything else i’ve ever felt before”

“yeah?” you ask quietlyleaning into her touch.

“yeah” kate flashes you one of her big, toothy smiles and connects your lips. her thumbs caress the sides of your face lightly, making your skin tingle. “i love you” she mumbles against your lips.

you can’t help but smile “i love you too”

[umemiyan]

𝗧𝗢𝗝𝗜 𝗙𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / unprotected piv / noncon creampie, breeding + mentions of pregnancy / dom/sub dynamics / petnames (good girl, baby, sweetheart) / biting

“c’mon, be a good girl and let me cum inside this pretty pussy.”

he tries to persuade you as though he hadn't earlier promised that he would pull out, that he wouldn't attempt to sway you from your position of not being willing to take the risk and let him finish inside.

you vigorously shake your head and hum in disagreement at his proposal. toji's a dirty fucking liar but you somehow still find it in yourself to love him, to allow him to slide into you completely raw, knees almost up to your chest as he fucks you into the mattress because he has two different types of holds on you.

“aww, why not, sweetheart? you don’t want me to fill up that sweet little belly?" he punctuates every sentence with a heavy thrust, voice a malicious tease in your ear paired with an equally selfish grin. but then he moves to hold your gaze with a commanding intensity. "gimme fuckin’ words, baby. i need words.”

you gulp and gasp for air, his hips stopping long enough to allow you a moment to breathe. “i don’t want a baby.”

toji offers an amused scoff at your response. “yeah? s'that right?" he's convinced that a part of you is lying and that you wouldn't even think of letting him fuck you raw if something about the risk didn't appeal to you. "too afraid to be a mommy for my babies?"

those words ignite a flame of anxiety within you, but curiously enough also make you clench around him as he picks up the pace a little, holding back a growl as his fantasies wrack his brain.

"s’too bad," he says, tone growing more serious, "i think you’d be pretty good at it, even if you act like a brat yourself half the time.”

it almost doesn't sound like he's joking anymore, but how could he not be? there's no way toji could truly want a child—he can't even afford one, but all the possibilities make your thoughts go muddy and incomprehensible. you simply turn your head to the side to avoid looking at him straight on, flustered and overstimulated from previous orgasms, but he uses a strong hand to grab your cheeks and steer you back in the right direction.

“what the hell did i just say about using your words, huh? you better fuckin’ speak up or i’m breeding this tight little cunt right now." it almost seems as though he's offering you a choice with his hips speeding up and wrecking your insides like this. he's in control, but he's desperate, sweat beading along his forehead as he chuckles breathlessly. "hell, i might do it anyways with you suckin’ me in so good.”

gasping, your eyes go wide. “no, no, no!” you meekly protest, but it's too late—he pins your wrists to the bed and angles his hips to more accurately hit your deepest points, cock driving into you with even more purpose now.

“shit…” he curses and feels himself start to lose his composure, quickly slamming into you a few more times before halting balls deep and twitching his release out inside you. the hot, fresh surges of cum warm your womb as he stays rooted in place, determined to force his seed as deep as it can possibly go. in his mind, that’ll only make it easier for it to take and bring his current vision to fruition: you round and full with a baby that’s undoubtedly his. this is the image that flashes through his mind and makes his cock pulse with an orgasm that’s nearly paralyzing, teeth biting into the flesh of your neck like you're the pretty animal he's just claimed and mated.

once the storm has settled, his hot tongue licks over the mark in your skin to soothe it followed by a kiss and one more slow roll of his hips for good measure. "that's a good girl," the large pad of his thumb brushes the tears from your lashes as if he isn't the one who caused them. his hand is a little rough but still affectionate as it grips your face again and forces you into a possessive kiss.

toji pulls out of you with a wet squelch and a shit-eating grin. "gotta fight back a little better next time if you don't want me to get you pregnant."

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your fake husband wants to fulfill his equally as false vows.

prompts. | Steve Rogers + Fake Dating/Marriage + “What did you just say?” + Sex Pollen, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!Steve Rogers x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, dubious consent, implied drugging, sex pollen, mentions of female masturbation, mild dumbification, delusion, dirty talk, pet names, fake marriage, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics. (i think i am going to turn this into a full fic... just a little different, though).

There’s a tingling in your entire body—notably stronger in your core—that just won’t go away. You’ve already called your family and told them you’re not feeling well enough to join them for dinner, and when they started asking about your symptoms, you just hung up.

But you didn’t call Steve—your friend, who has been pretending to be your husband until your relatives leave the city. It’s a huge favour you could never fully repay him for, but ever the kind man he is, Steve says that it’s no big deal.

You rub your thighs together as you try to type out a message to your pretend-husband, but your vision blurs, and you can’t think straight. You’ve felt this way since this morning when Steve came over and brought some coffee, and no matter what you do, you cannot sate yourself.

“Fuck,” you whimper, reaching your hands down to rub at your sopping pussy. Your wetness seeps out of you and soaks your inner thighs and bedsheets. Your room stinks of sweat and the addictive smell of your cunt, but you don’t care. 

You can hear a succession of knocks on your door, but you block them out until you realize it must be Steve. Shit.

Wrapping yourself in a throw blanket, you pull your shorts back on and make your way to the entrance in almost a haze. 

You swing the door open and find Steve in casual clothes, but you pay it no mind. You still haven’t told him about the cancelled dinner yet.

“Hey… You alright?” he asks, noticing how you’re breathing heavily. Your skin has a sheen of sweat, and your lips are swollen from all the biting you’ve done. “Y– Yeah. Dinner’s cancelled since I’m not feeling well,” you tell him.

Steve nods slowly. “I can tell. Do you need anything? I can pick some medicine up,” he offers, and you shake your head as you ogle him. He’s so big… So handsome—fuck, you shouldn’t be thinking of your friend like this. 

“N– No, it’s fine. See you later,” you rush out when the throbbing in your pussy becomes unbearable. You go to shut the door quickly, but Steve stops you, pushing it back open again.

He enters your home forcefully, and you step back at the intrusion, mouth gaping in shock. “See you later?” he scoffs, shutting the door behind him. “I can’t just leave my wifey to suffer,” he says, and you giggle.

“Har, har. Very funny, Steve. Now, please, can you leave? I need to go lay down,” you request. You can feel a bead of slick dripping down your thigh, and you squeeze your legs to both quell the ache in your cunt and to make sure he doesn’t see the mess.

“And try to use your little vibrator? That won’t work, honey,” Steve hums, though the sweetness of his tone sounds forced. “What did you just say?” 

His revelation makes you gasp, but that, too, feels forced. You can’t think straight—your brain is too clouded with arousal to feel fear, even though you know you should be shaking in fright at this point.

Steve grabs your arm and pulls the blanket away, admiring how your hard nipples poke through the thin shirt you’re wearing. “C’mon, sweetheart. In sickness and health, remember? Let your husband help his wife out—let me fuck you stupid,” he growls, and his words make you whimper.

You whisper a plea, and he lifts you up with ease, taking you to your bedroom. Steve throws you onto the bed and pulls your clothes off, admiring your glistening pussy. “See? This cunt just needed my help,” he tells you, and you moan when he begins to touch you, knowing you’re both too far gone to come back from this.

[toxic-aries]

keep those on (1.1k words)

paring: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ (MINORS DNI), missionary position, unprotected sex, slight cursing, mentions of hickies, cringey writing, please let me know if I missed any.

a/n: due to joe wearing those glasses, this is where my brain went. sorry if it seems rushed, my migraine took over. eddie x reader really get straight to the point in this blurb.

feedback & criticism is very appreciated. please let me know if you have any thoughts on how I can approve. thank you :)

It was unexpected what you saw when you opened Eddie's bedroom door. Your boyfriend sat on the edge of his bed in nothing but old gray sweats, guitar in his lap, long locks clinging to his face with beads of sweat dripping, and glasses. Glasses? Circle glasses with wire frames to be exact. “Since when do you wear glasses, huh? ” you ask, placing a kiss on his exposed shoulder as you sit next to him. 

“Hmm.” he mumbles, adjusting the glasses by their arms, “Well, I only really wear them at night.” Aligning his body more towards you, he gives you a quick kiss. You run your fingers along the edge of his face, brushing away the strands of hair that gripped to his forehead. Maintaining eye contact with his pretty brown eyes through the lenses of those glasses. “You like them? ” he asks as his lips rest along your jawline and his hand moves up your thigh, stroking it. 

“I like them a lot...” you say, lifting your head back slightly as he places kisses along your jawline, moving his lips down your newly exposed neck. Eddie’s hands grip on your thigh as he places a few love bites along the sensitive skin of your neck. You begin leaning back slowly, as he follows your every move until your back is pressed against the mattress and he’s now hovering over you. 

His hands brush over your thighs, spreading them open slightly – just enough for his hand to palm you through your jeans. You pick his chin up with a couple fingers, lifting up his pretty face from your love-bitten neck. “You look so pretty with those glasses...” you whisper, drawing him into a passionate kiss. With your parted lips, his tongue wanders onto yours and kisses you fiercely. 

His hands move to the buttons of your jeans, as he unbuttoned them he pulled them off along with your panties. After removing your exposed half, his hands reach for his sweats and strip him off quickly. As you break free of his kiss, you pull the hem of your shirt off your body as rapidly as possible, exposing your bare chest to him. “You think i’m pretty.” he chuckles, his hand moving to your bare cunt, rubbing circles around your clit. 

The moment he touches you, you gasp, your head snapping back, and the sensation of pleasure already immerses you. With his free hand he begins gripping the sides of his glasses, attempting to pull them off – you grab his wrist before he could. “No.” you say in between gasps as his fingers travel your folds, “Keep those on…please.” you plead with him. 

He pulls his body back slightly, eyebrow raised, “You want me to keep them on?” he questions. You nod your head in response. You watch as he grips his cock, “You want me to fuck you in these glasses, huh?” he says as he drags the head against your throbbing clit in a teasing manner.  

“Please Eds.” you whimper in frustration at the intense pressure between your legs, wishing for relief. You feel him slip into your tight little cunt and slide his thick full length into you. Moaning, you push your back deeper against the mattress as you feel his cock fill you.  A few moans escape his lips as your pussy grip tightens around his length. He lowers his body closer to yours as you both get comfortable to the position, you push his glasses back up his nose by the bridge. 

With his hands firmly hooked beneath your knees, he raised your legs so they were around his body as his thrusts began slowly. His goal was that you would feel every thrust, every aspect of him. As his forehead rested on yours, the heavy breaths combined with yours caused his glasses to fog up. “You get off just seeing me in these stupid things?” his chuckle breaks through groans, pressing his cock deep into your cunt. 

“F-Fuck.” you groan, bucking your hips at the pressure forming, “I-I do. I want you to fuck me in those all of the time.” you cry out as you feel his cock thrusting in and out of you again. His pace quickens with each thrust, gripping his shoulders as he pushes deeper with every motion into your wet cunt. “Fuck baby..”  He grunts through his teeth, his hand leaving a bruising grip on your hip “You're soaking wet.”

He moves his mouth to your bare chest, taking your hard pointed nipple between his clenched teeth, looking up at you – glasses slid almost to the tip of his nose. Fuck. Your walls tighten around his cock at the sight of him, his free hand grasping harshly on your other tit. “Eddie…” you moan out, snapping your head back as his lips clasped around your nipple. His tongue danced with it. His teeth clench hard around your sensitive skin. 

The sound of moans and cries, mixed with the sick slapping sounds of his cock pounding into your dripping cunt echoed throughout his room. You grab ahold of his chin, maintaining the heavy lustful eye contact between you two. And just so you can stare at those pretty glasses. “Keep looking at me like that.” You whimper, as his deep thrust pounds your g-spot. 

You caress his face with both hands, watching his subtle facial expressions as he pounded his cock into you. He moves his hand from your chest, brushing your strands of hair out of your face, “You look so pretty while I’m fucking you…” he coos as his hand that had a bruising grip on your hip moves to play with your clit, “Pretty pretty girl…” he continues. 

His fingers danced with your throbbing bud as the cock continued to slide in and out of you. Your legs began to tremble at the upcoming orgasm that was building in the pit of your stomach. As he sped up his rhythm, Eddie pressed his face against your neck, lips panting against your skin. His cock tenses inside your cunt, as he pants out, “I’m going to cum...”, and between heavy breaths, his lenses fog up once again. 

You pull his face from the nape of your neck to look him in the eyes, watching as the foggy lenses fade. “Cum in me baby…” you whine out, trying to hold back your own frenzy. With a few more harsh thrusts, you throw your head back in pure ecstasy – his cock tenses as he fills you with his warm spurts. He pulls out slowly as you both ride out your climaxes, his hot sticky spunk leaking from your folds as he does so. Taking a brief look at you through his lenses, he sees you smiling slightly and he mutters, “Shit.”

if you enjoyed please consider commenting or reblogging, it makes a huge difference ♡

[thetriumphantpanda]

you got all my love | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Well, it was always going to happen, wasn't it? No-one had banked on a connection that ran this deep though.

Warnings | No smut, only softness. A little angst. Talk of pregnancy. Alcohol consumption. Smut will return in full force in the final two parts.

Word Count | 1.7K

Authors Note | Okay, so here it is! Everything we've been working towards so far. There's no smut here, just some softness, but I promise there are two more parts and this little threesome is far from over! If you're enjoying this so far, then please consider leaving comments, reblogging or popping into my ask box with some love - I have really enjoyed interacting with you all over this! And, if you'd like to leave a tip (As always, no pressure what-so-ever) then you can do so here on Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You have to rub your eyes until they sting to make sure you’re not seeing things. Then you have to do another one just to be sure. Then, just in case, another one just for luck, but all three show the same thing. Two pink lines. Those two fucking pink lines you had been praying for all along, on every single test. You’re pregnant. You’re finally fucking pregnant. 

You gather all three tests in your hands once you’ve put the cap back on the bit you’ve peed on, before you bound down the stairs. It’s early in the morning and Tommy is stood at the coffee maker, waiting for enough liquid to filter to fill his mug. He turns around at the commotion of you almost falling into the table after forgetting to step on the final step. You’re breathless. 

“What on earth is the matter, sugar?” He asks, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

You hold up the three tests, but realise he can’t see anything with the grip you’ve got them held in. You take the strides to close the distance between you, setting them down on the counter next to the coffee machine. You watch, with a grin on your face as he picks one up, slamming it straight back down onto the counter when he sees the lines. 

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” He breathes, turning to you, “You’re?” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, “I’m pregnant.” 

His arms are crushing around you, but you can’t find it within yourself to care. It finally worked. You’d finally been given everything you’d ever wanted. You pull back enough to fuse your lips with Tommy’s, before you pull away and realise you’re both crying. 

“You’re gonna be a dad, Tommy.” You grin, pressing your lips all over his face, wherever you can reach. 

“And you’re gonna be a mama, baby.” He speaks softly, setting your feet back on the ground, “Don’t know how I’m supposed to go to work now, I wanna tell everyone.” 

You grin and cup his cheek, “I know baby, me too,” You look down at your feet before meeting his eye again, “There is someone we need to tell though.” 

Joel is as welcoming as ever when you turn up that evening. He’s shouting up the stairs for Sarah to come and say hello, which she does, giving you both a hug before apologizing, glaring at her father, and informing you both that it’s already past her bedtime and she needs to brush her teeth. 

“You want a drink?” Joel asks Tommy, who agrees to a glass of whiskey, “What about you, darlin’?” 

“No, thank you, I’ll be driving back.” You smile, feeling around in the back pocket of your jeans for the lone test you’d brought with you, keeping it a secret to yourself for now. 

Joel makes you a cup of tea and you sit around and chat for a while. Tommy filling him in on how things had been on site that morning, Joel talking about how he’d been to Sarah’s parent’s evening and how proud he was that she was doing so well. There was some off-hand comment that you frowned at, something about her inheriting the brains from her mother because they certainly hadn’t come from him, but it had been a nice conversation otherwise. 

When there is a lull in the conversation, Tommy reaches across the table to take hold of your hand, sitting forward in his chair, “We have something to tell you.” He smiles at Joel. 

You look to Tommy, reaching into your back pocket to fish the pregnancy test out before you slide it over the table to Joel. You watch as he picks it up, bringing it close enough to his face so he can see those two pink lines. Then he’s slamming it down on the table with a grin, all three of you standing in unison. 

It’s you he comes to first. He wraps those big, strong arms around your waist and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own around his neck and giggle as he congratulates you, right into your ear. Then, he sets you down, a chaste kiss to your cheek, before he moves onto Tommy. 

It’s a scene that makes you want to cry. Tommy stretches out his hand as if he wanted Joel to shake it, but instead, he pulls Tommy into the biggest hug you’ve ever seen the brothers give each other. They’re slapping each other’s backs, pulling apart just enough to grin at each other, before they embraced again. 

When Joel finally does let Tommy go, Tommy comes straight to your side, pulling you into him as Joel leans against his kitchen counter. 

“Listen, I don’t want to make this a huge thing,” Tommy starts, rubbing the back of his neck with that nervous energy you remember he had when he first suggested this, “But thank you, for everything, for giving us everything, I know you and I know you don’t want anything as thanks, but just know how grateful we are for this brother.” 

He shakes his head with a little smile, “I told you, anythin’ for family.” And with a shrug, that’s pretty much it. Tommy gives him another hug before he’s turning to you. 

“I’ll let you two have a minute alone,” Tommy smiles, giving your hand a squeeze, fishing the car keys out of his pocket, “I’ll see you outside.” 

Joel is leaning against his kitchen counter with an expression you can’t place, so you take a few steps towards him, taking his big hand in your own before you place a kiss to the inside of his palm, trailing your lips in soft kisses up his arm until you reach the crook of his elbow where his flannel sits. Then, you pull that arm around your shoulder, wrapping your own arms around his waist in a hug. 

He's quick to return it, squeezing you into his body, as his other arm comes up to cradle your head to his chest, running along the back of your head as you breathe in his scent. He dips and presses his lips, ever-so-gently, to the crown of your head. 

“Thank you,” You whisper softly, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, “I know it’s not much, but I don’t know what else you say.” You admit. 

“Thank you is enough, pretty girl.” 

You squeeze your arms tighter around his waist, you can’t look at him, not yet, not with your eyes filled with tears. You’re not even sure why you’re crying. Sure, you’re happy, over-the-moon, but there’s a sense of loss that sits inside you. It had been fun, what you’d been doing. Thrilling even, and you were always bound to get a little caught up in the way he made you feel when it was happening. Tommy has, and always will be, your number one. You’ve loved him since the moment you met him. But somewhere along the line, his rugged, older brother has stolen a piece of your heart all for himself and you don’t even mind all that much. 

“I don’t want you to think we’re done with you,” You sniffle, trying to hold back the tears, “Just beause you’ve given us this, doesn’t mean we go back to normal; we can’t go back to normal.” 

“I know babygirl,” He sighs, “I’m just happy I was able to make you happy, give you what you wanted,” There’s another kiss to your head now, “Take your time, you’re gonna be a family now, I don’t wanna get in the way of that, but I wanna help okay? You need anythin’, you call me, alright?” 

You pull away and finally look at him, his own eyes glassy just like yours. He feels it too. It was only ever meant to be sex, only ever meant to be a means to an end, but neither of you expected the end to come so soon. Whether you, Joel or Tommy like it, you’re bonded to this man with his arms around your shoulders, and it’s scary. He loves his brother too much to do anything about the sinking feeling in his stomach, but God he wishes he could have you, just once more, just to tattoo what you felt like right onto his brain, onto his very soul, so he could remember you forever. 

“Uncle Joel, right?” A lone tear rolls down your cheek, which Joel brushes away with the pad of his thumb, keeping one hand cupped around your cheek. 

“Uncle Joel,” He nods, with a smile on his face, “And you best believe I’ll be the best damn Uncle ever.” 

Your eyes are still glassed over with tears when you push yourself up on your tiptoes and kiss him. It’s soft and it only last a few seconds before you pull away. Before you can fully move yourself away though, Joel’s hands are cupping your face, leaning down to kiss you properly. His mouth opens at the same time as yours, and when his tongue is in your mouth, you can taste the whiskey on him. You can feel in this kiss everything you think he wants you to. The fact that he loves you, like he’s said before, as part of his family. The fact that he’s happy he could give you everything you wanted. The fact that he’s sad that he’s managed to do just that, and those moments he’d waited for, had craved all month long were gone now. That it’s okay, too, that he must step back, let you and Tommy figure out how to be parents together. That he’ll always be here, as long as he possibly can be, just in case you need him. 

When you finally pull away from each other, a kiss placed by you on his jaw, you don’t say anything else. You don’t need too. Neither of you do. You just squeeze his hand and leave, joining Tommy in the car. 

He hands you the keys and in no time at all you’re making the short drive to your own home. To your new life. The one Joel had given you, handed to you on a platter. You don’t think you’d ever be able to express to him how truly grateful you are to him. When you pull the car into the driveway and cut the engine, Tommy reaches over to take your hand, squeezing it. 

“Okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah,” You smile, “I’m okay.” 

[fadedin2u]

hi rose toy, could you write about ellie comforting reader with body insecurities? love your writing and have a good day!!

here’s a little drabble!! this was super therapeutic to write, thank u for the lovely request anon!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“i just- i don’t like myself, ellie. i don’t like anything about how i look,” you finally admit, sick of your own thoughts plaguing your mind.

ellie’s eyes are full of heartache as she says, “but i do. i like everything about how you look.”

the response makes your heart bleed more, and your lip trembles.

“you have to say that. you’re my girlfriend.”

ellie shakes her head, “hey. that’s not true. i’m not gonna say anything to you that i don’t mean, you know that.”

you look down, not wanting her to see the tears building in your eyes. “i just… i can’t help but notice how many fucking things are wrong with my body. with my face. with me.”

ellie frowns, “what makes any of it wrong? where’s the guide book telling you how you’re supposed to look?”

you get irritated in spite of knowing ellie’s good intentions, “everything tells me i’m supposed to look different than how i do, ellie. you’re the fucking beauty standard, no offense, but you have no idea what it feels like to not be.”

ellie’s eyes flash with hurt from your words, but she covers it well.

you sigh, ashamed, wiping your face, “i’m sorry, els, really. i’m not trying to pick a fight with you or make you feel like shit too, i just hate living with how i look everyday.”

ellie smoothes her hands over your sides, “do you want to know what i think?”

you take a breath and slowly nod.

“not everything about you fits the beauty standard. that’s true. but the beauty standard was created by rich, white men who are trying to make a goddamn profit off of women fucking hating themselves. so women just perpetuate this bullshit standard, because they feel like it’s attached to their worth as a human being, and everyone feels like shit, except for the dudes who’s pockets are getting fuller each time someone goes in to get a fucking lypo treatment or a nose job.”

you stay quiet, listening, even though this isn’t necessarily new information to you.

ellie takes a breath, “so, maybe not all of you fits into that stupid model of a fake woman, but how the fuck does that make you less beautiful? i love how you look naturally, because you’re fucking real, gorgeous, and human. i don’t want a fantasy girl that fits perfectly into a porn-brain infected, white, straight, limp-dick’s wet dream. i want you. i want how you look naturally, when you’re healthy and happy. because that’s when you look the most beautiful to me, no matter what.”

you take a breath. “so you’re honestly saying you wouldn’t prefer if i was more stereotypically attractive?”

ellie rolls her eyes, “that doesn’t fucking mean anything to me. i’m very fucking attracted to you, and that’s all that matters. i wouldn’t change a thing about how you look, ever.”

you nod slowly, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

“it makes me sick that you feel like you’re innately wrong in some way, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. if you’re giving yourself enough food, taking care of your body, and you’re happy, that’s exactly how you should be looking. okay?”

you know that ellie’s words don’t take away your feelings of insecurity, but it helps soothe some of the sting, the hurt.

“i’m sorry for making you preach self-love to me,” you say, smiling a little, trying to lighten the mood.

ellie looks serious as she says, “i will again. anytime you need it. i cant stand the thought of the most perfect thing in my life hating how they naturally look. i’ll say it a billion times if you need it, i promise.”

she kisses your forehead.

“do you think take-out would help you feel better? because i think it would.”

[unclewaynemunson]

Wingman Wayne AU pt6 yaaay! | AO3 link

The next time Eddie sees Steve, he knows immediately that the thoughts that kept plaguing him late at night weren't induced by some weird chemical unbalance in his brain caused by eating too much cheese or taking one pill too many. No, those thoughts were very, very real. Because Steve is looking absolutely breathtaking in his stupid tight jeans and stupid green polo and with his stupid wild hair that Eddie just wants to run his fingers through and those goddamn stupid pink lips. Shit.

'Lookin' hot today, big boy,' Eddie blurts out before he can help himself.

A frown appears between Steve's stupidly perfect eyebrows. 'Don't do that, man,' he says, avoiding Eddie's gaze.

'What?' Eddie asks, as if he doesn't know exactly what Steve means: Don't mess up our Very Platonic friendship by getting feelings for me. That wasn't what we agreed upon. Well, it's already too late for that anyway. And honestly, whose fault is that? Exactly, it's the fault of Steve's stupid lips.

'You know what I mean,' Steve says. He's still not quite looking Eddie in the eyes and Eddie feels guilty immediately.

'Sorry,' he says. 'Won't happen again, friend.'

It's only awkward for a minute, until they're both sitting on the couch in the Munsons’ trailer and Eddie easily launches into a whole monologue giving Steve the latest gossip on Wayne's colleague Jimmy because he ran into Jimmy's wife at Melvald's, and he immediately gets reminded why it's so nice to have a queer friend, because, in contrast to Jeff or Gareth or even Wayne, Steve understands exactly what he means when he says “straight people” in a lamenting voice and doesn't get confused when he goes into a minutes-long rant about “straight culture.”

'Dude, stop, you're doing it again,' Steve suddenly interrupts him at some point.

Eddie stops mid-monologue to give Steve a confused stare. 'What?'

Steve nods towards the place where Eddie's hand is comfortably resting onto Steve's knee, fingers stretched all the way into his thigh. Like it belongs there, somehow. Like it’s something natural.

Eddie clears his throat as he pulls his hand away and crosses his arms to keep himself from unconsciously reaching out for Steve again. Is it really that bad to have me touch you? he wants to ask – but he doesn't, because he isn't a completely terrible friend.

'My sincerest apologies, comrade,' he says instead, before he picks up where he left off in his story, trying to act like nothing happened. But Steve doesn't really seem to listen anymore; his gaze keeps wandering away and he barely even shows any investment in the gossip that he usually loves so much.

'You okay, Stevie?' Eddie asks.

A blush starts creeping over Steve's cheeks.

'I don't know how to tell you this without making shit even more awkward,' he says, 'but you staring at my lips for like ten minutes on end is also part of the things you shouldn't be doing.'

Fuck. Eddie is pretty sure that his own cheeks are rapidly starting to reach a shade of red that matches Steve's. He wants to apologize, but somehow, the words get all mushed into something else while they make their way from his throat to his lips, and what comes out is, 'Is it really bothering you that much?'

Steve stares at his hands. 'Yes,' he says softly. 'Yes, it is.' He looks up at Eddie again, and there's a look in his eyes that Eddie doesn't quite recognize.

'Eddie – you were the one who insisted right from the start that nothing about me would attract you, remember?' he says. 'You were the one who proposed to be friends. And I was fine with that, because I wanted to be your friend, and I thought I could keep my feelings under control. So please don't make this any harder for me than it needs to be.'

Eddie's heart is suddenly beating in his throat, his hands sweaty.

'Jesus, Steve,' he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. 'I'm so sorry.' He stretches out his hand, gently letting it land on Steve's shoulder – but Steve immediately gets up from the couch, as if Eddie's touch is burning him.

'Don't,' he says, his voice suddenly cold with frustration. He starts pacing back and forth through the tiny living room. 'Now you're just being cruel.'

Shit. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. The memory of Wayne's soft voice echoes through his head: Can't you just... talk to him?

Of course Wayne was right, he always is. Eddie should know that by now. It's terrifying, the thought of actually talking to Steve - but Eddie knows that he's the only one to blame for this mess, so it’s only fair that he should also be the one to fix it.

'What if I told you I was wrong?' he blurts out before he can change his mind like the coward he is.

Steve freezes in his tracks, finally looks Eddie in his eyes again.

'What if I told you I've been a fucking idiot all this time?' Eddie continues, his heart beating at a nauseating pace now. 'What if I told you I was – I was expecting another Chad, back when my uncle told me about you, and I really didn't want to repeat that same shit again – and you've been continuously blowing my goddamned mind ever since we met. I really, really wasn't planning on falling in love, but Steve, you're fucking fascinating, and with every little bit I got to know you better, I started falling a little bit harder.'

Steve finally takes his place next to Eddie on the couch again, looking at him wide-eyed, lost for words.

'You're the most interesting person I've ever met,' Eddie continues, because he simply has to say it all now, 'and you have such a big heart, and – and I haven't been able to stop thinking about your lips for days – and I really didn't mean to hurt you. I should've given you a fair chance right away and I'm so sorry and –'

Steve suddenly launches himself at Eddie and shuts him up by clashing their mouths together slightly too forcefully, breathing into their kiss and only slowing himself down when he realizes that Eddie isn't going to pull away, that Eddie isn't going anywhere – and Eddie tangles his fingers into Steve's majestic hair as he finally gets a taste of that fucking addictive strawberry lipgloss. It’s exactly as sweet and soft and perfect as he imagined it would be and it might just have become his new favorite taste in the world.

'Jesus H Christ,' Eddie mumbles when they finally break apart, both panting and chuckling shakily. 'Uncle Wayne's gonna be so fucking annoying about this.'

Pt7

Can I just say that all your “look eddie it’s the consequences of your own actions!” comments on the previous part had me giggling kicking my feet?? U r all so right but also eddie is a complete idiot no i won’t take criticism. I am LIVING for all those sweet and funny comments / tags, it means the world and I am cradling them all in my hands <333

(Also everyone saying they feel like a burden asking to be added to the taglist, noooo!! It only takes me a couple secs and it honestly makes me crazy happy that so many of you are invested enough to want updates! I am hugging all of you!!)

Taglist: @phantypurple @love-kurdt @eddiemunsonswife @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @swimmingbirdrunningrock @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @yourebuckingkiddingme @th3-r4t-k1ng @messrs-weasley @moonshadows-13 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @xjessicafaithx @yournowheregirl @henderdads @lwhoscribbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @rainydays35  @cassaloopa @skeliiix @thesuninyaface @silversnaffles @jestyzesty @4nemo1egend @ace-of-foxes @harringtonsgother @thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @thereindeerlady @jillfriend @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gamerdano @spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @00biscuit @mixsethaddams @steve-the-hairrington @episcogoth @caligularib @gaydrieeen @winterbuckwild @bookbinderbitch @daysarestranger @nonbinary-eddie-munson @fangirltofangod @solalasoforth @obsessivlyme @slit-wrist @fxndom-hoe @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @joruni @roastingdragon @lenore1232 @princessstevemunson @cuips-not-cute @munsonsuccubus @justalittlefungi @cherrycolas-things @nitrilexam @thepainisspicy @hopefulslothcollecter @whatisreggieshortfor @doctorqueensanatomy @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sadcanadianwinter @iamsotiredman @orangeandthefairroadkill @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @b-icetea @freddykicksasses @faery-god @poleaxed-aloe @mamaclownhunter @paperbackribs @blvckwidow @mightbeasleep @butuglypeoplefucktoo @lolawon @angryavocadofrog @iwouldsail @livelaughlexa @magpiemuseum @shushuac  @ravnlinn @homohomohoe @kissaphobic-kas @cmackz93 @your-greatest-queen @alltheweirdkidsinoneplace @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @ceaselessly-watching @anaibis @enchantedlandcoffee @fluffy-alpaca-of-darkness @nelotegreitic @mollymawkwrites @evix-syne666 @redfreckledwolf @ajamlessbaby @connected-dots @nothisisntmyname @steddieassheg0es @anxiouseds @summer1066 @loopholesinmydreams @mareydi  @lillemilly @this-is-moony-lovegood @qomrades @mad-h-w @gay-stranger-things @blanketlicker @fandomcartographer @adankrivervalleynearyou @undreamingscatworld @theysherobinbuckley @i-wanna-combust @stranger-poets-society  @fanshipgirl88 @nonhetbts @literallyjustarat @knitsforthetrail @limpingpenguin @spoopy-rayvynnnox @impeachy @ashwinmeird @7boxesofcheerios @nonsense-of-dimitri @azreadytodie @fuctacles @fuzzyduxk @pluto-pepsi @bornonthesavage @what-am-i-doing-with-my-non-life @alanna342 @jinxjinn @ali-just-ali @piningapple @captain-daryn @namelessssho @doltclassic @elsarenard @ramyayaya @my-heart-is-stopped @lightwoodbanethings @goblin-eddie @indie-npc

[chemerr2]

i’m not sure if you’re taking requests but…. if you are comfy with it, could you please supply the thirsty jeff sluts with a smut? :,)

plot could be something where y/n and jeff don’t get along at all and constantly fight but one night they just say fuck it and give in to each other and😏😏😏 but like hateful maybe.. but still passionate🤭

hi sorry anon i’ve been MIA lol but i haven’t given up writing tho.

a/n: i like this request and hateful sex with jeff is indefinitely sexy 🙈

warnings: rough sex like..very rough sex, degrading, reader cries, cumshot and a bunch of swearing.

god you hated the way his eyes pierced into the back of your head after you walk pass him or how he purposely tried to trip you up but you caught yourself in time before falling face first on the hard dirty floor. He picks with everyone, but you’re his favorite victim to terrorize when you try to enjoy your evening;minding your business.

It wasn’t too long before you got fed up and started to yell at him for how he treats you: the rude and offhandedly comments he makes about you for literally just existing. But you expressing your discomfort didn’t cause any realization to what he was doing..it just went one ear out the other. He’d continue to fuck with you all day by saying mean things, taking or moving your things around and doing something reall petty. It’s only fair that you start to mirror his actions and attitude, right? when you did: oh boy jeff was far from pissed, he wanted to paint his bedroom wall red with your brains after you start doing the same shit he does to you; to him.

you push him around, nudge him, make fun of him, purposely take the last of everything so he sits there like a angry pup watching you eat the last of his food. How you break his things and call him names 10x hurtful than the ones he’s called you beforehand. He HATED this treatment, he hated the way his own medicine tasted so he decided to spit it out by busting into your room: head full of shit to do and say to you.

as your sitting on your bed doing nothing, he barges in your room, looking down at you. “what the fuck? get out my room.” you say annoyed, beyond pissed he had the audacity to even touch your doorknob. “you’re stinking up my laundry” you chuckle to yourself but when he slams your bedroom door you look over at him and he’s still peering down at you. No matter how pale and damaged his skin is: in the face you can see him turn red out of anger and the way his brows are practically connected from being furrowed. Now you’re beyond nervous and angry, because: One. what are his intentions? Two. You don’t want him in your room!! but jeff doesn’t know what a no is anyways, he rejects the rejection. Looking back at him— he starts to speak— and to no avail, straight bullshit comes out his dirty trap “i’m tired of you talking to me crazy and saying the fucked up ass shit” he inches closer “sometimes you just need to shut the fuck up, y/n” he got close to where his abdomen was touching yours from the way his posture is horribly constructed but he was still close enough for you to feel his hot breath washing over your mixed face of emotions.

in a whiff: he grabs your backside, squeezing your fat, spongy ass in his large, coarse hands; dirty nails digging deep into your skin. — pulling you close to him. You can’t lie to yourself anymore.. you had to admit: his deep and raspy voice turned you on. Especially when he yelled at you and laughed in your face. His voice was alluring in a way; definitely when he hurt your feelings. So you didn’t fight back when he slipped one of his hands underneath your shirt. With no bra on: he began fondling your tits and rubbing over your nipples with his thumb. No words were said as he began helping himself to your body: licking your tits, sucking them, biting your nipples, pinching them, slapping your tits around, grabbing your ass cheeks and spreading them while your still in your pajama pants. Finally, he’s done playing around! your shirt is barely off all the way; only being partially off to get a view of your tits. your chest is wet with his spit and you swear your pussy juice is sliding down your leg from how wet you are.

you lay yourself down on the bed, being submissive. Jeff unbuckles his belt: letting his pants hit the floor on its on and you were stunned at his..length. For someone who talks a lot of shit like jeff— you weren’t expecting him to carry a vast pack of dick around in those horrid skinny jeans he wears. He looks at you through his lengthy black locks before aggressively stripping your pajama pants off your body. He sees your full, meaty pussy soaping and slobbering for his dick. “no bra..no panties, you really are fucking nasty.” his words meant nothing before so why are they making you horny now? positioning himself between your legs, he began slapping his tip between the wet substance that covered your pussy. He wanted to tease you..knowing you were loving this and needing it— needing his cock in your tight pussy so it can hug him and grip his brick hard cock. Jeff relentlessly teased you by slowly slipping his tip in and out your pussy, barely putting an inch of his cock inside your. Seeing how impatient and annoyed you were getting by the expressions on your face nd the look your giving him, made his cock throb and his balls wiggle with excitement. He bent down to your ear and grabbed both your wrist with his hands “you really want this dick then you better beg for it.” jeff gruffly whispered before kissing your neck with his tongue— putting himself back upright while looking down at your body, exposed and just for him. You were stubborn, especially when it came to demands but you couldn’t help yourself when he dragged his cock along your clit and used his thumb to rub harsh circles on it.

“please..” your moan dragged your word out like saliva. “please what?” jeff bantered with you while you were in a submissive state. “fuck me, please” jeff laughs at your eagerness before he rammed his dock deep into your pit. You cry out loud as the stretch of his cock was greater than your last— dick was fat and an inch bigger than average. 20 minutes hadn’t pass and he’s already kissing your cervix with his red tip. Your wailing moans and cries— he was reaching far back into your pussy, touching depths of it you never knew would be there. In desperate attempts: you try and push him off you,, hands on his abdomen as he’s drilling you in like a nail. “FUCK! jeff” your cunt was so tightly packed with his girth that it felt like he got stuck at times “you givin up? s’too much for ya? hm?” he said through clenched teeth.

“i hate you..bastard” you moaned out trying to keep what little of morality you have left inside you. Grabbing on his hair and pulling him close as he fucks you into the mattress with each thrust resulting in you hitting your head against the hard wall. His dick ramming into you and slipping out became a routine in the last 30 minutes before he grabbed your throat and started mate fucking you against your bedroom wall and on your bed; foreheads against one another and he’s looking into your eyes but you can’t see nothing but hate and lust. A sadistic smile on his face as he pulls his cock and cums all over your belly and pussy— leaving it gasping and clenching for air. Pulling back he let’s go of your neck and stays on the edge of the bed catching his breath..mumbling something before putting his pants on and leaving out your room.

[hiraethwa]

one summer day

04 new dawn. where you learn something surprising about ushijima

<< 03 shining light. | >> 05 saturn i.

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader a/n: i want ushijima to give me his jacket too, CRYING,,, side note i’m going be to busy in feb so updates will be posted every 2 weeks. thanks for reading! - ave word count: 1.3k warnings: mentions of past trauma terms: gap moe -- when someone has a hidden side that contradicts their usual personality/behavior

march, first year

ever since ushijima and tendo joined you and semi at your home back during the first semester, they have remained a constant presence at your study sessions. the four of you have become an inseparable group of friends, even though you stick out like a sore thumb between the tall volleyball players. you were considered tall among your female classmates, but next to the three of them? just a midget.

“i’m an adopted introvert,” you would explain when classmates ask you about how you became close friends with the ushijima wakatoshi and the oddball tendo satori and the pretty setter semi eita. 

the only complaint you have are the sidetracks from the actual point of said sessions, studying. with tendo and semi arguing over literally everything, it is difficult to stay on track. even ushijima adds in a quip to the banters every now and then, his straight-faced delivery of the infrequent lines making them even funnier. 

that is not to say you did not enjoy the privilege of learning about the different sides of the boys compared to how they were on court. no, you fully delighted in finding out random facts about the intimidating players that other people are not privy to. like how they had gotten you a plushie for your birthday, but it seems like they were more attached to it than you, by the way they greet the plushie whenever they are over at your house. 

today, with your parents being home, you all ended up studying in ushijima and tendo’s shared dorm room, all sprawled out in various states around the coffee table that sits in the middle of the simple room. 

“that’s it,” you announce, notebook flopping down on your face as you laid on the floor. “the words are no longer registering in my brain.”

“maybe if you sleep with the book under your pillow tonight, the knowledge will diffuse into your brain by tomorrow for the exam.” semi jokes from across the room in a similar state of dishevel as the four of you try your best to study for the last exam week of the school year on a sunday afternoon turned into night. 

“would that actually work?” 

“what do you think?” 

“maybe if i take a quick nap, then continue studying” you mumble more to yourself as you turn on your stomach, dropping your face on the floor unceremoniously.

“miyamura-san, it’s almost time for curfew, if you don’t go home soon, you will have to spend the night in the dorms.” ushijima kneels before you, picking up the book that you were covering your head with. 

you pick your head up to look at the boy solemnly, lips set in a pout. “so what? i am so fucked for the exam tomorrow, ushijima” you wonder how studying was going for him.

“you will be fine.” he puts a hand on your head in a gesture to comfort you. 

“you don’t know that!”

“in any case, having a good night’s rest is more important than any studying now.”

“you know, he’s technically right, school is just like volleyball, and ushijima-san is an expert at that.” tendo agrees with ushijima.

you sigh. “help me up then,” fingers wiggling in the air as you wait for ushijima to pull you upright.

if you were not in autopilot mode as you picked your things up and stuffed them in your backpack, you would have heard tendo’s teasing “semi, help me up” pointed at ushijima, followed by an instant flat “no” from your best friend. but your brain was turned off for the night as you pull your shoes on to go home.

“see you later,” ushijima throws to the two boys before he clicks the door shut behind him, gesturing to you. “shall we?”

for the most part, you two walk in comfortable silence under the summer moon. that is, until the neighborhood’s stray cat decides to jump out in front of you out of nowhere. you yelp and grab onto ushijima’s sleeve, startled by the sudden movement. 

he chuckles and much to your dismay (and shock), squats down and starts psps-ing at the orange cat. you are not sure how much gap moe he could be than this image in front of you right now. for starters, you are not sure if you are hallucinating from how tired you are, and secondly, if this is real, you need proof that this ever happened. so you sneakily take your phone out before calling his name innocently and snap a photo of him and the cat before he can react. 

“i’m gonna let that slide.” he puts his hand out in front of him in what looked like an attempt to pet the cat. you aren’t faking the shock on your face as the cat sniffs at his fingers before brushing up against his hand, as if saying pet me.

your jaw drops from the sight, “oh yeah? you don’t seem like the type.” you wanted to pet the cat, but this cat has only ever hissed at you in passing, so you are completely in awe and jealous of ushijima at this moment.

“only for you,” he turns to really look at you, a small smile playing on his lips. and then, as if he sensed the yearning in you, he tugs on your wrist lightly. “here, hold your hand out for the cat to sniff you.”

you listen to him warily, slowly inching towards the cat in case it tries to attack you, “like this?”

he hums in agreement, “and then, you wait for him to decide if you can pet him.” 

surely enough, the cat starts sniffing you, tail brushing against ushijima’s knees. you carefully smooth the fur between his ears, feeling awed for the acceptance. though shortly after, he returns to the boy next to you, rubbing its head against his hand. “he likes you more than me”

“i am a cat whisperer,” he nods. 

you laugh at his words. before you realize it, the words start falling from your lips. “my little sister was a cat whisperer too” 

and as if being doused with a bucket of ice water, you snap back into reality, painfully aware of your admission. your heart thunders as memories threaten to overwhelm you. stop. turn. lock. you picture shoving them into a bottomless box, locking it and throwing the key away until the next time they break free. just as you have practiced for the last 8 years. 

“miyamura?” ushijima looks at you expectantly as you snap back into the present. 

“yeah? i am feeling a little tired. let’s go.” you stand up abruptly, hoping that he won’t ask you about what you just said. that you mentioned having a sister to this boy you just became friends with a few months ago. you haven’t said those words out loud in a long time. you don’t even remember when the last time was.

to his credit, he does not ask any prying questions about the sister he has never heard of. the sister he has never seen. 

you don’t even realize that you were shaking, mostly from reliving your memories, but also shivering from the chilly night breeze until he drapes a jacket over your shoulders. 

“let’s get you home” he states, hands shoved into his pant pockets as he strolls ahead. 

leaving you staring at his retreating figure, brain muddled and heart jumbled. you vaguely remember him grabbing his track jacket and carrying it instead of putting it on before you left shiratorizawa. 

“are you coming?” he turns around to look at you. you hurry towards his familiar aura that encompasses your roughness, as he strikes up another conversation about something random. that night you lie in your bed, staring at the ceiling with paint scars from when it used to have glow-in-the-dark stars and planets taped to it; one question keeping you awake despite your exhaustion – what is it about this boy that makes you feel so safe?

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[mynameismckenziemae]

Outlet for your frustration.

You had the worst day at work and need an outlet for your frustration.

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x you

Warnings: swearing, spanking, dom/sub dynamics, femdom, spanking, a sprinkle of ass play, humiliation, oral (both m and f receiving) smut. Let me know if I missed anything

———————————————————

This fic and everything I post is for 18+. MNDI. Do not repost my work without consent or steal my work. Reblogs/likes/comments would comments would make me happy, so please interact if you'd like (please be nice though, I’m sensitive haha). Blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

A/N: So I don’t know what this is or what I’m doing. I’m not a writer. I’m not creative. This is literally the first thing I’ve written since high school and I’m in my 30s.

*Edited with Grammarly on 11/20/23.

The car ride is silent as you head home. You had the most frustrating day at work. Even the thought of turning music on overstimulates your fried brain.

Working in healthcare is difficult on a good day, but your specialty seems to get the brunt of crabby, rude patients.

You are the poster child of staying calm, cool, and collected—so much so that your coworkers don’t believe you’ve ever yelled or lost your temper. Jake’s friends adore his sweet, soft-spoken girlfriend. Jake himself hasn’t witnessed you be more than mildly disgruntled in the past 18 months of your relationship.

But today, you’d had enough. You just needed an outlet for all this frustration bubbling up inside.

___________________________________________

Closing the door with a sigh, you decide a shower to help ease some of the tension. Setting your bag down and toeing out of your shoes, you start stripping out of your scrubs on the way to the bedroom. You roll your eyes and smirk as you pick up one of Jake’s socks and his boxers.

 ___________________________________________

“You do know I’m not your maid, right?” I joke, bending over to pick up a pair of jeans he threw near (not in) the hamper.

A strong pair of arms wrap around my waist and there’s a hardness pressing into my ass.

“I know you’re not, I’m sorry. I always remember eventually, but you always pick it up before I get to it. I’ll do better” he murmurs, kissing my neck, “You would look damn good wearing one of those maid uniforms though”.

___________________________________________

A strangled, “Fuck” snaps you back to the present. Looking down at the sock in your hand, a wicked idea crosses your mind. You know just how to work through this frustration.

___________________________________________

 

You push open the bathroom door, with the sock still in hand. The sight in front of you sends a pulse of need straight between your legs. Jake is naked, wet and slowly stroking himself.

You clear your throat and he startles, his cheeks flushing pink at being caught in the act.

“Oh hey, you’re home. Sorry, I was—“ he starts.

“You dropped this" nodding to the sock, "and your boxers again. I had to pick them up...again. We talked about this just yesterday and you said you’d do better,” you say, dropping the sock and stepping into the shower behind him. You swat his hand away and take over, tightly gripping his hard-on, and giving him a slow stroke. “What do I have to do for you to remember, Jake?”

“Fuck sweetheart, you’re right. I’m sorry-“You put your finger to his lips to shush him.

“Do you remember what we talked about last week? About wanting me to take control sometimes? Rough you up a little?” You lean in to whisper in his ear while trailing the finger from his lips down his chest to pinch his nipple.

“Yessss” he groaned out, his cock twitching in your hand at your words.

“Yes, what?” You ask, pinching a little harder.

“Ma’am?” You nod. “Yes ma’am. Sorry ma’am” he says with a shudder.

“Mmm, good,” you say as you lean forward, sucking the abused nipple into your mouth.

“Fuuuuck” Jake groans again, his hand finding your ass to give it a squeeze.

You pull off his nipple with a pop and shake your head, grabbing his hand from your ass and putting at his side. “This is how it’s going to go. You don’t get to touch me unless I give you permission. You don’t get to touch yourself unless I give you permission. Now turn around and put your hands on the wall”.

Jake looks at you through hooded eyes, "Yes ma'am".

___________________________________________

He turns his back to you and puts his hands out in front of him; the water splashing onto the back of his neck. You snake a hand in front of him to flick the water off, then each of your hands grabs his ass, squeezing and kneading.

"Okay Jake, what's your safeword?"

"Rooster" Jake mutters after a beat.

You quirk your eyebrow at that; but choose to not press right now; tucking that information away to discuss at a later time.

"I think 10 for each item I picked up is fair, don't you?" You ask sweetly.

"10 wha-fuck!" Jake gasps as you deliver the first hit to the right cheek.

"Spanks, hits, strikes, licks…whatever you want to call them. 10 for the sock, 10 for the boxers. You're going to remember this every time you sit down tomorrow, Jake. Don't you have training all day tomorrow too? Your coworkers are going to see you squirm, trying to find a comfortable position. If only they knew it was because your girlfriend spanked you like a naughty, little boy." You say, landing a sharp slap to the left cheek.

"Oh God," Jake breathes out, cheeks clenching while his hips rock forward.

"That's two. You're going to count out loud for me. If you lose track, I'm going to start over. As many times as it takes. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am".

*Slap* Another sharp crack to his right cheek.

Jake groans out, "Three ma'am".

You give a couple more slaps, alternating each side. Jake keeps count like the good military boy he is; you can hear how wrecked he is with each blow.

After the fourteenth hit, your hand starts to sting, so you take a step back and admire your handiwork (pun intended).

You were already soaked from the sounds he was making and the increased desperation in his voice with each swat, but seeing how red he was getting was enough to make you throb.

"Oh, what a pretty sight you are. I wanna take a picture just to put it as my wallpaper. Maybe I should send it to everyone in your squad so they can see how pathetic you are standing there, bright red ass cheeks begging for more" you say as you squeeze his cheeks, feeling the warmth.

"No, please, no! I'll do anything. Please, ma'am!" Jake begs, hips rocking forward, looking for any type of friction.

Your hands travel from his ass to his hips, stopping his motion. Your right-hand shifts to grab ahold of his cock suddenly, giving him a few tugs easily from the copious amount of precum he’s leaking.

"I'm not sure this is a punishment seeing how hard you are. I guess I'm going to have to take it up a few notches." You say.

Jake's cock twitches at your words and he whimpers. Whimpers. You've never heard your tough, strong, military man whimper. Another strong wave of arousal pulses through you at the sound. You close your eyes as you kiss his back to compose yourself.

"Color?" You whisper.

"Green ma’am. So fucking green," says Jake.

You release him and stand to reach behind you to quietly grab the wooden bath brush.

“How many more, Jake?”

“Six ma’am.”

”Good boy,” you purr and you see a shiver roll through him.

You bring the bath brush down directly in the center of his right cheek. It makes the most satisfying crack.

Jake’s back arches and his hands tighten on the wall as he lets out a sinful, “Holy fuck”.

You give him a second to compose himself and clear your throat.

“Shit. Fifteen ma’am. Sorry ma’am.”

“I’m feeling generous since this is your first time. Don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The next stroke of the bath brush gets the left side and pulls another deep groan from Jake.

“Sixteen ma’am.”

The next two are slightly lower, directly on his sit spots. He’s definitely going to be reminded of this tomorrow every time he sits down. It sends a delicious thrill through you.

The following swing catches both cheeks. All the muscles in his back and ass tense as he’s fighting not to straighten and take his hands from the wall.

“Nineteen ma’am! Fuck! Wait, please…wait ma’am I’m close and I don’t want to cum yet. Please ma’am.” he whines.

You give him a moment to compose himself, watching him while running the fingers of your free hand through your arousal to circle your clit. His breath slows and he puts his arms back in front of him again.

"You ready?"

"Yes, ma'am".

The final spank hits him again in both sit spots and he cries out, hands slipping.

You drop the brush and kneel while turning him around. You close your eyes as you suck him down greedily, bringing the hand still covered in your arousal between his legs to press on his hole. He lets out a choked noise and his hands fly into your hair as he thrusts, once, twice, and empties down your throat.

You swallow and open your eyes to look up at him. He. Is. Wrecked. Tears are leaking out of glassy eyes, flushed face, and chest heaving.

"Are you okay? Was that too mu--"

"That was amazing, "Jake says against your lips as he lifts you to your feet and seats you on the shower bench behind you. "I've never cum that hard in my life. That was so hot. You're so hot. I've never seen you like that. So ruthless and cold and mean and hot. Fuck, that was hot."

You laugh as he kneels, throwing your legs over his shoulders, and dives in like a man starved, licking ruthlessly at your clit. You moan, grabbing at his hair and directing him exactly where you want him. You're so worked up from having him at your mercy that you're trembling through your orgasm in no time.

___________________________________________

You shower together after, and Jake asks about your day as he rubs your back and shoulders. You’re already feeling lighter by the time you get out.

As you're drying off, you snort as you catch a glimpse of Jake's bright red ass in the mirror. He turns to see what you're looking at and his gaze darkened as his cock twitches as he starts to harden again.

"You do realize I'm going to remember to put my clothes in the hamper now, but I might dump some out on the floor if this is what happens when you have to remind me," Jake says as he picks you up.

You laugh all the way to the bedroom, the frustration from the day completely forgotten.

 

___________________________________________

 The next day at training:

Jake did remember every time he sat down, he squirmed in his seat trying to get comfortable, and he spent the majority of the day with the sweet discomfort of arousal. Oddly enough, Rooster was the only one to notice.

[loversj0y]

bad day?

cc!wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: dissociation, explicit implications of self harm, blood

word count: 2.1k

note: please, please, please, heed the trigger warnings. i have been going through a rough time and i wrote this fic as a coping mechanism, so please be aware of what you are going into. it's not my best work but it brought me some comfort to write it, so i hope it may bring you some comfort to read it

There was blood on your hands. 

Why was there blood on your hands?

You looked up in the mirror. It took a few minutes to recognize where you were. You didn’t recognize yourself, but you knew you were looking at yourself. 

You were standing at your sink. There was blood on your hand, dripping into the sink. Fuck. 

You were slowly coming to, turning on the water from the sink and gently running your wrist until the tap. You held in a whimper, hissing at the feeling. As irritating as it was, the cool water and the sting helped ground you more and more into yourself. Once you washed the majority of the blood off your hands and arm, you sighed, slowly taking a seat on the bathroom floor. You couldn’t stand staring at the stranger in the mirror anymore. Opening up the cabinet, you pulled out the first aid kit, nestled at the back behind Wilbur’s spare hair products. The first aid kit collected dust most days now. It almost felt like it was mocking you as you opened it up, pulling out some supplies.

You made quick work out of cleaning. You didn’t want to have to stay here staring at your arm for any longer than you had to, and you’d rather not still be here on the floor when Wilbur got back from filming. After you were properly bandaged, you pulled a hoodie on and just collapsed straight into bed. You had no conscious idea of what time it was, but you felt exhausted regardless. 

You stared at your bandage for a few moments, tracing the line of where the gauze met your skin. Wilbur taught you how to do it properly. Your recovery was no secret to him, and he had always been incredibly supportive. However, the first time he had seen the way you bandage your arm, he looked almost appalled and immediately pulled out the first aid kit again. 

“Darling,” he was chuckling lightly, as if the issue was something far lighter than it was, and it made you feel more at ease as he started undoing the bandage you had done. “I’m going to teach you how to do this properly, alright? I don’t want you getting an infection on me.”

“And how do you know how to do it properly?” You asked, eyebrow raised. 

He hummed, pulling out some antiseptic cream and gauze. “You don’t spend as much time in and out of hospitals for no reason without picking up small things. I went in once because I had a pain in my side that my brain convinced me was my liver failing.” He started rubbing the cream onto your arm so delicately as he continued, “While they went to do tests, I was sharing a hospital room with this guy who had gotten this bad infection on a scrape on his leg. They were training some new nurses, so they started going over appropriate techniques for wrapping cuts and scrapes.”

“And you listened?” 

He looked up at you, pausing his hands to just smile fondly at you and chuckle, “of course I did. As convinced I was that my liver was failing, I also just thought to myself: well, if I survive this, there’s nothing saying the next time I get scraped up won’t be my end. So may as well learn how to prevent it and buy myself some time to say goodbyes.” 

You snorted softly, “That’s pretty dark.” 

“Yeah, I wasn’t doing the best at the time,” he chuckled lightly, “but it was for the better. Because now, I can make sure that doesn’t happen to you.” 

You smiled gently at him, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “Thank you, Wilbur.” 

“Of course, darling. Anything.” He smiled, turning his attention back down to finish wrapping your arm. 

Once he finished, he turned your hand over, kissing the top of the bandages. 

“If you’re trying to be cliché, that’s the wrong side,” you hummed. 

“Oh please, I saw your face when I was wrapping you, I know how tender your arm is right now. The day one of my kisses hurts you will be the day I die.”

You flushed softly, taking his hand and squeezing it gently, “Dramatic much?”

“For you, darling? Always.” 

You thought about that night as you pulled your sleeve back down to cover the bandage. No matter how much you knew Wilbur wouldn’t judge you for it, you still felt a shame bubbling in the back of your chest. Instead of pondering it or letting it consume you, you let the exhaustion take over you instead. 

You woke up to the feeling of arms wrapping around you, shifting and sighing. 

“Hi, darling,” Wilbur spoke softly as you turned to face him, settling into his arms, “Bad day?” 

You nodded softly, sighing and looking up at him. He had a gentle smile on his face. Never judgemental, always kind, even if he was finding you in bed after a few days. Even if your room was a mess and your hair was oily and you couldn’t stop crying. He always met you with nothing but kindness. 

He gently brushed some hair out of your face, gently kissing your forehead. He spoke gently, “I saw the first aid kit on the bathroom floor.” He kept the light smile on his face, as if he was asking you about the weather, not your own mental doom. “Do you want to talk about it? Or just lay here for a bit.” 

You leaned forward, resting your head on his chest. When you spoke, your voice was a bit jagged, “Lay here first. Talk after.” 

He nodded, pulling you into him closer. You pressed your head onto him, relaxing slowly. You focused on the sound of his heartbeat, closing your eyes again. He hummed softly. You could spend the next day just lying here before you spoke again, and he would never complain. He’d take as much time as you needed. 

You didn’t know how much time passed before you opened your eyes again. When you did, you watched Wilbur’s face for a moment. Contently, he continued to hum, eyes closed as one hand absentmindedly traced figures into your back. You took a deep breath before speaking softly. 

“I don’t really know what happened,” you spoke. His eyes opened slowly, his gaze full of nothing but love and acceptance. He nodded a bit, waiting for you to go on. 

It took you a while to continue, but he didn’t push, just waited patiently. 

“It felt like a glitch or something. One second I was staring at myself in the mirror and the next I was staring at blood dripping into the sink. I don’t even remember doing it.” 

He nodded, keeping you close, “Did something trigger you?” 

You frowned a bit, “I- I don’t know. I don’t think so, I just…” You trailed off, unsure of how to put it into words. 

“That’s okay. To not know,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “walk me through your day. I’ll try and see something you don’t.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Alright, uh. I woke up pretty late. You’d been gone for a while already, the bed was cold.”

“How were you feeling when you woke up?” He asked softly. 

“Uh,” you thought, “hard to say. I- I guess numb? Didn’t particularly sway one way or the other.”

He nodded, “Alright, continue.”

You nodded, “I went to the kitchen first. Didn’t change out of my pajamas, but I went and I got water. Then I made some breakfast, something light, but I don’t remember what.” You took a deep breath, thinking back and sighing, “I- I remember feeling gross.”

“Gross?”

“Like physically? I couldn’t remember the last time I’d showered, so I just felt gross. So I went to take a shower. I- I felt… rough. Couldn’t look at myself without feeling gross, no matter how much I’d cleaned myself. At one point, I was just staring at the floor completely… blank. There were no thoughts really going through my head, it just felt like I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“What got you out of it?” He asked gently. 

“My phone went off. I- I never actually checked it, but the sound startled me enough to pull me out of it. I got out, got dressed and everything. And I stopped in front of the mirror to put product in my hair, but when I started looking at myself, it just… cut out from there.” You finished, frowning and focusing your eyes on the seam of his sweater. 

He nodded softly, “Can I see the bandage?”

You shifted your arm, lifting the hoodie sleeve to show him. “I used your method, don’t worry.”

He inspected it carefully, nodding. “Should probably change them, it’s been a while. Are you alright with me doing it, or would you rather do it yourself?”

“You can do it,” you spoke softly. 

He nodded, standing briefly to grab the first aid kit. “How here are you?”

You sighed, thinking. “About 95%. Still not fully here, but I’m mostly all back to myself.”

He nodded, sitting back on the bed next to you. He carefully started undoing your bandages, humming again to himself as he finished getting them off. 

“This will sting,” he warned, waiting for your nod before gently starting to wipe the wounds with an alcohol wipe to disinfect them. You hissed softly, and he gently shushed you. 

“I know, darling, it’s alright. I’m almost done, you’re doing great,” he spoke softly, distracting you until he’d finished cleaning them. 

“There you are, the hard part is over, love,” he spoke softly, grabbing the antiseptic cream and gauze, starting the process of dressing your wounds once more. 

“Scale of one to ten, how bad do you think they are?” He asked softly.

“Physically? They’re not that bad, probably a six. Mentally, I’m not sure. Probably a nine.” 

“A nine?” He asked softly, focused on wrapping the gauze over your wrist but still listening intently. 

“It’s just another reminder that I’m not doing good. That I’m never going to be able to fully heal. I know healing is not linear, but it’s still frustrating to have a physical reminder of it.” 

He nodded softly, “I can understand that. I think you may just be focusing on the wrong thing.”

You tilted your head, “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think when this happens, you focus on the whole thing about breaking the amount of time you’ve been clean. Am I right?”

You nodded, so he continued. 

“I think instead of focusing on the streak being broken, we should focus on how good it is that you went as long as you did. You’re treating an addiction like a competition instead of an addiction. You can’t just stop all at once, especially when you were used to doing this every day. So instead of being upset that you didn’t go as many days as you wanted or that you have to start over, focus on the fact that you went as long as you did without doing it. Because it’s a big thing, and a good thing. It deserves its praise.” 

He finished wrapping your wrist, and he placed a gentle kiss to your palm. 

You sat up, slowly leaning forward and resting your head against his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whispered softly. 

He wrapped his arms around you gently, whispering back, “of course, darling.” 

You kissed his shoulder lightly, and he rubbed your back gently. 

He waited calmly for you to pull away before pulling you into a gentle kiss. He placed a hand on your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb on your cheek. 

You kissed him back gently before resting your face into his hand. 

“You said your phone going off helped break you out of it when you were in the shower, yeah?”

You nodded softly, looking up at him. 

He used his other hand to gently brush your hair from your face, “alright. Moving forward, when I’m not home or not with you, I’ll text you at least once at the start of every hour. And unless I know you’re busy, if you don’t respond within… thirty minutes, I’ll call you. Does that sound good?” 

You nodded softly, “That sounds good. Maybe within twenty instead of thirty though.” 

He nodded, “alright. We can experiment with it or change it up occasionally to see what works best. Good game plan?”

“Good game plan,” you nodded softly. 

He smiled, pulling you in for another gentle kiss. 

“Good. Now, choose your comfort film of choice, alright? I’ll order your favourite in too, God knows I won’t be cooking tonight.”

[v3nusxsky]

i saw this tiktok where it said “i’m not arguing with a girl that manspreads, like whatever you say, handsome.” and it made me think of emily😵‍💫 so emily and reader are arguing but r gets distracted mid sentence once emily sits down and does that manspreading thing she does(it makes my brain go empty) and emily notices that there’s not a single thought behind r’s eyes and emily pulls r onto her lap and asks her what she was saying and if she really wanted to say what she was gonna say before emily thrusts her hips up and r notices that em is packing<3 just pure, pure smut! - 🐦

Daddy's handsome isn't she?18+

*Authors note~ Emily my love I need one chance with you*

Trigger warnings ~  packing strap on oral daddy Emily sub r manspreading praise degradation

Prompt~ see ask^^^^

Emily has the habit of manspreading, it's something you've always found attractive and addicting. You couldn't help but stare whenever she did it, dating a profiler had its set backs. She could pick up on your tales instantly, which meant in an argument she knew all she needed to do was simply manspread and your brain would falter and go empty. Which is how you found yourself in your current predicament.

Emily returned from her case, having been in a car crash and still continued to work the case, you were upset. Anything could've happened to her! Yet she seemed unfazed, reminding you it's all part of the job and she was okay. Truly she knew you were just scared but she knew she was okay. Physically a few cuts and bruises but she's had worse. But as her girlfriend she knew you'd panic, worry and need all the reassurance she could offer, that's why when this idea popped into her head she ran with it.

Moving her legs in the way she knew would make your brain empty she smirked and called for you effortlessly stopping your rant, "angel, I'm okay honestly. There's no need to argue" she murmured watching how your distracted brain tried to comprehend her words. "I'm not arguing with a woman who manspreads like whatever you say handsome!" Using the distraction she gripped on your hips and guided you to straddle her lap. "Emily! You can't just" your words cut off by Emily thrusting her hips upwards, your clothed core coming in contact with her bulge. How had you missed that she was packing? *What was you saying my angel? Or has my little cock slut gone all dumb because daddy needs her?"

Emily knew just what to say or do to drive you absolutely crazy with need and her packing was definitely on the top half of that list. "Daddy" you whined trying to rutt your hips downward to feel her once more. "Oh my little whore, do you need daddy? Want daddy to fuck your tight little cunt till you're begging daddy to stop?" Her words held the cockiness as well as the smirk plastered on her gorgeous face. "Please, please daddy fuck me" you whimpered becoming that slutty submissive Emily trained you to be. You'd do anything for Emily's strap and she knew it.

Effortlessly you were held so your legs wrapped around her waist as she carried you to the bedroom. "Be a good slut and strip for daddy, give me a show angel" she murmured before stripping also, laying on the bed with her legs spread and her hand stroking the fake cock. "Fuck angel! You're so damn sexy" she purred causing you to smile at the compliment. "Angel go get the vibe for daddy?" She murmured innocently to you as you scurried to find it. Upon finding it you came back to your girlfriend and she instructed you to place it on your clit while handing the remote to her. Once the dull vibrations began Emily had you lay on your stomach and suck her off, "that's it Angel, get daddy nice and wet so she can slide straight in your pretty pussy" she moaned to you as the strap began to rub against her bundle of nerves as you deep throated it.

"Oh fuck angel you have improved" she whimpered causing you to release the dick with a wet plop, "practicing for you daddy" you murmured before happily going back to sucking her off. It always amazed you how quickly you could get Emily off when she was fucking your mouth, with the vibe edging you and Emily coming you were in that addictive place between pain and pleasure. "Good girl angel, so fucking good for daddy. Such a whore. Wanna fuck you dumb" she mumbled pulling up to kiss her, hands fondling your boobs. "Please daddy please fuck me. Need to ride your cock" you whimpered desperately.

The vibe removed Emily added some lube to her faux dick before helping you sink onto it. "Oh fuck daddy so big" you mewled as your walls accommodated her. "Fuck angel, can't wait for you to bounce on my cock" she murmured bringing her mouth to your breast. The moment you began to ride her Emily thought she'd died and gone to heaven. Here you were bouncing on her dick, she could see your cunt devouring every inch of her as you whimpered and whined at the sensations it provided you.

With a surprised squeak your back hit the mattress as Emily entered your cunt once more, her thrusts more forceful and frequent as she pounded into you, "daddy's handsome isn't she angel? Tell daddy how good she looks using you like a common whore" she panted. "Daddy daddy fuck so good I cum? Need to" you mewled as she simply slipped your leg over her shoulder to hit a deeper angle. "Cum angel. Drench my dick in your cum. Make it drip down your thighs like a good girl" she murmured keeping up her rhythm. "Daddy daddy can't too much please" you whined only to be hushed by her hand resting on your stomach, thumb toying with your sensitive clit. "One more angel, one more for daddy. Want you to take my cum angel, wanna breed you baby. You'd like that huh? Breeding my good little whore, feeding my cum slut hmm?" She panted getting closer to the edge spurred on by her words and the sinful sounds you made.

You both fell over that edge together. Working your way back down, "angel?" She panted carefully slipping from your core, "baby?" You lulled your head to the side, blissfully fucked out of your mind,"mmm?" Was all you could manage in response. "Wanna say that again to daddy?" She murmured kissing your cheek and chuckling at your confused expression. "Poor baby daddy did a good job huh?" To which you nodded and outstretched your arms doing those little grabby hands often seen with toddlers. "Okay baby daddy's coming just need to clean my best girl up. You did so so good for me Angel. Daddy's so proud of her girl" she murmured to you quickly cleaning you and managing to curl back into bed ridding herself of the strap and holding you. Truly you looked breathtaking fucked out of your mind, the amount of love Emily held for you was something she never thought she was capable of. But with you anything was possible. Every goal, Emily would reach it with you by her side.

Word count~ 1238

[ashleyfilm]

Seeing Clearly - Chapter 5. Movie Night

Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: cursing - Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. F!OC was recommended to me since there's a lot of description of her but I'm writing her as You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: You start your job at the library, meet a new resident of Jackson and Joel takes you to the movies. 1.8K

Thank you to @saradika-graphics for the book line divider. :)

Chapter 1 Here Chapter 2 Here Chapter 3 Here Chapter 4 Here

Chapter 5. Movie Night

After stopping by the clothing swap, Joel walks you to the library in your “new” old black t-shirt, with the faded logo of Guns n’ Roses, one of your favorite bands from childhood, you can still remember most of the words to the entire Use Your Illusion II album. Your eyes lit up when you found it and it actually fits you, even a tiny bit loose, your favorite. Joel couldn’t help the smile that formed on his plush lips seeing you full of glee, like a child that never went through any of this shit. At the library, you meet an older gentleman named Doc, long grey hair, warm smile and a sparkle in his eyes. He’s hoping to retire this year and you’re just in time to learn the ropes and take over. He walks you through the stacks and what he’s been able to do with the last three years he’s spent there. Organizing, cataloguing, working out distribution to the townsfolk. He even encourages you to suggest your own ideas on how to facilitate the place. You take your time walking around and looking at the books, all in various stages of use, but mostly well held up. Sometimes there are even multiple copies of something where the beginning is in one and the end in the other.

It's magical, being surrounded by all these stories, all these means of escape. And you haven’t even gotten to the VHS tape section with the movies. You grew up going to the video store every Friday with your parents, picking out something for them and something for you. Sitting in your room and watching the stories unfold before your eyes. You even worked in a video store before the outbreak, studied filmmaking in school. This place is already healing you. You can feel it. “Ash, got a visitor here, needs help finding something,” Doc says to break you from your reverie. You walk to the front desk and find a young man, probably in his early 30s, blonde hair, average height, good looking, but kind of like the asshole in your high school that’s on the soccer team and makes fun of you in front of his friends. “Ash, is it? I heard we had a newbie in town. I’m Ryan, nice to meet you,” he says as he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. You still at the touch, people don’t really touch like this anymore and you haven’t been touched since you got here except for Joel and that was …different.

“Hi, uh, what can I help you with?” You say curtly. “Well, I’m looking for something to read, maybe something sci-fi, think you can help me out,” he says with a smirk. This guy isn’t here to read, he’s here to get the info on the new girl, ugh fuck off. “Um, sure, follow me.” Even though you’re new, you’ve quickly made a map in your head of the library space and the way Doc has taken to organizing and grouping things. You head straight to fiction section, which is currently just by author last name, you’ll change that. Wanting to get this over quickly, you look for H.G. Wells, and find The Invisible Man and hand it to the guy. So, Brad or whatever the fuck his name is will get away from you. “A Grotesque Romance,” he says reading the subtitle on the cover. “Interesting choice,” again with the smirk. “Yup, hope you enjoy it,” you say not really looking at him anymore. “I’m sure I will,” he says looking your body up and down. “See ya around, Ash.” You smile quickly and turn to walk away. Well, that’s the first person you’ve met that you immediately dislike, you guess it was bound to happen in a town with this many fucking people. A very obvious downside.

At the end of your shift, you say goodbye to Doc and start on your walk to the dining hall that will be turned into a movie theatre for the evening for a viewing of Jurassic Park. Your tote bag, courtesy of your new boss, filled with three books. Carrie by Stephen King for you, a graphic novel called, Somewhere in the Stars for Ellie, and No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy for Joel. You wonder if he’ll like your old man joke or not. And like you’ve manifested him; he’s standing outside the library leaning against a lamppost, waiting for you. He’s stunning, standing with his arms crossed against his chest, in a green flannel with red lines and the sleeves rolled up to reveal his thick forearms and his hair wet and slicked back. And he’s there for you. He looks up and notices you walking towards him, you bite your lip to try and hide your smile. “Well, how’d it go?” He asks with his mouth in a line but his eyes, they’re different, warmer. “Good,” you answer, “Doc’s really lovely and it’s amazing how many books you all have.” He watches you speak, and you think he might see something new, and you feel it too, invigorated. You begin to walk in step with one another to the movie night.

“I got Ellie something,” you say as you dig into your bag and retrieve the graphic novel, handing it to Joel. He smiles warmly, probably thinking of Ellie and says, “She’ll love this.” After he hands it back you put it away and reach for the book you got for him, “And this …is for you.” Your hold your breath hoping he likes your choice. “Old Men, that a crack on me, sweetheart?” He says with a chuckle. Sweetheart, he just called you sweetheart. He continues, “Thank you, that’s real kind. Always wanted to read this one, never had the chance, always workin’ too much before everything happened.” “Good, well now you can.” He hands it back and your fingers brush just slightly and like this morning you feel a bolt of electricity run through you. You look away and hope he can’t see the blush on your cheeks.

When you walk into the theatre together, quite a few people look your way with curiosity. You don’t know if it’s because you’re new in town or because you’re with the big, bad Joel Miller. But soon, you don’t care because you smell the popcorn and hear people laughing and see the big projector screen. And you almost sob right then and there. Joel’s watching you in wonder. He lightly touches your shoulder, leaning in close he whispers, “Go pick out a seat wherever you want, I’ll get us some snacks.” A shiver runs down your spine and he’s gone. You find what you deem the perfect seat, close to the middle and along the center aisle. You see Ellie who gives you a wave and wanders after a pretty, dark-haired girl around her age. She looks so happy, and it makes your heart clench in your chest. You start to worry how much you’ve gotten comfortable here, it’s a lot so soon. And you worry that it could all be taken away, like everyone and everything in your life already has.

Before you can spiral too far into your mind, Joel sits next to you. “You couldn’t pick a place a little less surrounded by people?” he says with a grunt. “Hey, you said anywhere I want,” you pout at him. “That I did, I guess I shouldn’t leave it up to you next time,” he says with another hint of a laugh. Did he say next time? Did you really hear that? The movie starts to play, and you and Joel share popcorn, he holds it for you and offers it over to you every couple of minutes. You hear the music by John Williams, and it takes you back. When you were a little girl and your parents would sit you between them and watch you as your eyes lit up taking it all in, so enthralled. Popcorn now long forgotten, it comes to one of the parts you’ve never forgotten, when the girl, is about to fall through the ceiling and the velociraptors are underneath her dangling body and they snap at her legs. You jump out of your skin and grab onto Joel’s hand. After the jump scare you start to laugh, still holding onto him, then you look over at him and he’s already looking at you, a soft smile on his face, until both your smiles fade replaced with a longing gaze until he drops your hand and turns back to the movie. You worry you’ve gone too far, asked for too much, too soon. You clasp your hands back in your lap and try to enjoy the rest of the movie in silence.

As the T-Rex screams and the banner falls, the room is filled with applause. Everyone loved this movie; it didn’t matter who you were. The lights come on and everyone begins to make their way out into the night air of Jackson. Joel says he’s going to find Ellie and for you to “stay put.” Eyeroll. Unfortunately, that’s when Brad or whoever the fuck from earlier decides to come and say hello. “Hi there, Ash. How’d you like the movie?” he says while again looking you up and down. “It’s great, one of my favorites but I guess you weren’t born when it came out, huh?” You don’t even know if it’s true you just want to infantilize him, so he’ll go away. Instead, he laughs and touches your arm, “You may be right about that one.” Suddenly, Joel is back at your side with Ellie, “Time to go.” He says to you gruffly. Ellie is looking between you, Joel and what’s his name wide-eyed like she’s waiting for fireworks or a fight to break out. “Oh, hey Joel, I didn’t know you knew our girl, Ash here,” he says with a smirk, looking only at you. “She’s staying with us, Ryan.” Joel says, fist clenched at his side. Ryan, oh that’s his name. “Okay, well maybe you can save me a seat next time, Ash,” Ryan says with a tip of his hat gesture, the dumbass isn’t even wearing a hat. Idiot. “Bye,” you say as you turn to walk after Ellie and Joel. Ellie hangs back with you as Joel darts off ahead of you. With a grin Ellie says, “What was all that about, huh?” You look at her with a disgusted look on your face, “I honestly have no idea.” Over the next several days, you avoid Brad/Ryan like the plague. Haha, plague. And sadly Joel barely speaks to you, but he does leave out your wolf mug by the coffee machine every morning.