Thinking about Dana Evans letting her younger transmasc partner try topping via strap for the first time...
Cw: smut/nsfw content, transmasc reader, age gap relationship, subtop! reader and softdombottom! Dana, strap usage + pentrative vaginal sex (Dana receiving), praise kink, petnames used (good boy, big boy, sweet boy, etc.), hickeys mentioned, brief cockwarming, he/him pronouns used once for the reader at the end
A/n: this isn't meant to be long or a great big thing, hence the different format than usual. It's just a little idea that I had bouncing around in my head that I wanted to share with y'all 🫶
You'd used a strap with her on the receiving end before, but it was always you on the bottom and her on top, your hips desperately bucking upwards into her while she gazed down at you with lustful eyes, riding you to her satisfaction until she was done.
Tonight, though, you were going to be trying something a little different: for once, you'd be the one on top, the one taking control. Well, physically, anyway.
"That's it, there we go," she murmured encouragingly when you pushed inside, gently easing the tip of your silicone cock into her entrance, which was already wet from your attentive foreplay. "Such a good boy you are for me, already doing so well."
You felt your face heat up at her praise, a low whine escaping you as you did your best not to shove it in the rest of the way. Good boys didn't do that; good boys waited and did what they were told.
The gold from her necklace shimmered in the dim light, giving you something to focus on throughout the event so you wouldn't lose your mind completely. Next to it, dark purple marks had bloomed across her skin like a field of wisteria, a clear display of your earlier desperation to claim her like the needy little thing that you were.
"Easy, big boy. Don't bite off more than you can chew," came her voice in a slightly teasing tone as you bottomed out, resisting the urge to start thrusting right away. "Just sit here with me for a moment, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?"
One of her hands reached up to cradle the side of your face, your eyes fluttering shut while you nuzzled affectionately against her warm skin, placing soft kisses to her palm as a show of tender obedience. You ached with the need to move, to make her feel good, but you wanted to behave.
It felt like an eternity for you, being stuck there like that, but eventually she gave you the go ahead. Not before playing with you a little bit more, though. "You wanna move, big boy, hm? Wanna make me proud?" Dana cooed, her hand slipping from your face upwards so she could scratch at your scalp in the way she knew you liked.
Her words were met with a whimper of pure need, your eyes pleading as they met hers, hoping to convince her to decide in your favor. At that, she chuckled, and her hand moved yet again to grasp gently onto your chin.
"What a sweet little thing you are. Such a sweet boy for me." Her tone was dripping with honey and condescension as she gave your face a light squeeze. "Go ahead, sweet boy. Make me proud."
It was then that you finally did what you'd been begging for all along, hips snapping forward insistently as soon as you were allowed to. She sighed in pleasure and tilted her head back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting as a chorus of groans and hums exited her lips.
Your movements were sloppy and fast, strap pushing in deep before pulling out again, her arousal almost gushing out onto the sheets below due to the pure intensity of your actions. Propped up on your arms, you braced yourself against the mattress so you wouldn't topple over amidst your greedy rutting.
You felt as though you could keep going forever and never stop, but soon she was arriving at her destination, arms wrapping around your neck so her nails could dig into your shoulder blades as a grounding mechanism. The combined noises between you grew louder than ever, her delighted moans mixing with your pathetic pants and filling the room completely with sinful sound.
Per usual, you kept going even after she'd finished until you heard the gentle coaxing from her to stop. "Alright, good boy, I think that's enough for now."
A mewl of resistance left your throat, and you gave a few more weak thrusts before collapsing on top of her, both of you covered in sweat and exhausted, but happy. You pressed your face into the space of skin between her breasts, inhaling her scent as her fingers trailed along where your arm rested beside you.
"Such a good boy for me," she spoke in a fond lull, watching you with an admiring gaze as you fought to catch your breath. "My sweet boy did so well, didn't he? What a big boy you are, getting on top for once. Your first time doing it, and you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you, do you hear me? So proud."
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Perhaps a yandere DC character x transmasc reader (ftm) ? Specifically when the reader is on their period???
I got crud sleep and woke up and found out I was on my period so it was a rough morning 😅 but if you ever have time to do this and feel like it, just know I'd probably read it every time I'm on my period.
how about multiple dc characters mwaahaha and periods suck dude rest up and drink lots of water!!
WARNINGS ; your typical overbearing yandere behavior, other than that, nothing else! ummm romantic yandere? kind of?
CLARK KENT :
It's embarrassing. Waking up with your sheets soaked with blood and your uterus feeling like its being punched by a bunch of tiny swords.
It doesn't help when the human equivalent of a golden retriever is hovering over you, fussing at your every move. Clark Kent. The man you once adored but now despised because of his obsessive tendencies. You dreaded this day, knowing how he would react.
"I'm fine, Clark." You say through gritted teeth. He has his hand (warm and admittedly, helpful.) resting on your stomach.
"You're not, I found you doubled over in pain. I want to help you feel better." His voice is soft, almost soothingly so. He's always way too close to you, this time isn't any different.
He sits right next to you, a hand on your thigh as he talks to you so softly.
"I've dealt with this on my own i don't need- what are you doing." He started to wrap you up in a fluffy blanket, one that you don't recognize, tucking you tightly.
Usually, you would put up some kind of fight against him manhandling you. Although most of the time it doesn't do anything but make him amused at your attempts at hurting him, but this time, your cramps made you weak. Sucking all the fight out of you.
"I want you to be comfy, darlin'." You've noticed his southern accent getting stronger when he's domestic. Or when you fight him less. "Rest up. I'll get you some tea and we can just sleep in the rest of the day."
"Don't you have work?" You want him to leave. But he shrugs, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into a warm, warm hug. "I'll skip to take care of you."
BRUCE WAYNE :
You woke up, staining his expensive sheets with blood (a small part of you happy that you could destroy some of his belongings even unintentionally.) and the familiar sharp pains in your lower abdomen. In other words, your period.
Bruce Wayne, the man who is always prepared, has a pill in his hand and a cup of water in his other. He moves closer to you as you try to scoot back.
"It'll help with your cramps." He gently holds your hand and places it in the middle of your palm. "I promise. Just wanna help." His expression is soft as he watches you pop the pill hesitantly. The cramps were bad. So yes, you were going to do anything to get it to calm down.
You take the water and flushed the pill down. Thanking him softly as he placed the empty cup on the table nearest to him. He tilts his head when he notices the blood and you wince, unintentionally. "Sorry." You mutter and he frowns at the apology.
"Don't be sorry, it couldn't be helped." Suddenly he gets up and beds down to lift you, almost effortlessly, from the bed. You yelp at the sudden movement and grab onto him. "What the- Bruce you don't have to carry me." Your words sound calm but your tone is almost pleading.
"No. I don't want you to do anything today. Just let me take care of you, hm?" Okay, despite everything you had to admit that made your heart flutter.
You open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a short look. Daring you to say you don't need help. You sigh and lay your head against him. You knew that this was going to be your whole day, him being close to you at all times and doing everything for you.
DICK GRAYSON :
Dick Grayson is persistent.
Even after you've shoved his face away so that he isn't constantly in your personal space, he's somehow there. Giving you those dreaded puppy eyes.
"Dick." You deadpan. You cannot deal with him and deal with your period at the same time. He was giving you a headache. "Dick get the fuck away from me." He was lingering near you again so you put your hand on his face and you push him away. Again.
A low whine emits from him. "I wanna help you feel better." His voice muffled by your hand covering his mouth. This man was insufferable. You let your hand down and sighed.
"So get away from me, it'll help so much." You can't help how snarky you sounded.
He scoots closer to you anyways and wraps his arms around you, resting around your abdomen. "I heard warmth helps." He mutters as he rests his head on your shoulder.
He runs hot. And it was helpful, yes, but why would you tell him that?
So you don't answer, instead you try and shuffle away from him. "Stop moving away from me." You roll your eyes. "Don't be like that."
"I just want personal space-- actually, could you get me something to drink, please?" You know he can't resist it when you're nice, so to push it over the edge, you turn to him and bat your lashes at him. All cute and sweet. His heart is screaming and he plants a kiss on your cheek.
It takes everything in you not to push his face away again so you just swallow it, and wait it out until he finally lets up. He has a boyish grin on his face as he nods, getting up to get you some water. You sigh in relief, relishing in the few seconds of quiet you got.
But it wasn't going to last, it was never going to last.
JASON TODD :
You should've expected this, but honestly you were surprised.
The big and scary Jason Todd, wrapped around you. His head laying on your stomach as you laid on the bed. His arms are wrapped around your torso as well.
"Jay. You gonna stay here all day?" The nickname slips out but you were honestly too tired to correct yourself. You knew on the inside he was beaming at the nickname but he nods, not replying.
When he found out you had gotten your period today, he immediately got to work in making you as comfortable as possible. At first you had tried to protest it, telling him not to fuss over you and that you could handle it on your own.
But he does so anyways. You've never felt so pampered before, and no less having all the pampering come from your stalker.
You hesitantly bury your fingers in his hair, emitting a low groan of approval that is muffled from his face in your shirt. "You don't have to stay here all day. I'm fine, you already did so much."
He lifts his head for a moment, looking at you, almost offended at the suggestion of him leaving you.
"No. I'm staying here." He says. Tone indicating that it was final. You roll your eyes and lift your hand as he starts to shift around, finally laying next to you but with a hand still on your stomach.
You were stuck with this hulking man constantly next to you apparently.
tried my hand at writing for the batboys as well, hope i did well lols
smut and angst / pathetic!dex / DDBA!dex / implied Dexmatt / manipulation / porn with a plot / unhealthy sex / dex is unmedicated / weird and awkward social interactions / implicit sexual consent (do not reproduce, consent is essential) / dub-con from dex / bloodkink / Dex projects Matthew onto reader / pain kink / masturbation / soft dom!reader / sub!dex / reader is into his kink / marking / lot of foreplay / spine scar / caring and gentle!reader / no aftercare / mention of : panic attack, mental institutions, blood, fights, AVTF, psychological struggles
summary: Everything happened too fast, and while you thought you'd found a simple one-night stand, you instead end up in the middle of a storm.
A/N: I really love this one, hope you’ll enjoy it too! Also, the fic's name is based on one of Hozier's song I really like and that matches with Dex.
wc: 4.8k
english isn’t my first language, sorry for the mistakes ♡
Females DNI
The sunlight over New York that day was generous, birds chirping cheerfully from every branch they crossed. Clouds looked like drops of paint spilled across the bright blue sky, as if the celestial painter had accidentally tipped some warm milk onto the atmospheric canvas. You had taken advantage of the clear weather to breathe in the mixed scents of a neighborhood you barely knew. Restaurants, gyms, cafés—and you had also spotted a bank.
And then you saw him at the corner of a street. He walked with the kind of confidence only certain men possessed, the kind that could make a shiver run down your spine. His hands were shoved firmly into the high pockets of a jacket perfectly tailored to his waist. Head held high, he was whistling—the sound having first drawn your attention to him.
It wasn’t the first time you’d seen a handsome stranger in the street, and maybe the sunlight, suddenly too bright, had filled you with a burst of courage you didn’t think you had. So you followed him, trying to catch up to his long strides in hopes of starting a conversation.
He was heading into a diner, a uselessly lit neon sign displaying the name “Bel Aire Diner.” You didn’t know the place, and from here it honestly didn’t look very appealing, but you stepped inside anyway because he did.
“Thanks,” you said, closing the door he had held open after hearing your footsteps behind him.
Your voice didn’t seem to reach his ears. His gaze looked relaxed yet condensed into a narrow tube—like he was listing a pattern step by step inside his head. He walked up to the counter and lazily pulled out one of the unappealing stools.
Come on, it’s just a man, you encouraged yourself inwardly while taking a breath of fresh air. You didn’t notice the lobsters trying to escape their glass prison, nor the little dog sitting on its owner’s lap. Your attention was fixed entirely on the relaxed silhouette of the man with dusty-gold hair.
“Hi,” the stool creaked faintly against the floor as you pulled it out to sit beside him.
Dex restrained the instinctive twitch in his jaw. He spent a few moments deciphering the color of a cup far too red sitting in front of him, then finally let you see his face—a friendly expression he mastered perfectly. “Hi.”
To him, you were a parasite. A buzzing fly hovering around his freshly polished plan. Under different circumstances, you could’ve been seen as a beetle to crush, or a butterfly with pretty colors. But right now, in this exact moment, you were a fly.
“I’ll take a banana milkshake please,” your voice rang far too loudly beside his already boiling ears.
The ambient scent of caffeine filled your lungs, coating them with another layer of courage—or recklessness. The man beside you stared for two long seconds at the waitress pulling a large clean glass from one of the cupboards. Then his gaze dropped back to you, with a new gleam embedded deep in his pupils that you didn’t understand at the time.
It wasn’t interest. At least, not the kind you imagined. No, it was the same look a cat gave at a mouse’s sweet silhouette. That visceral curiosity of wanting to catch the poor little thing out of sheer boredom—just to entertain itself for a while.
Dex was looking at you, and now you had his attention, because with every word you spoke you became even more of a problem to solve. The kind of problem he solved with one single equation—assuming you pushed him far enough to reach that result.
“If I give you my number, you’ll leave this place?” his voice asked, far too calm, vibrating despite itself with an electrically dangerous smile.
The question caught you off guard, his unreadable expression only deepening your confusion. He looked controlled, but excessively so—unstable. The slight smile lingering on his lips, the wrinkles at the corners of his narrowed eyes—everything seemed restrained, contained. But the way you swallowed wasn’t frightened at all. Quite the opposite. It was innovative, new. The human mind fears the unknown, yet in that moment you decided to mute every warning light just long enough to savor the thrill sliding down your spine.
“Yeah I will.”
“Perfect,” a smile carved itself differently onto his features—a smile that had appeared before his thoughts could catch up and restrain it.
And that was how you ended up with the stranger’s number saved in your contacts under the name Tony.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He should’ve understood. He should’ve understood why Dex did all of this. Why didn’t he understand?
His still-booted feet struck the shattered remains of a picture frame broken across the floor. The room was drowned in silent, frozen chaos. Impact marks on the walls, overturned furniture, blood staining the wallpaper. Dex stared at the scene, unable to process the events—unable to handle them.
Daredevil had found him, they had fought, and then Dex had run away. But he had wanted to come back, just to see, just to witness it.
His heart was beating too fast for the situation. The adrenaline from the fight had faded long ago, and yet the pounding of his heartbeat slammed violently against his ribcage. It vibrated through his body, rippling against every rib until it settled deep inside his stomach. The taste of blood still flooded his mouth, something he had learned to enjoy—something he may have always enjoyed.
The Task Force brigade would arrive soon, he knew it. The neighbors must have called those idiots, thinking they were being useful.
Dex was useful, yes he was. He needed to be.
So why didn’t Murdock see it? Why hadn’t he noticed? He did things right, he did everything right. Why did Matthew look at him like a dog failing a trick? Dex had learned all the tricks, and he showed them to him, so why wasn’t he proud?
A spiral had begun the moment Daredevil stepped into Dex’s intimacy. A whirlwind growing taller and wider behind him. He could feel its icy current. He could already feel his muscles slipping into hypothermia, his teeth shaking. He wanted to curl inward, hide inside a shell and only emerge once all of this was over—once the storm died down. But he remained frozen in the wind that had numbed his entire body. It always took over. Always.
Anger, disappointment, disgust, then distress. A cycle structuring his thoughts into an obsessive choreography. Obsession, need, craving. Air no longer reached his lungs properly.
Solution—he needed a solution.
The repeated blinking of his eyelids created a cinematic effect around the trembling phone held in his left hand. Blood was rushing to the wrong place, the worst place.
Need to please him, need to please him. Why can’t he accept my sacrifice?
Several streets away, resting on your bedside table, your phone vibrated. A quick, sharp vibration signaling a new message.
Tony
💌—can we meet up?
The overly bright screen made you squint slightly. A stray droplet of water slid down the back of your neck, running along your still-bare spine from your shower. You had to dig through your short-term memory to find a trace of this “Tony.” Then finally, it came back.
—hello?
—so you ditch me and now you change ur mind?
💌—sry
💌—wasn’t in the mood
💌—can we meet? pls
You rolled your eyes, tossing your phone onto the sheets while you went to grab clean clothes. You weren’t difficult in bed, but there still had to be some minimum effort involved. This Tony guy would need to show a little more interest.
💌—I’m sorry for how I treated you
💌—was not good
💌—pls I need to see someone
Your eyes skimmed the notifications while pulling on a t-shirt. Apologizing was already a good start. Most people stopped before that point. But you still wanted to see him struggle a little more, just to know whether he’d really hold out.
—so now I’m just “someone”
—you makes things worse yk
💌—ok ok I’m sorry yes I want to fuck
💌—and you’re the only option
💌—sorry
An amused smile spread across your face. At least it was honest. And actually, for a hookup that was all that really mattered, so why keep denying it?
—’k because I love honesty
—and you’re hot
Your fingers mechanically typed your address, not wanting to make the effort of going out just to fuck in some shabby hotel.
Dex was already on his way. He had left his apartment the second the little reply bubbles appeared in your conversation. He didn’t have time to find someone else, to pay someone. And he needed someone. He needed a substitute. Someone strong, confident, assured. Someone who could place their hands where bloodstains were drying—where an imprint had sunk deep into flesh. You matched, at least a little, and that was enough for him.
He was freezing. His skin felt tight—shivering every time fabric brushed against him. It hurt. God, it hurt.
For a fleeting instant, his mind wandered to the medication he had stopped taking months ago, since the mental institution. The medication would’ve stopped all of this. He knew it.
His pale knuckles tapped weakly against the smooth wood of what he hoped was your door. On the other side, your hand settled against the cold handle, fingers brushing the wood.
The hallway light gently spilled into your apartment when you opened the door. And there stood a man—Tony. Completely ravaged by an ache you didn’t know and yet could smell.
He vibrated with a deafening intensity.
“Hi come—” His lips crashed against yours, and suddenly the ache had a taste.
Salty. Chemical. A bitterness like household cleaner forced down your throat. You swallowed, your back colliding with the nearest solid surface. Somehow, amidst the storm, your hand still managed to shut the front door. The man was suffocating you—not physically. In fact, he hadn’t touched you at all, barely even looked at you. But his lips acted like a conduit siphoning something out of you. Maybe your common sense. Your dignity.
You were starting to run out of air. He wasn’t even moving his lips. His tongue wasn’t searching for yours.
Your fleeting hand pressed against his chest, feeling the soaked fabric of his shirt beneath your palm. “Wait—wait, let me breathe.”
Your eyes tried to adjust to the sight before you. He was sweating, but more importantly covered in blood. Now that his mouth no longer monopolized your attention, you could smell the iron clinging to him. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing far too much of the earthy color of his irises. He was panting, each exhale striking your face.
He looked like a dog that had lost its owner. A wolf hit by a car—or rather, a deer.
He was waiting for something from you, like you were about to order him back into his basket or reveal treats hidden in your pockets. You opened your mouth, wanting to say something—anything, because holy shit this situation was surreal, abnormal. But the words never found their way to your vocal cords. They all shoved each other deeper into your throat instead.
He looked pathetic like this, and the problem was that you found it incredibly attractive. Just like the blood now staining the corner of your lips. Just like the coldness of his skin.
Actually, the storm—the ache acting like a rope around your neck—was captivating. Being held down this way by an invisible force, restrained by abstract hands, it was thrilling. Nothing new about that. Humans had always craved being held, no matter the method. Still, it remained disorienting and exciting.
“You still want to fuck?” were the first words you forced out of your throat.
Dex nodded vigorously, his eyes never leaving yours for even a fraction of a second. He pierced through you in the filthiest way possible, the most sickening, disgusting way.
“Right then let’s head up to my room.”
He followed you, his footsteps unconsciously mirroring yours, slipping into the prints only his eyes could see. The concept of a bar suddenly felt instinctive to you, an atmospheric pressure capable of crushing the human body through self-destruction alone. Our own weight multiplied until it resulted in death. Our very impact causing an explosion.
Your bedroom door was already open. You stepped in first, with the strange feeling the man behind you wouldn’t have wanted to pass ahead.
A creak, a lock clicking shut, and your back once again struck a surface far too hard for your poor muscles. His lips were on yours again, but this time you took the reins, imposed your own rhythm. A storm couldn’t be controlled, but you could at least try to follow the circular motion of its gusts. You forced your way into his mouth, your tongue slipping in like a serpent entering Eden. He whimpered faintly, the sound swallowed immediately within the chaotic dance your tongues began. Your hand searched for stability, as though despite the excitement you feared your body might be swept away and shredded apart in the air. His sticky hair tangled between your fingers, accidentally knotting together blood and sweat—a lock keeping him trapped in your grasp. His weight crushed harder and harder against yours, pinning you between himself and the wall until breathing became difficult.
You yanked your hand sharply, forcing his head back. Your lips separated noisily, teeth knocking together for an instant. He groaned, his head still firmly held in your grip. The taste of blood coated your entire mouth, making your brain wonder whether you yourself were bleeding.
It was intoxicating.
Dex trembled, his knees struggling to hold his weight upright. It hurt, it hurt so badly. Your touch reminded him of his. He could almost feel fists slamming into his ribs again, horns grazing his shoulder.
Your glassy eyes observed the image the man before you offered. He looked insane like this, completely ruined.
You straightened slightly, releasing your hold on his skull. And to your surprise, he collapsed immediately to the floor, dropping to his knees in front of you.
“You—you good? Tony, you want to stop?”
His glossy eyes met yours, pupils charcoal-black. It took him time to process your voice, as though he first needed to make space inside his head before acknowledging your words. But his head answered before his vocal cords did. He slowly shook it side to side, his gaze jumping between your eyes, searching for a color he wanted to recognize.
His hands settled on your thighs before you even noticed. He gripped tightly, nearly pinching the muscle. His face pressed against your hipbone, and you physically felt a heartbeat miss its route, forgetting to follow its vascular path. He looked like a puppy like this—a puppy with blood coating its jaws, a dead rat laid proudly at your feet.
“Call me Dex, please my name’s Dex,” he whispered breathlessly, fingers sliding beneath your shirt to reach your bare stomach. His lips pressed to your skin, and for the first time in your life you felt like a kiss could also be a bite—a snakebite. “Please call me Dex, please I need you to call me Dex,” his saliva staining your skin in a way that felt permanent.
“Such a freak, you know that?” This time a wide, stupid grin spread across his lips, making you smile despite yourself. “Ok I need you to listen, can you do that for me?”
He nodded, the involuntarily sexy gesture making you swallow hard. Your eyes searched for an easy word to remember. “Red. Red is our safeword, ok?” Your partner’s eyes closed for a moment and you thought you heard a strangled moan. How could you have known that word was the nickname of the man putting Dex in this state? How could you have known his cock was throbbing just from hearing it?
Your fingers tightened around Dex’s chin, forcing his head back up toward you. “I asked you a question. Use your words. Red is our safeword, understood?”
“Understood,” his voice dripped out.
You shifted away from him, constantly burning beneath the intensity of the gaze that refused to release you. “C’mon. On the bed.”
For a moment, you thought about your trans identity, about how you hadn’t really had time to bring it up to him. Then you saw him, ghostlike, crawling toward your bed, desperate and pathetic for an unnamed service. You saw the curve of his back, deciphering the waves of his spine beneath the fabric. And then you saw yourself—not physically but sensorially—shaking in a way similar to him, ache scratching at the inside of your carcass. And suddenly, what was inside your pants became ridiculous compared to the strange molecules filling your four lungs.
Your hand found its way to the nearest part of the man lying on your bed.
His back—his spine.
Your index finger followed by your middle met the damp texture of the shirt he wore. Your eyes slowly traveled across his entire silhouette, admiring the face he tried to hide in the sheets, then the dip of his lower back. An invisible force pushed you to fully touch his spine, your palm settling entirely between his shoulder blades. And as though your touch had burned him, he arched his back. As though your hand carried an energy too heavy, he moaned open-mouthed, a poor scrap of sheet trying to absorb the sweet sound. Your eyes widened more and more at each reaction his body had to yours. It was new, unusual—a concept to explore, to turn over from every angle.
On a second impulse, you moved closer, one knee sinking into the mattress so your still-standing body could lean over his. Dex whimpered like an injured animal, lips shaping muffled words.
Your hand pressed harder against the area that seemed so sensitive to him. A second moan tore from his throat, louder this time.
Your eyes devoured the sight, and you realized you needed more. You needed to touch him, to see his skin, to hear every other sound he could make.
So your second knee joined the first, sinking the mattress deeper beneath the pressure. Your hands sprang into action as though a switch had been flipped—electric current restored to your muscles. Dex helped you pull off his shirt, and you removed yours as well. As though he had always been meant to do this, Dex rolled back onto his stomach, propped up slightly on his elbows. No sweat coated your back; instead, it was replaced by waves of irrational shivers that refused to stop. Seeing your partner’s position, you leaned over him—trying to ignore the visible jolt of anticipation that crossed him—and grabbed one of your pillows. His gaze, still glassy and dependent, never left you. He waited for the slightest request from you, the smallest demand. You motioned for him to place the pillow beneath his torso so his body wouldn’t tire unnecessarily—and of course, he obeyed.
Straightening up, you settled your seated weight on the tops of Dex’s thighs, your legs straddling his. And then you saw it, splitting his back in two.
A scar.
Large. Long.
At first it had gone unnoticed, hidden by the dim lighting. But now it leapt at you, making your lips part and your eyes widen. You understood now why your fingers had felt like fire when they brushed his back, why your hand carried so much energy whenever it neared that area.
Driven by an irrepressible urge, you leaned down. Your hands naturally rested on either side of Dex’s head, surrounding him in the best possible way. And your lips met the scar. The imperfect, discolored, horrific skin of it. You kissed that damaged flesh, not because you wanted to fix it, but simply because you wanted to—because it was terribly mesmerizing and your lips needed to touch it.
“Oh god don’t—” Dex began melting beneath your touch, more and more with every kiss pressed along his spine. “Don’t touch—” Every sentence suffocated before it could fully form. And your hand sliding along his back did nothing to help his diction.
You continued your kisses, accompanied by your wandering hand in the dip of his back. You grabbed his hip, his pelvis instinctively lifting at the contact. A small chuckle left your lips, sending a puff of air across the dampness left behind by your kisses.
The atmosphere around you—smothering your cells—deepened. The pressure weighing down your human body became scorching, clawing the air from your lungs with bare hands. And you knew its source. He was lying beneath you, trembling harder than you had ever seen someone tremble. He produced this macabre mechanism. And he suffered from it, perhaps even more than you did.
Suddenly, those gentle caresses began to ring false. Those kisses were creating acidic marks on his skin despite yourself, acid eating away at something inside him. Your lips had touched it, drawn like an insect to the venom coating the back of a multicolored frog. You wanted more too. More than these futile little caresses.
Your hand left the delicious dip of his back, instead grabbing his shoulder to force him onto his back. His face turned toward you, such a disconcerting picture that it froze you for a second.
That expression of need, of pleading, had never left his eyes.
He wanted more from you.
Always more.
You shifted your weight with the support of one hand against the mattress, your hips once again settling over his thighs. Even through the layers of fabric separating you from his body, you could feel the thickness of his muscles—contracting more with every movement you made.
Your eyes locked onto his, refusing to leave now that they had found them. Your hand blindly found the opening of his pants, undoing it like a seasoned burglar. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple rolling through your peripheral vision. Your second hand joined the first, yanking the garment from his body in one sharp motion. He barely moved, obediently lifting his legs when you silently asked him to.
And then, when your hand tried to return to his hips, a strange texture made you glance down.
He had already come in his pants.
A breath escaped your lungs at the sight. Your eyes snapped back to his face, a face flushed with a mixture of shame and excitement intensified infinitely by the expression painted across your own features.
Your palm never left the bulge desperately trying to gain friction against it. You pressed down—not softly, not gently. He moaned loudly, head falling back despite himself. He trembled beneath you, beneath your grip. His cock was throbbing, creating an even worse mess in his underwear.
You needed to touch him.
Saliva gathered in your mouth, blood rushed between your legs, making you throb too.
So you finally pulled off his boxers, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the true state of them. Then your eyes fell back onto the subject of your thoughts, twitching ridiculously beneath the burn of your stare alone. You wanted to take him in your hand, your mouth, inside you—anywhere. You wanted to taste him, breathe in his scent until it gave you a headache, until you could no longer erase his traces from your memory.
But instead, the pads of your fingers brushed along the flushed skin of his cock.
Your gaze lifted back to Dex’s face now hidden behind one arm. You let him do it, let him think he could hide from you. Small loud sighs echoed through your bedroom, all coming from one single person. You still didn’t let your palm fully touch his cock, only your fingers stroking up and down his length.
His back arched beneath your gaze, his spine cracking occasionally in the sexiest way possible.
Then it was your turn to break. He was too loud, too visual, too intoxicating for you to hold out any longer.
Your hand finally wrapped fully around his dick, making him sob gorgeously and costing you yet another breath. Your heartbeat was just as fast as his, even though no hands touched you the way yours touched him. But he transferred everything onto you, dripping all over you—metaphorically and literally.
You leaned over his body once again, your free hand reclaiming its place beside his head. He barely noticed your movement, his mind too crowded by the motions of your hand lower down. Yet his eyes still found a way back to yours.
He cried.
He was crying.
Clear tears streamed down his cheeks and temples, creating dark stains on the sheets around his head. You wanted to speak to him, but words failed you and you had the feeling he was trapped in the same situation. Muted by tape far too sticky to remove.
So the silence remained exactly as it had settled between you, and strangely enough it was louder than any sentence either of you could have spoken.
However, the symphony playing in the background only grew louder. Wetness, whimpers.
Your gaze tore itself away from his and you heard a faint cry from that single act. Pre-cum leaked from his cock, mixing with the remnants of his earlier orgasm. He was close, he had looked close since the moment he entered your apartment. Your movements sped up, wanting to pull more sounds, more reactions out of him.
“You close?” you asked even though you already knew the answer.
“I am,” his broken voice answered, wavering between high and low tones.
Your own hips made faint unconscious movements against the nearest source of friction they could find, desperately seeking some relief from this infernal suffering. You straightened once again, your body drowning in that intoxicating discomfort.
A hand appeared out of nowhere and grabbed your arm, making you almost jump from how burning the contact felt. Dex tried pulling you toward him, his orgasm striking him in small blows—punches forcing more blood to spray with every hit.
He looked pathetic like this—trying to obtain a touch that seemed to consume him.
And yet you gave in, because you weren’t any better than him, and because you too wanted to become ashes just to feel the flames calcine your body for a second. You pulled him against you, his own weight collapsing onto you without restraint. Your bodies toppled farther into the bed, ankles and shins tangled in the sticky sheets.
He threw himself at your lips. He devoured them. Not from want, nor from genuine desire—but because he needed it. He needed to feel something, even if it was disgust toward himself or sensory overstimulation. He needed to burn, to be scorched to the bone, because whatever gnawed at him never hesitated to reach such deep parts of his being.
Maybe if he burned alive, this ache would burn too—no matter if it killed him, no matter if it dragged you down with him.
His saliva stained yours like gasoline. His teeth clicked against yours like a lighter. You were drowning in a bath of combustible liquid that, if it didn’t burn you, would dissolve your insides with acid.
His bare skin rubbed against yours, his cock leaking over your body, repeatedly slapping against the sensitive skin of your stomach. He was breathless, and so were you. Your frantic breaths mingled over and over inside formless kisses.
Your hand found its way to his neck, then his hair. The blood had dried in his blond strands, cracking when your fingers tangled through them, your second hand joining the first. You held him in your hands, his skull resting in your sweaty palms—while he held you in his fangs. His hands planted on either side of your head painfully gripped the sheets, his knuckles white as snow.
Again, you were suffocating, and he was suffocating with you. The air he exhaled into your mouth stole the oxygen from your lungs. He bit your lips hard enough to make them bleed. And in loud, broken moans, he tried to collect the scarlet liquid like an elixir—like a solution.
Then all at once he exploded over you. His head collapsed against your chest while he cried through his orgasm. Muffled cries, sobs you couldn’t characterize. White streaks coated your stomach, mixing with sweat and older traces of blood.
His arms began trembling, his tears endlessly falling into the reddish puddle sliding along your collarbones. He stained you in every possible way. With his sorrow, his problems, his pain and his pleasure. He poured himself all over you, without you being able to stop him—without you even wanting to.
Later that night, when Morpheus finally released you from his sedative embrace, the bed felt strangely empty, the sheets cold. Your eyelids opened and somehow you weren’t surprised to discover you were now alone in the bed.
Dex was gone, and his number had mysteriously vanished from your contacts.
He left you with ruined sheets, and gasoline flowing through your veins.
marvel masterlist
images : Pinterest
dividers : @uzmacchiato , @/cafekitsune and @/poiindexters
Thinking about realizing you’re trans masc while being part of the 141.
Thinking about going through the motions, terrified bc the military isn’t exactly the safest place to come to this realization, but fuck if looking at yourself while wearing a binder doesn’t lift a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t even know was there.
Thinking about the others noticing, and clumsily stumbling through asking you if they need to change how they refer to you. They might not all understand what you’re going through, but if these changes make you happier, why would they stop you?
Thinking about going on T, finally growing facial hair, and Price teaching you how to shave. The way he acts, all proud, someone might think he was actually teaching his own kid.
Maybe he was, in a way.
Thinking of Soap suggesting ridiculous names if you show an interest in changing yours. Gaz joins in. It becomes a competition.
They make actual suggestions, too, which only makes things harder because you never know which it’ll be.
Thinking about you shaving your hair down to a buzzcut, just to see if you like it. Either way, they’re all supportive. Gaz is the one who makes sure you got everywhere, carefully turning your head so he can see better and giving you that charming grin of his when he’s done before simply calling you “handsome”.
And on those days where no matter what you feel gross? I’m thinking about your shoulders curling in on your chest, trying to shut away the feeling of everything being wrong, and nearly hitting the ground when a hefty jacket smelling of cigs and gun oil lands on your shoulders without any warning.
You don’t even need to look to know, but when you do, sure enough Ghost is looking the other way without his jacket.
please whenever u can...please..make a royd x trans man reader fic ill do anything vro...🥹🥹🥹
Time for a Break (Royd x trans male!reader)
Warnings: fluff and comfort, reader is implied to have chest dysphoria and consistently binds (bind safely, folks!!!), general cuteness otherwise (Words: 0.8k)
(Author’s note: Hiii!!! Omg I love writing for Royd, he’s so so sweet and just aaaaaaa…. I wrote this with sort of a Viktor and Jayce dynamic, so if you get that vibe, props to you :> as always, please do not repurpose, steal, or otherwise misuse my work in any way, including anything involving Al.)
MY MASTERLIST
Royd was the kind of guy who noticed everything.
It was always small shifts in the workplace, like the coffee machine starting to break down again, or the wifi being a little slower than usual.
And after almost a year of working closely with him in the lab, you started to notice things too.
You considered yourselves work partners, your designs being the basis for his mechanical miracles, and his circuitry dancing hand-in-hand with your codes. Blazer had affectionately nicknamed the two of you as the dream team, and just the people to go to when there was any tech issue whatsoever.
And with you, in your shared, secluded corner of the building, he seemed to notice everything and then some.
You spun in your chair, chewing on your stylus as you held a your tablet up above your face to try and get a different perspective of the blueprint.
Feeling the swivelling halt, you turned to see a large hand planting itself on the headrest.
“Gonna fall, y’know?” He chuckled, “Imma be the first to say I told you so.”
“Eh. It’s whatever,” You shrugged, handing him the tablet, “Can you take a look?”
He nodded, practically dwarfing the fairly large screen at his fingertips as he scanned the image, sliding his glasses onto the bridge of his nose.
“Lookin’ good!” He grinned down at you, “Love’ the blasters. Those your signature thing, now?”
You crossed your feet beneath you as you settled back in on your plush seat, glancing over the top of the screen.
“Yeah. I think they’re handy.” You confirmed, “And… maybe it’s kinda cool to have ‘em on all the stuff I design.”
“Well said.” He clapped you on the shoulder, offering to hand you back your design, before stopping as you urged it back to him.
“Something feels off about it.” You admitted, furrowing your brow, “Can you just have another look?”
“Yeah, yeah. No problem.” He dove back into the drawing, and you saw the gears turning in his head as he double-checked each of your calculations.
You waited where you sat, fidgeting as he kept on going over it, until the tablet was returned to you once more.
“It’s all on point, my friend.” He took his glasses off, “You gotta give yourself more credit.”
“No, it’s—“ You chewed on your lip, “Something feels off, and I…”
Watching you stumble and trail off, he glanced towards the clock, before striding across the room to retrieve something.
Before you knew it, a bundle of soft fabric hit you square in the chest, followed by a certain disappointed puppy-eyed look that you had a hard time standing up to.
You sighed, hugging the garment to yourself for a moment. You knew Roy noticed things, one of which being how you seem to get agitated the longer you keep binding after your limit.
He didn’t blame you, of course. But it did start to bother you after about eight hours, bleeding enough into your work and mood for him to be able to catch it.
Holding the dark blue hoodie ball, you went over your options, before giving him a quick glance and darting off to the bathroom.
It wasn’t invasive, not when you knew each other so well, but tended to be a bit of an annoyance on occasions like this, when you were oh-so-close to finishing a sketch.
You snuck into the empty bathroom stall, pressing against the wall before hastily shedding layers until you’d found your binder, before gritting your teeth and looking away as you re-dressed without it, piling his hoodie on top.
It was something of a daily ritual with you two— when it came time to take a break for the sake of your ribs, he’d give you one of his sweaters to hide in for the rest of the day. A trade, really. You weren’t in pain for the whole day, at the expense of him having to wash one less thing on laundry day.
As you smoothed the fabric over your sides, you stepped closer to the mirror. Roy’s clothing always felt right on you, fitting in a way that cloaked you while smelling like him, like the lab, like a sense of calmness you only got while in that flow state with him.
Your head snapped up at the sound of the restroom door swinging open, and you quickly gathered yourself and washed your hands, before heading back down the hall to your mechanical sanctuary.
The stark contrast of the fluorescent hallway lighting and the dim laboratory hues made your eyes water, and you rubbed at them as you went to stand by Roy once again,
“Still can’t find a mistake.” He smirked, nudging you with his elbow, “You’re better at your job then you think.”
You couldn’t help a soft laugh as you dodged his arm, moving to lean against it once it was no longer threatening to poke you.
my mind is just bee bopping around at this point- my one brain cell is pinging between arcane, cod and marvel.
My Masterlist🌱
Logan Howlett x sweetheart!virgin!chubby!pre-op!transmasc!reader (if you can’t tell this is a niche that only fits me atp😭)
small synopsis: have you really lived if you haven’t had boy pussy before? - me to logan (this ended up being WAY sweeter than i expected?? like i was squealing while writing it) (8.6k+ words)
Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, pretty soft sex, words like cunt, clit, pussy, etc.
Only having recently joined the x-men, it had been a bit of a struggle trying to meet everyone and keep all of their names and powers straight. But there was one man you simply could not forget. Logan Howlett. The Wolverine. The sexy old man that smoked 5 cigars a day and gave zero fucks. Unfortunately, this qualifies perfectly as your type. He says daddy issues, you say yes sir.
Your mutation was on the more tame side of things. You wouldn’t be sent out on missions, but you still helped to keep the mansion running. You did just about anything someone asked of you, always eager and happy to help. That was one of the first things Logan noticed about you. You always had a smile on your face. And when you didn’t, it was only because you were focused. The second someone spoke to you, a smile quickly formed. The thing about it that really got to him? The fact that the smile was real. It wasn’t a courtesy smile. It never felt forced or fake.
The first interaction the two of you had left both of you ever so slightly flustered. Scott had been giving you a tour and as the two of you passed by Logan, he grabbed Logan by the shoulder and told him to say hi to you. He rolled his eyes at Scott, but when he looked down at you he felt something.. shift. He couldn’t quite place it. When your eyes met his you quickly smiled, reaching out your hand to him.
“I take it you’re the Mr. Howlett I hear so much about?” You smiled shyly as you looked up at him. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
He’d scoffed internally when he heard your words. But it was quickly followed by a fluttering of his heart- when he realized you were serious. You were being polite. That he wasn’t used to.
“Logan.” He said simply as he took your hand to shake it before slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Before you could say much of anything else, Scott started to guide you away down the hallway to continue with the tour. You and Logan’s eyes lingered on each other for a few moments before you finally broke away, following Scott’s lead down the hallway. Logan had huffed as he watched you walk away before turning away himself. He only made it a few feet down the hallway before his mutant hearing picked up your words to Scott.
“No one told me he was gorgeous” you laughed playfully as you weakly hit Scott’s arm, making him laugh. Your words made Logan freeze for a moment, quickly looking over his shoulder to see you and Scott turning the corner.
Ever since then? He could barely get you out of his head. Especially since your loud yet gentle laugh was ringing through his ears any time you were in the same building. How could anyone laugh so much? He doesn’t think he’s laughed as much in his whole life as you do in a week. His eyes always found your soft form, trailing along your body with interest. The two of you were complete opposites in his mind. Where he was hard, you were soft. Where he was rude, you were kind. You were everything he never thought he’d be. And of course, you felt the same way about him.
He’d started to memorize your routine whether it be intentionally or not. He always knew around what time you’d go eat lunch, or what time he’d see you chatting with Charles. He felt like he was going crazy at this point.. he was never one to obsess over someone. Not like this. There were small moments when the two of you would get to talk. It was a rarity, the two of you being completely alone. One he appreciated more than you knew.
The team had just gotten home from a long mission, Logan being one of them. It was the middle of the night when they arrived back at the mansion, and there you stood in sweatpants a sweatshirt and shoes, your hair ruffled, ready to help wherever help was needed. He had to admit- you were always a sight for sore eyes. But seeing you like this? All soft and cozy? It did something to him.
With your arms crossed over your chest you walked up to the ramp of the ship, eyes quickly scanning over everyone that got off. Pretty much everyone was unscathed, only a few with minor injuries which were quickly moved to medical. Logan was the last to leave the ship, wanting to ensure he at least got a chance to talk with you. When your gaze shifts to Logan as he walks down the ramp, a tired smile forms on your face.
“There he is” you say affectionately, as if talking to a beloved pet walking into a room to come see you. “You okay?” You ask softly as you glance over his tall form.
A small smirk forms at the corner of his lips at your words, nodding as he steps down. “Healing factor, remember?” He mutters.
Scoffing with a small smile, you shake your head with amusement. “Just because you can heal from every cut and bruise doesn’t mean you’re okay.” You say softly, reaching up to ruffle his hair slightly. “I know you’re all big and bad..” you say gently as you pull your hand away as soon as you’d touched him, as if catching yourself. “But if you ever need to talk after missions- or in general.. I’m here, yeah?”
He felt his heart skip a beat when you touched his hair. Christ, you’d hardly ever touched before. He couldn’t get over how nice it felt. “Yeah.” He repeats. “Cmon.. let’s get you back to bed.” He muses as his eyes glance over your attire once again, making you laugh softly.
As he walked you back inside, he saw how your arms were crossed over your chest and his eyebrow quirked. “You cold?” He questions.
Looking up at him and then following his gaze down to your arms, you chuckle softly. “No, no, I’m fine” you smile. “I just forgot my binder is all. When I heard you guys land I just threw some clothes on.. silly me.”
He stares down at you for a moment before he speaks again. “Binder?” He questions faintly.
Oh. Right. While he had lived a long time, you didn’t really know of any other trans mutants in the mansion.. it didn’t surprise you he didn’t know what a binder was. “Oh- sorry.” You chuckle. “It’s.. kind of like a bra. But for guys.” You say softly, hoping it was an answer enough without having to get into the whole transgender conversation at 2am.
Once you both went your respective ways, he showered and then got into bed. Opening his phone, he couldn’t help but look up the term. Binder. As he read, his eyebrows raised slightly. ‘Often worn by transgender individuals, transitioning from female to male.’ Well.. that answered a few of his questions. It made sense- you did have a bit of a higher pitched voice. He’d always just chalked it up to you being a feminine gay guy or something like that. But hey, Logan doesn’t mind. He’s too tired to give a fuck about what people want to do with their bodies, or how they want to live. If you said you were a guy.. well. You’re a guy. He was a simple man. And it seemed simple enough to him.
Your interactions grew more common, especially since he tried to make himself available to you whenever possible. He didn’t want to seem too eager by starting conversation- but he knew that if you saw him you would always walk up to him and say hi. You already had him wrapped around your little finger and you didn’t even know it.
Eventually, a mission does come along that you are sent out on. It’s fairly routine, but it’s more of an inside job this go around. Someone will need to be behind the scenes who is easily able to handle multiple things at once- and that’s something you had always been good at. Finally pulling your X-Men suit out of the closet was something you hadn’t expected. But it was nice to finally feel like part of the team.
Of course, Logan didn’t know until last minute you’d be coming along for this mission. He had a tendency to skip the briefings, thinking he would be just fine ‘in the moment’. So imagine the look on his face when he walks into the loading bay, seeing you in your tight leather uniform. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in something that fitted- maybe a turtle neck or leggings at best. But even then, you tended to lean towards baggier clothing.
Whenever you see Logan walk over in his matching suit, you can’t help but grin and walk over to him. “Hey- look” you chuckle softly, glancing down between the two of you. “We’re all matchy-matchy.”
He huffs at your words, but in reality he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. The idea of something so soft being under that leather.. it did something to him. “Didn’t know you were coming with us.” He murmurs.
You smile softly, slipping your hands into your pockets. “Yeah.. they just needed someone for background work- nothing crazy.” You say sweetly. “Yknow- I didn’t really think black was my color” you muse as you glance down at yourself. “But I kind of like it. What do you think?” You grin as you do a little turn so he could see all of you.
He groaned internally when he saw the way the leather fit you, but he made sure to stay quiet. A smirk forms over his lips, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Yeah, kid. You look cute.” He murmurs.
You practically feel your face flush at his words, but you smile wider hoping he’ll contribute it to you straining your cheeks. “Thanks Lo” you say sweetly like always. “Hey.. can I sit next to you on the ride there? I don’t know if anyone else would want to talk to me” you chuckle softly, rubbing the back of your neck.
He smiles softly when he sees your face flush, and nods. “Sure thing, kid.”
The mission was going smoothly, everything according to plan. There was only one problem. Due to some unforeseen circumstances.. you and Logan are stuck in some shitty motel room together. The mission was going to take longer than they had planned for, so they decided they needed to put you in a more semi-permanent spot for the time being. It needed to be inconspicuous, so a motel seemed reasonable. And of course, they didn’t want you without protection. So Logan volunteered was assigned to stay with you.
Walking into the motel with your bags in hand, you sigh when you see how cramped the space is. A bed and a bathroom.. that was about it. Getting a two bedroom would’ve been too conspicuous at least that’s what Logan convinced you of. Logan closes the door behind the two of you, locking the door and propping a chair underneath the handle as an extra precaution. Setting your bags down on the one table in the room, you look around with tired eyes before sitting in one of the crappy chairs.
“Sorry you’re stuck babysitting” you mutter as you rub your face tiredly.
Logan looks over at you with a small smirk as he checks and makes sure no where is bugged. “Don’t worry about that.” He shrugs. “I’m glad to have a little vacation here and there.”
Looking up at him with a soft gaze, you rest your chin in your hand as you watch his form and how it flexes as he moves. “Still.” You murmur. “It won’t be all that fun.. they just have me on my computer most of the time.”
Walking over to sit in the chair adjacent to your own, Logan sighs as he sits down. “I’m just glad I’m not stuck with someone who annoys me.” He mutters.
Before you can stop yourself, one of your usual snippy remarks slips past your lips. “Wish I could say the same” you murmured with a small smirk on your face. When he looks over at you with a raised eyebrow, you can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry!” you beam at him. “I promise I didn’t mean it.”
Logan scoffs with a small smile on his face, crossing his arms over his chest and faking a pout. “I don’t know.. you hurt my feelings pretty bad.” He says through a playful smirk.
Rolling your eyes you stand up, walking in front of his chair and leaning down slightly. Gently cupping his chin, you pull him forward so your faces are only a few inches away. “I’m very, truly sorry.” You say softly with a smile. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Logan’s breath hitches as he gazes up at you, his smile fading and his mouth open slightly. His eyes flit over your smile, your nose, your eyes.. god he could look at you forever.
Gazing down at him, you smile falters when his does. You feel your heart speed up when you realize how he’s looking at you. And you can’t help but stare back. Looking into his hazel eyes.. christ. He really was gorgeous.
Time stands still as the two of you look at each other, taking in every facial feature you can, committing it to memory. After a few seconds your thumb gently shifts, tracing over his beard. Your eyes shift down to his beard, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips. To Logan, you looked so.. absorbed. Focused on everything that was him. Meanwhile he couldn’t help but stare up at you dumbly, watching your eyes shift to different features of his face.
“I can’t get over how pretty you are.” You whisper softly, and your voice rings in his ears. Did you have any idea what you were doing to him? He’d never felt frozen before. Not like this. He was too scared to move. Scared this moment would end and he’d never feel your touch again.
Logan swallows roughly, his hand tentatively reaching up to hold your hand against his face. After a small moment he turns his head slightly, his lips pressing against the palm of your hand as his thumb strokes along your hand. “Don’t look at me like that.” He pleads roughly as he looks up at you, holding your hand against his cheek once again.
When his lips touched your palm, you felt a jolt flow through you, shocking your system. When was the last time someone kissed you? Let alone in such a sweet way. Did he have any idea what he was doing to you? As you look down at him, you feel your heart skip a beat. And your brain finally starts to snap out of it. Any confidence you had is draining away.. when you realize how real this is.. you feel like you’re frozen in place.
When Logan senses your demeanor shift, he knows it’s now or never. A soft thing like you might scurry away, and he’d have to work so hard just to get close to you again. Before he can stop himself, he stands up and wraps his arms around your torso, pulling you close against him to keep you from falling backwards. His lips meet your own in a deep yet gentle kiss.. one that conveys his want, but gives you plenty of space to stop.
Your brain goes fuzzy when he stands up to tower over you, and you practically short circuit when his lips meet your own. His lips press against your own repeatedly, but it takes a moment for your brain to catch up. When it clicks, your body naturally responds, your lips pressing back against his. He groans appreciatively when your arms slip around his neck to pull him down closer to you, and you can feel how his back muscles flex from such a simple action. It drives you wild.. knowing he was so strong- but chose to be soft with you.
Your lips gently shift away from his own, moving to kiss the corner of his lips, pulling a faint growl from him. Your fingers slip into his hair to calm him as your lips move along his jaw line, pressing tender kisses along his beard. Logan holds onto you tighter, one of his hands shifting down onto your ass. When your breath hitches simply from his touch, he can’t help but bury his face against the crook of your neck and smile against your skin.
“Who do you think you are..” he whispers playfully as he kisses along your neck. “Calling me pretty and thinking you can get away with it.” He teases.
Before he can go any farther, he feels your palm cup his bulge forming in his jeans and he tenses in your hold as your lips press against the shell of his ear. “You’re beautiful.” You whisper against his skin, your tone soft enough to make his heart stop. It was the most genuine thing he’d ever heard.
He lets out a shaky breath against your skin, trying to gather himself.. but he was falling apart at the seams. “You’re going to kill me one of these days..” He replies weakly.
The two of you stand still for a few moments, both taking shaky breaths as you hold each other close. “I have so many things to say” you whisper weakly through ragged breaths as you continue to palm his erection.
Logan groans from your touch, placing faint kisses along your jaw. “Tell me.” He whispers back.
“I need you.”
And that.. that was what broke Logan. Before you can say anything else, Logan is pinning you down on the motel bed, his hulking form lying over your own. He slipped his hands into your own, pinning your hands up next to your head as he nips slightly at your jaw. “More.” He murmurs softly.
Letting your head fall back against the mattress, you let out quick, shaky breaths. “I can’t help but stare at you” your soft voice confesses weakly. “You’re the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen.”
Logan groans at your words, kissing along the column of your throat, making your back arch. “Again.” He growls slightly as he pulls his hands away from your own, pulling your shirt up so he can see your stomach.
As your face flushes heavily, you use your arm to cover your eyes slightly, trying to aid the pain of being so flustered. “I wish I was an artist.” You admit softly. “I’d paint you.. sketch you- I’d do anything to see all of you.”
Sucking gentle hickeys into the fat of your stomach, his hand pushes up the tight fabric of your binder to reveal your chest. “Fuck..” he chokes out as he reaches out to grab your breast, feeling the fatty flesh under his palm. “I’ve got.. the prettiest boy in the world” he says weakly. “Right under my palm.”
“L-Logan-“ you cry out faintly, your body arching into his touch. You never thought you’d be this sensitive.. but it was like every nerve that came into contact with him was set on fire.
Before you can say anything else, he pulls you up to pull your shirt and binder off, tossing them aside. Gently laying you back down, he shifts onto his knees as his lips meet your breasts, his tongue gently swirling along your nipples. He pulls away for a moment with ragged breath. “Keep talking” he orders softly. “Keep being sweet to me.”
When you look down at him and your eyes meet, it feels like all of the air has been knocked out of your lungs. God he looked ethereal like this. While Logan keeps eye contact, he tweaks one of your nipples with his hand while his lips wrapped around the other one sweetly. Throwing your head back once more, you struggle to gather your breath. “I- I think about you- at night” you gasp out as his mouth shifts downcast, along the plush of your stomach until he reaches your pants. “I fall asleep- t-to the thought of you” you confess weakly.
As Logan makes quick work of unbuttoning your pants and sliding them off of you, you can hear how his breath catches at your words. “I know.” He says through ragged breaths. “I can hear you.. every time you say my name. Whether it be when you’re touching yourself or dreaming..” he murmurs lowly as he pulls your briefs down. “I always hear it.”
Logan feels how you tense when you realize he hears everything you do in your room at night. He can’t help but smirk as he pulls your briefs off completely, grabbing your legs and hooking them over his shoulders. “Gonna give you what you’ve been begging for at night baby” he groans when he presses his nose against your soft boycunt, sniffing deeply and making you squirm. He sees how flushed your face is, and he can’t help but smile as he presses tender kisses along your inner thighs. “You stay so quiet, sweet thing” he muses between kisses. “But ya decided to crush on the one mutant with super hearing, hm?” He chuckles lowly. “You tried so hard.. I could hear it. How you muffled yourself the best you could.. wasn’t good enough baby. Not for me.” He whispers against your soft skin.
Your thighs clench around his head as he places a small lick along your folds, and you can practically feel the smirk on his lips. “I’ve wanted to taste you for weeks” he groans softly as two of his thick fingers move to part your folds. “Fuck baby boy..” he murmurs as he gets a full view of your leaking cunt. “You got this wet just from me?” He mutters under his breath.
Letting out a shaky breath, you can’t help but nod shyly, keeping your head back against the mattress. “You’re really hot” you whisper faintly in reply as his hot breath fans over your fluttering hole.
He chuckles deeply at your words as he pulls your folds back to reveal your little bud, perking up and pleading for his attention. He hums as he leans forward, pressing a small kiss to your clit, making you flinch at the feeling. “Christ..” he breathes at how sensitive you are. “I think this is the prettiest pussy I’ve seen, baby.” He says affectionately as he presses a kiss to your leaking entrance, making you whimper. “Couldn’t have imagined how sweet my boy’s cunt would be.” He murmurs as he licks his lips.
Taking shallow breaths as you try to gather yourself, you can’t help but ask the question that’s been burning in the back of your mind. “Do.. you get with trans guys a lot?” You ask tentatively.
He pauses at your words, his gaze shifting up towards your face. “Never..” He murmurs. “Never really considered it before. Hope ya don’t mind.. I haven’t met a lot of trans folk in my time.”
Leaning up slightly to meet his gaze, you sigh softly. “You still see me as a guy.. right?” You question softly. “I mean- I know it’s kind of hard with a cunt staring you in the face-“ you start to ramble, but he quickly leans forward and slips his tongue past your tight hole to shut you up. When you choke out a moan and lay back down completely, he chuckles.
“Best of both worlds if you ask me” he muses. “Always liked soft things like you.. and I can’t deny there’s a bit of a preference for cunt on my end.” He fans against your folds. “But to get a sweet boy on top of it all? I’d say that’s the cherry on top.”
Sighing softly, you let out a faint breath of relief. “Glad I can be of service” you joke breathlessly with a small smile on your lips.
Chuckling faintly, Logan slips a finger into his mouth with a smirk before he prods at your tight hole, pushing in as gently as he can. When you groan weakly he starts to press small kisses along your thigh, his finger getting sucked in as deep as it can go. “Christ baby.. you really need to get fucked, hm?” He smirks. “Sucking me in like it’s nothing..”
Reaching downwards, you slip your hand into his hair and tug ever so slightly. Logan has to pull away from your cunt for just a moment, biting his lip with a groan. A flustered smile crosses your lips as you look down at him, eyes completely infatuated with him. “You’re so soft” you murmur softly as you feel his fluffy hair in your palm.
Logan looks up to meet your gaze, a fire lit in his soul with how nice you were being to him. God, just about every hookup he had wanted a quick and dirty fuck.. and here you were praising him. “Just for you” he murmurs, his words containing a small promise. Leaning back down, he starts to suckle your clit sweetly while his finger pumps in and out of your hole at a tantalizing pace.
Hissing slightly from the combined pleasure, you tug on his hair a little harder, and his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you in place. “A man like me doesn’t deserve a heaven like this” he whispers against your plush skin, gently retracting his finger and pressing a sweet kiss to your fluttering hole.
Letting out a weak breath, you gently sit up and reach for the fabric of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning the flannel with shaky hands. When you notice how he tenses at your action, you quickly pause and your eyes meet his own. “Can I?” You whisper softly. “I.. I want to return the favor.” You smile faintly.
Letting out a faint sigh, he sits up and moves to rest on his knees, letting you unbutton his shirt. Smiling shyly, your gaze shifts to his hairy chest as you remove his flannel. He watches closely and notices how your pupils dilate at the sight of his well built body. He can’t help but smirk as you look at him like he was a statue in a museum.. full of fascination. A little part of you wanting to touch. Gently grabbing your hand, he pulls it to rest against the dark curls in between his pecks. “Do whatever you want, baby.” He says lowly against your ear. “It’s all yours.”
Your eyes are glued to his bare body as you carefully pull his shirt off, grabbing it before pulling it into your chest, looking down at it as a small smile forms. “I love this one on you.” You whisper softly.
He smiles affectionately at your words as he gazes down at how cute you are. You were gazing down at his shirt like it was the most precious thing in the world. Reaching forward, he gently puts his hand on the flannel and pushing it out of the way. As soon as you look up, his lips meet yours in a sweet kiss. Letting go of his flannel you grin against his lips as he wraps his arms around your back. Shifting to where he falls to lay on his back on the motel bed, he pulls you with him to straddle him.
Laughing sweetly as you sit up, you can’t help but run your hands through the dark curls of his chest, admiring how warm he felt. He watched affectionately as you take in his form, eyes exploring his body like no one had before. After a few moments he can’t catch himself before his hips roll upwards slightly, sending his clothed erection to rut against your bare cunt.
“Shit” you gasp out at his movements, your mouth hanging open slightly at the feeling. You sit still for a moment, trying to get past your flustered state. Rubbing your hand along his side, your eyes shyly meet his own. “Could.. could you do that again?” You ask softly.
He grins at your words, quickly bucking up his hips so the rough fabric hits your boycunt just right. “Ohh, fuck yeah” he groans as he lets his head fall back against the mattress. “That’s the stuff.” Blushing heavily you experimentally roll your hips against his own, pulling a groan from him. “God.. you’re going to be gripping my cock like a vice. Can already tell.”
As his words send a heat through you, you can’t help but make quick work of his zipper and jeans, doing your best to pull them back, leaving mainly his boxers visible. When you hesitantly palm his erection, you see how he grips the sheets with a groan. Unable to wait any longer, you gently pull him out of his boxers, heat blooming in your core when you see how fat his cock is.
“Logan..” you whisper breathlessly, but before he can look up and answer you, you’ve already moved back, leaning down and starting to lap at his dick. Logan’s hips flinch at the feeling of your hot tongue, doing the best he can to keep himself still.
When you provide little kitten licks to his tip, he lets out a gravelly moan, but you could hear his resolve fading. “Holy fuck, baby” he says through clenched teeth. “You’re so good- so good.”
Little beads of precum started to form at his tip, which you hesitantly tasted. He sits up slightly, his eyes dilating when he sees how your small hand barely wraps around his cock. It’s clear you don’t want to overwhelm yourself, your eyes closed in concentration as you wrap your lips around the head of his dick, sucking softly before letting your tongue travel around the shaft.
You keep your eyes closed as you try to focus on his dick. You wanted to cement him into your memory, carving out a portion of your mind that would be dedicated to him and only him. Where you could recall how heavy his cock was against your tongue, how his abs against your plush stomach made him groan, or how his tongue felt against your little bud. He was just so perfect. You couldn’t stop thinking about it while your tongue traced his cock. His beautiful brown eyes, stoic personality- his protective instinct? How he always checked on you? It made your head spin. You never thought you’d have him like this.
Logan couldn’t help but run his fingers through your hair, ever so slightly pushing you down further so you’d lap at the base of his cock. When he feels a few cold droplets fall around his groin, he grunts and looks down, struggling to keep his eyes open. But within a few seconds, his eyes are open and alert as he stares down at you with wide eyes. You were crying. Your eyes were closed as you licked along his veiny cock, tears dripping down and gathering at the base. He quickly sat up, using your hair to pull you off of him gently. “Baby- baby, what’s wrong?” He said slightly panicked.
You’re a little confused when he pulls you away and starts to speak, your mind foggy and vision slightly blurry. “hm?” You hum faintly as he pulls you onto his lap, his hands quickly cupping your cheeks and wiping your tears away. When you register his worried gaze, you start to come back a little, moving your hand to wipe at one of your eyes. You look down with slight confusion to find that you had been crying. Crying on his cock when he hadn’t even done anything- jesus.. it was pathetic. Your cheeks quickly heat up when you realize how stupid you looked. “N-nothing” you stutter out quickly as you try to wipe your tears away completely, eyes downcast and unable to meet his own. “My- my body is just- being dumb.” You murmur quietly.
He huffs at your words, not taking that for an answer as he lifts your head up to face him. “Did I hurt you?” He asks, his voice much softer than usual. “You gotta be honest with me, bub.”
You quickly shake your head no, hating that he even considered he was to blame. “No- no. I don’t.. I don’t know why I’m..” you trail off, embarrassment flooding your body.
His eyes never leave your own, his thumb tracing over your cheek gently as his other hand falls to your hip. “Was it overwhelming?” He asks faintly. “I.. I know I’m bigger. Than average, I mean.” He murmurs.
You quickly shake your head, your eyes landing on his own. “I was just- thinking.” You murmur quietly. “While I was.. you know.”
His head tilts slightly, his hand shifting to brush his fingers through your hair. “You shouldn’t have to think, bub. M’supposed to take care of ya.” He sighs softly. “What’s going through that head of yours?” He asks.
You look downcast, leaning against his hand when he rubs your head. As you look down, you start to realize that your bare cunt is against his cock- but you’d ruined it. He wasn’t all that hard anymore, not nearly like he was. When his question registers, you sigh faintly. “Just.. about you.” You confess in a whisper. “You’re so.. warm.” You murmur. “And safe. And pretty.”
A faint scoff slips past his lips, a tiny smirk at the corner of his mouth. “So? You started crying because you like me so much?” He teases. But what he doesn’t expect, is for you to look up at him with a guilty look in your eyes. Christ.. he couldn’t catch a break with you. First you praise him more than he’s ever been praised, and now here you are crying because he’s too perfect? Fucking hell. When he sees the genuineness in your gaze, he stills for a few moments. “Baby.. ya can’t be serious.”
You look downcast once again, and you feel tears starting to form in your eyes, which you quickly start to wipe away. “It’s- it’s different.” You say quietly in your own defense. “I’m different.”
His eyes narrow for a moment in thought. “..different.” He repeats faintly. When you nod, he leans his head back against the headboard as his eyes trail over your naked form, his hands moving to knead at your thighs. “Different or not.” He murmurs. “I still want you.”
A weak smile forms on your lips for a moment. “I’ve never sat in someone’s lap.” You confess softly as you gesture down to how you’re seated on top of him. “No one’s ever seen me naked. Not like this.” You murmur with a shaky sigh. “No one’s ever.. held me.” You whisper, placing one of your hands over his own. “Made me feel warm. And safe.”
His body tenses when he listens to you speak. You were a virgin. And not just physically- it sounded like it was emotional too. No boyfriends to hold you? Cuddle you? Keep you close like you’re their personal teddy bear? The thought made him a little sick. Knowing you’d gone for so long without touch. Without another thought he wraps his arms around you, pulling you to lay completely against his chest. “Baby.” He whispers against your ear as he starts to rub your back. “sweet boy.” He adds faintly. “No wonder you were crying. I- I should’ve held you. Should’ve held you first.”
Your body tenses when he pulls you close, but you very slowly start to relax against him. God he was warm- like a heater. You couldn’t help but melt against him, your legs spreading as you rested against him completely, your bare chest against his own. “s’okay.” You murmur faintly. “i just wanted to touch you.. didn’t matter how.”
He sighs faintly as he holds you close, tucking his face into the crook of your shoulder. “Can’t get over how sweet you are.” He murmurs against your skin. The two of you stayed like that for a few small moments, but you can’t ignore the ache between your legs anymore. You tentatively press your lips to his collar bone, the kiss featherlight. You wanted him so badly- but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. A small smile crosses his lips when he feels your lips, and one of his hands travels down your back. “I can feel you dripping” he smirks against your ear. “No point in being shy now, yeah?”
You sigh softly, your cheeks burning hot against his skin. “can we?” You whisper tentatively.
He smiles softly, pulling his arms from around you to rest on your thighs. Leaning back slightly, he reaches down as you lift your hips, jerking himself a few times before aligning with your entrance. “Do you trust me?” He says as he looks up at you, his voice full of care.
Your hands rest on his chest, trying to ground yourself with a shaky sigh, your eyes closing. “With my life, Logan.” You say breathlessly.
His breath hitches and he gently guides you down with his other hand, heavy hold on your hip. You hiss slightly as his tip prods at your tight hole, and he lets out a groan. “fuck baby” he huffs. “need this pussy wrapped around me, yeah?” he grunts as you sink down a little further.
Your eyes are tightly shut, trying to calm down your breathing as you feel the little burn of his tip slipping in. It’s clear you’re trying to focus, and Logan can feel how tight you’re clenching around him. “f-fuck” you whimper, your thighs shaking as you try to go slow. When he feels how tense you are, his brows furrow slightly with concern. You needed to be relaxed- you needed to enjoy this. He needed to take care of you. Before he can slip in any deeper, he gently pulls you off of him, much to your surprise. You look down at him with concern as you rest on his thighs. “Lo?” You ask softly. “Did I do something wrong?”
He shakes his head no, lifting you up slightly so he can get onto his knees. He lets your back fall against the mattress as he shifts up as close to your boycunt as he can get. “Gonna take care of ya” he grunts as he puts his hands under your knees on the backs of your thighs, holding them up so he can position himself correctly. When he lets your legs go you sigh softly, letting them wrap around his waist. “I think you’ll like this much better.. I can get as deep as you want- all ya gotta do is ask.” You nod gently, watching as he moves to lean over you, his eyes closing as he grabs his cock, lining it up with your hole once again. “This time-“ he murmurs as he presses in slightly. “It’s for real, baby.”
You gasp weakly when you feel that burn in your pussy as it tries to accommodate him. Before you can even really comprehend the pain, his lips meet your own in a deep kiss, making sure you’re distracted from any discomfort. His other hand shifts down to your boycunt, his thumb gently tapping your little bud, trying to not get you too overwhelmed too early. “Logan” you choke out when he manages to press in almost halfway. “it- it won’t fit” you say quickly, but his thumb on your clit starts to calm your mind.
He presses a gentle kiss to your chin before drifting down to leave hickeys on your neck. “You were made for me, sweet thing” he whispers. “I promise it’ll fit.”
Logan swears he’s seen heaven at this point. The way your tight, warm walls engulf him are driving him to the brink of insanity. You’re squeezing him like a vice, and he can feel how goddamn wet you are. Out of all the people he’s fucked, he knows this one is different. The grip of your boycunt is like a loving hug, and the way your eyes flutter closed makes his lower stomach twist into knots. Could he even remember a time he knew a man this perfect? Sure, he’s had a few guys choke on his dick every now and then.. but this was something different entirely. He could feel himself submitting to you- even though he was taking the lead. Everything in his being was screaming at him to make you feel good. His legs wanted him to pound into you, his arms wanted to hold your legs back to make sure he could reach your deepest spots. It took everything in him to hold himself back, to make sure he didn’t overwhelm you.
Hearing your soft cries of his name made him clench his teeth. He’d never been overly fond of his name, but hearing it from your lips made it sound like the most beautiful thing in the world. He said your name over and over like a prayer as his arm wrapped around your torso, his face burying itself into the crook of your neck. “so fucking good- you’re so good” he groans against you as he starts to suck hickeys into your skin. He made sure the pumps of his hips were loving, grinding against you as carefully as he could, ensuring you could feel every inch of him over and over again. “ya feel me?” he grunts against your ear, making you mewl. “that’s right kid- this cock is all yours. Never givin’ it to anyone else.” He groans.
Your arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, holding him as closely to you as possible. He could tell how much you craved his touch, the warmth that his body offered, and he made sure to give you everything he could. “logan!” You gasp out, making him clench his teeth. “holy shit- don’t stop- please don’t fucking stop.” You pleaded into his ear.
He chuckled at your words, slowing his hips just enough to drive you crazy. The tender grind of his crotch against your puffy clit left you dizzy, your thoughts melting into nothing but him- exactly what he wanted. “Good boy” he breathes against your ear. “Keep takin’ this cock, yeah? Fuckin’ hell- never realized how bad I needed you, bub.” He sighs against your skin as one of his hands shifts to your chest, squeezing the soft flesh under his palm. He audibly groans when he feels how pliable you are for him, your head resting against the mattress as his hips roll into your own. He smirks at the sight, shifting his head down so he can take your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the peak.
You hiss at the contact of his hot tongue against your chest, the contrast sending a shiver down your spine. “Logan-“ you gasp as your hands shift into his hair, tugging on his strands to try and ground yourself. His lips let go of your chest with a pop, a grunt leaving him when you tug on his hair. It makes him buck his hips up, the hardest he’s done it yet. He freezes when he feels you gasp- had he hurt you? Did he get too eager? Before he can say anything, your hands cup his cheeks and bring him to meet your gaze. “do that again.” You said quietly, the order making him smirk.
“Yes sir.” He chuckles as he hikes up more onto his knees, giving him the leverage he needs to really fuck you good- just like he wanted to. He was thankful they were in some shitty motel instead of the mansion. There would’ve been no hiding the sound of his hips slapping against yours, or how your moans were getting progressively louder. And he couldn’t stop himself from moaning himself- your cunt just felt so good wrapped around his cock, squeezing it for all it was worth. “shit-“ he chokes out as his hand slips down to rub against your puffy clit, watching as your eyes roll back slightly. “i knew baby- i knew my hand couldn’t even come close to the real thing, yeah? So goddamn tight.. gonna milk me dry?” He grunts.
You nodded mindlessly, lost in how his cock kept hitting right up against that perfect spot inside of you, making your body tense up with ease. “Mhm” you whine in reply, your fingers tugging on his hair as your body clenches up around him. “Lo-“ you gasp weakly. “fuck-“
“That’s it” he coaxes as his thumb speeds up on your clit. “Cmon bub.. almost there. So close, yeah? You’ll feel better after you make a mess on me” he smirks as he places kisses along your collar bone, admiring the embarrassment radiating from your face. Before he can say anything else to tease you, he feels your boycunt clench up around him impossibly tight, stealing his breath away. He quickly grunts, crashing his lips against your own in a needy kiss as he tries to keep his hips moving, but he knows it’s a losing fight. You’ve got him locked down tight, cumming around his cock like you owned it. “Holy fuck, kid” he groans, his arms slipping around your form, holding you close to his chest as he braces himself.
As your mind went hazy from your release, you barely registered Logan pulling his cock out of you and rutting against your boycunt like a dog in heat. As you started to come to your senses you realize how he’s babbling against your neck as he chases his own high. “Holy hell, bub-” he chokes out. “this cunt- goddamn it’s mine.” He huffs. “fuck I’ve needed you- where the hell have you been all my life?”
Watching him with a fucked out look, you gently pull his chin forward to kiss him. But this time- this time it’s different. He feels himself cum the second you start kissing him like you love him. Like you care about him. Like he’s precious to you. His hips stutter before he lets his lower body fall onto yours, unable to form a coherent thought as you grace him with your lips against his own. You can feel the hefty rise and fall of his chest, his lungs trying to keep up with the rest of him. “Do you need some water?” Your soft voice whispered as you gazed up at him.
That look? That look was something he would never be able to forget. That look of soft dominance that came ever so naturally to you. You were smaller and weaker than him, but here you were concerned for his comfort. He was dominant, sure. He could command a room with ease, make himself the center of attention whenever he needed to. But you felt it was your responsibility to care for others without a second thought. And that’s something he could never imitate. You’re a good person through and through- and he couldn’t believe he was allowed to have you like this.
“I should be asking you that” he murmurs as he lets his head rest against your chest.
Sighing contentedly, your fingers gently trail through his hair. “You did all the work.” You huff with a tired smile. “Ten out of ten, by the way. Would fuck again.”
He snorts with laughter, sitting up to pull himself off of you. He sits back on his knees, looking over his handy work. Your abdomen painted white, chest rising and falling in tandem with his anxious heart. “Well” he smirks. “I’m always around.” He teases as he slips off of the bed, walking into the small motel bathroom. “Don’t move too soon- you might be a little weak” he calls out as you hear the sink start to run.
You slowly sit up, glancing down at how his cum shone on your skin, the trail being muddled from the rolls of your stomach. A small smile spreads on your face as you turn to look at yourself in the cheap mirror on the wall. Maybe it was your imagination.. but you felt it. That little afterglow that radiated off of you- maybe just for you to see.
After a few moments, Logan walks out of the bathroom but stops short in the doorway, watching how you admired yourself in the mirror. His smirk softened as he leaned against the doorway, clearing his throat slightly. “If you need a minute I can leave you two lovebirds alone” he teases, referring to you and your reflection. His heart flutters when he hears your laugh, and he makes eye contact with you through the mirror. “What’s got you all.. smiley?” He murmurs as he walks over to the bed, sitting near the headboard so he can get a good look at you.
You turn to look him straight on, your head tilted slightly like a puppy’s would be. “I just..” you whisper. “I don’t feel guilty.” You smile.
His smile falters, and understanding starts to set in. He gently pulls you into his arms, guiding your back to rest against his chest. He tenderly takes the warm cloth he had in his hand and starts to wipe you up, his lips against your shoulder. “I think you’re the first person that hasn’t regretted sex with me.” He murmurs faintly. “I’m bad news, kid.” He sighs.
You let your eyes close as he takes care of you, cleaning you up as gently as he could. His words make you scoff, a small smile on your lips. “Logan.. our entire lives are bad news.” You say softly, your eyes opening as you turn to look into his eyes. “You really think I’m adverse to risk? We’re doing a sting operation right now for god’s sake” you snort. Before he can reply, your eyes widen and you push yourself off of the bed, landing on wobbly feet. You catch yourself on the nightstand, a string of curses leaving you as he looks at you with confusion. “The mission!” You hiss, digging in your bag for your computer. When you check the time.. only thirty minutes has passed. Breathing a sigh of relief, you close your computer, tossing it onto the bed. “It’s only been thirty minutes? Seriously?” You huff.
Logan grins at you, lying back against the pillows. “Sex really doesn’t take that long. Unless you want it to, of course.” He smirks.
You smirk back, walking over to your bag and pulling out an oversized shirt you brought to sleep in. “I think I’m out of commission for the night” you chuckle. “But- if you say please I’ll let you take me to that diner down the road in the morning.”
Before you know it he’s up and behind you, his hands slipping around your waist. “That’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” He grunts against your ear. “Do I look like a gentleman?”
Turning in his arms, you look up at him lovingly. “Give me a week” you hum. “I can make it happen.”
He huffs, capturing your lips in a kiss. When he pulls away, one of his hands slip up to cup your chin. “Fuckin’ hell..” he breathes. “You’ve already won this war, you know that?”
You tilt your head with a smile. “I didn’t know there was a war to win.”
“Mhm.” He hums, letting his forehead rest against your own. “You’ve got a mutt in your corner now, bub.” He murmurs. “Throw me a bone and I’ll bark.”
RAHHHH I FINALLY FINISHED IT‼️ I really hope you guys enjoyed! This is officially my longest writing ever. Reblogs and notes are extremely appreciated!! I look at every notification I get :)
A/N: this is legitimately the longest fic I’ve ever written and I wrote it in two days on my way back from vacation 🫠
This was heavily inspired by the AO3 work Look my Way. It’s a WinterAgent fic but omg does it capture the essence of something I’ve been trying to write about for years now. Definitely check the series out if you like angst with a happy ending but absolutely mind the tags
Also, thank you so much to @fandoms-are-my-h0me for all your help with this story! It wouldn’t be this good without you! 😊
If I’ve forgotten to tag anything, please let me know! Also, don’t like, don’t read!
Dividers by @/enchanthings
CW: Reader is a fireball; Reader is an enhanced anti-hero; mentioned shame rooms; Reader is emotionally volatile; mentioned nightmares; mentioned dysphoria; obsessed!Reader; Reader is emotionally insecure; mentions of wearing a binder; Reader wears a suit; Bob is a good friend; jealous!Reader; Reader wears boxers; kissing; explicit sexual content; smut; biting; masochist!Reader (?); grinding; Walker carries Reader; Reader’s parts are referred to as core, dick, and hole; Walker calls Reader a brat; one mention of the words pussy and whore; dom!Walker; praise kink; oral sex (Reader receiving); cumming untouched; cumming in pants; making out; mentioned top surgery scars; doggy style; dirty talk; fingering; light spanking (?); multiple orgasms; penetrative sex; intense sex; cumming inside; no aftercare; cuddling; angst; protective!Walker; Reader is bad at feelings; Walker is also bad at feelings; ‘I love you’s
4444 words
You and Walker aren’t dating.
That’s what you tell everyone. That’s what he tells everyone. That’s what Valentina tells the public.
You and Walker are just teammates. Teammates with a hell of a lot of tension between the two of you, but teammates nonetheless.
In reality… things are a lot more complicated.
You don’t know how to explain how things started.
You and Walker had always been more amiable towards each other. You’d treated him cordially when you’d first met. It had been easier for you than for the others. You understood the pressure of performance, the way grief turned to anger.
After all, you were supposed to be America’s sweetheart. The pretty, perfect, sweet one. Instead, you’d been angry. Violent. Ferocious and uncontrollable. You’d lashed out where you should’ve been sweet. You’d fought when you should’ve been peaceful.
And it had earned you the scorn of nations.
But when you’d stared Walker down in that death trap of a vault, he hadn’t snapped at you. Hadn’t sneered at you or mocked you beyond a mild comment. Instead, he’d just looked at you with an expression akin to begrudging respect.
And that had started it all.
When everything with Bob went down, you’d been the first to charge after Yelena. The memory of your shame rooms still haunted you, trailing after you in nightmares and in the dark corners of rooms.
It had been Walker who’d found you. Punching through the wall with a yell. Shaking you from your fear and shame and grief and riling you back up into the fierce image of anger the public knows you as.
It’s Walker who continues to rescue you from your nightmares. When you wake up screaming in the middle of the night, terror clawing at your chest. Bitter fear bubbling inside you. It’s his room you seek shelter in.
It’s his arms you hide in. It’s his body you seek relief in. It’s his murmured words that soothe the roaring beast of dysphoria beneath your skin.
But you’re not dating.
Not for lack of want. Definitely not for lack of want.
You want him so bad it feels like a physical thing in your chest. A lump slowly growing and simmering, collecting scraps of obsession and adoration and need. You need his presence to breathe. To function. To exist without feeling untethered and broken.
But you’re scared to ask.
Walker likes you. You know this. He’s told you, in murmured words after sex. In between morning breath kisses. With every meal he cooks for you. You know it as surely as you know who you are.
But it’s not enough.
You don’t want him to like you. You want him to need you. You want him to adore you. You want him to love you.
But you’re pretty sure his heart still belongs to Olivia.
And you’re scared of losing him. Of losing the first bit of stability in your life you’ve had in years.
So you don’t ask. You just want in silence and hope that it’ll be enough for your starving heart.
Most of the time it is.
Tonight it isn’t.
You all are at some gala or other. A charity event, probably. In any case, you all are dressed up. Valentina pulled out all the stops this time, even going so far as to get you a fitted suit. One with a corset vest that hides your chest so you don’t have to struggle with a binder for tonight.
Everyone’s giving you space, except for Bob, of course. He’s clinging to your arm like a nervous dog, using your reputation for starting fights to keep from being asked prying questions. You don’t mind his presence. He’s good company and he’s good at keeping you from drinking too much.
Which you are definitely about to do.
Your mood is worse than usual. You’re practically glaring daggers across the room, wishing with all your might that Ava will phase through the floor all of a sudden and leave John alone.
Not that you’d be able to dance with him tonight. That’d be too close to a scandal. Too close to boyfriend behavior. But you can at least be angry at those who do get to dance with him.
“You know it’s not Ava’s fault, right…?” Bob asks, waving a hand in front of your face. Your jaw clenches and you turn away.
“I know.” The knowing doesn’t help the burning jealousy in your chest.
Bob frowns at you as you down another drink, the alcohol only making you a little fuzzy. You’re by no means a super soldier, but you’re enhanced nonetheless. You haven’t been able to get really drunk in years.
“Maybe you should slow down,” Bob says hesitantly. You don’t respond; your glare intensifying as Ava laughs at something John says.
That should be you.
It burns at your mind, itching under your skin. A furious beast snarling to be released.
“Hey.” Bob nudges you. Your glare turns on him, but softens immediately when he flinches.
“Sorry,” you mutter. You turn away, putting your back to John and Ava’s little happy moment. “It’s just…”
You don’t finish your sentence. You don’t have to. It’s Bob. He knows.
He flashes you a sympathetic smile. “You can dance with me if you want.”
You shake your head. It’s a sweet offer, but it wouldn’t be the same. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
You exhale slowly and assess the room. Yelena’s chatting with Bucky. Alexei’s talking to a reporter while Mel hovers nearby. Valentina is nowhere to be seen.
Giving you the perfect opportunity to slip away.
“Alright.” You nudge Bob in Yelena’s direction. “Go be a duckling with ‘Lena. I’m turning in for the night.”
Bob casts you a worried look. “You sure?”
You force a smile and nod. “Yeah. It’s… probably best I leave now. Before…” You wave your hands vaguely.
He nods. “Alright.” But he lingers for a moment. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
That makes your smile turn genuine. “Don’t call John stupid.”
Bob snorts. Shakes his head. And walks away.
You stay at the bar for only a moment longer before you start making your way towards the door. Predictably, no one stops you. They’ve all seen you glaring. No one wants to be the one to pick a fight with you.
“Hey!”
You turn. Walker jogs up to you, giving you one of those stupidly attractive grins that you love so much.
“What?” You wince internally at the sharpness of your voice but he doesn’t even seem fazed.
“Wanna get out of here?” He asks, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Guiding you out of the room with ease.
You should resist. The bitter jealousy is still curled behind your ribs, but you can’t help it. You can’t say no to him.
“Do something fun?” You ask, giving him a small but genuine smile.
He chuckles and pats your shoulder. “Read my mind.” He leans in closer, his voice a soft breath in your ear. “You look goddamn handsome in that suit. I wanna see how handsome you look without it.”
That’s all it takes for your body to light up with arousal. A few words and you’re already wet for him.
“Only if you let me wear your coat while you fuck me,” you murmur back.
His answering grin is blinding and makes your heart thrill.
Your camaraderie turns to lust as soon as the elevator doors close and the cameras are off you. The two of you collide like gravity’s pulling you together. Your hands find his waist, your lips crashing together.
It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s hungry and desperate and you want to be mean. So you bite at him, nipping at his lower lip till the acrid tang of blood spices your mouth.
He groans, nudging a knee in between your legs. You growl into the kiss, hands working at his shirt. The buttons are a pain to undo but you’re persistent. As soon as enough are undone, you’re pulling at his undershirt and smoothing your fingers over his abdomen.
You can feel his muscles flexing under your touch and you grin into the kiss. He knows how much you love his muscles.
His lips find your neck and he bites. You moan, arching against him. “Fuck, John!”
The pain makes your head all floaty; the sensation sharp enough to soothe the ache in your chest. He pushes his thigh harder against you and you grind down against it. Not caring in the slightest that you’re ruining your suit.
By the time you reach the floor with your rooms, you’re panting into each other’s mouths. You’re palming him through his pants, already soaking through yours.
You move to pull away and he grunts. With one fluid movement, he scoops you up. Carrying you through the darkened common room like you weigh nothing. It makes your core clench; the feel of his arms supporting you making your head spin.
You bury your face in his neck, kissing and nipping like crazy. Making him stumble and groan as he makes his way towards his room. “Fuck, babe. Gonna make me cum before I even get inside you.”
You smirk against his skin. “Like you wouldn’t just get hard again within a few minutes.”
He chuckles and kisses your shoulder. Giving you a soft bite through the fabric of your suit. You groan and roll your hips against his, grinding hard against his bulge. He curses, stumbling again.
“That one was on purpose,” he growls.
You grin. “What’re you gonna do about it?”
Your grin vanishes when his eyes gleam with triumph. Your head turns, but you already know. He opens the door to his room, kicking it shut behind him as he enters. He drops you on the bed, already shedding his coat.
Walker tosses it next to you on the bed, gazing down at you with a smirk on his face. “What am I gonna do about it? Well, darlin’…” He leans down, resting his hands on either side of your hips. “I think I’m gonna eat that bratty little hole of yours out.”
You flush and squirm, core clenching at the thought. If there was anything he was good at, eating pussy was number fucking one the list.
He grabs your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze. “Then, I’m gonna fuck you so good you’ll forget your own damn name. Understand?”
You swallow and nod.
His eyes darken. “I said, understand?”
“Yes, sir!” You gasp out.
He smirks, all slow and smug. “Good boy.”
You bite back a moan. If your boxers weren’t soaked already, you’d’ve soaked them through just from that. He knows how weak you are to praise. His praise from him especially.
He pulls back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Strip.”
You swallow again and obey. You work as fast as you can, tossing your clothes carelessly on the floor. You hesitate for a moment before taking off your undershirt. Exposing your scars to his gaze.
His expression softens, but he doesn’t say anything so you continue. Stripping off your pants and boxers before sitting back down on the edge of the bed. Completely and totally naked in front of him.
When you slowly spread your legs, you can see his gaze darken. Hunger filling his eyes. He drops to his knees in front of you, groaning softly. “Fuck, babe. You’re so handsome.”
A whimper crawls up your throat. You can feel your arousal spill from your core, dampening the sheets beneath you. He growls softly, reaching out to swipe two fingers against you. Gathering up your slick. You gasp, hips jolting. He just smirks, popping his fingers into his mouth.
His eyes flutter shut, a moan spilling from his lips. “You taste so goddamn good. Could fuckin’ feast on you all day long.”
You just groan and thread your fingers into his hair. Tugging him towards your aching core. “Shut up and eat me out, Johnny.”
Magic fucking words. He shoves his face against you, growling against your core. His stubble scrapes against you, making you gasp. Then he’s going down on you like a starving man, licking and sucking and eating you out like he needs you to live.
And you wail. “Fuck! Johnny, Johnny, fuck, yes!”
Your heels dig into his back, pulling him closer. You writhe, squirm, grind against his face. It feels like heaven, his stubble adding a layer of pain that makes you delirious with pleasure.
He pins your hips to the bed and sucks on your dick. Swirling his tongue around it and over it in that way that has you seeing stars. You cum with a cry, a broken gasp of his name.
You can feel the way his body jerks. The muffled groan that spills against you. He pulls back, expression dazed and hazy.
You pant, gazing down at him with wide eyes. “Did you just—“
“Shut up,” he grumbles, smacking your inner thigh. He rests his forehead against your leg, exhaling harshly. You grin. “Oh, you did.”
He lifts his head to give you a mild glare, but you don’t care. You push yourself up, giving him the smuggest look you can muster. “Big bad John Walker, cumming in his pants like a teenager. Whatever happened to fucking me till I forget my own— Fuck!”
He surges upward. Lips colliding messily with yours. You moan at the taste on his lips. Your taste.
He bites at your lower lip, sucking it harshly into his mouth. “Fuckin’ brat. Can’t give me a moment of goddamn peace, can you?”
You open your mouth to answer and he pushes you down. Climbing on top of you and shoving his tongue in your mouth to keep you quiet. You moan, legs wrapping around his waist. Hands sliding up his toned chest. Shamelessly feeling up his muscles as the two of you make out.
He’s too distracted to notice when you brace yourself. With a grunt and a huff, you flip the two of you over. Switching so you’re straddling him. Your dripping core nestled right over his covered cock.
You smirk down at him. He scowls. “Don’t even say it—“
“Is that a gun in your pocket, Walker?” You ask smugly. “Or are you just that happy to see me?”
He growls and rolls his hips up against you. Making your breath stutter in your lungs. You moan, thoughts flying away as you start to grind down against him. He’s big and he feels big, even through his pants. And you’re oh so empty, clenching down hard around nothing.
You quickly melt into whimpers, half-humping him as he groans underneath you. You’re just beginning to chase your high when he taps your thigh. You whine, but slide off him. Giving him space to breathe and room to yank off the rest of his suit.
While he fumbles with his belt, you snatch up his abandoned coat. Slipping your arms into the sleeves and buttoning it up just enough to hide your chest scars. It’s comfy. And the collar smells like him; like his nice cologne. The one he wears when he wants people to like him.
John eyes you as he steps out of his clothes. You eye him right on back. You don’t even try to hide the way you’re ogling his dick. The way you’re practically drooling over it. He’s big and he knows it.
He nods at you, jerking his head a little. “Go on. On your hands and knees.”
His tone makes you shiver and you scramble to obey. You get on your knees, ass up in the air. Dropping hole on perfect display for him.
He smirks. And you get no warning before he’s lightly smacking your core. Not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it. “Look at you. Soaked already. You get this wet from my mouth or from grindin’ on my dick?”
You moan. Loudly. Unashamedly. Your whole body feeling hot from his words.
He chuckles, slipping two fingers inside you, all the way up to his knuckles. “Look at you. Moanin’ like a whore and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”
You whimper, eyes squeezing shut when his fingers curl inside you. He’s a god at eating you out, but his hands know your body like nothing else. You’re a mess within seconds. Whining and sobbing pitifully as he fingerfucks you.
And he doesn’t stop when you cum. He keeps going; the sounds obscene in the air around you. You cry his name, chanting it over and over. Voice cracking as he coaxes wave after wave of pleasure from your body.
And then he pulls his fingers out. And you cry from the emptiness instead.
“Oh, shut up,” he grumbles softly. Nothing but quiet affection in his tone. “You’re so needy.”
With a grunt, he lines himself up. Thrusting forward a few times to coat his cock in your slick before pressing in. And you both melt into delirium.
He’s so big. And the angle is just right, making the stretch delicious as he slides in.
He’s panting, forehead dropped against your back. His hips stutter, a moan ripped from his lips. And he cums, spilling inside you with a gasp of your name. You don’t make fun of him this time; too wrapped up in the moment to care.
It only takes him a moment to recover anyway. And then he’s pounding into you. Not even giving you a moment to breathe before he’s bullying his dick deep inside you. And you cry out; desperate pleas of his name, urging him on.
He fucks you with superhuman focus. Hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Yanking you back against him as he thrusts in. You babble his name, face shoved into a pillow. You can’t think; you can’t breathe. All you can do it take it, drowning in the pleasure.
You cum a third time. He fucks you through it. But his hips stutter, his pace messing up. And you know you have him. His hips slam home. His dick twitching inside you as he fills you up with hot cum.
It leaks out of you as he slowly pulls out. A swear bursting on his tongue as he watches his creamy seed spill from your core. You can see the desire in his eyes. The involuntary motion forward, as if to lean down and taste his own cum leaking from you.
You pull him down next to you instead. Both of you take a moment to breathe. To rest. To bask in the afterglow.
And then he pulls you to him. Tucks himself up along your back and nuzzles into your neck. His breath ghosting along your skin.
It’s the perfect moment. The words spring up behind your lips. I love you. But you wait, desperately hoping he’ll say them tonight. That he’ll finally give name to what’s between you.
But his breathing evens out. His body relaxing against yours.
The disappointment is immeasurable. Soul-crushing and bone-deep. Any other day you’d shrug it off. Feed your hungry heart with imaginary scraps of a relationship you’re still not in.
But tonight it’s not enough. It’s never really enough. And, once you’re sure he’s asleep, you get up and leave.
The next two weeks are… weird. You don’t avoid Walker, but there’s an odd sort of tension in every interaction you have with him. A quiet strain on the easy routines you have with him.
You feel it like a gaping chasm.
It’s when the team starts to notice that you know it’s not just in your head. It starts with Bob, a soft question of “Are you okay?”
Then it’s Yelena making a quiet comment about your training session with Walker. You catch Ava talking with Walker in the kitchen one morning. It makes a spike of jealousy jump in your chest; one you do your best to stifle.
Finally, Bucky pulls you aside. “What’s going on with you and Walker?”
“Nothing.” Your answer is immediate and blank.
He’s visibly not convinced. His brow furrows and he steps closer. “If something’s going on that’ll affect the team…”
You exhale and look away. Across the room, Walker’s watching the two of you. An unreadable expression on his face. You meet his gaze for a moment.
“Nothing’s going on,” you say quietly. You turn back to Bucky. “Walker and I aren’t dating, if that’s what you’re asking.”
Bucky frowns. “Still?”
Something about the way he says it makes you bristle. You can feel yourself going on the defensive, your stance shifting a little. “Yeah. Still.”
Bucky runs a hand over his face. “Look, you two need to get your shit together.”
Your jaw sets. You force your mouth to stay shut. Biting back the scathing words that itch to be let out.
“You can’t keep dancing around each other forever,” he says tiredly. “Something’s gonna give and I don’t want it to be—“
Whatever he was about to say is cut off. Because the second he reaches out to rest a hand on your arm, Walker’s there. Chin raised and shoulders back. Slowly nudging his way between the two of you before you can do something rash.
“Back off, Barnes.” There’s nothing but icy steel in Walker’s voice. It makes the ball of anger in your chest loosen a little.
Bucky says something about good intentions. It makes Walker scoff, his arms folding over his chest. “I said, back off.”
They glare at each other for a moment before Bucky takes a step back. He glances between you two for a moment before nodding and walking away.
You gaze at Walker’s back. He lets out a breath and the tension slowly leaves his body. He turns to you, eyes searching yours. Neither of you say anything.
He reaches out, brushing a thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches. Some quiet part of your brain screams at him to kiss you.
But he just lingers for a moment before pulling away. Leaving disappointment and uneasy butterflies behind.
He gives you a nod. Some unspoken affirmation of something you didn’t know needed an answer. And the disappointment smoothes over.
You give him a half-smile and take a step back. Slowly you tear your gaze away and turn to leave. He doesn’t stop you, but you can feel his gaze on you all the way to the elevator.
It makes your stomach flutter and your cheeks heat. And for the first time in days, the chasm between you two doesn’t feel so wide.
That night, there’s a knock at your door. It startles you, but doesn’t surprise you. You pull on a shirt and answer the door.
It’s Walker. Standing there quietly. Looking not all stern and demanding, but soft and determined. You smile a little. “Hey.”
His lips quirk up. “Hey.”
You step back to let him in. He lingers by the door, closing it softly behind him. You take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing at him. You both are silent, as if waiting for the other to speak.
Finally, he clears his throat. “We need to talk.”
You try to ignore the shards of panic that splinter through your heart. Nothing good ever comes of those words. Still, you nod. “Okay.”
He takes a breath. You brace yourself.
“What are we?”
You blink. “What?”
He swallows. “What are we?”
“No, I heard you.” You stare at him. “What do you mean?”
He shifts as if uncomfortable. “Are we dating? Are we friends? What are we?”
“Well, we’re not dating.” You mean for it to be a joke, but it comes out harsher than intended.
Walker flinches. You scramble to continue. “I mean, I guess we’re fuckbuddies?”
It’s your turn to wince. Just saying it aloud hurts. It feels cheap, like it’s lessening whatever you two have between you.
“Fuckbuddies.” He stares flatly at you.
You avoid his gaze. “Friends with benefits, maybe?”
His expression doesn’t change. “Right. That’s all we are.”
Your chest hurts. Like someone’s slowly but surely ripping your heart from its home. You swallow and stare at the ground. Your mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them screaming to be spoken.
Silence stretches out between you. Walker’s expression slides into something like disappointment. He scoffs softly. “Fuckbuddies.”
He shakes his head and turns away. “Of course that’s all we are.”
You just stare at him wordlessly. He sounds so… bitter. And you can’t help but wonder if this is it. If this is the moment he’ll turn and say it’s over.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at you. Gives you this pained look. Gaze flicking across your face like he’s searching for something.
“Is that all we are?” His voice is quiet. Bordering desperation. It sinks into your heart like a knife, gutting you from the inside out.
The whirlwind in your mind comes to a screeching halt, only one thought left in your mind. A selfish, greedy, hungry thought. “No.”
He steps closer. Gaze now intensely focused on yours. “No?” It’s barely a whisper.
You let out a breath. “I don’t know what we are.”
He steps closer again. Something changing in his expression. “But we’re something?”
You nod. Your palms are sweaty; your breath coming out all shaky. It takes a terrifying amount of courage to speak. “We could— We could date. If you wanted to.”
He doesn’t look away. “I want to.”
The wall of fear around your heart cracks and shatters. Butterflies erupt in your stomach. “You do…?”
He reaches out, cupping your face in his rough hands. “Yeah.”
A smile twitches at your lips, tugging them up until you’re grinning at him. “John?”
“Hmm?” His thumb brushes your lower lip.
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
His gaze flicks up to yours. His lips quirk up. He leans in. “Hell fucking yeah.”
The kiss is soft. Slow and deep, like you both are savoring the contact. You pull back slowly, smiling. He chases after you, pulling you into another, hungrier kiss.
You nip at his lower lip, making his breath catch. “John Walker,” you whisper. “My boyfriend.”
He chuckles lowly, dipping his head to nuzzle along your jaw. “We should make that my new alias. John Walker, your boyfriend.”
A laugh startles from you and you lean back to grin at him. He smirks up at you.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
Your eyes widen. “I love you too,” you whisper back. And something in your chest curls up and settles down.
