Being Watched

I need to stop joining new fandoms and falling in love with new people.

◇ 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 ◇

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒: 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

◦ 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warning: edging, teasing, sex! toy (vibrator!), pussy eating, soft dom marc, overstimulation

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really wish you hadn’t tried getting back at Marc. Teasing him never went well for you, it always ended you up in the position you were in at the moment.

Your wrists were tied to the headboard with your legs spread, marc between your thighs with your legs above his shoulders. He wasn’t fucking you with his fingers or eating you out. He was holding a vibrator to your acing clit, circle it softly then pulling back as soon as he saw your legs shake.

“Told you honey, right before we walked out that door didn’t I?” Marc cooed. You whined in agony as your pussy pulsed and dripped in need. He’d been at it for who knows how long.

You went out with Marc tonight, the late night bar date was going well until you told him to look under the table. Marc’s body tensed as he saw you wearing no panties, just the thin fabric of the dress hiding what’s his from the world.

Now you were here, tied up and being edged for the past 30 minutes. “I- I’m sorry” you choked out as Marc ran the warm silicone up your sticky folds. The sound of the vibration and your slick making you even needier.

“No you aren’t and that’s ok, I don’t mind this” he mocked as he pressed the vibrator down onto your clit. Your hips bucked up in the air as you squeezed your eyes shut and focused on the pleasure.

You felt the knot getting tighter and tighter as he slowly circled the toy into your messy cunt. Marc smiled up at you, pulling the toy away the second he saw you too comfortable.

You let out a pitiful cry, tears streaming down your face as the edging was getting to much. “Ple- p- please Marc, please” you cried out.

“I know sweetheart, sucks doesn’t it?” He mocked. His lips pressed a soft kiss into your inner thigh, his hand moving the toy back up to your clit and dragging it through your folds.

“Think you’ve had enough punishment for today yeah?” He hummed. You nodded weakly with tears streaming down your face and body shaking. Marc turned the vibrator off, your soft smile turning into a frown as he threw the toy to the side.

Before you could get a word out his mouth was lapping at your pussy. His tongue working at your swollen clit that was covered in slick “mhm so fucking g- good” Marc groaned as he rolled his tongue around your clit.

A loud whine spilled out your lips as he bobbed his head and lapped as if his life depended on it. Your hands flew to his hair as you felt your orgasm wash over you.

The nerves in your body tingling as you finally got the release you’ve been dying for. Your breathy moans filled the room as he didn’t stop, causing your body to shiver and squirm under him.

Marc gave one last lick with a pop of his lips, his mouth covered in your wetness as he lifted two fingers onto his cheeks and collected your cum with his fingers, sucking them clean with a moan.

Both of you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time, and you were definitely not sorry.

He's cold-blooded so it takes more time to bleed- Erik Lehnsherr x Reader

You scoffed then, drawing the eyes of everyone sat throughout the common room; including Erik, the deceitful side of your brain chimed gleefully. He raised an eyebrow at you, cocking his head; physically daring you to speak. You did so anyway, “What the hell is your problem with me, Erik?”  “-Y/N, please-”  “My problem?” Erik spoke over Charles; his eyes hawk-like as they watched you, his cheeks turning with mirth as he grinned at you, his sharp teeth glinting in the evening light. If you hadn’t been overtaken with anger, with embarrassment; you would’ve thought that he looked devastatingly attractive, in some twisted way. “My problem is that lesser mutants, like you, shouldn’t be put on patrols that ensure the safety of the other, more important mutants in this house.” 

A/N: So I hadn't touched this in over a MONTH. Never fear, I had a zap of inspiration and prevailed- I hope you enjoy! I'm considering doing a short fic from Jean's POV of Erik after the battle so look out for that! :)

Word Count: 9,391 / Read it on AO3! / Feel free to send any requests!

BEFORE

“No, Y/N isn’t taking part.” Erik’s words were final, as according to his tone and the silence that ensued; even Charles seemed shocked, his eyes flicking between you, sat upon one of the leather couches, and Erik, stood at the front of the room, hands on hips. 

“Erik-” Charles began, adjusting in his wheelchair and clearing his throat. Jean, beside you, too shifted; her anger visible as she sent daggers Erik’s way with her eyes, he seemed entirely unaware. “I- Y/N is an incredibly capable mutant, in the missions she has gone on-” 

“-Which she shouldn’t have-”

“Erik! In the missions she has gone on,” Charles repeated, shaking his head, “She has proven herself to be one of the best; her Geokinesis has the potential to be-” 

“Potential,” Erik shook his head- whilst your eyes had not left his form, his eyes were yet to stray towards your own as he resolutely stared at any other catching aspect of the room. “That’s all you seem to care about Charles, not the actual raw talent of a mutant.” 

You scoffed then, drawing the eyes of everyone who sat throughout the common room; including Erik, the deceitful side of your brain chimed gleefully. He raised an eyebrow at you, cocking his head; physically daring you to speak. You did so anyway, “What the hell is your problem with me, Erik?” 

“-Y/N, please-” 

“My problem?” Erik spoke over Charles; his eyes hawk-like as they watched you, his cheeks turning with mirth as he grinned at you, his sharp teeth glinting in the evening light. If you hadn’t been overtaken with anger, with embarrassment; you would’ve thought that he looked devastatingly attractive, in some twisted way. “My problem is that lesser mutants, like you, shouldn’t be put on patrols that ensure the safety of the other, more important mutants in this house.” 

Your mouth downturned unwillingly as a clogging feeling entrapped your throat, unadulterated sadness filling your gut at the cruelty of his words. Beside you, Jean sprung from her seat; hurling insults at Erik as Scott attempted to hold her back. At the edge of the room, Charles simply rubbed at his brow, but not before sending you a sympathetic, apologetic look. It had been like this for months now; Erik disregarding your every word, suggestion, and proposal; it seemed that he simply had no interest in anything you had to offer. 

You had been appointed to the X-men with wide, open arms; having scored ridiculously high marks in your training. Erik had even been a friend, in the beginning, one of your closest- hence, the outright obvious, and regretful, feelings you harboured towards him. He had once treated you with kindness; helping you in your training, the similarity in your abilities allowing him to provide advice, tips on how to truly harness your powers. Whilst Erik could control the direct elements of the Earth; Iron, Zinc, Potassium, amongst many others- you could control, as stated within your mutant file, ‘photosynthetic eukaryotes’. You had laughed upon first seeing the description, shaking your head at the severity it suggested; Erik had corrected you then. “You can wield more than you know,” He had nodded, gesturing to the screen before you, “Your powers may seem simple to you now; but there is always more to discover,” He had paused then, turning towards you directly, smile discreet, “I will help you discover that.” 

“What more is there to discover about plants?” You had laughed, genuinely unable to grasp the supposedly absurd concept of your power being of any worth other than discreetly fixing an elderly neighbour’s yard, speeding the growth of the tomato plant they had incorrectly cared for despite their best efforts. 

Erik had shook his head, eyes misting slightly as he watched you, “More than you would know.” 

Your feelings for him didn’t exactly come as a surprise to you, whilst you did regret them greatly, you couldn’t deny the kindness he had provided you during your first months at the school; the guidance he had offered you during the day and the friendship he had offered you at night- it had been everything in contrast to the loneliness you had felt since discovering your mutant gene. Harrowing, stomach-turning nightmares would procure directly from your memories; Erik would always be there to wake you, running into your room before anyone else could even rise, shaking you awake and halting your sobs with the strength of his embrace.

In his shift, his silence; you had learned to quieten your cries- to wake yourself up from your nightmares, scared of bothering him even in sleep. 

You could pinpoint exactly when things had changed; when Erik had suddenly slipped away, succumbing you to the darkness of your own mind; to navigate the dingy, griping hallways of your mutant powers alone. It had been the depths of Summer; the sun hot and blazing upon the grounds of the manor- you spent many a day in the gardens, tending to the plants and honing your powers; barefoot and free. Sometimes, Erik would join you, using the seasonal bloom of the flowers as a ‘training opportunity’. 

The day it ended, you had been manipulating the vines of ivy that had grown upon the fence; learning how to move them as if they were one of your very own limbs. “Focus.” Erik had spoken from behind you, his arms crossed and gaze severe, “Clear your mind of everything other than that plant.” 

A difficult task, you had bemused to yourself, when the sole occupier of your mind and the object of your desires stood only a hair’s breadth away. “I’m trying,” You had gritted your teeth, pushing a splayed palm towards the ivy; your fingers trembling slightly, the sun blazing through the spaces between your fingers. 

Just as you had been about to give up, a touch lay upon your wrist, effectively silencing any thoughts intruding on those regarding the task at hand. “Here,” Erik had mumbled, his breath hot upon your neck, “Hold your hand up like this.” As he parted your fingers, practically intertwining his fingers with your own- you had found clarity in your own worry of revealing your nerves to him, of revealing the heat that clambered upon your chest and upon your neck where his breath lay, goosebumps rising in its wake. Within that sense of clarity, you had linked your powers with the twines and inky green leaves of the ivy- lifting the ivy from the fence and guiding it to hover above you; Erik’s fingers still intertwined within yours. You breathed; shock coursing through your body as you stared wide-eyed at the life-form levitating above you- the ivy floated upon the air, drifting languidly as if upon waves of a tranquil sea. The moment passed then; the initial calm of your powers passing as euphoria replaced it. Laughing,  you had instantly turned to Erik, dropping his hand in favour of throwing your arms around his shoulders; gasping and blubbering as tears of joy had formed within your eyes. Erik, too, had matched your fervour at first; grinning and burrowing a hand within your hair, another moving to rest upon your waist. 

Looking back on that moment, you knew that the pulse of power within your fingertips and the warmth within your chest and the hand within your hair had blurred your judgement entirely. So, looking back, you could see why you had pulled away and immediately pressed your lips to Erik’s. 

In other words, you had kissed him. 

At first, he had reciprocated; the hand within your hair deepening, the grip upon your waist tightening. He had guided your face to the side, gasping into your mouth as you intertwined your tongue with his own. You had felt so alive in that moment, your entire body thrumming like a tightened cord; held aloft by the grip of his hands and the heat of his tongue. 

However, the moment ended as quickly as it had begun. You had felt it as he had frozen, his body going ramrock still against your own; the heat between you retreating like a dying flame. 

You lamented yourself for that kiss everyday; whilst you knew that objectively, there had been nothing wrong with it, and it had been the best kiss you had ever experienced, even in its lacklustre length; you couldn’t see past the detrimental effect it had projected upon your relationship, your life as a whole. He had retreated instantly, some wayward excuse tumbling from his lips as he fled the garden, fled the warmth of your touch. The lingering sense of something more hanging stale, dead in the air. 

You had never forgotten the sound the ivy had made as it had slapped upon the concrete; the stems withering and rotting instantly in the projections of your regret, the scent of it bleating from you in waves. You had used every last ounce of your might, your power, to revive it; pressing your hands incessantly to the blackening stems. They did not return to their living state, too far gone in the influence of your vast emotions. Your nightmares took a new turn then, dreams of rejection, isolation; of your powers overtaking you and destroying the foundations of the world, any semblance of emotion desecrating nature and instilling desperation. Those dreams were worse than your own memories; you grew afraid of your powers, afraid of yourself, your own inability to control your emotions. As you became a shell of yourself, of the barefoot girl who grew geraniums in the palm of her hands; Erik drew further away, you could only chart it up to disgust- you had gone too far, flung yourself upon him in the light of the risen sun where others could have seen. He had been embarrassed of you. Why wouldn’t he be? You were a semblance of everything Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, was not; whilst he could control the very foundations of the earth’s core, you could barely maintain its creations. Whilst he could stand before the students and present any lesson he desired, you shied away from an authoritative position, opting to hide in the comfort, the secrecy, of your gardens.

You felt as though you were a disappointment of a mutant; a waste of genetic advancement. Entirely undeserving of the gene. 

Days without Erik turned into weeks, and then gradually months. Day after day you sat alone in the cafeteria; staring at the side of his head, watching the crinkle of his cheeks as he smiled at something Charles said; as he enjoyed the company of those within his own mutant league. 

But, as Erik had departed from your life, Jean had entered. Silver linings, and all. She had barged into your life with her fiery hair and even brighter personality; the powers so strong that they would immobilise the average person, the average mutant- but Jean simply took it in her stride, using her staggering, incredible powers for good. 

You would forever be thankful for the way she had taken you under her wing that one random morning at breakfast. You had been sitting alone, meagerly sipping a mug of tea, your nightmares leaving you unable to stomach any solid food; unable to do anything but longingly stare at Erik across the hall, able to think of nothing but the way his lips had felt against your own. It was set to be an entirely normal morning, the same as every other; stare at Erik, tend to the plants, wallow in your lonesome. However, before you could embark on your pathetic routine, your line of sight had been blocked by a figure before you, Jean, placing her tray upon the table and chatting with you as if it were nothing new. 

“-Honestly, it’s ridiculous.” You had blinked, tearing your vision away from Erik; your finger hanging limply at your lips where you had been chewing at a loose hangnail. Shaking your head, you had been able to do nothing but gape at Jean, your brain unable to compute what had been said, why she had been sat across from you, how you had managed to find your way into the dining hall at all. She had simply nodded her head at you, gesturing blatantly down at her provided breakfast tray, “The fact that they’ve only been serving brown bread for toast recently, I mean- nobody wants to eat that.” 

You had practically shifted yourself into first gear, inwardly slapping yourself awake as you had processed what she had said, what she was saying as she continued to complain about the discrepancies the cafeteria had allowed in recent months. “Maybe you should complain to Charles, go straight to the top.” You had managed to contribute, visibly sighing in relief as she nodded enthusiastically. 

“You know what, you’re so right.” 

From there, Jean’s presence had become a normality, walking arm-in-arm with your new best friend through the halls of the manor became a daily pleasure. 

You had almost forgotten about Erik. 

But, you found within yourself, you just couldn’t. He had been so kind, so understanding, and so ridiculously attractive- to which he, in fact, was potentially even more so. 

It eventually reached the point that you had been at in the common room; the only interactions being him hurling insults in your direction, exposing every insecurity you had ever had regarding your abilities; and you sitting there utterly befuddled as to how your relationship had deteriorated so severely. The conversation had initially revolved around assignments, specifically who would enact the nightly patrols of the grounds; groups of two would simply walk the outskirts of the land owned by Charles and ensure that everything was in order. It had been clear that you were perfect for the job; the edges of the land were uncared for; flooded with wildlife and overgrowth- you would practically be in your element. And yet, Erik had vehemently argued against you taking part, so passionately to the point that it was past being insulting, and just outright deranged. 

“You are such an asshole!” Jean’s shouts brought you out of your thoughts, blinking harshly as you zoned back into the conversation to which you were the main component of, “Do you ever climb down from your high horse, Magneto?” She spat his superhero nickname in a derogatory manner, practically laughing as she procured the word; as if one of the strongest mutants on the planet was merely a joke to her. She turned to you then, where you were still sunken into the leather of the couch; gesturing towards you passionately, “Y/N is an incredible mutant, if you had showed any interest in her recent training, you would know that; in fact, Charles is right, she’s on track to be better than you.” Ending the sentence with a jab in his direction, she turned and stomped back towards the couch; muttering angrily under her breath, you could only offer her a shallow smile in appreciation. You had filled Jean in on everything that had happened between you and Erik, whatever didn’t sound like dreamful vitriol, anyway. She had simply sighed, shaking her head, “Men.” She had tutted, turning the page in her book. In turn, she had filled you in on her situation with Scott; there really wasn’t much to it, other than the usual will-they-won’t-they denial of feelings on each end. You knew for a fact that Scott harboured similar feelings for her, it was only a matter of time.

Erik had recovered from Jean’s berating easily, simply brushing off her insults with a swallow and a hand through the hair, “Y/N isn’t taking part in patrols and that is final.” 

“Charles,” You had sighed, sending him a pleading look, hoping that your other superior would take some stance against Erik, recognise your need to be useful, “Please?” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Charles shook his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Erik has just as much a say as I do; I’m afraid his decision is final.” 

*

Despite your confidence in Jean and Scott’s mutual feelings for each other, it seemed that the potential couple themselves had been entirely unaware as to this likelihood. 

“Y/N!” Jean cheered, bustling into your room with multiple piles of clothing, you had sprung from your bed; heart thumping from the sudden nature in which she had appeared. She shook off your shock, dumping her clothes onto your bed and spinning towards you, “I need you to help me pick out a dress.” 

“What’s the occasion?” Furrowing your brows, you picked through the masses of colour that now laid upon your bed; clothes suitable for a myriad of situations.

“I’m going…” You waited as she paused for dramatic effect, “On a date!” 

“Oh!” You gasped excitedly, jumping to grasp your friend by the shoulders, “With Scott?”

Jean’s energy died instantly, freezing beneath your hold as she cleared her throat, eyes flickering nervously, “Oh- what? No, why-” 

“Wait- who is it with then?” 

“Um, well, you know Oliver, right?” You nodded, still confused, “We were in classes together and we recently started talking again and, yeah, he seems nice!” 

“Nice?” Grinning, you raised your eyebrows amusedly, moving to sit beside her pile of clothes, “That’s all you have to say?” 

“Y/N! Don’t be mean, he’s more than that, I- just,” She huffed, moving to sit beside you, on the other side of the pile, “He’s actually giving me attention whilst Scott,” She shrugged, eyes sad, “He’s not giving me much to work with.” 

You nodded, completely understanding, whilst you were determined in your belief of Scott’s feelings; the theory was based entirely on conspiracy- Cyclops’ nerves tended to evolve into silence when in the presence of Jean. You moved to rub her shoulder; a grin upon your face, “Let’s pick you out something nice then.” 

After a considerable length of time spent rifling through clothes and testing a combination of outfits in your mirror; Jean spoke up, turning towards you suddenly, “Oh! I also have a way this could benefit you; you know how Erik forbids you from taking patrols, well, since I’m going on a date tonight; I need someone to take over my shift-” She practically sung the words to you; her eyes sparkling with glee. 

“No!” You said instantly, shaking your head and hands at her, to which her form drooped; her lips curling downwards, “Erik said no, Jean; not even Charles could dispute that-” 

“Come on, Y/N!” Jean cried, her arms dropping to her sides as the dress within them drooped to the floor haggardly, “I don’t want anyone I can’t trust taking the shift I’d usually have with Scott, and I know you wouldn’t flirt with him.” 

You shook your head, becoming even more steadfast in your refusal, “Jean, I am not hanging out with Scott, I’m sor-” 

“What?” Jean’s face dropped, her eyes resembling that of a kicked puppy, “Why would you not want to hang out with-” 

“And, that.” You pointed directly at her, other hand on hip, “Is exactly why, you’re going on a date Jean-”

“So?-” 

“So?” You mimicked, “I don’t want to be the one that deals with Scott tonight, I have plans-” 

“Plans? What- spying on Erik?” 

Your mouth snapped shut, opting only to glare at Jean; as she cackled to herself. Traitor.  

“Y/N.” Jean’s tone was deadpan, posture straightened, almost stern, “Believe me, patrols are entirely uneventful; I mean, really, you aren’t missing out- but, I know you want to take part so-” 

“Fine.” You relented, allowing Jean a small, genuine smile, “I’ll cover your shift.” 

Later, traipsing through the sloping mud and overgrown grass at the edge of the grounds as rain fell in think sheets, you couldn’t help but curse Jean in that moment- curse her for deciding to go on that date and neglect her obvious feelings for Scott, curse her for being a good friend and prioritising your own troubles in the meantime, curse her for asking you to take over her patrol shift. You were all for a bit of friendly, healthy jealousy- but, oh, this was unbearable. Any joy you had initially had at being able to, finally, take over a shift was long gone. 

“Why would she do it, Y/N?” Scott practically whined behind you, stumbling along behind you; you could feel blisters beginning to form upon your heels, “Why would she go on a date? I mean, I’m right here. Do you know how many times I’ve tried to ask her out?” 

“Keyword, ‘tried’.” You huffed, spinning to watch him as he traipsed towards you pathetically; hair sopping in the rain and lips pouting like an emotionally unregulated toddler, “Scott, if you had asked her out; I would know about it, and I don’t, so you obviously haven’t tried hard enough.” 

To your chagrin, his pout only deepend; his cheeks going rosy with embarrassment, like a forlorn puppy- it made you feel slightly guilty, but only slightly. You ignored the slew of stuttered, random words that followed, opting to turn around and, physically, get to the portion of the shift that would take place beneath the canopy of trees across the field. 

Whilst you were at it, you decided to curse Erik too; curse him for forcing you to exercise such desperate measures and take whatever shift became available to you. If it had been up to you, the two of you would have shared a sunny evening shift- filled with banter, good conversation and maybe even some light flirting, if you felt brave enough. But instead, he had decided to end your friendship and had shared a shift with Raven the previous night, according to the schedule pinned up upon the notice board; to which you could only assume was a great time, seeing as though the two had entered the communal lounge smiling and laughing after it. The page of the book you had been pretending to read had almost ripped in your seething as he had paid you no mind, instead opting to continue his conversation with Raven on the couch across from your own. 

Your night had, effectively, been ruined from that point onwards; as you had been able to do nothing but listen to your so-called ‘crush’ recount memories of his long friendship with another woman. If you had not known better, if you had not known of the hatred he harboured towards you; you would’ve thought he was trying to make you jealous. You definitely did not fall for that metaphorical bait, absolutely not. 

“Did you see that?” Scott’s, grating, voice broke you from your reverie; he seemed to be on high alert- his stance frozen, like a guard dog on alert. 

You turned to him, confused, “No-” 

“Shhhh!” He hissed, moving you both to a crouch below the grass-line; he seemed to be staring at something just past the tree line, his hand poised at the ready. 

‘Scott, what the f- '' You were instantly silenced by a loud, jarring clatter; a shout following it. You squinted your eyes, attempting to spot whatever had made the noise through the dark of the night. Before you could register what was happening; Scott shot upwards, taking off towards the trees, you could only scramble after him, parting the thick reeds with your powers as you followed. Scott reached the trees before you did; instantly throwing himself head first into the darkness. You could only follow, stumbling blindly as you stretched your powers forward; making any attempt to identify what exactly was unravelling before you. 

“Scott, Scott!” You hissed, the thick bushes procuring your sight as you peered into the darkness of the canopy; nearby leaves rustled alongside the clattering beat of your heart, your powers at the ready. “Scott, answer me.” Whispering as loudly as you could, you begged him to answer, to show some indication as to what the hell was going on. 

Before you could call for him again, a beam of light flashed before you, sending you tumbling backwards from your crouched position, your pants instantly becoming drenched in mud. Scott appeared then, panting; his goggles askew, barely concealing his eyes- you gasped at the sight of him, leading him to spin around; his head flitting side to side as he desperately searched for you. 

“Y/N? Y/N, was that you?” It was his turn to hiss now, the sound quickling turning into a squeak as you wrapped a branch from the bush around his ankle and yanked; usually, you would’ve laughed, cackled even, at the sound he had made whilst falling, but instead you had dragged him backward and placed a hand over his mouth, effectively silencing any further sound. As soon as he was tucked into the overgrowth, an entourage of armed men emerged from the dark; armed to the teeth, guns drawn. As they appeared, you felt Scott’s breath quicken against your palm, your own heartbeat hopping in tandem. 

“Was that Cyclops?” One of the men called to the others; flashing his light into the trees, not far from the bush you crouched in, “Do any of the others use laser beams?” 

“Can’t be sure…” Another man replied; cocking his weapon. The entire entourage were on alert, their torches flashing dangerously close; you didn’t allow the fear to swallow you, the adrenaline and the buzz of your powers rendering you silent, aware. 

Slowly, carefully, you slid your hand away from Scott’s mouth; pressing a finger against your own in demand. He nodded, lips trembling as he kept his hand held aloft; ready to shoot if necessary. Shaking your head, you turned towards him, hoping to convey the necessary declaration within your gaze. When you spoke, your voice was barely there; lower than a whisper, each word spoken slowly, “You need to go.” 

You widened your eyes incessantly when Scott opened his mouth in protest, shaking your head firmly- eventually, he broke past your protests, managing to hiss out a word, “What?” 

“Scott,” You gripped his arm; clasp firm and angry, “You need to leave, now-”

“-I’m not leaving you here.”

“Scott, please,” You were begging now, eyes filling with tears as you sniffled at him, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Look at their weapons, Y/N-” 

“Scott, listen to me. We both know that if they manage to get those goggles off, you are a liability to everyone, to me.” You watched his face fall, his mouth falling ajar slightly in despair; his head shaking adamantly all the while, “I need you to go and get help-”

“Y/N, please, I can’t-” 

“You can.” You nodded, gathering him by the lapels of his shirt; jostling him slightly, “You can, Scott, please.” 

He nodded then, understanding. He was visibly stricken, breath laboured, traumatised by the thought of leaving you there. He spared you one last look, one last squeeze of the hand, before he took off; crashing through the bushes and onto the fields- sending any stray laser that he could towards the men. 

“Shit-” They yelled, aiming towards him and beginning to make chase, though before they could, you shot your hand forwards- the branch of a tree effectively impaling three of the men at once; connecting them all by the same gaping hole as they instantly hung limp. The remaining men froze, guns held half-aloft in shock as they stared up at their comrades hanging above. Rising from the bushes, you cocked your fingers; summoning roots from underground and wrapping them around the ankles of the men, dragging them through the mud and back into their place of origin; silencing the velocity of the men’s screams as they suffocated. The rain was blinding, falling in thick slashes, your hair clung to your neck as you manipulated any semblance of nature you could grasp; the roots, vines, leaves, branches- all elements moved in tandem, fighting back against the weapons of the men. You walked into the clearing, untouchable, unobtainable; your powers bursting at the seams as you discovered the potential you had withheld from yourself. 

As a lone soldier sprinted towards you, baton held high above his head; you spun your wrist, leading a nearby tree to reach forward, plucking him from the ground and flinging him into the air. You could almost have laughed, your powers unvanquished even by the sheets of unforgiving rain. In that moment, you felt yourself channeling Erik, the way his face hardened in the pursuit of revenge; the harshness of his stance and the cool of his metal. For the first time, you didn’t see yourself as weak compared to him, as not good enough- you felt like him. Like him in the essence that you could manipulate whatever you wanted, as long as it tuned to the rhythm of your powers. 

Though, your reign was short lived as a flash of light beamed upon you; you squinted, hand held aloft before your eyes as you looked up at the helicopter above you; it allowed only a second of thought before a heavy force knocked you to the ground, the abject press of an electrified baton burning into your side; leaving you convulsing and screaming beneath its hold, face down within the trenches of mud. A hand instantly clasped the ends of your legs, sharpened nails digging into the bare skin of your ankles, and begun to drag; your face and hands and hair sliding in the choking thick of the mud- you knew in that moment that something was going to happen, that you were going to die, even. The thought shot through your rambling brain as you heaved at the mud filling your mouth and eyes, desperately trying to blink it away. With every ounce of your being, you attempted to utilise your powers as you had been only moments earlier, stretched your convulsing fingers forward, nail beds thick with mud; but it was to no avail, the electricity having dulled the receptors within that allowed your powers to course through your bloodstream. 

To your abject relief, your perpetrator dropped your ankles, leaving you moaning and gasping in relief, a smile almost gracing your face as the pain almost stopped. You laid there, face down in the mud, unable to do anything but comply as rough hands fastened a collar around your neck; any semblance of hold you had on your powers vanished- for a long moment, you felt human, normal- no longer were you attuned to the grass bristling upon your legs and the tree branches dancing above you. They simply became fixtures of nature, living bodies unrelated to your own; the tether snapped. 

“We need to get out of here.” A voice rushed above you, the sound of a gun clicking in the deafening drum of the rain, “Leave the other one, this one’s a real freak- I mean, look at this place, look at how many we just lost-” 

The voices around you blurred as raindrops soaked the side of your face; your sopping hair strewn across the base of your neck and chin- your body could only attune to a constant shiver, your teeth chattering against the mud and the blue of your lips. You could only watch through bleary eyes as the helicopter landed beside you; men instantly jumped from it, armed to the teeth, and running to where you laid prone upon the ground. You knew that you were losing consciousness; your human body no longer strong enough to fight your injuries. 

As your eyes fluttered, your body and mind sinking into the mud; you could only watch in confusion as the helicopter’s rotors began to spin, the base of the vehicle lifting clumsily and sending soldiers scattering. It was apparent that had been the warning signal; as the clearing instantly exploded into chaos above you- gunfire and mutant force alike thrashing upon the night’s quiet. The ground below you reverberated as something fell beside you; as it did so- the pressure of the collar upon your neck eased, the device being torn from your neck as a hand shook your shoulder, turning you on your back. Warmth overtook the shiver that had embedded itself within you as a hand landed upon your cheek, calloused touch brushing the sodden hair from your face and caressing the skin that remained in its place. You knew that someone was talking, encasing your body in their hold as the chaos surrounding you continued. Allowing your head to roll to the side, you watched bleary eyed as Scott mowed down the soldiers with his lasers; his finger not straying from the button upon his goggles. A voice sounded above you, causing Scott to spin and immediately sprint towards you, he took over the hold upon you then; lifting you effectively into his arms and breaking into an immediate sprint. The jostle of his movement was the last straw; the final source of pain your body could handle. As you slipped away; slipped from consciousness, from the forest- you watched as a figure stepped further into the clearing, brandishing nothing but a long dark coat and a raised hand. The last thing you saw was the raising of hell; every last man brought to their knees as the force of the dark figure beckoned upon them.

AFTER

Thistles sung as you awoke; their tune long and drawling, carrying upon the wind that fluttered into the room. Trees just beyond the windowsill waved and chattered, their leaves basking within the midday sun. 

You awoke to their calls with a start- an intake of breath so sharp that your chest caught, a sharp strike of pain ricocheting through your belly. Cringing at the light that shone through the crack created by the stretch of curtain that didn’t quite meet the hook upon the wall, you formed your eyes into slits, peering at the room you had awoken in. It was the infirmary within the house- small, cozy but adequately equipped for the petty injuries that students with mutant abilities tend to acquire. You had accompanied a number of students to the infirmary yourself, the gardens with their thorns and brambles tended to be somewhat of a hazard to inquisitive students. 

The room was empty save for yourself; the resident healer was nowhere to be found. Even Hank, who tended to occupy the room with his technology and experiments, was absent. Adjusting the duvet upon you, you used the opportunity to unscramble your mind, to attempt to recall the events that had led you there. 

Rain, mud, light, gunfire, a dark effervescent figure. 

Sounds about right. 

Shaking your head, you moved to sit up; wincing as your body ached and creaked, your back in particular procuring a sharp burn that shot up your spine. Twisting slowly, you lifted the gown you were wearing and picked at your bandages, only to gasp. A grizzly red mark sat at the cusp of your back, tendrils of bruising and burns spanned from the focal point; the wound spread like spiderwebs, eventually meeting in identical patterns spanning over your back and hip. You could feel the pain, the burn of the baton as if it were still happening, the base still prodding upon your back as electricity coursed through your veins- muting your ability to think, see, to feel the very base of your mutant gene. 

In that moment, you struggled with that thought; turned it over and over within the palms of your hands, the reality of how easily, how simply, your mutant gene could be dulled, could be practically removed, rendering you silent, unable to think of anything but that. Before the school, before your new life, you would have jumped at the chance; burned your body until the gene that had ended your life, sent everyone you had ever loved fleeing, was gone. 

But now? 

Now, your mutant gene had given you everything; the lessons you had learned, the friendships you had made, your place within the very house you healed upon. The thought didn’t pleasure you now, it terrified you. 

Would the X-Men, the students, your friends, your family, still accept you even without the gene? If you had emerged from the attack powerless, unable to exercise your main purpose? You wondered if that was why Erik had turned such a sour note towards you, had he realised that your existence within the X-Men was fruitless? You shook the thought from your head, willing yourself to remember the way you had held those men aloft; each incapacitated by the branch that tore through their chests and left them practically dangling from your hold. 

If only Erik had been there to see that. 

Thoughts of Erik lead you directly to that cloaked figure in the clearing, the person who had saved you (alongside Scott, of course). Had it been him? Your mind whispered insidiously, the dark depths of your mind that harboured your feelings for Erik secreting poison into the, well, rational parts of your brain. 

Stop, you chastised your own mind, mentally batting away the insidious thoughts. Erik hadn’t paid any form of positive attention towards you in months, he wouldn’t drop that facade in a heartbeat just to come to your aid, surely? 

But then, no one else in the house had that form of presence. Nobody could step forward and brandish a hand, fortifying the fates of countless men, all armed to the teeth, other than Erik. His presence was always breathtaking; with his lithe, long legs and perfectly coiffed hair. Though that wasn’t the Erik you had fallen in love with, that Erik had shaggy hair and rumpled plaid shirts, pushed up to the elbow. That Erik, your Erik, kissed the girl in the garden; intertwined her petals into his own arms, clutching them between his fingers ever so gently- allowing her into the fortress made of metal. He was your own to keep, to cherish, because he lived in the safety of your own mind, locked away behind thorns and brambles never to be touched again. 

Sighing, you allowed the sadness to fill your gut for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in it; alone in that room, in an unfamiliar bed and unfamiliar clothes. 

That is how Jean found you. 

You had scrambled at the click of the lock, sitting up straight in bed and staring wide-eyed, slightly terrified at the door. A series of events had transpired then. Jean had entered, a mug of coffee balanced on one hand and a book stored beneath the same arm, and had made direct eye-contact with you, very much awake for the first time. She gasped, freezing in place for a moment before remembering the cup balanced on her hand- which was by then falling to the ground. Luckily, her telekinesis caught it just in time, leaving you staring, wide-eyed at one another as the cup and its contents hung precariously in the air. 

Jean was the first to break the silence, essentially crushing it by immediately bursting into tears, the cup finally smashing against the ground along with its contents and the book as she raced towards your bedside. “Y/N! Oh my g- I am so sorry-” 

Confused, you shook your head, moving to face her; your voice croaked brokenly before you eventually managed to speak, “Sorry? Jean you have nothing to be-” 

“No!” She interrupted you, eyes shining and tears coating her cheeks; her lips trembling all the while, “If I hadn’t have gone on that date-” 

Instantly, you shook your head, silencing her by grasping her by the hand, shaking it until she looked back at you, “This isn’t your fault, if anything, it’s Erik’s for stopping me from going on patrols in the first place.” 

Jean’s eyebrows lowered instantly, her eyes crinkling as she looked at you, confused, “Well-” 

“What is going on in here?-” Scott burst into the room then, having been summoned by the crash of the cup; he seemed ready for battle, though his fight-or-flight immediately withered upon seeing you, a grin instantly gracing his features, “You’re awake!”

“Hey Scott,” You smiled tiredly, lifting the hand that wasn’t clutching Jean’s in greeting.

“How are you feeling?” He smiled kindly, moving to pull a chair beside Jean- interestingly enough. 

Nodding, you sighed; feeling the pain within your once petrified muscles and the chill that seemed to sit within your bones. “I’m- I’m okay.” 

Both Jean and Scott looked upon you remorsefully, their eyes forlorn and mouths twisting with emotion. Scott was the first to speak, breaking eye contact and staring down at his hands, “Y/N, we-” He chewed on his lips, flexing his fingers, “We thought you were dead, I- when we got to you, you were just laying there, face down and unmoving.” 

The breath that left your nose was gusty; heavy in its weight and volume, you found yourself tearing up at his words, “Thank you for listening to me.” 

His breath resembled that of a meagre chuckle, his head shaking all the while, “That’s alright.” 

“And thank you for saving me-” 

Scott looked up immediately, his forehead creased beneath his goggles; he shared a silent look with Jean, she too opted not to speak. “Y/N-” Scott began, his posture going straight, awkward, ‘I can’t take credit for that.” 

“Sure you can. It’s the last thing I remember, you carried me-” 

“No-” Scott spoke stubbornly, refusing to take any credit, “I wasn’t the only one to help.” 

“Oh,” You spoke, shocked, despite the memory of the hand upon your face feeling all too familiar. 

“Erik was the first to reach you Y/N.” Jean spoke, her voice low, almost apologetic. 

Oh. 

You remembered then, not just the hand that had lingered upon your skin, perforated your everlasting pain with warmth and, just maybe, something akin to love. Your mind healed, and what had seemed to be poison; welling at the once-dormant temperaments of your mind, receded- the waves crashing and swelling before dissolving into a calm flow. 

Erik had saved you. 

But why? 

Had he been so furious at your inability to comply with his orders that he had taken his anger out on those soldiers before (conveniently) saving you? A job well done, a well-due pat on the back from the rest of the team for making the right call, before he inevitably celebrated his victories by screaming the walls down in your favour. 

Great, you shuddered, practically awaiting his presence; red and pulsing with fury as you had laid there, vulnerable and pained. 

All in your own stupidity. 

Jean and Scott seemed to sense your discomfort, sharing a look before both turning towards you; practically disagreeing with what they knew your internal thoughts entailed. 

Scott spoke first, his tone impeding and determined, “Y/N-” He sighed, running a hand through his hair nervously, “I’m sorry but- you didn’t see him. He was furious.” 

Chuckling, you moved to sit up, shaking your head, “Nothing new there-” 

“No, Y/N.” Jean interrupted you, her own tone identical to Scott’s severity, though her voice lowered to a whisper, “Not at you.” 

You shook your head confused, Scott spoke; cementing the gaps that Jean had created, “He almost tore the place apart whilst you were under, when he found out that you had taken Jean’s shift,” He shook his head, breathing heavily, only calming when Jean intertwined her fingers with his own, “We thought he was going to tear the house down-” 

“What?” You gasped, shaking your head, throat clogging, “Why- he doesn’t-” You paused, collecting your thoughts; the truth gaping in its clarity, “Erik hates me, he wouldn’t-” 

“I think you need to talk to him Y/N,” Jean’s tone was firm, almost angered, “I know what he did to you but- something isn’t right. A man doesn’t act like that when someone he hates almost dies.” 

Jean and Scott didn’t stay much longer than that; the confusion and the clarity of almost dying rendering you exhausted. Jean left with a kiss to your forehead, a promise to return, a command to heed her advice. 

Despite being allowed short walks throughout the house, you didn’t leave the room until your discharge a week later; with only your thoughts, and the occasional visitor to accompany you, you utilised them a lot that week. That long, drawn-out week. The days limped by, minutes feeling like hours; yet still, your mind allowed no time for outside entertainment. On the second day, Jean bought you a collection of your own clothes, smiling sadly as she saw you slumped against the headboard, eyes misty as you watched the trees beyond the window. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to your own room?” She had whispered, stroking the hair away from your eyes, ‘I made sure your favourite sheets are on the bed..” 

Shaking your head, you turned your eyes to her, mustering your best reassuring smile, “No, I’m okay here.” 

He’ll be able to find me there, you had thought to yourself, watching Jean’s back as she left; eyes latching upon the door even after it had been pulled to a close. 

Eventually, the week came to a close and you were fully healed; physically cleared to embark on X-Men missions whenever you wished. As you walked to your own room, a bag of dirty clothes tucked securely beneath your arm, you found yourself eyeing every corner, waiting for Erik to turn it; practically creeping through the house, the necessity of not making a sound hanging over the creaks of your movements upon the floorboards.

Part of you, that insidious part of your brain that sung at the worst of times and had apparently grown and swelled in your solitude, hoped that Erik would turn one of those corners; crash right into you and be forced to speak to you- finally, after all these months. 

It took you two weeks to muster up the courage to go back to your garden, Jean sneakily having slipped the state, or lack of, of the plants within your garden; no student able to match your own power. With a huff, and many puffs, you pulled on your dirtiest clothes and trekked down to the garden. The scent of jasmine wafted upon you like a fresh breath of air as you pulled off your shoes, hand clutched against the gate of the garden for balance. After a number of pairs had been lost to the swell of the bushes with many an evening spent searching for them, Erik had eventually rolled his eyes and forged a small metal shelf; just big enough to safely slide your shoes into them. You had kept it there, beside the gate, even after his rejection, its convenience too precious to your time in the garden. 

However, when you went to slide your shoes into place; another pair of shoes already sat there. 

“I see you kept my creation.” A voice behind you spoke; your breath immediately sped, heart thundering in your ears. Slowly, carefully, terror filling your veins and pulsing at your fingertips: you turned, immediately coming face to face with Erik. Erik, with his broad-shoulders and messy hair; lips turning upwards discreetly beneath his crooked nose; his gorgeous, beautiful crooked nose. As the usual residual shock mellowed, the love you felt for him receding slightly; the anger took over; teeth gritting and fist curling anger. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt your time-”

“What do you want Erik?” You spat, lip curling in anger; your own torrid emotions instantly combatting his calm front as he tensed immediately; his eyebrows lowering in confusion, his hackles raising slightly. 

“Well-”

“What are you doing here?” Voice lower than a whisper, your words were almost a replica of your previous demand, almost. The tremble of your voice manufactured a shell of your anger, cracking and splintering at the seams. You found yourself trembling; staring straight at him, fear, dread, something awful prevalent in your eyes. 

Erik’s eyes widened, his lips pursing; he looked as if he was on the verge of retreating, waving the white flag, calling the truce. You knew that wasn’t him though; if Erik was going to do one thing, it would not be backing down from a fight. You watched as he visibly rebuilt his walls, composing himself before speaking, “I wanted to see how your recovery is going,” He paused, visibly attempting and failing to string his words together, “So that you can get back out onto the field.” 

Truly, you could have laughed; a hacking cough right in his face, right at his words. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The anger burning the back of your throat and fizzing in the air, lingering upon the garden’s roots, stopped any semblance of amusement, procuring only venom; only white-hot anger. Shaking your head, malice filling your tastebuds, you spat in his face, the sound of it echoing against the walls of the garden, “Back in the field?” Your amusement returned immediately, but it was manic; frenzied, “Your refusement to put me on patrols; your adamance that I be benched? That is what put me in this position.” 

You only felt slightly guilty as he slowly reached upwards, wiping the saliva that had landed directly upon his chin. “Y/N, you know I didn’t mean-” He seemed desperate, voice almost pathetic, his hands clenching at his sides; seemingly stopping himself from reaching for something. 

“We were supposed to be equals, Erik.” You interrupted, voice calm; frighteningly collected. 

“We were!” He objected, his own voice now seeming frenzied. You could only shake your head, unable to face him, unable to face his willingness to lie. 

“Then why? Why did you treat me that way? Why the sudden change?” Demanding, you fired off the questions in a spitfire manner, allowing him no true chance to procure an appropriate answer. 

“I had good reason-” 

“Good reason, my ass. This is the first time you’re not yelling at me in-” 

“Will you let me speak?” Erik’s words shocked you to the core; his voice abrupt and loud, nostrils flared and chest heaving. You could only muster a nod, silenced in the face of his outburst. He too nodded then, scratching at the stubble upon his jaw nervously; his demeanour changed entirely, almost shrinking within himself. “Do you know how worried I was about you?” The question shocked you; you expected anger, fury- but his eyes remained soberingly soft, gaze sad. He continued in the wake of your silence, “I knew something was wrong before Scott even reached the house; but when Charles told me that he couldn’t hear your thoughts anymore and then-” He swallowed thickly, his gaze straying from yours to the ground, he cleared his throat before continuing, “Then I saw you face down in the grass and-” 

“I’m sorry,” You whimpered, sniffling into the palms of your hands as they moved to cover your eyes, “I’m sorry I’m so useless-” 

“No.” Erik’s tone was demanding, his grip severe as he moved to lower your hands from your eyes; his face was stricken, lips downturned and jaw trembling as he looked down at you. His hands moved upwards then, cupping the skin of your cheeks,  “You were, are, incredible; you were a fighter out there Y/N, so so strong; and-” 

Moving from his grip, you shrunk into yourself, finding any semblance of comfort, respite from your own conflicted mind, within the embrace of your own arms, “Then why- why did you treat me that way?” Harried, hagged breaths heaved from your chest as you stared at him, confusion and shock and disgust prevalent within your demeanour, “You were awful to me, ever since-” 

“No, Y/N, please-” 

Stepping forward, coaxing the shock he made available to you forward; you went straight for the kill, voice lower than a whisper but sharper than a knife, “Why did you leave me here?” His inhale was sharp, lips quivering and wet; eyes sheening with tears. He incessantly attempted to hide his sadness, his fear; but you could see it clear as day. Stepping directly into his orbit, you rubbed your nose against his jaw, lips brushing against the base of his neck, “What are you so afraid of, Erik?” You repressed your shock masterfully when you felt his hands encase your waist, his head lowering to the crook of your neck; you waited, waited for him to lay his lips there, waited for him to devour you whole. Though he only cried, quiet shudders as the skin of your neck grew clammy from his tears and the moisture of his breaths. Instincts succumbed to hunger, rendering you silent as you simply stood there and practically drank the affection; the linen of his shirt brushing against your chest, your mouth against his hair, the smell of his musk and the oaky shampoo he had always used. You were being greedy, overindulging on the touch he was offering you in his lowest moments- you never wanted him to let go, wanted him to raise his head and- 

He did exactly that. 

You could only gasp against his mouth as he pressed his lips to yours, his hands moved to cup the sides of your neck as he practically devoured you. With greed and hunger and lust still residually pumping through your veins, you could only thread your fingers through his hair; desperate to reclaim what you had lost all those months ago. He seemed to not know exactly what to do with his hands, too indecisive to choose a specific spot; you gasped and moaned as his fingertips skirted your sides and front and back, his tongue entering your mouth at the opportunity you allowed him. Any semblance of apologies or hatred had vacated your mind by the time his hands reached the bottom of your thighs, only able to gasp as he effectively lifted you against a nearby wall; the cold of the concrete against your back was nothing compared to the warmth in your mouth and chest and unsurprisingly, your groin. Just as you had mustered the confidence to reach down, to pull at the ends of his shirt; he pulled away, lips red and shining, eyes hooded. 

The only word he seemed to manage to gasp was your name, the syllables spoken wetly into the space between your lips; you stared into his eyes, not blinking, not breathing. Erik seemed to be at war with himself, his eyes flitting conflictingly from your lips back to your eyes. Allowing him the time, you simply stared back, blinking owlishly as you awaited the confession that seemed to be brewing. Finally, he came to a conclusion; his eyes clearing, gaze taking a sense of clarity you had not yet seen in him before. Shaking his head, he chewed at his lip, moving his hand to cup the back of your head; allowing it to tilt back slightly, you were prone beneath his gaze.

“I was just trying to protect you.” His lips curled as he spoke, blue eyes brimming with tears. 

You moved forward at his words, pressing a kiss to the crinkle of emotion at the side of his mouth, “What from?” Your voice was quieter than a whisper, more of a movement of lips rather than a true form of speech. 

Once again, Erik shook his head; tears now spilling from his cheeks, “I’m sorry.” 

“What from, Erik?” 

“Myself.” 

He whispered the words immediately, his eyes closing in turn; his head bowing into your awaiting palm, the course points of his stubble creasing against your fingertips. 

Shaking your head, you watched him, “You were so mean.” 

Swallowing visibly, Erik met your gaze; his eyes doughy beneath a stray hair breaching his forehead. He, almost, grinned; teeth flashing and lips curling, “I don’t know how to be nice.” 

“You were nice to me.” Nodding, you moved your thumb to trace his lips; dragging along the sharp points of his teeth, breaching the jaws of the wolf. 

“I destroy everything I touch Y/N-” 

“Well, I can revive things,” Smiling, you removed your thumb from his lips, placing your own there instead for a chaise kiss. Pulling away, you repeated your words, “I can revive it, Erik.”

Grinning, truly now, Erik lowered his stance before rolling his forhead against yours, brushing your noses together in a dance only known to yourselves, “Let me help you,” He smiled, voice mellow in its tone, “Let me help you fix us.”

◇ 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 ◇

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟒: 𝐄𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

◦ 𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Warning: edging, teasing, sex! toy (vibrator!), pussy eating, soft dom marc, overstimulation

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really wish you hadn’t tried getting back at Marc. Teasing him never went well for you, it always ended you up in the position you were in at the moment.

Your wrists were tied to the headboard with your legs spread, marc between your thighs with your legs above his shoulders. He wasn’t fucking you with his fingers or eating you out. He was holding a vibrator to your acing clit, circle it softly then pulling back as soon as he saw your legs shake.

“Told you honey, right before we walked out that door didn’t I?” Marc cooed. You whined in agony as your pussy pulsed and dripped in need. He’d been at it for who knows how long.

You went out with Marc tonight, the late night bar date was going well until you told him to look under the table. Marc’s body tensed as he saw you wearing no panties, just the thin fabric of the dress hiding what’s his from the world.

Now you were here, tied up and being edged for the past 30 minutes. “I- I’m sorry” you choked out as Marc ran the warm silicone up your sticky folds. The sound of the vibration and your slick making you even needier.

“No you aren’t and that’s ok, I don’t mind this” he mocked as he pressed the vibrator down onto your clit. Your hips bucked up in the air as you squeezed your eyes shut and focused on the pleasure.

You felt the knot getting tighter and tighter as he slowly circled the toy into your messy cunt. Marc smiled up at you, pulling the toy away the second he saw you too comfortable.

You let out a pitiful cry, tears streaming down your face as the edging was getting to much. “Ple- p- please Marc, please” you cried out.

“I know sweetheart, sucks doesn’t it?” He mocked. His lips pressed a soft kiss into your inner thigh, his hand moving the toy back up to your clit and dragging it through your folds.

“Think you’ve had enough punishment for today yeah?” He hummed. You nodded weakly with tears streaming down your face and body shaking. Marc turned the vibrator off, your soft smile turning into a frown as he threw the toy to the side.

Before you could get a word out his mouth was lapping at your pussy. His tongue working at your swollen clit that was covered in slick “mhm so fucking g- good” Marc groaned as he rolled his tongue around your clit.

A loud whine spilled out your lips as he bobbed his head and lapped as if his life depended on it. Your hands flew to his hair as you felt your orgasm wash over you.

The nerves in your body tingling as you finally got the release you’ve been dying for. Your breathy moans filled the room as he didn’t stop, causing your body to shiver and squirm under him.

Marc gave one last lick with a pop of his lips, his mouth covered in your wetness as he lifted two fingers onto his cheeks and collected your cum with his fingers, sucking them clean with a moan.

Both of you knew that this wouldn’t be the last time, and you were definitely not sorry.

me and the joel miller girlies

A PROFESSIONAL INTERVIEW -- sebastian vettel

part 4/5, previous l l next (coming soon!)

pairings! redbull!sebastian vettel x fem!journalist!reader

In which, Sebastian Vettel has always been a cocky, and an annoying f1 driver to interview, but suddenly his tendencies seem more flirtatious than annoying.

note: hopefully this isn't too bad, trying to do character developement! i really enjoyed writing this chapter, even if it was a bit rushed!

taglist! @viennakarma, @chiliwhore, @i-wish-this-was-me, @gcldtom, @sugyomama, @bladestark, @queenofmanydreams, @bb-swift, @leclerking, @fanboyluvr, @killjoynotes

You let out a loud scream the second you woke up and took in your surroundings. 

You had a good night's sleep, opening your eyes, surprised by the lack of a hangover. An arm wrapped around your waist, face buried in the man's chest. He was warm, perhaps a Mongasque from the club. You turned around, and could not contain your scream of horror, surely waking up all surrounding people in the hotel.

What the hell was Sebastian Vettel doing in your bed

And what the hell was he doing naked!

He covered his ears with his hand, and rolled over, once you finally came to clarity and covered your mouth with your hand. Seb turned back over, about to say something before noticing you sitting up against the wall, tits out, and Seb's face dropping in shock. Seb exclaimed something in German that you could only assume was an obscenity as you tumbled out of the bed, fully naked and filled with anger. You pulled on your underwear first, suddenly mad that it was a thong, but you were trying not to panic.

“You better be turned around!” You exclaimed over your shoulder, pulling on your bra. Seb turned back, his face pressed against the pillow.

“I obviously saw you naked last night!” He called out. He looked out of the corner of his eyes as you rummaged through the drawer, trying to find something that could fit you and wouldn’t exactly look like it belonged to Seb. “Can I look back now?” “Whatever, you’re right, it doesn’t matter.” You said, you held up a pair of grey sweatpants. “I’m going to take them.” “Those are my favorite sweatpants.” Seb said.

“I don’t care!” You said, pulling them up, and cinching the waist in.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Seb asked, he seemed slightly frustrated at you. You had assumed his flirting would result in nothing, that was not nothing. Sure, you imagined he didn’t want it to end like a drunk hook up. A few memories returned to you, his confession, your instigation. You had instigated it, why had you instigated it? 

“Maybe if you had your pants on.” You said, tossing a pair of plaid boxers to Seb, he pulled them on, throwing off his sheets and walking closer to you. You moved out of the way, still searching for a top, not planning on leaving in a push up bra. Seb pulled on another pair of sweats. You picked up a hoodie off the floor, it was a plain gray color, matching the sweats, you pulled it on. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You asked, not wanting to talk about it at all.

“You know, we hooked up.” “Yeah.” “What are we gonna do about it?” “I’m on the pill.” “But what about how we interact, does this change anything, should it change anything?” Seb said, leaning on the counter. “It doesn’t have to change anything. We were crazy drunk. There’s an explanation.” You said, looking over at the door, considering making a run for it, quitting your job, and moving in with your parents, or Y/B/F, if you could pay enough rent she’d let you stay.

“I meant what I said, I remember that, at least.” Seb told you, making eye contact with you. You squirmed away from his gaze. “I would like to be more than just-”

“Seb, I can’t do this right now.” You interrupted him, holding up your hand as if to push him away with some sort of telepathic ability. “I’m going to chase Jenson down, get my key, and I’ll see you in Silverstone.” You smiled awkwardly, trying to give him some sort of sense of peace from your words. Seb frowned, giving you a response you didn't expect.

“You’re skipping three races?” “Yeah.” “I won’t see you for a month.” “I always go on breaks during the season. Usually around this time because it makes me feel like I just have some massive summer break. They don’t need me, so I’m not going.” You said with a shrug. Seb mumbled something you couldn’t hear. He looked down at the ground as you said your goodbyes, you felt bad. You wanted to give him a hug, wish him luck on the championship, have a nice time with him in Monaco, but no, you left.

You weren’t quite sure what you did at your parents house. You spent a lot of time thinking too much about your decisions, acknowledged the fact that you had little to no life outside of formula one, and had a good time with your family. You felt somewhat numb, just mulling over your thoughts and rejecting guys in the grocery store. You didn’t even know why you rejected them. You supposed that covered your break.

But now it was time to get back to formula one, and face your suppressed thoughts and actions from the country of luxury, Monaco. You had attempted to keep Seb out of your mind, but he managed to sneak in during late nights and cold mornings. You wish you remembered everything from that night, but you didn’t, and you couldn’t do anything about it. You could hook up with him again, your brain offered, and you let out an annoyed groan, slamming your hands over your face. The mother daughter pair next to you gave you a side eye, but you didn’t care. You pulled on an eye mask, just wanting to sleep.

You woke up in London, the plane landing with a slight jolt. You checked how you looked in a pocket mirror, mascara smeared, bronzer splotchy. You wiped it all off in the airport bathroom, before going out to collect your luggage. You were thankful for the bright colors as you made your way to the parking garage, planning on taking a taxi that usually crowded the garage for people without cars.

“Y/N, over here!” Shouted a voice, you turned around, brows furrowed as Lewis Hamilton waved over to you, jogging over.

“Do you know the work I had to do to get here?” He said, sighing slightly. “To find out about when your flight was landing.”

You hugged him briefly. “You could’ve texted me.”

“You didn’t text back.”

“Did you text me when I was in the air?”

“Probably.” Lewis replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I’m here to take you to the hotel. Figured I’d show up all your other driver servants.”

“You didn’t have to.” You told Lewis, smiling as he rolled your suitcase to the garage, you in tow.

“I kind of did, and you still have to drive.”

“Oh no, I have to drive a beautiful car, whatever will I do.” You said, you pressed your hands over your face to resemble comedic fear. 

“Don’t break any traffic rules.” Lewis told you, chucking your suitcase in the back with no mind for fragilities. “Also, we need to talk.”

You pulled out of the garage. It was a luxury one, and so easy to exit and make your way into the highway, unlike most airport garages.

“What do we need to talk about?” You asked. “Your terrible haircut.”

You didn’t think baldmilton was a look, but Lewis looked serious. “I know about you and Seb in Monaco.”

You froze, turning toward him slowly.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my god, it's true! I mean the photo looked incriminating, and then the other one of the two of you the day after.” Lewis said slowly, in shock. He examined your expression, certain it reflected your thoughts clearly. “Holy shut, you hooked up with Seb!”

“What photo?” You asked. “Lewis, was there a photo of me going into his hotel room?”

“You didn’t know about it?” Lewis asked. “Have you been under a rock these past weeks?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed. “Where is Seb staying? We’re going there.”

You pounded against the door of Seb’s airbnb, shouting into the wood for Seb to open the door. Lewis placed one hand high on the doorway, ready for Seb to open the door.

“I’m coming, Ficken!” Seb shouts, you heard him jogging to the door, and tried to decide what expression to put on your face. Seb swung open the door, seeing Lewis before you. “Hey, Lewis.”

“Good afternoon.” Lewis said with a smile.

“Hey, Seb,” You said, interrupting their friendship. He looked over at you, a smile appearing on his face before he switched it to a “cool guy” look. “Um, we need to talk.” “You were serious when you said you’d tak in the UK?” Seb asked, placing his hands on his waist.

“Yeah, I was, but we also need to talk about the photo.” You said, pursing your lips together. Seb nodded, gesturing for the two of you to come inside.

“Are you sure you guys want me here?” Lewis asked, crossing his arms. “Yes.” You and Seb replied at the same time. You sat down on the small kitchen table, Seb taking the seat across from you, and Lewis taking the comfortable loveseat in the corner.

“So, what about it do you want to discuss? We can’t take it down, everyone’s seen it, and we did exactly what they’re saying.” Seb told you.

“Well I don’t want to get fired.” You said, you hated that Seb was right. You couldn’t do anything to make it better. “You aren’t going to get fired.” Lewis reassured you.

“You really aren’t, I checked with your boss.” Seb added on.

“Seb! You told my boss we hooked up!” You exclaimed, wanting to slam your head against the table.

“No, I didn’t! I told her you slept in the guest bedroom.” Seb shouted in defense. You let out a sigh of relief.

“So now you just deny deny deny to the other journalists.” You said, and Seb nodded. 

“Or we could just say we’re dating.” Seb offered, and you frowned.

“I don’t want to lie about things like that, Seb.” You admitted. Call yourself a romantic, but you only had a few relationships, and you didn’t want to lie about one, especially not when feelings were starting to sneak in for the person who offered it.

“Okay,” Seb replied. The three of you sat in silence for a bit, before Lewis finally spoke,

“Y/N, what interviews are you doing this week?”

“Mark, Seb you got left out, Alonso, and your best friend, Nico!” You told Lewis, counting off the names on your hands. “Also Micheal, which I’m super excited for.” “Have you met Nico and Micheal before?” Seb asked, playing with a napkin on the table between his fingers. You felt the sudden urge to take his hands in yours, but suppressed it.

“Yeah, I’ve interviewed them both a few times, and last year Nico and I sat next to each other on a flight from Japan to Monaco because first class had no seats.” “I feel like you and Nico would get along.” Seb commented, you raised an eyebrow. “Why?” You asked. Sure, you and Nico had gotten along fine during the flight, but you weren’t sure what they were talking about and Seb appeared to ont want to explain it to you, but Lewis jumped in.

“You two are drama queens, and I’m allowed to say this because Nico is my best friend and I think you and I are close enough for me to say that.” “I’m not dramatic!”

“You screamed when you realized we had hooked up, actually screamed.” “You don’t need to remember that, and Lewis doesn’t need to know it.” You told Seb. You picked up your bag, and turned to Lewis. “I’m exhausted. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You bid him a small smile, waving to Seb, and grabbing your bag as Lewis trailed behind you.

Silverstone would turn out to be boring, Mark won, and the Mercedes boys were nice. You would be kind to Seb in Germany, as it was his home race, and in Hungary you would frown, and try to avoid attention. You suppose you would have had a better time if it hadn’t been for the lasting effects of the stupid photo. You hadn’t been fired, which you were endlessly grateful for, but the gripes and comments were enough to ruin whole weekends. Your dear friend Y/B/F obviously noticed this over calls, and so all the sudden you were invited to a villa in Ibiza.

How she made this happen? You had no idea. How the two of you didn’t have to pay a cent? Again, a wonder. She made magic happen, and you loved it. You were glad you didn’t have any summer plans, and had packed various bikinis and adorable summer outfits in case some sort of miracle happened.

Now you were landing in Ibiza, ready to party it up, swim in the ocean, and get drunk off your mind. In any order.

Seb didn’t know why he had decided on Ibiza. Peer pressure, maybe? Jenson was, Lewis was, Nico was, even Fernando and Mark were going. Seb had spent the first four days on the beach. Despite his young rouge persona he had cultivated, he wasn’t the biggest fan of parties and the whole playboy life every other formula one driver had. Seb could flirt around, it was almost like his second job, but at the end of the day he wanted a girl to go home with. He lay in his bed in the dead of night, the sound of waves crashing against rocks rushing through his window, and the sound of Lewis and some model fucking sneaking through the walls. Seb pressed his hands to his ears, and sat up.

A run, he should go for a run. Seb walked over to his drawers, pulling on sweat shorts and a black crewneck. He grabbed his phone, and headed downstairs. Certainly he couldn’t wake anyone more than the driver sleeping in the room on the far right. His phone rang loudly and suddenly. Seb rushed outside, that could have woken somebody asleep on the bottom level.

“Who is it?” Seb asked, not prepared at all for the next conversation. “Seb!” A voice gleefully called through the phone. “You picked up!” “Y/N?” Seb asked, in genuine confusion, what were you doing calling him at one in the morning.

“Yeah, it’s me, so I know you’re in Ibiza.” You told Seb, lowering your voice to a whisper.

“I am, are you?” Seb asked, confused. “Why are you calling me at one in the morning?”

“Why are you up this early in the morning? Okay, so these people my friend and I are staying with say I need to get a ride home because I can't handle my alcohol or something.” You complained, slurring your words. You couldn’t handle your alcohol. “I don’t know, so I called you. Is there any chance you can pick me up?” Dead silence over the line.

“Yeah, I can.” He told you, going inside and grabbing the keys to the rental car. Fate must really have wanted him and Y/N to get together, or his delusions. “What bar are you at?” “You’re an actual savior, Seb.” You said, sounding genuinely grateful as you told him the name of the bar. “Okay, I’ll be sitting on a chair against the wall when you get here.”

You hung up before Seb could offer to stay on call. He thought he was supposed to be the blunt one. He drove easily through Ibiza, enjoying the convertible porsche. It was hot in Ibiza, but slightly colder in the night, and the warm wind made it much more enjoyable. The club he arrived at was massive, and when he bypassed the bouncer – pulling the driver card, he found that it was even bigger inside. Neon lights blasting from the dj booth, and fake plants covering the walls.

A chair against the wall, Seb wondered, this place is massive, and is there even a chair in here?“Yo! Yo!” Someone called out. Seb looked up, furrowing his brows as a girl pushed past people to get to him. “Yeah, you! Blondie!” “Blondie?” Seb asked, pointing at himself. She nodded, stumbling over and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re Sebastian Vettel right?” She asked, 

“Listen, I’m looking for someone, it’s kind of late, I don’t really want to sign anything right now.” Seb told her, looking around the massive room for any sign of a fucking chair.

“Ugh, you are a jerk.” She said, an image of disgust on her face. “I’m the girl you’re looking for’s best friend! Yeah, Y/N, do you know her?”

“Y/N said I was a jerk?” Seb asked, of course this girl was your best friend, and he managed to seem like a total asshole.

“Yeah, anyway follow me.” Y/B/F said, grabbing Seb’s shoulder and dragging him through a massive crowd. You were not in fact sitting on a chair, but a bucket, and essentially jumped into Y/B/F’s arms the second you noticed her.

“Hey babe.” Y/B/F said, handing you over to Seb with slight ease. She whispered into his ear, “She’s on eight drinks Y/N, so about to be possibly sick, and have many epiphanies.” Seb placed his hands on your shoulders as you first noticed him.

“Oh! Seb, this is my best friend in the whole world.” You said, smiling at Y/B/F. “And also the person who ruined Ibiza.” “You wouldn’t have Ibiza without me.” Y/B/F said, sliding a massive tote bag over to Seb. “Also, I hope you can crash on his couch because . . . ,”

With the smile the two of you exchanged, Seb assumed Y/B/F was going to be doing the same activity as Lewis was occupying himself with that very night. “Okay know get the fuck out of here before you throw up or pass out on top of somebody.” Y/B/F said playfully. “Love you!!” “Love you too!” You called back, latching onto Seb’s arm and immediately putting your entire body weight on him. “Thank you so much, Seb.” “Yeah, anytime.” Seb said, pretty sure he actually meant it. He pushed open the door, taking in a breath of actual fresh air.

“Let me guess, the porsche-uh.” You said, slurring your words heavily. Seb nodded, opening the convertible door for you and dropping you in the seat as he took his place at the driver's seat. You wore a tube top and a sarong, the sunburn around the halter bikini top and bottoms indicating a day spent at the beach.

“Did you have an eventful day?” Seb asked, you nodded, leaning across the central console to press your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah, but I think I should quit clubbing.” You told him honestly. “I always do stupid things.”

“Mhm, like hook up with me.” Seb commented. He could feel your frown through his shirt.

“I think if I hadn’t been drunk it wouldn’t have been too much of a mistake.” You told him. “I would’ve been sneakier.” 

“Sneakier?” Seb asked, smiling despite himself. He had to remember, you weren’t you after eight drinks of whatever alcohol you had consumed that night. Most likely some Spanish drink the bartender made up to scam tourists. You suddenly sat up straight, hand covering your mouth.

“Pull over.” You said, dead seriousness.

“What?”

“Pull over right now!” You shouted, clutching the door of the convertible. He swerved to the edge of the road. You essentially fell out of the car, he jumped out, rushing over to you and managing to pull your hair out of your face just in time as you threw up, not once, not twice, but three times on the concrete sidewalk. “Ugh, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Seb said, lifting you up slightly and seating you on the passenger's seat once more. “Do you feel okay?”

“Yeah, less drunk I think.” You said, grabbing the massive tote bag Y/B/F had handed Seb. “Luckily I actually packed everything I’d need in case every terrible thing occurred tonight.”

You then pulled out a toothbrush and a toothpaste stored in a small plastic bag, and efficiently began brushing your teeth. Seb glimpsed the driver’s villa in the distance, and turned over to you.

“You’re okay with sleeping on the couch, right?”

“I’m fine as long as I can sleep.” You said, spitting the toothpaste out over the side, and collapsing back in the seat. You were slurring your words less now, but it was still there. “I’m just so fucking tired.”

“You’ll be able to go to sleep in a second, don’t worry.” Seb said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as well. Exhaustion was supposed to be contagious, wasn’t it? Who knew, it seemed like whatever you felt affected Seb.

“Okay.” You said, clutching your bag like a pillow. He pulled to a stop in the driveway, helping you out of the car, essentially being half-carried the entire way through the door.

The massive windows facing the beach illuminated the living and kitchen, exposing a sight Seb wasn’t sure he was ready to see. Lewis and his hookup nude filling up two separate bowls of cereal.

“Hey Seb.” Lewis said with a nod. His face changed expressions instantly to surprise and slightly happy when he noticed who you were with. “Look who you found!”

“Hey, Lewis.” Seb said, resisting the urge to cover your eyes.

“Hey.” You said with a smile. You turned to the model next to him, and smiled at her. The woman smiled back. “You have very nice boobs.”

“Thank you.” She replied with a wide smile. “You have nice ones too!”

You smiled, and the model girl waved you a farewell as she and Lewis returned, Lewis holding two bowls of cereal. They covered his nipples at least.

“Are they going to eat cereal while having sex?” You asked, mouth slightly agape. 

“You can go and ask if you want.” Seb offered.

“I’m good.” You said, laying down on the couch, and rummaging through your massive tote bag.

“Do you want me to grab you blankets?” Seb asked.

“Duh.” You replied, pulling out a pair of black shorts from your bag. Seb turned around and essentially sprinted up the stairs to grab a handful of blankets from the closet. When he came back. You had changed into a gray baby tee, and black cotton shorts, face squished into a pillow. Seb smiled at the image of you asleep, memories brought back to the days he had been an absolute asshole, and you hated him. Developement? He placed the two blankets on your resting form, slightly surprised at how quickly you had managed to change and fall asleep. 

“Good night.” Seb whispered.

“Are you leaving?” You mumbled.

“What?” Seb asked, slightly frozen above you. “Why aren’t you staying?” You asked, grabbing his hand tightly and pulling him closer. “You want me to sleep on the couch with you?” “Mhm, you’re warm. Like a human heater.” You mumbled, wrapping your arm around his forearm. Seb frowned slightly, not quite sure what the right move would be, choosing to sit down on the edge of the couch. He leaned his back against the pillow. You adjusted your sleeping position, resting your head on Seb’s chest and wrapping your arms around his waist in a way that made Seb nervous to move too much. “My not so sweet human heater.”

You woke up later in the night, maybe four or five am. Slightly hungover, and intending on closing your eyes once more as you looked up at Seb. His eyes were fixated on the wide windows overlooking the beautiful ocean. You wished you could know what he was thinking behind those baby blues.

next (coming soon)

Red Flags

CO-WRITTEN WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader (hints of Marc Spector x female reader)

Summary: Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way.

Or alternatively: You get to use that ankle restraint on Steven and sit on his beautiful face.

Rating: really fucking explicit

Warning/content: will cause unrealistic sex expectations, bondage/restraints, cunnilingus (face sitting), safe sex; unsafe relationship choices.

Word Count: 9.2k (ahahahah please don’t look at me)

[Series Masterlist] [Tag List and Masterlist]

The warning signs were written all over him like a marquee outside a theatre, lit up in gold and bright flashing red neon. 

On the first date you were supposed to have, he stood you up, only to call you four days later on a Wednesday night. Closer to midnight than dinnertime, oblivious and confused and asking where you were with a slight panic in his voice. 

“Date’s tonight, yeah? Saturday at seven?”

Un-fucking-believable. 

Keep reading

this scene got me feeling like a victorian man seeing an ankle 😔😔😔

(i need him to whimper in my ear like a needy bitch)

Oooo could u write about ghost taking his mask of infront of the boys and the reader burst into the room late and is like who tf are you 😭😭😭

A slew of identical masks lay on the table before the circle of men. Ghost reached up and nonchalantly removed his current face covering, exposing his face like it was nothing. Price was the only one who didn't seem surprised to see Ghost's exposed face. "Nice to see you again, Simon."

At his words, you burst in through the door, stumbling over to the table, pulling your utility vest around your body, and tightening it. "Sorry I'm late," you mumbled as you approached. The men gave you a quick nod before turning back to listen to Price. "If you're in, take a mask... If you're not... Don't."

You looked around and spotted a dirty blonde across the table from you, staring you down. Your eyes widened, not recognizing the figure, You leaned into Soap. "Who the fuck is that?" you asked, gesturing your shoulder towards the mysterious man who clearly heard you--you weren't exactly talking quietly.

A big grin formed on Soap's face. He ignored you, reaching for one of the masks and sliding it on over his head. You heard a few men beside you chuckle, clearly thinking whatever you said was funny.

You rolled your eyes before grabbing your own mask. Before you raised it, you froze, watching the man grab one himself and slide it on. Wait. That can't be... "Ghost?" You must have looked awestruck.

Ghost adjusted his mask and looked directly at you, his eyebrows raising. Ironically, with the mask covering most of the man's face, only then could you tell it was Ghost. The blonde hair and attractive face threw you off; the idea that the man across from you could be Ghost didn't even cross your mind. Now with his mask back on, his looming stance and expressive eyes were a dead giveaway.

"Shit, Ghost. I didn't know you were hot." You hadn't even fully realized you said that out loud until Soap and Gaz snickered beside you. You quickly pulled the mask on to hide your embarrassment.

"I tried to tell ya," Ghost grumbled, referring back to the time he insisted he was good-looking to both you and Soap. You were thankful your face was now covered because you were sure you were sweating.

"Let's keep it together," Price said to the table, looking between you and Ghost, a small smirk on his lips. Apparently, everyone found amusement in your humiliation.

As the group moved to head out, you felt Ghost and Soap match your stride. "If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't believe Ghost wasn't ugly as shit under there either," Soap said down to you.

"Thanks, guys," Ghost said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"What can we say? We expected the face to match the personality." You stifled a laugh at Soap's words, Ghost shoving him hard in the shoulder, making him stumble.

Your eyes flicked back to Ghost, still amazing at how ethereal he looked in a much thinner and exposing mask. You could see his blonde eyelashes against the black of his face paint. "Gonna be hard to take orders from you now, Lt. Knowing you look like that n' all," you stuttered, half-jokingly.

You could hear the pained sigh in Ghost's breath, clearly losing his patience as you and Soap giggled like school girls.

Feeling like this whole being around people today