#//but he's not used to being soft and honest and being LoveD

[j2archives]

pretty baby

summary he’s infatuated with you, how could he not?

content warnings lovesick!sammy, brief mention of dean, sugarbaby!reader (kinda), mentions of hunting/training reader and sam’s protectiveness, feminine qualities and traits used so fem!reader, whipped!sam, implied/mentioned intimacy, sweet talk, praise, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, baby, angel), mentions of sam thinking reader is out of his league, fashion and style for reader used, p!v w/ creampie, unprotected sex, brief marking kink, gentlemanly sam (of course), and more!

notes based on a mood board I reblogged, reader has honey daniels style, dean headcanons are being planned i swear!! there’s 500 wc too. proofread. lemme know if you guys want more of these in the comments if you want <3 reqs are open.

sam winchester is infatuated with you to say the least.

naturally in that winchester brain of his, he’s surprised you gained an interest in him. some guy who doesn’t spend his time at the local bars, who is always on the road with his elder brother, who is so soft spoken he sometimes feels bad for thinking inappropriately. but, you didn’t seem to mind that. he was still puzzled by it. you were so beautiful and way out of his league.

and now he had the pleasure of calling you his. his girl, his pretty baby, his everything.

whenever he’s out on a hunt, he always stops at the local market when he can to buy a bouquet. bringing you home a bundle of your favorite flowers, candies — whatever satisfies you. sam does his best to do it every time he’s away. you’d stay at home. sometimes researching lore for their new hunt, but mainly because sam wanted you out of harms way. he knew that the supernatural was everywhere, and he was honest with you about it. Teaching you how to load a shotgun filled with salt shells, how to salt the windows and doors, he even stashed an exorcism book in the apartment. on his free time, sam would help you with pronunciation and the meanings of each syllable.

dean would take solo hunts, letting sam stay at home with you.

sam knew how much you loved shopping and he also knew how much your style fit you. if you wanted a new belt, he’d take you. if you wanted a new pair of shoes, he’d drain his wallet for you. whatever you wanted, he had no issue in getting it for you.

your hair products sometimes could be a bit pricey, but that doesn’t mean sam can’t use his credit card scams to buy each and every one. god, he could go on about you for ages. every feature of you was perfect. stunning. gorgeous. he couldn’t get enough of you.

he was a gentleman by all means, in the bedroom and outside of it.

he’d start slow, savoring the feeling of your painted lips against his. he could taste the lipgloss you wore, almost the same one each time. when you switched it up, he’d compliment you on it. saying you tasted divine every time.

sam loved seeing your marks on him, the red streaks that you left when he had you splayed out on the bed. his cock reached places inside of you that you hadn’t known existed and he’d change angles, pounding into your sopping cunt just the way he knew you liked it.

he hated having to be quiet with you, fuck, sam would drown in your moans every chance he’d get. your song would replay in his head and he never wanted it to stop. but he also loved the feeling of your lips wrapped around his cock or his thumb, another way he could muffle you without slapping a palm over your mouth. he was sure he leaked steadily every time you pulled him out of his boxers. how could he not though?

the sight of loose strands sticking to your forehead after two or three rounds drove sam crazy, especially when you were mumbling incoherently when he was fucking you so thoroughly.

“such a pretty girl, laying beneath me like this. taking every inch of my dick. god, you’re gorgeous.” his praise echoed and sometimes he cut himself off with a moan, feeling your heat pulse around his throbbing length. “you feel fuckin’ amazing, sweetheart.” he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling if he tried, but he didn’t want to. he wanted you to know how ethereal he thought you were, how intoxicating every moment he spent with you was.

he always had an idea of when you were close, sam would coax it out of you. purposely pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back into you. keeping the same pace to earn those breathless sighs from you. “c’mon, baby… cum on my dick, i know you can, angel. you always take it so good, right? i know you can give me another.” sam would pull as many orgasms as he could from you, working you over the edge and then himself. his head jerking back with a guttural moan as he filled you to the brim.

afterwards, he’d run you a bath or shower when he could. peppering your face in sweet kisses, cooing and telling you how precious you were. how good you always were for him. telling you how much he loved you.

tagged @h8aaz @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @immodestly-marina + comment to be added <3

[sodxdrugz]

- * . ‘ Sylus as a girl dad

This is how I think Sylus would act as a girl dad. Let’s be honest, Sylus is so girl dad coded.

Everything about Sylus screams ‘girl dad’

The way he interacts with you, the transition from cold and distant to someone much kinder and tender

He grows more comfortable to express his feelings, albeit mainly through his expressions

Sylus would ADORE his baby girl

Nicknames of “Sweetie-pie” “Darling” and “Princess” are commonly and frequently in use

I can imagine your and Sylus’ daughter doing his makeup for every occasion

You finish applying your makeup, smoothing down your dress after cleaning off your hands and then checking yourself over in the mirror. After setting everything in place and readjusting your jewellery, you go on the hunt for your husband and baby girl. It’s not long until you find them.

When you do find them, you have to hold back a bark of laughter. They’re both in the master bedroom. Sylus is seated on the floor, slouching so your little bundle of joy can have free access to his face.

Your daughter fusses around your husband with her own children’s makeup palette in hand, reaching up with chubby arms to apply various products on his cheeks, lips, and eyes. Her eyes are set in all the seriousness an eight year old can carry, with an adorable pout of concentration enough to make you grin.

Sylus’ eyes catch your figure in the doorway. His contentment makes something inside you swoon. Pink eyeshadow is a dash of colour across his outer eyes, a glossy red lipgloss is smudged across his smirking lips, and an obnoxious blush darkens his high cheekbones.

As usual, his eyes rake over your figure, taking his sweet time to admire how your dress hugs every curve, how it highlights your chubbiness in the most elegant way possible. Your jewellery glints—the most expensive on the market, of course. Your bracelet charm matches with the one jingling on your daughter’s wrist.

“Do I look good, Sweetie?” His voice smooths over, silky and amused. The lipgloss catches the light, twinkling and sparkling like the night sky outside. You catch the warmth in your cheeks in unison with his darkening gaze and widening grin.

Your daughter perks up. “Mommy!” She rushes to your side and crashes against your legs—nearly making you stumble. You giggle, brushing a manicured hand through her head of white hair. Soft strands curl around your finger affectionately.

“Hi sugar. Getting daddy all pretty for tonight?” You look at Sylus as he stands up proudly. If he was confident before, your daughter’s makeover makes him even more so.

The way he would wear out his makeup for your date night, proud and unashamed of the mess spread across his face

Because it’s not a mess to HIM

It’s his daughter’s masterpiece

If anyone questioned why his face looks the way it does, he would proudly state it’s his daughter’s work

And if they so happened to criticise it

Well, they wouldn’t only have to deal with his wrath, but yours

I can imagine that both you and Sylus are evenly matched when it comes to being protective of your daughter

Said protectiveness knows absolutely no bounds

Missing person reports of the people who dare think or say anything bad about your precious girl? Well, who could have done that?

Certainly not you or Sylus

Sylus is very careful to keep your daughter safe

When she grows up, she thinks it’s too much and overbearing, but it’s for her own good

Every boy is driven away

Every thought of a boyfriend is shut down

Aside from that, her best friends would consist of Mephisto, Luke, and Kieran

Both you and Sylus do not trust anyone else to be around her

Luke and Kieran would LOVE her

They would involve her in all of their pranks

Sylus would scold them for the stunts they pull, but never his daughter

She can do no wrong in his eyes

You would be the one having to scold her, because Sylus can not bring himself to

It’s funny

He’s the leader of a big crime organisation, kills people, and is feared by the majority, but he can’t stomach the thought of scolding his daughter

When a glint of a tear appears in her eyes, he’s at her beck and call

When she uses her puppy dog eyes, he will bend to her every will

You have to scold him for being so lenient at times, but you’re no better either

Anyways, that’s all!!

[taleya15]

Vampire purr

It’s almost impossible to find comfort anymore, especially in Hawkins. Especially for Eddie Munson, right after the “earthquake” he was taken care of by the Hawkins scientists. Eddie’s convinced they’re not just testing his blood for his health. He’s convinced they’re trying to test on him, and the party well can’t say it’s unrealistic. They’ve heard of them doing worse, El can attest to that as well. The party is currently in the hardest stage of PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, and panic attacks are becoming more and more common among them.

At this current moment, Steve “The hair” Harrington is at the new Munson trailer. Never in a million years would Steve ever think, that he’d be hanging out with Eddie Munson willingly. But I guess you can say shared trauma can do a lot to a guy. Especially since Munson is basically a vampire now, at first Steve only did it because he felt bad for the guy. But now he actually enjoys being in his company.

They’re currently seated at his couch, listening to music while drowning out their feelings in weed. “Ya know what sucks?” Steve mumbles out in a daze.

“What?” Eddie understood him easily, he’s used to the high mumbling Steve comes up with by now.

“It always feels like, I’m not allowed to be mad at Nancy.” Eddie turns his head to him confused.

“What do you mean?”

“It always in a way felt like I was never allowed to be mad at Nancy for cheating on me. Because to be honest, every single time I’ve tried to move on we’re back to dealing with stupid upside down shit.” Steve isn’t looking at Eddie while he says this, he seems more concerned about the stain on the carpet than Eddie.

“I really don’t know what to say to that sorry man.”

“You- you don’t have to say anything. I’m just ranting I guess.” Eddie can only nod in understanding, well until Steve sighs dramatically and lays down with his head on Eddies lap. Eddie for a moment is shocked, until he just chuckles and starts playing with Steve’s hair. Which sober Steve hates, but high Steve absolutely loves. He basically melts into Eddies lap.

Eddie and Steve just sat there for a second with Eddies hands in his hair. Well until Steve asks something he never thought he’d hear from him.

“Eddie… have you ever kissed a boy?”

“Uhh what?”

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

Eddie is so glad he’s high right now. Because if he wasn’t… then he’d be frozen in place. But because he’s mostly, well halfway high and sober. Eddie can answer him honestly.

“I mean yeah. It’s actually sometimes better than kissing girls.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah I’d say so.”

“Can I try it?”

“Try- try what?”

“Kissing a boy.”

“Um. Yeah of course man. No one would judge you.”

“Yeah?” Steve gets a dazed look in his eyes, then suddenly all he can think about is kissing Eddie’s lips. They look soft, and unlike any girls he’s ever kissed before. For a moment Eddie sobers up, and then just nods.

“Can I kiss you then?” Steve whispers out, almost like a secret between them. For a fleeting moment, Eddie wants to stop him. He wants to remind Steve how high he is. But then, the moment passes. Eddie thinks about it, he knows that if he says no now. Then any chance of kissing Steve another time would never happen. So sue him, he’s had a crush on Steve Harrington since he was still “King Steve”. So what if he wants to be selfish for once?

“Yeah. Yeah you- can.” Steve gains a dopey smile, and before either boy knows it. Steve is leaning in, and kissing Eddie. At first it’s clumsy, and uncomfortable, then they try again. That time, it’s pure bliss. Eddie’s head is tilted just a little bit to help kiss Steve right. They continue to kiss until Steve begins straddling Eddies waist. For a moment, Eddie is completely still, not daring to even touch Steve. He’s terrified that if he does he’ll scare Steve away.

But thankfully for him, Steve touches him first. He gently grabs the back of his neck. And Eddie relaxes slightly, and gently holds onto his waist. The kiss continues passionately and the more they continue the more both boys relax. Then a sound comes out. At first they ignore it, and proceed. But as the kiss continues on, the sound becomes louder. Eventually they separate to question said sound.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know. It sounds almost like a purr.”

They listen quietly for a moment trying to locate it. But the trailer becomes dead silent again, the boys eventually look at each other and shrug it off.

“Well it’s gone now.” Steve says with a shrug, and goes back to making out with Eddie like nothing happened. Which Eddie is more than happy with. For a moment they continue on like nothing happened, then the sound returns. Steve takes notice instantly, and decides to test a theory. He heard once that bats purr. And technically Eddie’s a vampire now, so maybe it’s him?

He gently licks Eddies bottom lip, and the purring grows louder. Gotcha! Steve thinks before pulling back, which results in a pout from Eddie.

“What’s up?”

“Eddie. I think it’s you. The purring sound.”

“What? Cmon man, that’s stupid. I don’t purr.”

Steve is naturally stubborn, but when he’s high. It’s even worse.

“Let me prove it then.”

“Go ahead. But yeah, I don’t purr.” Steve ticks an eyebrow up, and gently kisses Eddie’s lips. Then cheeks. Then jaw. Then finally his neck. The purring returned then. And all Steve could do is smirk at him.

“Oh.” Eddie says before giggling, and soon enough Steve joins in. For a moment everything’s perfect. Everything makes sense, and the vampire purr made everything even better. And maybe they’d do this again, maybe they’d get high and make out again. And maybe both boys are more than ok with that.

[overnightheartbeats]

His lips were coated in something sweet, her heart thumping with anticipation as he pulled her close. A happy, dazed hum escaped her as his lips reassured her and worked a magic that effectively brought her mind back to them. Even if they still talked about her, her worry and shame regarding her roommate was no more. Her right hand resting on the nape of his neck softly brushed his hair, smiling at his words. He really didn’t know just how much comfort he brought her, something to share with him. “I get that. Well, you won’t be in her space anymore. We won’t be. I meant what I said earlier, I’m moving out. Choosing, yeah that’d..be something.” Was it insane to tell him that her heart said him, no hesitation. It seemed too early to share such huge feelings, it had to be. But, when had that ever stopped her? “It’d be you though, for the record.”

In between saying yes, her laughter followed his. His eyelashes fanning against her cheek tickled, but she loved the feeling. “Yup, these eyes precisely. Oh, first day you saw me? I’d have been a goner.” She was already intrigued by him at that party, this would’ve just ensured she walked over much sooner. “Between pretty eyes and your bottle opening trick, I would’ve stuck to you from the moment you arrived.” Though, she remembered she had seen him around sometime before that. Leaning in to catch every single kiss he provided, she brushed his damp hair from his face. It was bizarre to think of how he had her heart dancing. How far deep was she. If he asked her to jump, she’d only ask how high. Oh, she was falling expeditiously. Just us, how nice that sounded from his lips.

Her hand had traveled down from his face to rest on his chest. Her dopey smile could not be hidden, meeting his family should be frightening. And, that’d eventually settle in, but for now, her excitement kept everything else at bay. The fact that he even wanted to introduce her meant he was serious. It wasn’t just her. Laurel was quick to shake her head to dispel the idea that she felt it was too fast. It didn’t matter to her, she loved it. “I want to meet your family, I want to do it all with you.” It was vague, but laurel was effectively letting him know, she was all in with him. “I like you too, so much, and yes let’s do it!” Her happiness was everywhere you looked, bursting at the seams. Bright eyes, her lips curved into a wide smile and her face a rosy color as if her feelings for him settled into her features, in full display for him. She was going to make a joke about the house he envisioned when he mentioned wanting to be honest. That was the other shoe dropping, wasn’t it? Oh, it was that. “You are really sweet being honest with me, and you’re in luck. We’re like…secretly in sync. I know I’m not the marriage type. So, I think that’s something we won’t have to worry about.” No one else knew that, he was the first person she told. But, that was a thing for later. “I’ll happily take loyal partner over the other stuff.”

“I’ll take all the stories you’re willing to share with me, though I’ll also ask your family,” she warned him with a grin before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Every opportunity to learn about him, she’d take.

It was a quiet afternoon, the diner had a few guests but the booth they favored was open, as if waiting for them. The whole way there, Laurel didn’t let go of his hand. Exclusivity really did have its perks, and she was on cloud nine over it. “So, Chicago trip, how long would it be? I’ll need to tell my dad.” Which reminded her, she’d need to plan a trip for him to meet her family. “Also, I’m good sharing a milkshake today, but I think I’m starving enough for my own fries. What do you think?”

He kissed her like the memory of Jenny was going to blur into the background. His hands at her face pulling her close, taking his time to slowly explore her mouth like they hadn't been acquainted yet. "Hmm, no I think we both bring each other comfort." Was he trying to be funny? Maybe. "I could never. Aside from the fact that I don't like to butt into other people's business. It just wasn't my place. I wasn't going to make you choose either. It's not her or me. I just don't want to be in her space."

He laughed and then fanned his eyelashes against his cheeks and bit his bottom lip. "These eyes? Right here? If I knew it was all it would take I'd have fanned them right at you the first day I saw you." he nodded and laughed as his face nuzzled hers and gave her a few more kisses. "Just us," he reaffirmed. He was pretty sure this was what it felt like to fall in love.

"I want you to meet my family. I know it's a little soon and if you feel like it's too fast, just tell me. I was actually going to do this at dinner but," he sighed and smiled. "I would like us to be exclusive. I can't see anyone else making me feel like you do. And it's not just because we have a sexual relationship either. It's not that at all. But, I really like you and do see you as more than just a college experience. I see the house and living the good life. Lots of laughter. But, I just want to be honest. Marriage isn't something I see for myself but I'll be the most loyal partner you'll ever have."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "The good and the bad stories maybe the ugly ones." Giving her one last kiss he got up and pulled her by the chin. "Let's go,"

[chaoticbardlady99]

WIP because I love these two so so much

“What a surprise,” a deep, familiar voice resounds from behind her, “a feral Kitten at a park.”

She knows her head moves faster than she actually feels like it did, but she is still in shock to see Sylus walking up to the other swing and awkwardly sitting in it. She can’t help but laugh a bit- he looks so awkward on the ancient swing set and she can’t decide if it’s the alcohol or her true feelings, but she is really genuinely happy to see him right now.

“Be careful,” she wipes away the remains of her tears, “this kitten may just scratch.”

“That’s what I was told,” he raises an eyebrow at her, his eyes sparked with curiosity, “Tara didn’t believe that you actually called that Doctor of yours.”

Dammit Tara.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sober, yes,” he says firmly, “but not drunk, alone, and crying at nighttime in a park. Don’t pretend you don’t know that.”

It takes her back a bit- she is so used to everyone being soft and fluffy with their words. Caleb couldn’t even command the amount of respect Sylus does and if she was sober, she would give some push back. However, right now, she knows he’s right and she knows she’s lucky it’s him who’s here with her at the park and not someone else.

“I know,” she whispers, avoiding his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

The silence almost makes her think he left, but she knows better than that. Sylus isn’t leaving her here- if anything, she should probably be anticipating spending a night in the N109 zone and it doesn’t bother her. In fact, maybe she could sleep better getting away from the location of her grief.

The swing set creaks as Sylus gets up and he kneels down in front of her until he’s making direct eye contact with her. It’s an odd image- the leader of Onichynus on his knees before her.

The back of his index finger wipes away the tears she missed and his eyes are softer than velvet when they meet hers. Sylus seems to hold so much worry and care for her and she can’t possibly understand why. Nor can she understand why he seems to be so ready to come to her aid at a moment’s notice.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he stands up and offers his hand to her, “I’ve got your back.”

As if to prove his point, the golden and red strings of the linkage appear and wrap themselves around their wrists. It’s a warm, welcome feeling. It’s a bond that feels honest and strong- Lenore finds that she trusts Sylus more than she trusts anyone else.

Taking his hand, she steadies herself shakingly in her horribly painful heels. She winces slightly, but before she can even begin to take a step, she is being swung up into Sylus’ arms.

“Thank you,” she murmurs awkwardly.

“So margaritas make you a docile, polite Kitten,” he teases, “I’ll have to remember that.”

Lenore scoffs and rolls her eyes, “you’ve caught me in rare form- get me another margarita and I’ll be far, farrrr more docile.”

“It’s a very tempting offer, Kitten, but I’m not about to fall for your tricks.”

[chishiyasdearjacket]

Mean it

Summary: This is a story about Chishiya, a master strategist and a player, who falls for the reader. He struggles to express his feelings, afraid of vulnerability and the possibility of getting hurt. He pushes her away, playing games and acting distant, but his actions only serve to create a rift between them. The reader, hurt and confused, questions his sincerity and doubts his feelings. As the tension builds, they confront each other, and Chishiya finally admits his true feelings. The story explores the complexities of love, the fear of vulnerability, and the struggle to be honest with yourself and the one you love. It's a story of second chances, of learning to trust, and of finding love in unexpected places.

This story is inspired by Lauv's Song "Mean it"

The air hung heavy with the scent of rain and the faint aroma of jasmine from the potted plant on the windowsill. Chishiya sat in his apartment, the city lights a shimmering blur beyond the window. He was lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the past few weeks, the way you'd been pulling away, the growing distance between you.

He remembered the day he'd realized he was falling for you. It was a simple moment, a shared laugh over a ridiculous game, but it had sparked something within him, a warmth he'd never known before. He'd been hesitant at first, afraid of the vulnerability it exposed, but he'd embraced it, letting himself fall deeper and deeper.

But somewhere along the way, something had shifted. The laughter had faded, replaced by a tense silence. The warmth had turned to a chilling distance. He didn't know what he'd done, what he'd said, to cause this rift, but it felt like a chasm he couldn't bridge.

He remembered the day you'd confronted him, the day he'd finally admitted his feelings. He'd been surprised, terrified even, but also strangely excited. He was falling for you, and he was ready to embrace it. He'd thought you felt the same, but now he wasn't so sure.

He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over your name. He wanted to call you, to hear your voice, to try to bridge the gap, but he hesitated. What would he say? How could he possibly explain the turmoil within him?

He closed his eyes, the lyrics of Lauv's "Mean It" echoing in his mind:

"I'm so used to bein' alone

But I'm scared to be alone with you

'Cause I know it's gonna hurt

When you leave, when you leave, when you leave"

He knew he was being selfish, clinging to you even as he pushed you away. He was afraid of losing you, afraid of the pain that would come with it. But he was also afraid of letting go, of admitting that he couldn't live without you.

He opened his eyes, his gaze fixed on the city lights beyond the window. He knew he had to do something, to break through the wall you'd built around yourself. He had to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he needed you.

He picked up his phone again, his thumb hovering over your name. He took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to try.

He dialed your number, his hand trembling slightly. He waited, his heart pounding with anticipation. He heard the familiar ring tone, and then your voice, soft and hesitant.

"Hey," you said, your voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

"Hey," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Can we meet?"

He waited, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping for a positive response. He heard a sigh on the other end of the line.

"I don't know, Chishiya," you said, your voice laced with a hint of sadness. "We haven't been doing so well lately."

He knew he was right. He'd been pushing you away, and he was starting to realize that he was losing you. He had to do something, to say something, to make things right.

"I know," he said, his voice filled with regret. "But I need to see you. I need to talk to you."

He waited, his heart sinking with each passing second. He heard another sigh on the other end of the line.

"Okay," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "Meet me at the usual place. In an hour."

He felt a surge of relief wash over him. You were willing to meet him. You were willing to give him another chance.

"I'll be there," he said, his voice filled with hope.

He hung up the phone, his hand trembling slightly. He had a lot to say, a lot to apologize for, a lot to explain. He had to make things right. He had to make you understand how much you meant to him. He had to make you know that he meant it.

He looked at the city lights beyond the window, the rain still drumming against the glass. He was going to see you, and he was going to tell you everything. He was going to tell you how much he loved you, and he was going to make you understand that

The rain hammered against my window, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the turmoil in my heart. Chishiya's call had come as a surprise, a sudden tremor in the carefully constructed wall I'd built around myself. He wanted to see me. He wanted to talk.

I knew I shouldn't go. We'd been dancing around each other for weeks, the unspoken tension thicker than the humid air. He'd been pushing me away, his words laced with a sarcastic edge, his actions a constant reminder of his distance. I'd tried to ignore it, to pretend I didn't care, but the truth was, I did. I cared deeply.

But his actions spoke louder than words. He was falling for me, he'd admitted, but his actions didn't reflect it. He was still guarded, still distant, still playing his games.

The lyrics of Lauv's "Mean It" echoed in my mind, a soundtrack to my conflicted heart:

"Don't kiss me right now

Don't tell me that you need me

Don't show up at my house

All caught up in your feelings

Don't run me 'round and 'round

Don't build me up just to let me down

Just to let me down, down, down (hey)

Don't mess with my head

Don't tell me you're falling with your

Feet still on the ledge

I'm all out of breath

Baby, don't run me 'round and 'round

Don't kiss me, no, don't kiss me right now

On your lips just leave it

If you don't mean it"

I knew I was falling for him, too. His sharp wit, his cool demeanor, the way he challenged me, it all drew me in. But I was afraid. Afraid of getting hurt, afraid of being another pawn in his game.

He was a master strategist, a manipulator, a player. He could make you believe he was falling, but his actions always spoke a different language.

I was tired of the games, tired of the uncertainty. I wanted someone who meant it, someone who wouldn't just run me around and around, building me up just to let me down.

I sighed, the rain drumming a mournful rhythm against the window. I knew I should tell him to stay away, to stop playing these games. But something in me, a flicker of hope, a lingering desire, made me hesitate.

I got ready, my heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and dread. I knew I was walking into a minefield, but I couldn't help myself. I had to see him, to hear what he had to say.

I was a fool, I knew, but I was a fool in love. And sometimes, fools fall in love with the wrong people.

I hoped he wouldn't kiss me. I hoped he wouldn't tell me he needed me. I hoped he wouldn't build me up just to let me down.

I hoped he meant it.

The cafe was quiet, the usual evening bustle replaced by a somber stillness that mirrored the storm raging inside me. Chishiya sat across from me, his usual stoic expression softened by a hint of vulnerability that surprised me. He looked different, more raw, more exposed.

"I know I messed up," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I've been a mess, pushing you away, playing games when all I wanted was to be closer."

He reached across the table, his hand hovering over mine. I didn't pull away, but I didn't reach for him either. The air between us crackled with unspoken tension, a mixture of longing and fear.

"I'm falling for you," he continued, his gaze fixed on mine, a raw honesty in his voice that I hadn't heard before. "I've been falling for you for a long time, but I was scared. Scared of letting myself get hurt, scared of losing control."

He paused, his hand still hovering above mine. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his guarded nature and the vulnerability he was trying to express.

"I'm not good at this," he admitted, his voice a low murmur. "This whole 'feelings' thing. I'm a strategist, a player, but when it comes to you, I'm a complete mess."

He finally took my hand, his fingers warm against mine. I didn't pull away, but I didn't return the gesture either. My heart ached with a mixture of hope and fear.

"I don't want to play games anymore," he said, his voice filled with a sincerity that surprised me. "I want to be honest, I want to be real. I want to be with you."

He looked at me, his eyes searching mine, hoping for a sign, a glimmer of hope. I knew he was trying, but I couldn't shake the doubt. I'd been hurt before, and I was afraid of getting hurt again.

"Don't kiss me right now," I said, my voice a whisper. "Don't tell me that you need me. Don't show up at my house all caught up in your feelings. Don't run me 'round and 'round. Don't build me up just to let me down."

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and understanding. He knew I was hurting, and he knew he was the one who had caused it.

"I won't," he said, his voice soft. "I won't do any of those things. I just want you to know that I mean it. I mean it when I say I'm falling for you. I mean it when I say I want to be with you."

He leaned across the table, his gaze fixed on mine. He didn't try to kiss me, didn't reach for me. He just looked at me, his eyes filled with a raw honesty that I couldn't deny.

"I'm not perfect," he said, his voice a low murmur. "I'm not always good at expressing myself. But I'm trying. I'm trying to be better, for you."

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine. "I'm falling for you, and I hope you know that I mean it."

I looked at him, my heart pounding in my chest. He was trying, he was reaching out, and I couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope ignite within me. He was Chishiya, the master strategist, the cool observer, but he was also a man who was learning to feel, a man who was learning to love. And maybe, just maybe, he meant it.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

It's been three years since you last saw Eddie Munson. It felt like a lifetime had passed but it's not like you could ever really forget him and for a long time you tried, you really did.

And now he was right here in the same room as you. Shit...

No one really forgets their first love or their first heartbreak... you knew that better than anyone.

At school you and Eddie were in different circles, he was the guy who everyone deemed chaotic, a little dangerous and wild, the guy who girls like you should stay away from. Meanwhile you were best friends with Chrissy, a straight A student. Semi popular, a good girl.

Maybe if you had heeded that advice you would have saved yourself the heartbreak.

When Eddie sought you out you were intrigued, fascinated at the way he could be so loud, intense and a thorn in Jason Carver's side one minute to being sweet and gentlemanly, courteous and kind the next.

You fell for him hard despite your friends warnings that he was a "Dangerous" or "up to something". He was romantic with you, protective, chivalrous and sweet, both of you smitten from the start.

Eddie being described as dangerous made you giggle because once you really got to know him and saw the soft centre inside his hard shell it became ridiculous to you that people could think that.

Because Eddie wouldn't hurt a fly, let alone you...

Until you were proven oh so wrong and by Jason Carver of all people. Jason who has heard a conversation between Eddie and his friend Gareth, the two of them talking about how Eddie initially approached you to get close to Chrissy because he had a crush on her.

Jason took great delight in telling you that in front of the whole cafeteria after Eddie had riled him up one too many times. At that point Eddie had paled and even though you wished deep in your heart that what Jason was saying was a load of bullshit, you knew it wasn't.

That's when your heart broke, Eddie never really loved you did he? He wanted Chrissy all along. Perfect, sweet Chrissy. Your best friend.

You were dimly aware of Chrissy yelling at Jason and at Eddie, calling him an asshole and telling him to stay away from you. To be honest you fled before Eddie threw the first punch at Jason's smug face.

When you holed yourself up inside the girls locker room and finally let yourself break down that's when Eddie caught up to you or at least he tried to. You were sat on the floor, back against the door and heaving great sobs while Eddie desperately tried to talk to you.

"Please, please let me in princess. It's not... I had a stupid crush on Chrissy when we started talking but it meant nothing"

"You only started speaking to me because I'm Chrissy's best friend and you thought you had an in Eddie! Don't lie now. You're just pissed you got caught out" you could hear his sobs mingling with yours through the door and it broke your heart even more.

"No please baby, I love you okay? I fell in love with you, Chrissy was a stupid crush and it didn't matter, it went away when we started getting close, please open the door" his tone is begging, urgent.

"No! You were just using me from the start. Leave me alone. I hate you Eddie Munson" you shake with tears and you hear his broken sobs, then Chrissy is there and she's yelling at him that he's done enough and to leave you alone.

After that Chrissy wouldn't let Eddie near you, she dumped Jason for publicly humiliating you and the two for you stuck together like glue. You could tell she felt guilty for being the catalyst to Eddie's plan but it wasn't her fault. It was Eddie's.

You didn't speak to Eddie again, he tried to talk to you but you could never face him, the love you had for him was still so deep at that point but the heartbreak eclipsed all of it.

Pretty soon after graduation Eddie left Hawkins and you and Chrissy went to college together, you had a few dates and one serious boyfriend since Eddie but it never felt the way you did with him and that fucking sucked.

Now Eddie was in the same room as you after all of this time. You're at Steve's homecoming party and he's chatting with Dustin and Steve, he's all gesturing widely, big brown eyes wide, no doubt in some passionate rant about something.

A tug of longing fills you. More than once you wonder if you should have let Eddie at least explain his side. Would it have made a difference? Probably not. You still would have been heartbroken and felt used. It would have opened up more wounds and pain.

Eddie's chocolate brown eyes meet yours across the room and his mouth forms into a little oh...it's cheesy as shit but it's like there's some sort of cosmic shift that the two of you can only feel and it pulls you towards each other.

Within seconds Eddie is beside you, gazing at you with softness and the fairness traces of nostalgia and...longing.

"Hey princess"

❤️

What would you do? Would you hear Eddie out? Would you after three years give him a second chance? There is still a lot of love there along with all that heartache... I'd be interested to know. I left this open ended but slightly hopeful as it was pretty much all angst and it hurt like hell to write.

This is what I get after binging angst stories at two am. Oh well... ❤️🫣

[farfromstrange]

@fire-joestar Thank you so much for your request, darling! God knows I love an Avenger!Reader as much as the next person. Still took me some thinking though. I did a bit of a mix between object levitation/telekinesis and nature manipulation, so I went just a little off-script to fit the tone better. I hope this still manages to live up to your vision! (Putting most of it under a cut because this got looooong)

Matt Murdock x Powered!Reader Headcanons

Event Masterlist | Matt Murdock Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Former Avenger!Powered!Reader

Request: A bouquet of… tulips and daisies.

Warnings: Fluff.

WC: 965 (got a bit carried away, oops)

Matt has always scrutinized the persecution of powered individuals. So when he meets you—a powered individual and former Avenger—of course, he’s not appalled or scared or anything like that; if anything, he’s intrigued. He wants to know more about you. And it doesn’t take much for him to fall in love with you because you are damaged, too. 

You have your history, and a lot of what happened when you were still an Avenger made you reject the powers you were born with. The way people looked at you after Sokovia and Lagos; the way you were all put into the same drawer and treated like imbeciles, obviously didn’t leave you cold. So, you try to use them as little as possible when you first start dating Matt because even though his senses are heightened beyond what could be considered normal for a blind man—he is Daredevil—he’s still only human. 

But Matt being Matt doesn’t let you get away with hiding. Okay, at first, maybe he would because he wants to give you time to open up, and you’ve just started dating, but he’s less tolerable once you grow closer. 

The first time he kisses you, you’re so caught off guard by this handsome, kind, and unbelievably good-hearted man actually kissing you, that you lose control of your carefully constructed reality for a moment, and the vase on his coffee table starts to levitate. 

And when you finally realize, your hold on the inanimate object eases, and it shatters.

“I’m so sorry,” you blabber, blood pulsing in your cheeks. But he shushes you with that signature smirk of his and says, “It’s alright.” 

It feels weird though, being this way around someone whose ‘abilities’ are solely reduced to his four working senses. 

Maybe he tells you, “Look at me. I don’t care if you have horns or a tail, or you can make a vase levitate several feet off the ground. This is you, and I… I love you, okay? I love you.”

There, he said it. You think it’s a joke, at first, but the look in his unfocused hazel eyes tells you that he’s being honest. You can’t hear his heartbeat like he can hear yours, but you can feel it thumping steadily under your palm and you know he would never lie to you.  

Matt’s infatuated with you. Your uniqueness doesn’t make you any less human or stunningly beautiful to him. Of course, he can sense that you’re different. His senses are so sensitive to the slightest changes in the atmosphere and the human bodies around him, and even on a molecular level, he can sense when something is out of the ordinary. But it doesn’t hurt him.  

He can’t really explain it to you, but there is a buzzing in your veins he can hear and feel. It took him some getting used to, sure, because he doesn’t often experience it, but it’s not unpleasant. Your body doesn’t feel different under his touch—soft as silk—yet he can tell that you’re not ordinarily human. He can feel the power coursing through you, and when you use it, the atmosphere shifts in a way that makes his skin tingle. 

Some nights, when he’s had a rough day and his senses are burning from overstimulation, you take his favorite flowers that have long wilted, and you bring them back to life. You let them float around him until the scent has seeped into his soul. 

You can manipulate the world around you to make it more bearable to him. He doesn’t even have to tell you to do it; when he comes home with his jaw set in stone, his head hung low or his fists bloody, you pull him to the floor and you make the world go quiet. You make him experience all the things that make him happy, and that’s how he falls asleep. 

He knows how to tune out the world on his own, don’t get me wrong, but not if he’s already been trying to do it all day and all night, only focusing on what’s important. When he loses control, that’s when he needs you. And you have the actual power to make it all go away. He’s addicted to how it feels when you use your powers on him or for him, and he would never ask you to stop. 

Or when you place your hand over his racing heart, closing your eyes and trying to get it back to beating normal, he feels you coursing through his very veins, and his pulse slows to a crawl. 

Perhaps, after you express the wish to go with him on patrol—and he would shoot you down the first couple of times out of fear of losing you—he eventually caves when he notices how badly you crave it, seeing him do it every night. He knows you want to make a difference again. To help people. That’s why you became an Avenger in the first place, and after you lost that, you obviously started missing it. 

Is he worried about your safety? All the time. He’s scared someone might hurt you, or someone might arrest you just for being who you are. He’s afraid of losing you. But he also knows you can take care of yourself. 

Let’s be honest, if you were someone with the powers to manipulate nature and a former Avenger, you would be the one protecting him most of the time. Because unlike him, you actually can’t get hurt that easily. So, he caves and he makes sure you fight the good fight together.

Needless to say, Matt would do anything for you.

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

If the 3k event is still open ( congrats on it regardless ), could I please request C, X and L for Satan ? I've just recently discovered your page and I love your writing, very detailed and accurate !

☽ ◦ ◦ ◦ ✩ ❤ ✩ ◦ ◦ ◦ ☾

c - courtship, what do they do to hint at wanting to get together? is it obvious they’re courting you or subtle?

Satan is realistic. There's a chance that everyone else has caught on to what's happening here, except he doesn't care. If his brother's have realised he's courting you. Good. Then they should back off. "I've brought you a new book to read." You however, don't seem to be aware, that he's using new books recommendations to monopolize your time. "Given you liked the last one of a similar genre I thought this would be perfect for you." Instead, you always smile and thank him. An action that makes him feel almost uncomfortably warm.

"I have a recommendation for you." You fire back at him this time around, handing him a book with a simple title. He reads the blurb that is essentially a star-crossed lovers plot between a human... and a demon. Hm. "You should tell me what you think, this book is everywhere at the moment." While you're facial expression seems to be earnest, he can't help but try to read into your intentions by recommending this to him.

"Have you read it?" From the smile that threatens to form into a smirk on your features, and the glint in your eyes after he questions you further.

"Of course, I was very drawn to the plot." He thinks that maybe, just maybe, you are aware of what he's up to.

l - love potion, you’ve accidentally drank a love potion that causes you to feel like you’re dying if they don’t touch you, what is their reaction? 

Asmo had handed the potion to Satan, going on about how one of his beloved fans had tried to charm him through the use of the potion. Satan only took it off of Asmo's hands, thinking it could be perfect for a new scheme against Lucifer. Not really thinking about how if left lying around, the potion could be mistaken for just another beverage.

But then again, why would you drink it to begin with?

Not that it matters now. The thought of using it against Lucifer a distant memory as he looks at your flushed features, as your face nuzzles into his palms. "Don't stop touching me, please." The soft pleas for him to keep his hands on you almost enough to hold him in place for eternity.

He'll scold you later. He thinks. Running his fingers through your hair, and pondering how he might be able to undo this before the effects of the potion gets worse. Of course, time is getting low as you start directing his touches to get lower and lower.

x - x-ray, what are some of their thoughts when with you that they don’t say aloud? 

Satan thinks he's fairly honest when it comes to you. He likes to share with you what he's thinking, most of his thoughts and feelings are yours to know. He just asks in return that you do the same with him, and share whatever might be lingering on your mind.

But despite what he thinks, sometimes despite not saying some thoughts aloud you can see it plain as day. For example, the closer you get with him the more prone to jealously he becomes. Strangers particularly set him off. People who get in your space, who have no regard for him even being there and will speak to you as if there isn't anyone else present. It angers him.

Not because of an innate fear of losing you. Oh no. He knows some stranger couldn't take you away from him. It's the audacity of these people who don't even truly know who you are to think they even have a chance with you. And if the stranger even dares to use something distasteful. Satan will almost lose it. Animosity pooling in his belly as he considers making this person disappear.

You can feel his anger swelling and are quick to make an escape with him.

He is quick to combat your questioning by watering it down to jealously. Even though it's more that he finds you so special, so important that other people are just beneath you in his mind.

☽ ◦ ◦ ◦ ✩ ❤ ✩ ◦ ◦ ◦ ☾

[bobopeebo]

Helloo~ I love reading all your headcanons because I feel like they're very accurate and fun. Similar to the Ayato ask but any Headcanons on the type of girl Shuu would like, pshycially and personality.

Shu’s Type Headcanons

shu wouldn’t like someone that’s his complete opposite

he prefers a fair balance of opposite and similar - or even if she had just a handful of similarities, it’s enough

he needs someone who likes relaxing with him as well

someone he can enjoy comfortable silences and beautiful music with

soft, fluffy curly hair would kill him.

he likes long, soft, flowy hair that smells like fruits and flowers that he can bury his face into and use as his personal curtain

but at the same it would become a nuisance if her hair kept getting stuck/pulled while they cuddled and she complained about it. plus, short hair would give free access to her beautiful neck

in terms of bodies, he likes petite, short women because they look cute, innocent and frail

tall and elegant women because they seem poised and gentle, seeming soft-spoken and not noisy, causing less of a disturbance to him

curvy women because they’re warm and soft; the perfect pillow to him (bonus points if they smell good) and he gets to make lewd remarks about their blessed assets

he really doesn’t care that much

soft clothes in soothing colors like pastels and dark shades are appreciated. hates eyesore colors like neons and if his lover were to be a fan of them, they’re sure to hear a few unamused remarks every so often

you see the amount of times soft is mentioned here? yeah he’s basically shopping for a human pillow

but shu really likes girls with big, bright, curious eyes. someone adventurous or bubbly would feel like a golden retriever to him; he would find them quite amusing and loveable

he doesnt mind a girl with a lot of energy; so long as she can also be content pumping the breaks to wind down and share headphones with him while they cuddle wherever he pulls her

he actually might prefer a s/o who can balance his nonchalance. someone expressive and empathetic; someone who talks a lot and would want to tell him lots of cute interesting things

he might not have the most compelling replies; but that doesnt mean he’s not interested, he’s just not one for talking much.

just knowing that she cares so much. that her perfect evening would be spending time with him.

he obviously would ‘complain’ about how noisy she is, but she wouldn’t be able see the faintest, soft smile he grows on his face with his eyes closed as she tells him about what happened in her class that night not knowing that she’s already told him this once before

speaking of, he would likely prefer someone with a melodious voice. Deep or soft and calm. He would have trouble adjusting to something with a loud or pitchy voice. In that case maybe he would prefer their quiet times more ^^;

if his girl knows how to play (the ‘good’) instruments, it would be amazing. maybe not so much for her because of how many times he would ask her to play-

after much begging, shu might even be so kind as to agree to have a duet with her (how romantic)

despite shu not being that picky with what kind of girl he’d be attracted to, he still has a few absolute donts

girls who are stuck up or snooty, with a superiority complex. the ones who care way too much about being perfect and proper: he would just get brought back to his aristocratic family. the one he’s trying to get away from constantly.

he just doesn’t like girls who are vain or egoistic. he finds them annoying

shu would really admire a girl who’s honest. someone who wouldn’t change her opinion based on whether or not others agreed. someone brave who would stand their ground to support their beliefs

that quality kind of also translates into loyalty

shu has a hard enough time as is allowing himself to connect to anyone, fearing he’ll lose them. if he does finally start to warm up to someone, it would kill him inside if they betrayed him.

> 𝕀 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕕𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝 𝕒𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕤𝕞 𝕠𝕟 𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖. <

Your beloved, Bo.

[delusionallyobsessedwriter]

How He Would Cuddle You

Percy Jackson x gn! reader and how he would act when you two cuddled!

warnings: a bit of smoochin', no smut, not proof read we die like men

~750 words

A/N: okay guys so this is like my first fic ever im so nervous ahh!! (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) but anyway, i hope you guys like it and feel free to leave requests, i'd love to write more!

love y'all!! (⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

This man literally has THE TIGHTEST GRIP on you I swearr

You say things jokingly like "oh my god Percy i cant breathe," and he lets out a huff of annoyance, buries his head deeper into your hair and grumbles a half-assed excuse along the lines of "but you smell so good babe," or "sorry sleeping people cant talk,"

This man is so sassy I swear he will be the death of you

Luckily he loosens his grip when you remind him that 'sleeping people' can't consent to kisses either, which at first he protests about but after dodging his advances for a few minutes (or lets be honest a few seconds, this man is whipped for you) he finally gets the message and cuddles you without the strength of someone who seems to be trying to strangle you

On a seperate note, when Percy's in a cuddly mood, he gets so sweet with you, it's adorable to watch. Like when you find him so exhausted after a quest that the sassiness melts into clinginess its just *chefs kiss*

As well as his bashful nature towards affection melting, his need to be reassured regarding your relationship increases tenfold.

"babe can you just let go for a sec im almost done my work," you mutter as your near endless assignment seems to be coming to a close "Work isn't as important as our your ever-loving undervalued boyfriend, is it?" He asks drowsily in company with his arms coiling slowly around your shoulders in your seated position and coiling his fingers absentmindedly in your hair. As you giggle to yourself and repeat "undervalued, huh?" in a questioning tone, you're met with his hot breath on the side of your neck, followed by a couple sloppy, feather-light kisses.

"C'monn,*kiss* i miss you*kiss* so much*kiss*" He mumbles into the side of your neck as you restrain yourself from providing him with any signs of enjoyment because you know you'll end up trading off you're incredibly uninteresting assignment with being pinned under your extremely muscular and sleepy boyfr- okay yeah maybe this deal doesn't sound too mentally taxing.

As your resolve is finally broken, you reciprocate his affectionate gestures by kissing his forehead followed by his somehow always soft lips and whisper with a giggle"You always know just what to say," to which he responds by picking you up bridal-style and dropping you on the bed, which you yelp rightfully at.

He flops on top of you ungracefully and places his head in the crook of your neck, mumbling many things which you can't make out(519), but the jist of which are all extremely sweet and along the lines of "you're.. the best.. did you know that?.. you're like.. oh my gods you know like... that outfit you wore like... a week ago... everyone was staring at you but... you're mine," he buries his face deeper as you can feel his face heating up and a lazy smile etching deeper and deeper as he keeps gushing over you "All mine, yeah?.." he uses all of his remaining strength to look up at your face expectantly, awaiting your response like an eager puppy, "All yours, Percy," you say, with each word dripping with as much affection as you could muster.

You start to twirl your fingers in his scalp as he takes refuge back into the crook of your neck "so sweet t'me... how are you real... you must be like... from olympus... y'r too pretty... prettier than aphrodite I'll tell ya that much... hmmm... yeah that feels good..." he dreams out loud, keening into your touch "I could say the same about you, prettyboy," you retort as he suppresses the need to kick his legs like a schoolgirl.

As the comfortable silence lengthens, and you wonder if he's finally been taken to dream-land, he presses one last soft, love-filled kiss on your neck and whispers the softest and sweetest "I love you," that has ever graced the Earth, to which you can only hope he heard you respond,

"I love you too, Percy."

[bloodbathfortwo]

What does everyone think of Nigel Forbes-Colbie ever getting pregnant? It doesn't matter how you interpret it: Omegaverse, males can get pregnant Au, Trans! Nigel. Just tell me your guys' headcanons of Nigel's pregnancy: The changes, the hardships, the softness, and the vulnerabilities.

[fragmentedblade]

I hate that when I look up the "Kalpas" tag here there's me and then there's me again, but on another blog. Fake moustache me

[joelsgoldrush]

“give me the first taste” | 10k

logan howlett x f!reader

part 2 of “GUILTY PLEASURE”

"Your hungry flirt borders intrusion / And I'm building memories on things we have not said / Full is not heavy as empty, not nearly, my love / Give me the first taste / Let it begin, heaven cannot wait forever / Darling, just start start the chase, I'll let you win." The First Taste by Fiona Apple

SUMMARY: From the moment you first laid eyes on Logan, you knew he was a tough nut to crack. But if there’s one thing you love, it’s a challenge. As your relationship grows, you’re determined to show him that, in this universe, he can also be loved.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. angst. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. age-gap (reader is 25). once again wade saves the day. domestic!logan. soft dom!logan. logan calls reader “kid”. they watch (500) days of summer. oral sex (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. thumb sucking. throat fucking. multiple orgasms. unprotected p in v. creampie (i would say i’m sorry but i’d be lying)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: jeez. hi guys!!! hope you’re doing alright. this is the 2nd part to “guilty pleasure.” writing for these two has been a total rollercoaster, but god was it worth it. as i always tell you, english isn’t my first language, so if you come across any mistake and you feel like letting me know, there’s no problem. thank you so much for all the support you’ve been giving my posts. i’m happy strangers out there take the time to read my silly stories :)

A girl and a mutant walk into an apartment…

Actually, you’re still trying to come up with the rest of the joke. But one thing’s true: Logan’s about to set foot in your place.

You curse under your breath, putting both your hands to work as you struggle to open the door. “Fucking swollen wood. I hate humidity,” you mutter, glancing back at Logan, who frowns as you keep trying different maneuvers to get the door to function properly.

It’s a shitty situation overall. And having that gorgeous man practically glued to your back isn’t helping in any way. You can tell he wants to give you a hand, but you’re not having it—women in STEM or something of the sort.

“May I—” he starts, though you cut him off before he can finish.

“I’ve got this. Just need to—” you say, ramming your shoulder into the door with enough force to make it finally give away. Almost stumbling over the carpet but managing to catch yourself, you sigh in relief. Meanwhile, Logan stands still, scrutinizing you until you gesture for him to enter. “Welcome to the smallest apartment in New York City. It's nothing fancy, but it’s got everything you need for a comfortable stay on a budget. Make yourself at home!”

Logan narrows his eyes, the tiniest smirk playing on his lips before stepping inside. Each of his movements seems to be premeditated as he tosses his jacket onto the couch, surveying the room. A portrait of when you were a kid, probably six or seven years old, catches his attention. He tilts his head, picking up the picture to examine it more closely, and then flashes you a lopsided grin. “How cute.”

“Well, I’ve changed a lot,” you take the picture from his hands, returning it to the shelf where he had gotten it from. 

“Well,” he echoes, mocking your tone, “your beauty certainly hasn’t.”

His eyes bore into you as you meet his gaze. What amazes you most is that he’s being completely honest. In a heartbeat, you look away, wondering what’s gotten into you. Usually, you’re not this awkward—you’ve learned how to take compliments over the years, knowing how to smile just right, to flutter your eyelashes. To blush and giggle in command. Those were the tools that helped you to survive countless first dates—your dearest aces up your sleeve.

There’s no use denying that they remained just that: first, failed dates. You hope you never have to go back to dating apps after this.

“Are you hungry? ‘Cause I’m starving,” you say, trying to walk away from him, although he’s faster, catching your hand in his. 

“Hey,” he urges you to make eye contact with him, his voice perplexingly soft. “Is everything okay?”

You nod so vigorously that you nearly strain your neck. “I’m fine, I swear. I just never get past this point.”

Inching closer, he presses his lips together for a split second, his brows furrowing in confusion. “You lost me there.”

“Guys who come into my apartment don’t tend to call back,” you admit, a flush creeping up your face, cheeks getting hotter. “I happen to believe it’s a curse, though I’ve kissed, like, a hundred toads so far and it still won’t break.”

“So y’think you’re gonna scare me off,” he raises an eyebrow, grinning. His rough fingers become gentle as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s sweet. Should be the other way around.”

Wow. You two are a match made in heaven.

As you detach yourself from his embrace and head to the kitchen, you decide to look for something edible in the fridge, finding different trays of food from days ago, none of which look appetizing or suitable for feeding the Tin Woodman standing behind you.

All of a sudden, the unmistakable metallic sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing rings in your ears, forcing you to spin around. The image that unfolds before you is peculiar, to say the least: he’s cornering your cat against the door.

Why is he about to fight a cat?

“Please don’t kill him?” you take a step in his direction and scoop the little ball of white fur into your arms. Logan stares at both of you, eyes squinted and brows knitted. “I’m sure he’s the cutest feline you’ve ever seen. Have mercy on him.”

“I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“Earnest wasn’t aware of your existence either,” you reply, scratching along the animal’s back. He purrs beside your neck, his yellowish eyes never leaving Logan’s. “Earnest, this is Logan. He has claws just like you.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that,” Logan warns you, retracting his claws with a sigh. You can’t help but wonder if he ever feels tranquil, at peace. “Y’know, you’ve doomed him to bad fortune with that name. Is he at least toilet trained?”

“Are you hating on The Importance of Being Earnest?” you ask, expecting a retort, though apparently the play’s title doesn’t ring a bell for him. “Oscar Wilde?”

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to, kid?”

Now’s your time to roll your eyes, setting the cat down and letting it run away. He likes to hide in the bathroom—don’t ask why, because not even you know the answer to that. You flick your gaze up back to Logan, placing your hands on your hips. “See, you gave him trust issues.”

“He’ll survive. Don’t they have seven lives?”

This is the perfect conversation to have with someone who just ate you out thirty minutes ago: how many lives do cats have. Jesus.

At some point, Logan flops onto the couch, stretching out. You shudder as you hear him crack his neck, the popping sound getting on your nerves. He pats the empty side of the sofa, spreading his thighs until he’s almost taking up all the space. “Come here.”

Putting aside all your thoughts, you accept the invitation. You sit down, motionless, and his arm grazes the cushion behind your head, pulling you closer to him. You rest your cheek on his chest, letting out a deep sigh, one that you’ve been holding in since you got to the apartment. Is it possible that he knows you craved this? This proximity, this kind of affection. To be held—it’s been your only wish for months. He drums his fingers on your shoulder blades, then starts rubbing your back ever so lightly.

Far from dozing off, you feel alive.

It’s hard not to lose track of time and space when you find yourself immersed in the warmth he offers, and that’s when you realize how deeply you’re falling for this man. “Logan?” the mere thought of asking him what’s been on your mind terrifies you. The last thing you want is to ruin things—or whatever it is that you have. He hums, a low, heavy sound in his throat, indicating you to continue. “I have a question.”

“Ask away.”

You lift your face from his chest and look him in the eye. The city’s still alive outside, with music and chatter sneaking in through the window. Everything seems to be perfect, and you wish you could stay like this—just staring at him as if he were a painting in a museum, and you the critic who can’t stop writing articles about its beauty.

Okay, that was… weirdly specific. 

Logan tries to hide his smile as you peck his lips repeatedly. For a moment, you almost forget what you were going to ask him in the first place. But then he’s ready to listen, and you a wave of nausea washes over you.

“I know that we came here to… engage in adult practices.”

“Fucking, you mean.”

“I didn’t want to be that straightforward, but yeah,” you say, shaking your head as to rearrange your thoughts. “Would you mind if we stayed like this?” to emphasize your point, you kick your shoes off and put your legs on top of his lap. He observes the whole sequence without daring to utter a word. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to try that too. I truly do. But… right now, all I want is to cuddle,” he’s still silent, making you even more nervous. “I’m sorry. Is that okay with you?”

His whole body engulfs yours, your cheek coming to rest once again in its original position. You can feel the rhythmic beating of his heart, each breath he takes, the air he exhales dampening your nape. Logan peppers your neck with chaste kisses before pressing his lips to your temple. His voice comes out strained, partially muffled by your hair. “Who do you take me for, huh?” he’s right there, beside your ear, fucking everywhere. There isn’t a single centimeter of your exposed skin that he isn’t touching, marking as his. You don’t give him an answer, in part because you’re unsure of what to say. He takes your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Let me take you to bed.”

“I can walk on my own.”

“I know,” he mutters, standing up with you in his arms, one arm beneath your knees and the other one under your shoulders. Logan’s not used to being this cautious, this patient with someone he’s known for less than two weeks. You see it in his eyes when he lets his guard down—something that has cracked, a shell that’s been broken.

As he places you gently on top of the covers, he lingers for a moment, crouching beside the bed and searching for your lowered gaze. His fingers are warm as he tilts your chin up. “I didn’t come here just to have sex with you. That was a possibility, of course—but it’s not the main reason why I’m here,” he rasps, words accompanied by the light brush of his lips against yours for a quick, brief kiss. “I care about you. A lot. I’m fine with whatever we do as long as I get to be close to you,” he grabs your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He then goes back to his usual bossy self, his demeanor changing. “And I don’t want to hear you apologizing for not wanting to have sex ever again. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now you’re making jokes?”

“I can’t have serious conversations,” you confess, observing the look of pure confusion on his face. “It’s true. I once spoke at a funeral and they cut me off forty seconds into my speech.”

Logan laughs at your sudden confession, his eyes crinkling at the edges. Rising to his feet, he begins to unbutton his flannel, pausing after the first few buttons are undone, waiting for your approval. “Do you want me to stay tonight?” 

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

His words don’t hide any real threat—that you know.

You stifle your laughter, shedding your clothes. Instead of going to the bathroom to change, you toss your work clothes carelessly to the floor, opting for an old pair of pajamas that are the complete opposite of sexy. They surely have seen better days.

Logan’s eyes trail over you, taking his time to analyze the faded lettering on your wrinkled shirt. “Keep calm and eat pizza?” he reads aloud.

“Hey. I bought it when I was seventeen.”

“You could use a new wardrobe.”

“Well, what about you?” you tease, toying with his belt. “You’re gonna sleep like this in my bed?”

“Can’t wait for me to get my shirt off, huh?” he grins, that all-too-familiar smile on his lips.

You play along, folding your arms over your chest. “You think so highly of yourself.”

Without breaking eye contact, Logan unbuckles his jeans, letting them pool around his ankles. He then shrugs off his flannel, leaving him in just his briefs and vest. You scan his body, and the room suddenly feels a hundred degrees hotter, the air between you thickening. Logan notices your reaction, chuckling. “Don’t get too excited. This is all you’re getting today.”

“I think I’ve already heard that before.”

“Kid.”

You raise your hands in surrender, showing him your palms and mouthing ’sorry’. Approaching your bed, you pull back the covers and slip into it. When you see Logan still standing there, you frown. “Where are your manners? Come here. I’m very impatient.”

He grumbles something under his breath, but he doesn’t make you wait long. He proceeds to get under the sheets beside you, occupying that side of the bed that’s always been empty. As you both settle in, facing each other, you can’t help but giggle, your contagious laugh getting to him. “What now?”

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your index finger, a featherlight touch that has him closing his eyes. In the soft glow of the night, with the city’s distant sounds filtering in, he looks breathtaking. “I mean it.”

“Do you have an off switch?”

“I’m… not sure. Let’s find out tomorrow.”

“You need to sleep,” he pulls you onto his chest with firm but gentle hands. He intertwines his legs with yours, holding you close.

“Wait. I have a game to play.”

“It’s late.”

“Please?”

He sighs. “Okay.”

“We have to make confessions until we fall asleep.” 

“You just want to talk—that doesn’t even qualify as a game.”

“It does in this universe,” you reply, feeling his chest rumble with a chuckle as you settle more comfortably against him. “I’ll start: remember the first night you came to the bar?” he hums in acknowledgment. “It wasn’t Burger Night. We don’t serve food. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

He kisses the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “I knew. You don’t have a kitchen down there, baby,” he falls silent, taking his time to come up with a confession of his own. “I have a fear of flying.”

“Really? You, of all people?”

“I wasn’t expecting to be judged.”

“Oh, don’t be such a crybaby,” you tease, burying your face further into the crook of his shoulder, inhaling his scent. He shivers slightly where your nose touches his skin. “I like you. It’s kind of scary, and I’m sure saying something like this probably goes against the rules of dating 101, but I do. I feel safe with you, like—like this is where I’m supposed to be.”

Almost as if the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together, you think to yourself, though the words stay unspoken.

You’ve come to learn that Logan’s not a man of many words—he’s more of the “show, don’t tell” kind of guy. So when he makes you lift your face, you’re not surprised by the way he kisses you: hungrily. Passionately, like a starved man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. A soft whimper gets lost somewhere in your throat as his tongue makes its way into your mouth, languidly stroking yours.

“We didn’t brush our teeth,” you whisper against his lips, laughing when he groans in exasperation.

“You love having the final say, don’t you?”

“I’m being serious, Logan. Cavities are a real issue for me.”

“You can always get new teeth.”

“But my morning breath—”

“It’ll stink anyway, and so will mine,” he responds, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat once he settles into his ideal sleep position. “Good night.”

“Night,” you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his neck. Despite your efforts to ignore it, being cradled like this feels incredible. You can’t believe you went twenty-five years without it.

Just as you’re about to drift off, curiosity strikes. “Can you get tattoos?”

“Bub, I was actually falling asleep.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry,” you mumble, feeling a bit sheepish.

More silence.

“Logan?”

“Hmm?”

“What was the Great Depression like?”

“Fuck me,” he mutters, his voice gruff as he shifts lightly. “It was fine. Now go to sleep.”

And you do, but not for long. An abrupt coldness wakes you up, eyes wide open, feeling disoriented. It’s still pitch black outside, far quieter than when you first fell asleep. The clock on your nightstand reads it’s 3:17 am, though it feels like you’ve only been in bed for five minutes.

Then you see him—he’s twitching in his sleep on the far side of the bed, his painful grunts reaching your ears. Most of what he says is unintelligible, but there’s one word he keeps repeating over and over again without fail: “No.”

You don’t usually have nightmares. What’s the best way to wake someone from one? You’re still thinking when he starts mumbling again, his voice thick with distress, and now he’s throwing his arms in the air as if he were fighting off something—or someone—in his dreams.

Pressing your hands to his cheeks, you attempt to hold his face steady. He clenches his fists, his breath quickening the more he battles whatever’s haunting him. “Logan,” you whisper at first, subtly shaking his shoulders, but his eyebrows stay furrowed, deep in his nightmare. This time, you tighten your grip, fully sitting on top of him. “Logan. Logan! Wake up!”

Without warning, you’re on your back, pinned against the mattress. Logan’s straddling your hips, caging you in with his body, the weight of his adamantium skeleton pressing down. Your hands are trapped beneath his, and you watch as he clenches his jaw, teeth bared in a way that looks painful. His eyes are so dark and wild you barely recognize him, prominent veins throbbing in his neck with each labored breath he takes.

“Logan,” your own voice sounds unnatural, forced, as you do your best to bring him back to reality. “It’s me. You’re alright.”

That seems to get through him. Logan stares at you in disbelief, his eyes softening as they take in your terrified expression. He abruptly pulls away, retreating to the nearest wall. He’s gasping for air, slamming his eyes shut, his legs trembling. The only sound you can hear is his rapid breathing. You get up from the bed, taking a step in his direction, but you don’t manage to go any further since he stops you with a shout.

“Stay right there!” he’s growling, pointing his finger at you. “I’m serious. Don’t come any closer.”

“Logan…”

“Please, no!” his voice increases in pitch, not being able to meet your eyes. “Please. Just stay there.”

You comply, not wanting to upset him any further. Sitting back on your knees, you try to appear calm. A man so strong, capable of things you can’t even understand. A weapon turned against himself now stands before you, pushing you away as if his presence were poisonous. He slumps to the floor, the fabric of his vest soaked with sweat.

Once he’s fully conscious, you cautiously crawl toward him, watching his every move. On a random day, this might have been funny for both of you, but right now, there’s no room for laughter. Logan shakes his head, his shoulders tensing when you reach out to hug him, wrapping your arms around his broad frame. It takes him a couple of minutes, but eventually, his body sags against yours. For a while, neither of you speaks. You just thread your fingers through his hair, hoping the closeness will help soothe him. “Feeling better?” you whisper in the shell of his ear, and he pulls back to look you in the eye. You caress his cheek, his stubble rough against your skin. “Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry,” it’s the first thing he says, covering your hand with his. One by one, he kisses your knuckles, still shaking his head. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You had a nightmare—it’s not like you could control it.”

“But I could’ve hurt you,” he says, lowering his gaze to your wrists, where his fingerprints have left their mark. “God. I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

“Wait!” you grab his arm, your mouth setting in a hard line, stopping him from leaving. “Don’t run away from me, not now. Don’t push me away, Logan.”

“I could’ve done something much worse.”

“But you didn’t. It was a nightmare, baby. You didn’t know,” you kiss his forehead, hoping to talk some sense into him. “Please, stay. Let’s try to get some more sleep.”

“What if—”

You hold his face close to yours, your noses brushing. “You won’t hurt me.” 

This time, he lets you keep him close, the roles now reversed. You can see him fighting his exhaustion, not wanting to fall asleep. But the more you play with his hair, the harder it is for him to stay awake.

“I’m alright,” he says, seemingly reading your mind. It’s hard to tell whether he’s reassuring you or himself.

“I know,” you knead his shoulder, aiming to ease the tension knotted there. “You better sleep, or I might start rambling again.”

A faint, tired hum escapes him, at long last allowing his eyes to close. “I like hearing you talk,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your collarbone, drifting off soon after that.

You continue to hug him, feeling the weight of his body gradually relax against yours as his breathing evens out. The room is quiet, but your mind is far from it: a tornado of emotions swirls within you—concern, relief, love, and something else you can’t quite decipher. It isn’t until sleep finally claims you too that your brain stops going a hundred kilometers an hour.

The most surreal Sunday night of your whole life.

“So… when will you let me see Lolo again?”

Wade’s question makes you stop mid-pour, flicking your eyes between the drink and him. A few seats away, you hand a glass to Adam. Returning to where Wade’s currently sitting, you dry your hands on your apron. “Why are you even here?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, and he gives half a shrug. “Last time I checked, I wasn’t holding him against his will.”

“He’s been crashing at your place almost every night. You have your own methods, woman,” he raises one finger, then quickly adds another, pointing at your shirt. “Two methods, in fact.”

At that, you laugh mirthlessly, shaking your head with a grin. “I’m surprised anyone would willingly date you.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts, taking a tentative sip of his beer and leaning back in his chair.

You glance at him while you wipe down the bar, looking for something to occupy your hands. “He’s not my boyfriend—yet.”

Wade mimics a punch in his chest, just where his heart’s supposed to be, though you’re starting to question whether he has one. His lips form a small, exaggerated pout. “That must hurt, doll. You got yourself into a situationship with a goddamn fossil. Good luck getting out of that.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, rolling your eyes. “We’re cool this way. There’s absolutely no need for a title.”

“Okay, let’s rehearse that one more time because you look like you’re about to cry,” he lifts an eyebrow, drawing nearer. “You want the title, right?”

“I don’t.”

He props his chin on his hand, laughing at you. “Yes, you do. You can’t fool me.”

“I said I don’t.”

“I said I don’t,” he mocks you, kicking his legs and puckering his lips.

You can’t help but throw the towel down on the counter with irritation, giving in. “Okay! Of course, I want the fucking title.”

“There she is!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in a triumphant gesture. “Glad we’re speaking the truth now,” he tilts his head to the side, noticing your sudden silence. “Hey, drop the long face. I’m sure he’s been thinking about it. In order to understand Logan, I usually compare him to elders over ninety.”

“Why would you do that?” you ask, your tone a mix of mild annoyance and curiosity.

“Just think about it! Senior citizens didn’t date for too long in the past. They’d go straight from strangers to lovers. Take my grandparents, for example: in the span of one year, they met at a party, then got married, and had five kids. Do you really want to have a litter of Logan’s grumpy, hairy puppies?”

“Wade, that’s not even possible.”

“The point is,” he continues, finishing his beer and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Logan’s rusty in this area, alright? I’d bet a thousand dollars he probably dated Cleopatra.”

“How did you pass History in high school?”

“I never graduated, but keep that between us,” he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. He spins the empty bottle, contemplating his next words. “You should tell him how you feel and what you want. That’s what works best for Vanessa and me. It’s easier that way—you can’t expect him to just guess.”

You wrap your arms around yourself. “I just wish he’d realize it on his own.”

“Well, sometimes you need to give the other person a bit of guidance. I’m just laying out the basics of a relationship here. Did your parents hate each other or something?”

The irony of it all. “They got divorced when I was little.” 

“Oh, god,” Wade sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at you. “Let me get this straight: Mommy and Daddy weren’t exactly the poster children for love. And you also happen to be a bartender. Anything else, honey? Please tell me you’re at least getting laid, because otherwise, I’m going to feel tremendously sorry for you and your mental health.”

Just then, you hear your name being called. Smiling at Wade, you mumble: “Saved by the bell.” Once you’re back from taking some orders, Wade jumps to his feet, coming around the counter to hug you.

“Dude, what’s the matter with you?” you ask, loosely returning the hug. 

“You’re a fucking survivor,” he whispers in your ear, genuinely sounding concerned. “I don’t know how you do it—you seem so put together. I would’ve lost it by now. A life without sex sounds awful.”

“Jesus, Wade! Get off!” you stretch your arm to punch him in the back, earning a groan from him. “Back to your seat, gentleman. I certainly don’t need your pity.”

“I’m a certified sexologist. Your secret’s safe with me,” he declares with a smirk, gesturing to his empty beer. “But first, I’m gonna need more of this tasty apple juice.”

“I hope you’ve got some cash on you,” you say, getting him another beer. “Why do I get the feeling Logan would kill us if he knew we’re talking about this?”

“Isn’t that what makes it even better?”

Swaying on your feet, you scrunch your nose, momentarily lost in thought. “He won’t let me touch him. I don’t know if it’s me that does something wrong. We do have our… moments, but he takes care of himself. And usually in the bathroom.”

Wade goes white in front of you. “How long has this been going on?”

“Over a month.”

“Oh. That’s bad, like, really bad.”

“Thanks! I’ll be sleeping on the highway tonight. You can always join me.”

“Doll, it’s nothing that can’t be fixed, alright?” he waves his hand dismissively, then sets his palms flat on the counter. “I know I’m starting to sound like a broken record, but talking to him is your best bet. This isn’t something you can just brush under the carpet. You’re like a goddamn radio—put it to good use.”

Just as you’re about to reply, you spot Logan entering the bar. You raise a hand in greeting, waving at him. He meets your gaze and smiles briefly, and so your eyes drift to Wade’s, shooting him a warning look. “If you keep this to yourself, I won’t charge you for today,” you mutter through gritted teeth, to which he answers by pretending to zip his mouth closed.

Logan takes a seat next to him, ignoring his presence. Instead, he focuses entirely on you. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, homey.”

“Hiya, Wade,” Wade greets himself with a mock cheer, patting his own back, which makes you laugh. He turns to Logan and his whole face lights up. “I’m afraid to tell you I can’t sleep when you’re not around.”

Logan rolls his eyes. “Get your shit together.”

“You’re the worst roommate ever! Can’t believe you got yourself a girl and completely forgot about your bro,” Wade murmurs under his breath, just as his phone rings. “Thank God. I’ve got to go. My love nugget’s calling,” he announces, heading for the door. Before leaving, Wade blows the two of you a kiss. “I hate you both, but I also love you. Peace out, my friends!”

Logan and you exchange glances. “He’s a funny guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. Logan intends to deepen the kiss, but you pull away after a couple of seconds. He frowns, clearly confused. “That’s how you greet me?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a giggle. “My tip jar is practically empty, and I hate to say it, but it’s your fault.”

“Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no.”

“Good, ‘cause I’m not,” he plants a quick kiss on your cheek, making you smile. “You have classes tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, at 9 am,” you almost grunt, not feeling too enthusiastic about it. “I’m gonna need your help. I can’t sleep through my alarm, okay? The professor said tomorrow’s class is an important one. Midterms are right around the corner, and I can’t take the liberty of failing them.”

“That won’t happen,” he assures you, and you believe him. “I can be of help, don’t worry. You won’t oversleep.”

Oh, Logan. Sweet, lying Logan.

Turns out you ended up oversleeping. Twenty-five years on this earth, and you still haven’t learned not to trust a man, even if his puppy-dog eyes silently beg you to do otherwise. The thing is—you love them. You love men. And you’re especially fond of the one currently sleeping in your bed.

The first rays of sunshine hit your face, waking you up. You attempt to raise a hand to shield your eyes, but moving any limbs feels like a Herculean task. A warm body is pressed against your back, one veiny arm draped over your stomach. Logan remains fast asleep behind you, his steady breathing succeeding in making you feel at ease. You reach back, running your fingers through his messy hair, and he grumbles in his sleep, instinctively pulling you closer.

What a nice, domestic morning. Yep, you’re getting used to this. And nope, you don’t regret it, not even in the slightest bit.

Though there must be a mistake, because you’re preeeeetty sure you had something important to do. 

Oh. You have classes. Had—past tense.

You reach for your nightstand, blindly groping for your phone. The charger is lying on the floor, the plastic of it all damaged. Perhaps Earnest had chewed on it while you were sleeping? You gently pry Logan’s arm off you, sitting up, and your bleary eyes land on something barely peeking out from under the bed.

It’s your fucking phone. The screen is completely shattered, with three distinct holes in the middle of it. Three holes, how strange! You can’t help but wonder who might have left them. Clutching your pillow, you whack Logan in the face with it. “Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!”

He groans, trying to take the pillow away from you. “What the fuck is wrong with you, kid?”

“I wish I had a UNO reverse card because I should be the one asking you that!” you jab your finger into his chest, showing him the ruined phone. “You broke my fucking phone!”

“What?” he asks, voice laden with sleep, still disoriented. He holds the phone, carefully scrutinizing it. “I think I don’t know how to hit the snooze button.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I believe you’ve made that very clear,” you huff, tossing the phone aside as you flop back onto the mattress. The clock on your nightstand says 11:05 am, and you cover your face with your hands, taking a deep breath. “Next time, when it goes off, just wake me up and I’ll do it.”

Logan settles beside you, resting his head on his forearm as he watches you. “I’m sorry, bub. I’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s fine,” you murmur, sighing. This is your free ticket to be a menace. “I should’ve known dinosaurs and phones would never get along. My bad, pal.”

You don’t even get to see his reaction because he starts tickling you, the room filling with your laughter. Squealing, you try to wriggle away, but his fingers dig into your ribs, expertly finding your most ticklish spots. Your giggles escalate into breathless laughter, your eyes squeezed shut as you desperately attempt to push him away. He’s relentless, chuckling when his own laughter bubbles up. 

“L-logan, stop!” you gasp between fits of laughter, aiming to grasp his hands.

“We dinosaurs love tickling people. Sorry, sweetheart,” he manhandles you until you’re perched on his lap, fisting the fabric of your (his) shirt. Leaning forward, he captures your mouth in a heated kiss. “I’m sorry about the phone,” he slurs the words against your cheek, his lips trailing down to your neck. You tell him that it’s okay, trying to find a comfortable position on top of him, and that’s when his thigh presses against your core, your eyes widening at the unexpected sensation. Logan’s no fool, noticing the way your breath hitches. “What’s wrong, baby? You woke up needy?”

“No, I just—” you trail off as he does it again, his strong thigh coming in contact with your clothed cunt. You search for leverage by placing your hands on his shoulders, glancing at him. “Logan.”

“I’m all ears,” he rests his back against the headboard, the tent in his boxers impossible to ignore. “You want to get off on my thigh,” he states with certainty. It’s not a question—it’s a full-on statement. He knows what you want, what you crave. “Come on then. Grind against it.”

You do as he says, not caring to think twice. You start moving, rubbing your wet pussy against his muscular thigh. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and soon, you’re whimpering his name, your hands trailing down his abs. Why hadn’t you tried this before? It feels fucking amazing.

From his position, Logan stares at you, his lips slightly parted, eyes clouded with lust. Your arousal drenches your panties, soaking through them, the fabric clinging to his coarse leg hair. He glances down at the mess you’re making, his grin widening as he takes in the sight. “Goddamn, woman. I’m gonna make you clean it off, I swear to God.”

“Need your help,” you whisper, lowering your head, the heat in your cheeks intensifying. The coil tightening inside you is almost unbearable. A kiss is what you lean in for, desperate for more, though Logan appears to have other plans. He fists your hair, pulling at your nape and yanking your head back. The roughness of the movement pulls a moan from your lips, your mouth parched like a desert. 

“Eyes up here, okay? You look at me when I make you come,” his raspy voice makes you feel tingly, each word sending shivers down your spine. His hands fiercely grab the flesh of your hips, guiding you, helping you grind harder against his thigh. You think you’re on the verge of drooling when you catch the way his abdomen flexes, working to push you toward that long-awaited release. “That’s it, there you go,” he rasps, relishing the sounds he’s eliciting from you, each of your gasps feeding his desire.

Time slows as the warmth in your belly finally erupts, your eyes fighting to stay open through the aftershocks of your orgasm. No actual words leave your mouth, just a string of whines and moans, some carrying Logan’s name. He swallows every single sound you make, everything you give him, grunting as your legs tremble and shake atop him.

He lets you collapse onto your back, your breathing gradually evening out. “I think I saw fireworks behind my lids,” you confess, your mouth dry, expecting Logan to flop onto the mattress beside you. But he doesn’t. Through your blurry vision, you contemplate as he positions himself between your parted legs, getting dangerously close to your cunt. “Logan, what are you— Oh, fuck,” you moan mid-sentence when you feel him pulling your panties aside to lick a slow strip through your folds, collecting your arousal. He points his tongue, dipping it into your entrance, and you wince, squirming. “Santa Claus, is that you?”

Logan grins against you, closing his mouth around clit for a moment. He then shifts until he’s eye-to-eye with you, two of his fingers sliding into you in one smooth motion. “Give me another one,” he murmurs, his other hand slipping under your shirt to play with your nipples, pinching them. 

You never imagined two fingers could bring such intense pleasure. You just lie there, taking it like a good girl, as Logan sometimes call you. “Please, I need you,” you cry out, your fingernails scraping against his torso.

“I know, darlin’. I’m right here,” he rasps against your temple, moving his fingers in and out of you with more enthusiasm. But what he doesn’t understand is that you need all of him. Your hands itch to touch him, to feel the weight of his cock. The corners of his mouth turn up as he watches you struggle to find words. “Wish you could see yourself like this. Such a pretty girl, so gorgeous like this,” his fingers keep grazing that bundle of joy deep inside you, and he goes in for a kiss, the sour taste of your slick invading your taste buds. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever had. Need to stretch you real good before fucking you with my cock.”

Bingo! That last sentence does it for you, and you come for the second time in the morning, your cunt clenching and spasming around his fingers. You hide your face in his neck, mouthing at his Adam’s apple. He hasn’t trimmed his beard in days, and it shows because you can now feel a burning sensation on the soft skin of your inner thighs.

“You’re allowed to break all my phones from now on,” you suggest, only to hear Logan’s laughter in your ear. He snakes a hand through your hair, shoving it back away from your face. You feel him kiss your sweaty forehead, and as you press yourself closer to his body, something hard nudges your hipbone.

Absentmindedly, you trace the waistband of his boxers with your index finger, your eyes snapping to his face. Logan freezes on the spot, and it’s almost as if he’s stopped breathing. Without a word, he rises from the bed, his movements sudden and almost mechanical. You watch him, puzzled, as he heads toward the bathroom, the intimacy of just moments ago being abruptly replaced by a dreadful silence.

“Logan, is everything okay? Do you need something?” you ask and he pauses at the bathroom door, his back to you. For a brief second, you think he might actually open up, but when he turns around, his expression is neutral, masking whatever thoughts are running through his mind. At last, he flashes you a quick smile.

“I’m fine,” he says, his tone gentle but distant. “Just gonna take a shower. Then we can have breakfast together, right?”

You nod, his words easing the growing sense of frustration gnawing at you. He disappears into the bathroom, and the sound of running water soon follows. You sink back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling. You take your pillow and bury your face in it, letting out a muffled groan. There’s something he isn't telling you, something hidden deep beneath his usual gruff exterior. Although you try to piece together the fragments of his behavior, they don’t quite fit.

The minutes drag on, and the sound of the shower becomes a distant, constant background noise. You close your eyes, visualizing your happy place, but your thoughts keep spiraling. All you can do is wait—wait for him to come back and act as if nothing had happened.

Logan’s right there, just a few feet away—yet in moments like these, he feels miles apart. It’s one of those days in which, no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to bridge that distance. 

It had all started with you asking Logan “Have you ever watched (500) Days of Summer?”

Of course, he had refused to watch the movie at first, and of course, you had threatened him with phoning Wade to let him know that Logan wanted to have a sleepover. That had done the trick.

You had asked for a day off at the bar, and surprisingly, your boss hadn’t objected. That turn of events led to this moment: sprawled out on the couch with Logan, the two of you watching the final minutes of your favorite film. Logan takes a long drag of his cigar, eyes trained intently on the screen. He’s only wearing sweatpants, which had caused your attention to drift from the plot a few times. The fact that you managed to sit through the entire movie without needing to pause it makes you feel particularly invincible.

Hey.

You again.

Yeah. I, uh, was just wondering if maybe after this, if, um, you— you want to get some coffee or something.

Oh, I’m sorry. I’m sort of supposed to meet someone after this.

Okay.

“That poor fella,” Logan murmurs, taking a slow sip of his beer. You look up at him from where your head rests on his lap, a contented smile playing on your lips. His fingers absently stroke your hair.

“Just wait,” you say, pointing to the screen of your laptop.

Sure.

What’s that?

Why not?

Okay. Well, then I’ll just, uh— I’ll wait for you.

We— we’ll figure it out.

We’ll figure it out.

“They’ll figure it out!” you exclaim, but Logan quickly shushes you, his attention unwavering.

My name’s Tom.

Nice to meet you. I’m Autumn.

When the movie comes to an end, you’re met with Joseph Gordon-Levitt breaking the fourth wall, staring straight at the audience as if he knows he’s about to get himself into a mess with another girl named after a season. You sit up, your eyes eagerly searching for Logan’s. “So? Did you like it? I’ve watched it seven times now. Can’t understand how it gets better each time.”

Logan closes his mouth around his cigar, inhaling deeply before answering. “Yeah, it was pretty good,” he says, his hand finding your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Summer’s a bitch, though.”

“I respectfully disagree,” you tell him, grabbing his beer and giving it a try, only to grimace at the taste. Shuddering, you set it back down. “Why don’t you like her character?”

“Well, for starters, she did Tom dirty. Played with him like he was a damn rag doll.”

You raise an eyebrow, hugging a cushion closer to your chest as you lean back into the couch. “He knew from the beginning she didn’t want to be his girlfriend. Summer was clear—Tom just though he was smart enough to change her mind.”

“They acted like boyfriend and girlfriend the whole movie,” he scorns, placing his cigar down into the ashtray with a bit more force than necessary.

Is your first argument going to be over a movie? Exciting.

“Logan, they weren’t even official.”

“But she made it seem like they were,” he insists, the frustration in his voice growing.

“They were in a situationship—the perfect example, really. That’s not the same as being a couple.”

His gaze dips to the floor, brows knitted in a deep frown. “I think you’re relying on the technicality that they never used those titles. I mean, they did everything together. Isn’t that what normal couples do?”

Lord have mercy.

“Logan, who am I to you?” you inquire, crossing your arms over your chest.

He hesitates, narrowing his eyes, the question clearly catching him off guard. “You are—what? I don’t understand. Is this some kind of mind game you’re playing?”

“It’s actually very simple: if someone were to ask you about me, what would you say? Am I a friend? A bartender?” you inch forward, holding your breath, your tone faltering slightly. Meanwhile, Logan’s hands tighten into fists at his sides. “A fling? Your girlfriend? You complain so much about Summer, yet you can’t even name what we have.”

The living room falls into a heavy silence. Logan blinks slowly, his forehead creasing as he processes your words. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because these are the kinds of conversations we need to have. I understand you don’t want to have them, but I do.”

“Fine. Then tell me what it is that you want,” he asks, his mouth snapping shut when he sees you snorting in response.

“I don’t— I don’t know! To know how you feel, if possible?” you stand up from the couch, taking the cushion with you. You grind your jaw, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Why is it that every time I try to touch you, you push me away?”

He scrunches up his face, mirroring your movements and rising from his seat. “Bub, can we please talk about this tomorrow—”

“No! You don’t get to make all the choices, that’s not fair. Deciphering you isn’t easy, Logan. I’m not asking you to tell me everything you’ve been through. I just wish I could know how you feel about me. I can’t stand in front of you and pretend I don’t mind where this is going, because I’m more than sure I’m falling in love with you. “

“You can’t. You shouldn’t,” he says, his expression hardening. He turns his back to you, running his hands over his face in frustration before heading to the kitchen.

“Well, what were you expecting?” you follow him into the kitchen, finding Earnest on top of the fridge, beholding the scene with a curious gaze. “You basically moved in here, gave me a free trial of what life with you might be like, and now you have the audacity to appear surprised when I tell you I’ve caught feelings?” salty tears start rolling down your cheeks, and you spread your arms wide in exasperation. “Oh, but you’re right. How could I’ve been this stupid, to fall for the damned Wolverine!” you laugh bitterly, expecting him to break eye contact, but he doesn’t. “You think you’re so bad, so broken. Guess what: you’re not, because I love you, and I couldn’t care less about your past. You may think you’re unlovable, but you’re not, you hear me?”

For a heartbeat, the world seems to pause. And so he says:

“You are the most exasperating person I know.”

“Wow. Thank you so much!” you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You run a hand through your hair, infuriated. “That makes me feel better!”

“Let me do the talking now,” he says, taking long strides toward you, and the proximity makes you lower your head. “You’re not getting the final say today. Just because I’m not over-sharing my feelings all the time doesn’t mean I don’t have them! In fact, I do. I may not express them openly, but they exist. And I wish you could see inside my head! You’d be delighted at how much time I spend thinking about you,” you cackle at his words, rolling your eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “There hasn’t been a single moment since the day we met that I have stopped wanting you. Your voice is like a goddamn radio that, no matter what I do, I can’t turn off. It’s like I’m infected by you, and I hate it!” his eyes burn with a mix of anger and affectionpur, his pursed lips softening as he continues. “No good ever comes from caring this much about someone. So excuse me for being scared of ruining the only good thing that’s happened to me in years!”

You hit him with the cushion—not with enough force to make him hurt, but enough to make a point.

“Drop it, kid.”

“I’m—” you hit him again, “not—” and again, “stupid. I know what I’m getting myself into,” as you attempt to raise the cushion once more, Logan takes it from your hands, throwing it on the counter. Your shoulders sag, trying to find the strength to keep going. “And I know for a fact,” you add, glancing at his conflicted eyes, “that the easiest thing for me would be to walk away from you, but I can’t. It’s too fucking late.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do! These are my feelings, okay? Mine, not yours. You don’t have the right to decide who I love and who I don’t.”

Logan’s eyes squint, scanning your face. “You’re… obnoxious.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.”

“And I—I love you,” he confesses, his nostrils flaring with emotion. Opening your mouth to say something, you close it moments later, your gaze locked on his. “You could take what you said, pretend as if I didn’t exist, and I wouldn’t say a thing, y’understand? I would move cities if you asked me, because I love you that fucking much, and I want you to be happy.”

You reach for his hand, briefly intertwining your fingers with his. Looking at him through your eyelashes, you rub your fingers over his stubble. “And what if my happiness comes from being with you?”

Logan lets out a harsh breath, his arm curling around your waist, pressing his chest to yours. “I can’t promise I’ll be the perfect boyfriend. I’ll probably makeplenty of mistakes.”

“Fine with me.”

“And you’ll be mad at me. A lot.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it’s mutual.”

Both of you laugh then, and you’re taken aback when he brushes his nose against your cheek, silently seeking permission to kiss you. His lips move hungrily against yours, trailing his hands down your spine, pulling you closer. He breaks the kiss and laughs at your eagerness when you chase after his mouth. You end up perched on his lap as he settles into one of your kitchen chairs. Logan stares into your eyes, his gaze drifting lower. “I won’t push you away this time. Not anymore.”

That’s your cue to finally do what you’ve been yearning for weeks. You fall to your knees in front of him, shaky fingers that graze the hairs on his happy trail. The bulge in his sweatpants is close to your face, and your mouth waters at the thought of having him between your lips. “Can I?” you ask, your voice a touch higher. 

He draws a long breath, tilting his head slightly. “You may, baby.”

You pull at his sweatpants and boxers, sliding them down his legs just enough to free his hard cock. As you take a look at it, you find yourself at a loss for words, the sight overwhelming. Nothing could’ve prepared you for the first taste of his precum as you envelop his head between your lips, that musky scent of his hitting you.

A whimper escapes you, and Logan hisses when you run your tongue along the slit, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. “Fuck, darlin’. Thought about your mouth so many times, but never imagined it’d feel this good,” he cants his hips up, causing your movements to stutter. “You can take a bit more, can’t you?” his question ends with a guttural grunt, his fingers tightening on your hair. “Gotta show me how much you want this.”

Logan takes all that you give him. You lower your head further, taking in another inch of him. Sex’s supposed to feel good, but this? It feels even greater. And he’s not even inside you yet, you hear a voice murmur in your head. The hand on your nape encourages you to move faster, and you sneak a hand between your bodies, grasping him by the base. You swallow around him, eyes fluttering open when he tugs sharply at your hair..

“Thaaaat’s it, honey. Just like that, want you to choke on it,” he grumbles, running his mouth just the way you like. The tip of his cock nudges the back of your throat and tears fill your eyes. You pull away to catch your breath, still stroking him as you regain composure. Logan’s gaze is intense, and he stares into your soul, his chest heaving. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? Dick got your tongue?”

You’ll definitely get back to that joke later.

“Will you—can you—”

“Come on, beautiful. I don’t have all day.”

God, you love it when he’s mean.

“Fuck my throat,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile dangles on the corner of his lips. “We both know you can be nicer.”

The fucker makes your pulse race. “Can you fuck my throat?” you ask again, more insistently. “Please.”

He guides himself into your mouth, smirking as he watches how your eyes roll back in pleasure. “How polite of you to say please. Some good manners you’ve got.”

You whimper around him, your body responding to the rhythm he sets, fully immersed in the intensity of the moment. And for a while, you drift away, losing your sanity with each thrust of his hips, every tug at your hair. It’s almost impossible not to compare him to your past hookups. You try to recall at least a single instance when another man made you feel this way, but no memory surfaces.

Time seems to stretch and warp. You don’t really know when it happens—he pulls you off his cock, cradling your face, examining you. “You fucking love that, don’t you?” he asks with that sweet, syrupy voice, brushing away your tears. There’s no room left for embarrassment, so you nod, closing your mouth around his thumb. Defeated, Logan shakes his head, pressing his finger against your tongue. “I was planning on coming on your mouth, but I think I’ve got a better idea.”

In the blink of an eye, you’re in your bedroom. Not even a metaphor—he picks you up and basically runs to your room, closing the door behind him. You prop yourself on your forearms, trying to process what’s about to happen. Logan, already naked, climbs onto the bed after you, He kisses you slowly, tracing the curves of your body. “You still want this?”

“I do. I’m just… nervous, that’s all,” you admit, flashing him a quick smile. “It’s been two years of celibacy for me. Will it fit?” you ask, glancing down at his cock, and Logan stares at you in confusion. “Also, how many girlfriends have you had? Just curious.”

“I don’t think this is the time for that conversation.”

“You’re right,” you agree, lying back on the mattress, bracing yourself for what’s to come. “Were they pretty?”

“Bub.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” he replies with a smirk. “Focus on me, okay?”

Despite your tries to crack jokes at the worst possible moment, things escalate pretty quickly. Logan’s got three fingers inside you, pumping them in and out. He’s already made you come once with his mouth—to get you more relaxed, he had said. Wanting sounds slip past your lips as he doesn’t miss the chance to hit that spot that makes you squeeze your legs together. The tip of his nose drags long lines up and down the skin of your neck, mouthing at your jaw.

“I’m ready,” you mumble after some minutes, reaching for his cock and stroking him. “Let’s break the bed.”

“You’re lucky you’re this cute,” he says, catching your lips in a kiss. “Condom?”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“You don’t have any?”

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to use one.”

The way his gaze darkens doesn’t go unnoticed by you. His hand guides your face toward his cock. “Get me wet,” he commands, and you oblige, sucking him into your mouth. You hum around him, unable to contain yourself, and you hear Logan chuckling above you. “Can’t believe this is what it takes for you to shut up. Gotta keep your mouth full all the time.”

Once he’s satisfied with the way you’ve slicked him, he positions himself over you, caging you between his arms. Logan pins you down with his body, his hot breath mingling with yours. When you stare into his eyes, all you see is pure love, and your heart swells with affection. “Will you fuck the bad jokes out of me?”

Logan laughs, rubbing his length along your folds, grazing your clit for a fleeting second. “I sure as hell will,” he assures you, lining himself up with your wet entrance. He looks into your eyes for approval. “Ready?”

“I was born rea— Fuck!” you nearly scream as his head breaches you, your eyes squeezing shut. Turns out his fingers weren’t enough. “Fucking mutant dick.”

“You’ll love it, believe me,” he husks next to your ear. His arms shake where they rest on each side of your head, seemingly as affected as you are. Logan pulls out, and then fucks into you with a little more force.  “How are you still so tight? You’re killin’ me here.”

“I’ve got no idea, but you feel—amazing,” you gasp, latching onto his back, holding him close to you. His thrusts gain strength, and suddenly he’s bottoming inside you. “Oh, god. I can feel you in my stomach.”

“I know, baby, I know. Can feel it too,” he curls one of his hands around your throat, keeping you in place. From his position, he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure. Lowering his head to envelop one of your nipples between his lips, he sucks hard. “You were desperate enough to get on your knees in the damn kitchen. You’ll be good now too, am I right?”

“Yes. Yes. I can be good,” you pant, eyes wide and pleading. “Anything you want. Just don’t stop.”

“I’m not stoppin’, princess. Don’t worry,” his mouth curves into a wicked grin as he drives into you again, this time even deeper. His hand on your throat tightens slightly, just enough to make you feel the pressure, grounding you in the moment. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs against your chest, his voice laden with need. 

Each thrust has you gasping, your body arching off the bed to meet his. Logan’s grip on your neck loosens as his hand slides down to grasp your hip. He squeezes your tender flesh, pulling you harder against him, as if he can’t get close enough. The bed creaks under the intensity, but you barely notice, too far lost in the rhythm of his movements.

“You’re perfect, all I’ve ever wanted,” he slips his free hand between your bodies to find your clit, and the moment his fingers make contact with it, you can’t help but whine. “So fuckin’ perfect,” you hear him repeat, more to himself than to you, his voice stranded as he tries to hold himself back, letting you chase your own release first.

The pressure inside you builds up, tightening with every skilled flick of his fingers. You’re sure you must look like a mess, sweaty and sticky, though the way he looks at you makes you forget everything else. “Logan, I’m—” you croak, the wind being knocked out of your lungs with each relentless thrust. “I think I’m gonna come.”

He picks up speed, snapping his hips faster. “I’ve got you, let go for me. I’ll take care of you, baby, I swear,” his pace becomes erratic, digging his fingers into the softness of your thighs as the headboard keeps slamming against the wall. Your body obeys him, a shuddering release tearing through you, moaning Logan’s name and gripping him like a vice. “That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he doesn’t stop, driving you through your orgasm. His eyes snap to your face, contemplating how wrecked you look. “Tell me where—please, sweetheart.”

“Inside.”

“What?”

“I said inside. Come inside me, Logan.”

He’s not strong enough to deny you such a thing. Logan buries himself to the hilt, groaning your name as his cock twitches and paints your walls with his thick seed. Beside your head, his claws unsheate, tearing into the pillow. He ruts against you, his body trembling and writhing against yours, already apologizing for the pillow incident while pressing his forehead to your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m sorry. That hasn’t happened in a while.”

When Logan collapses beside you, he pulls you into his arms, kissing you eagerly. You return the kiss, wincing as you feel a bit of his cum slip out of you, rolling down your thighs. He stares at your glistening cunt without an ounce of remorse, and you close your legs. “That’s private.”

“It wasn’t very private a minute ago.”

“Logan?”

“Tell me, bub.”

“Knock, knock.”

He must truly love you, because he plays along: “Who’s there?”

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream who?”

“Ice cream for you all night long.”

“Guess I didn’t succeed in fuckin’ the bad jokes out of you,” he teases softly, letting his head fall back on the bed. “But it’s fine. I’ll just have to keep tryin’.”

This is the story of how you end up dating a man who’s two hundred years old. But it’s also the story of how that same man learns to let his guard down and open his heart. So, remember this, kids: the sky’s the limit, especially when it comes to love—and yes, even when it involves dating mutants.

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | finding out you're pregnant

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : finding out you're pregnant with their baby even after agreeing on waiting a little bit before starting a family of your own.

୨ৎ : genre : romance & angst ୨ৎ : tws : arguing, pregnancy, mentions of abortion ୨ৎ : word count : 2786

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : got this idea from watching s2 of squid games, won't explain why, no spoilers here honeyyy

ʚ・max verstappen

max’s eyes widened as the words hit him, his gaze flicking to the pregnancy test in your hands. for a moment, he looked genuinely frozen—like you’d just told him red bull had switched to making bicycles instead of cars.

“we… agreed to wait,” he said slowly, blinking at you as if the sheer force of logic could undo the situation. he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply.

“max,” you said gently, biting back a laugh despite your nerves.

he stopped pacing, turning back to you with a raised eyebrow. “you’re sure it’s mine?” he deadpanned, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

you smacked his arm lightly. “not funny.”

he cracked a small, dry laugh, stepping closer and taking the test from your hand to set it aside. “okay, okay. it’s not what we planned, but…” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “i guess this is what i get for not reading the fine print in life.”

his hand found your waist, his expression softening as he pulled you closer. “look, it’s… unexpected. but it’s not the end of the world. just the end of uninterrupted sleep for the next few years, right?”

you couldn’t help but giggle as he placed a hand on your stomach, his confidence and dry humor kicking back in. “guess i’ll have to start winning every race now. baby formula might run through all my checks.”

despite his jokes, his eyes shone with something deeper—love, determination, and just the right amount of "what the hell do we do now?" but that was max: grounded, honest, and ready to figure out a solution to every challenge that was about to come flying at the two of you.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis’s face fell the moment the words left your mouth. his brows knit together, and he blinked rapidly, like he was trying to process a race-ending penalty that came out of nowhere.

“you’re… pregnant?” his voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might make it even more real.

you nodded, suddenly feeling unsure. “i know we talked about waiting a few more years, and i understand if you’re not ready. we don’t have to—”

“no,” he interrupted, his voice firm but his eyes wide. “no, don’t… don’t say that.” he stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours instinctively. “don’t even think about that. i want this baby.”

“but, lewis,” you started, “this isn’t what we planned. you’re so busy with your career, and i don’t want to—”

“i know,” he cut you off again, his voice cracking just slightly. he let out a shaky breath and rubbed the back of his neck, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a mix of worry and determination. “i didn’t expect this, yeah, but… that doesn’t mean i don’t want it. i do. i really do.”

his hand slid to your waist, pulling you gently closer. “i mean, yeah, i’m terrified. what if i mess this up? what if i’m not good enough at… being a dad?” he chuckled nervously, shaking his head at himself. “i’ve driven a car at 200 miles per hour, but this? this is scarier.”

you reached up to cup his face, your touch grounding him. “you’re not going to mess this up, lewis.”

he sighed, leaning into your touch. “i just… i want to do this right. for you. for us. for the baby.” his hand drifted hesitantly to your stomach, resting there as his lips curved into a small, uncertain smile. “i guess i’ll have to trade in some podiums for bedtime stories.”

the stress was still there, lingering in his furrowed brow and the way his jaw clenched, but beneath it, you saw something else—a flicker of hope and excitement. lewis was many things, but when it came to the people he loved, he never backed down. and in that moment, you knew he’d do whatever it took to be the best father he could be.

ʚ・george russell

george froze, his blue eyes locking onto yours, disbelief etched across his face. “you’re… pregnant?” he asked, his voice tight.

you nodded, your heart pounding. “i just found out. i—”

“what do you want to do?” he cut in, his tone sharper than you expected.

“what?”

“i’m asking if you want to keep it,” he said, running a hand through his hair, pacing the room with a mix of panic and frustration. “because it’s your choice, and i’ll support you, but i need to know where your head is.”

his words stung, and you stood up straighter. “do you think i’ve figured it all out already, george? i’m just as blindsided as you are!”

“i’m not accusing you of anything,” he shot back, his voice rising. “i’m just trying to get us on the same page. this wasn’t part of the plan, and now everything’s—” he stopped mid-sentence, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

you watched him, your own anger fading as his shoulders slumped. “i don’t know what i want yet,” you admitted softly. “but i’m scared.”

his eyes opened, the frustration melting into something gentler. “i’m scared too,” he admitted, stepping closer. “but if you want this baby, we’ll figure it out. together.”

his hands found yours, his grip firm but comforting. “i’ll support whatever you decide. but… if you’re asking me? i want this. i want us. even if it’s messy and terrifying.”

tears pricked your eyes as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “we’ll make it work,” he whispered, his voice steadier now. “and maybe… maybe this wasn’t part of the plan, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be the best thing to ever happen to us.”

for the first time since you found out, you felt a glimmer of hope—and in george’s arms, you knew you wouldn’t face this alone.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos’s face went pale the moment you told him, his wide brown eyes staring at you like you’d just dropped the most shocking news of his life. he opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly struggling to find the words.

finally, he let out a string of rapid-fire spanish, his hands flying around as he started pacing. “¿estás segura? ¿cómo pasó esto? dios mío, esto no estaba en los planes.” (are you sure? how did this happen? my god, this wasn’t in the plans.)

you couldn’t help but bite back a laugh, despite your own nerves. “carlos, calm down.”

“calmarme? ¿cómo quieres que me calme?” (calm down? how do you expect me to calm down?) he exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically. “this is huge, my love, this is a baby."

“yes, it’s a baby,” you said gently, grabbing his arm to stop his pacing. “and i need to know how you feel about it.”

he froze, staring at you for a moment before his expression softened. “how i feel?” he repeated, his voice quieter now. he took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he processed everything.

then, slowly, a smile started to spread across his face. “a baby,” he said again, but this time it sounded different—softer, filled with awe. “we’re going to have a baby."

“yes,” you whispered, watching as his entire demeanor shifted.

his smile turned into a grin, and he pulled you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he let out a laugh of pure joy. “amor, i’m going to be a dad!"

when he finally set you down, his hands immediately went to your stomach, his eyes sparkling. “i can’t believe it,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “this wasn’t in the plans, no, but… this is amazing. you’re amazing.”

you laughed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, still grinning like he’d just won a race. “i promise, i’ll do everything. i’ll be the best dad. and you—” he looked at you like you’d hung the moon. “you’ll be the most incredible mamá.”

all his earlier panic was gone, replaced by uncontainable happiness. carlos was over the moon, and in that moment, you knew this baby would be so loved.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles froze, his green eyes widening as the words registered. he stood motionless for a moment, his lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no sound came out. then, he exhaled sharply, his hands raking through his hair, leaving it tousled in that way you loved.

“mon dieu…” he whispered, his accent thicker as he switched to french without realizing. “comment… comment c’est arrivé?” (my god… how… how did this happen?)

you hesitated, unsure of how to answer, but before you could, he looked up at you, his expression torn between panic and guilt. “no, i know how it happened. c’est ma faute.” (it’s my fault.)

“charles,” you started, stepping closer, but he backed away, pacing the room like he was mentally replaying every decision that had led to this moment.

“i should’ve been more careful,” he said, his voice shaking. “i should’ve… i mean, how could i be so stupid? you trusted me, and now…” he trailed off, his hands on his hips, his head hanging low.

“charles, stop,” you said firmly, walking up to him and grabbing his arm. “this isn’t just on you. it takes two people, remember?”

he lifted his head, his eyes glistening, and the vulnerability in them broke your heart. “but i was supposed to be more careful amore, and now i put a baby in you.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want this to happen yet. not because i don’t want it,” he rushed to add, his words tumbling out in a whirlwind of emotion. “i do. i just… i wanted to give you more. to be ready. to make sure everything was perfect… amore you deserve everything, you deserve the world.”

you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “charles, nothing is ever perfect. and i don’t need perfect. i just need you.”

his breath hitched, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “you’re too good for me,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “but… i promise, i’ll do everything i can. i’ll be there for you, for the baby, for everything. je t’aime tellement.” (i love you so much.)

tears slipped down your cheeks as he opened his eyes, his hands coming up to cradle your face. “this baby… it’s not what we planned, but it’s ours,” he said softly, his voice steady now. “and i already love it because it’s part of you.”

he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his thumb brushing away your tears. “we’ll figure this out together,” he whispered, his voice full of quiet determination. “i’ll make sure you and our baby have everything. i swear.”

in that moment, all his earlier worry and guilt melted away, leaving nothing but love and promise in his eyes. charles wasn’t just happy—he was ready to give his entire heart to you and the life you were building together.

ʚ・lando norris

lando froze, the lighthearted grin he’d been wearing vanishing in an instant. his eyes widened as he stared at you, his usually bright expression clouding over with uncertainty. “you’re serious?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, almost disbelieving.

you nodded, your hands trembling slightly as you clasped them together. “i just found out. and… i don’t know what to do, lando. we’re so young, and there’s still so much we want to do.”

he ran a hand through his hair, letting out a shaky breath as he sat down heavily on the couch. “bloody hell,” he muttered under his breath, his leg bouncing with nervous energy.

“i mean… we don’t have to go through with it,” you said hesitantly, your voice breaking a little. “we could—”

“no,” he interrupted, looking up at you sharply, his voice firmer than you’d ever heard it. “don’t say that. don’t even think about it.”

“lando, be realistic,” you said, your own frustration and fear bubbling up. “you’re in the prime of your career, and i’m still figuring out my life. how are we supposed to raise a baby when we’re barely adults ourselves?”

his jaw clenched, and he rubbed his hands over his face, clearly overwhelmed. “i know it’s not what we planned,” he said finally, his voice softer now but still tense. “and, yeah, i’m terrified. but this… this is part of us. and i can’t just… let it go.”

you sat down beside him, your shoulders sagging. “i’m scared, lando,” you admitted quietly. “i don’t want to mess this up. i don’t want to ruin your life.”

he turned to you then, his blue-green eyes filled with emotion. “you’re not ruining my life,” he said, reaching out to take your hands in his. “this is a curveball, yeah, but… i love you. and if this is happening, then i’ll be there. i’ll figure it out. we’ll figure it out.”

tears welled in your eyes, and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “we’re young, and we’ve got so much ahead of us,” he murmured. “but maybe this is part of that. maybe this is the crazy, unexpected adventure we didn’t know we needed.”

a small, watery laugh escaped you, and he smiled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “hey, if i can survive driving at 300 kilometers per hour, i think i can handle a baby.”

you laughed again, the tension easing slightly as his words sank in. lando pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly, and for the first time since finding out, you felt like everything might just be okay.

“we’ll still live our lives,” he said softly. “we’ll do it all—travel, race, everything. just… with a little plus one.”

and despite the fear, despite the uncertainty, his words filled you with hope. because with lando by your side, you knew you’d figure it out together.

ʚ・oscar piastri

oscar stared at you in silence, his face unusually still. for a moment, you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and the knot in your stomach tightened.

“you’re… pregnant,” he finally said, his tone flat, almost like he was testing the words.

you nodded, your breath shaky. “yeah. i just found out.”

he let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head as he stood up and started pacing. “of course. of course this would happen now,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you shot back, your voice rising defensively.

“it means this isn’t what we planned, y/n!” he snapped, turning to face you, his calm demeanor slipping for once. “we’re not ready for this. you know that.”

“you think i don’t know that?” you fired back, standing now, your voice trembling with anger and fear. “you think i wanted this to happen? i’m just as scared as you are, oscar, but this is our reality now.”

he raked a hand through his hair, his expression torn between frustration and guilt. “we’re still figuring everything out—our lives, our careers. a baby? how are we supposed to handle that?”

“i don’t know!” you yelled, tears brimming in your eyes. “but i can’t do this alone, oscar. i need to know where you stand.”

he stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping as he let out a long breath. “do you even want this?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking slightly. “because if you don’t… if you think it’s too much… i’ll support you. whatever you decide.”

the question hit you like a punch to the gut. “i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “i don’t know what i want. but i’m terrified of making the wrong choice.”

oscar stared at you for a long moment, his usually calm eyes filled with a storm of emotions. then, slowly, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek.

“i’m scared too,” he murmured, his voice soft now, all the anger gone. “but… i don’t want to lose this. i don’t want to lose you. and if this baby is part of you, then how could i not love it?”

your tears spilled over, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “it’s not going to be easy,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “but we’ll figure it out. even if it’s messy, even if it’s hard. we’ll figure it out together.”

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt as the weight of the moment settled over both of you. it wasn’t the perfect, joyful revelation you might have dreamed of, but it was real. and as bittersweet as it felt, it was enough.

for now, it was enough.

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[bbokicidal]

Hand Placement - [OT8]

quick summary : where the skz members like to lay their hands on your body during different scenarios.

warnings : suggestive content (18+, MDNI), sexual themes, casual (? ish, ig.) groping

notes : the order of the scenarios goes: casual -> intimate -> sensual so the pictures for each member will be placed in that order for visual reference!

if you like my content and want to see more, be sure to follow & reblog!

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ bangchan

casual - he can't help it, if he's honest. he knows that actions speak louder than words, and when you're stubborn enough to deny the beauty he tells you he sees through his eyes - well, he hopes that the touch of his hand lingering over your jaw will guide you to see yourself the way he does.

intimate - always holding your hand, chan can't deny that he feels a protective nature over you. he can't let you get lost - can't fight the panic he finds filling his chest when his fingers aren't laced with yours. so do him a favor and just hold on tight, yeah?

sensual - having the need to constantly be using his hands, chan likes to knead that plush of your thighs any chance he gets - and the feeling of the warmth under his fingertips is all the more alluring when you're sitting above him rocking your hips down against his hardening cock.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ lee know

casual - never one to hurt you, his grip is always gentle when he grabs hold of your wrist. it's a subtle but sure way to make sure you drop the bratty, teasing nature that riles him up all too quickly - and it's a surefire way to get jisung giggling off to the side at your antics.

intimate - he isn't sure when his love for resting his hand on your lower back appeared, but minho adores getting to hold onto you in such a soft way. it's - again - subtle, but his gesture and guide is firm as he brings you to walk in front of him or lures you away from the counter so he can step forward and pay.

sensual - call him sappy - maybe even a bit romantic - but minho needs to feel your hand in his when he's making love to you. both so he knows you're present and with him in that moment, but also to keep you grounded when he's kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. <3

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ changbin

casual - bin loves the feeling of having you in his arms. he can't resist the urge to hug onto you most times - use to being the clingier one in the group and loving that you'll accept his affection with no questions asked.

intimate - and since we're on the topic, who doesn't want a hug with bin's big strong arms wrapped around them? better yet, who doesn't want a strong hug from behind while also getting to play with his fingers and rings? he'll chat away with the others, swaying carefully back and forth with you huddled nice and close, twisting his rings and pulling at his bracelets.

sensual - having a thing for - what do we call it, grabbing? we've seen him do it with seungmin multiple times and you'd be wrong if you think he won't do it to you as well. at first it's gentle caresses along the nape of your neck to guide you into a kiss - but once he's comfortable enough and knows what you like, he'll grab you by the throat, dragging you to him to steal a kiss before guiding you to your knees so you can take his awaiting cock in your pretty little mouth.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ hyunjin

casual - thinking it's more funny than anything, hyunjin developed a habit of pressing a hand over your mouth when you got snappy towards other members, namely being minho. because he knew for a fact that you would also get the airfryer-tissue treatment as soon as minho got out of his seat.

intimate - call him romantic, call him a sucker. hyunjin can't get enough of the warmth your body offers him, hands sliding under your shirt when you kiss him so he can squeeze at the softness of your sides and maybe, if he's feeling frisky, trail his fingertips up a bit higher.

sensual - call him a whore. if you're alone together, or you're in the group and everyone's been drinking a bit so he's what we'll call 'loose' in this situation - he's resting a hand right over your center. whether you're wearing pants, shorts, a dress, or nothing at all - he's always got his hand loitering there. maybe even rubbing small circles with his fingertips.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ han

casual - jisung is... a sweetheart when it comes to your body. his favorite thing to do no matter where you are, how many people are around, what time of day it is - is play with your hair. he loves the feeling of running his fingers through it and getting to twist it into fun hairstyles. he'll do his best not to rat it up, though.

intimate - his hand being in your back pocket is something he could put on his hobby - because that's a full-time job for him. you're standing beside him? hand in your pocket. you're sitting in his lap? hand under your ass in your pocket. you're standing in front of him in line? whoop - hand in your pocket. maybe squeezing here and there, too.

sensual - did you see this one coming? han jisung is an ass man and i will stand by my word. any time you're alone he's always, always, always touching the tooshie. he'll slide his hands over the soft skin and dig his fingertips in as much as he can while you're in his lap, his lips attached to your throat to muffle his groans. he gets more pleasure out of it than you do, i'd assume.~

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ felix

casual - ever the sweetheart and gentleman, felix does his best to keep his hands to himself with you in public. but if you're more comfortable and don't mind him holding onto you or being affectionate, he'll often times find himself holding onto your hands or bringing you closer so that you can hold onto his arm.

intimate - it's common this appears at awards shows - felix enjoys showing you off. his hand is consistently resting on your hip, gentle but firm in nature and not necessarily guiding you but moreso just resting there so that people get the hint. you're taken, and he's proud to be your boyfriend. (all days of the week, but when you look this gorgeous? he's bound to adore you just a tad bit more, pride swelling in his veins.)

sensual - felix's hands commonly rest on your sides during moments together. partially because it gives you stability - and partially because he needs to hold onto you while he stares up at your bouncing form above him, his lips parted and eyes fogged like glass with adoration.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ seungmin

casual - seungmin's almost always touching you more than he is the others. he'll nudge you with his hip to get you out of his way (playfully, of course) or give you a shove when you're being bratty - even though he's the exact same way. nuisances, i swear. <3

intimate - it's subtle, and soft. but seungmin has a love for linking his pinky with yours, letting his thumb rub over the back of your hand while you sit beside each other. there's no looks or words exchanged - just brief, sweet, quiet moments filled with a dull hum of love.

sensual - contrary to everything i just said, he's a grabber. grabbing your thighs, your hands, your sides - your hair. he has a love for holding your hair back for you while you swallow around his cock, or pulling on it to make you look back at him when he drills into you from behind so hard it almost hurts.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊ jeongin

casual - there's little to no casual contact with jeongin, simply because skinship isn't his thing. he'll hold your hand or arms here or there in passing, but it isn't often he'll be affectionate with you in public.

intimate - when he is feeling softer, feeling safer when he's alone with you and out of the teasing eyes of his hyungs - jeongin likes to cup your face in his hands. he mentally huffs out a laugh at the way his palms seem to envelope your cheeks completely, but on the outside he's just gazing at you, smitten and soft and falling apart just by the simplest touch.

sensual - his hands tend to wander. they'll caress over every curve of your body when you're splayed on the sheets for him, so willing and wanting and ready for what he has to offer - but they travel along your back most often. you think he just has a want to feel the way your back arches away from his touch, chasing the warmth of his body and writhing with pleasure all because of him.