#[had to find a tag but I'm v. pleased with it ^^]

[jetii]

Warm

Pairing: Echo x fem!Reader

Words: 10,262

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! friends with benefits to lovers, fluff, slight hurt/comfort, first date cuteness, accidental love confessions, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral (m recieving), fingering, dirty talk, creampie, inappropriate use of scomp, very loving soft sex actually

Summary: For the first time since the Republic fell, you and Echo find yourself on Pabu with nothing to do but relax, and you're determined to make the most of it. You just have to convince Echo.

A/N: I said this was pwp but I lied, the plot got me girl. This is some of the sweetest smut I have ever written. Echo deserves nothing less.

Previous Work | Next Work | Masterlist

"What are you doing?"

You barely pause to look up as you shove another bottle of sunscreen in your bag, casting Echo a wry smile. 

"We're going to the beach, so I'm making sure we're stocked up on sunscreen." You give the bottle in your hand a little shake, as if to illustrate your point. Echo's eyes flick down to it, then back to you, and he crosses his arms over his chest, shifting his weight and making the muscles there ripple distractingly. But you're not going to let him derail you.

"And... why are we going to the beach?" he asks, his tone bemused. You frown at him.

"We're supposed to be taking a break, right?" you ask. "And it's a beautiful day. I figured that we could enjoy it."

The two of you had arrived on Pabu last night, after what had seemed like the longest journey of your life. The moment you'd finally docked, you'd immediately felt the tension in your body start to bleed away, and it only took a few more minutes for Echo to follow suit, his shoulders relaxing and his expression going soft as the two of you walked down the streets toward where the rest of the Batch had made their home.

Now, the two of you are in the kitchen, with its cramped counters and low ceiling and ancient appliances, and for the first time in weeks, neither of you have anything to do. It's a strange feeling. You've been here for less than a day, but already you can feel the weight of all the work and stress and anxiety slowly lifting off your shoulders, leaving you feeling lighter than you have in weeks.

Echo, however, does not look particularly pleased at the prospect of having some time to himself. You know he'd rather be working, or training, or just about anything else, really. It's the exact opposite of what you're hoping for.

"Come on," you coax him, "don't you want to have a little fun? You deserve it."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you see him glance out the window toward the beach.

"I don't... think that's a good idea," he says, his voice hesitant. "It's— we're here because—"

"I know why we're here," you cut in. You set down the sunscreen, crossing your arms and leveling him with a look. "And I'm not asking you to swim, or even go near the water. Just sit in the sand, maybe enjoy the sun for a few minutes. I'm sure there's a place to get a decent cup of caf nearby, or maybe one of those little pastry things you like."

He's still looking skeptical, and you know you need to change tactics, so you step closer to him and slide your arms around his neck, tilting your head back and smiling at him coyly. His gaze drops down to your mouth, then flickers back up, and the corner of his lips tugs upward.

"I mean, if you're too scared to come outside with me..."

Echo scoffs, the sound almost offended. He pulls you close, his arms wrapping around your waist, and his voice is a low rumble in your ear.

"You really think that'll work on me?"

"No, not at all," you say with a smirk. You press a kiss to the spot just below his jaw, and he shivers, his fingers flexing against your back. "But I did just get a new swimsuit, and I thought maybe you'd want to see me in it."

The reaction is immediate. You feel Echo's whole body go rigid, his grip tightening around you, and you bite back a smile, trying not to laugh. You look up to see his ears are tinged red, and his eyes are fixed firmly on a point over your shoulder.

"Really?" he says, his voice strained, and you nod.

"Mhm."

You can see him considering it, and when you tilt your head a little more, leaning closer and making sure his attention stays fixed on you, you spot the exact moment his resistance breaks.

"I think you'll like it,” you continue. You're grinning now, knowing that you've already won. "But I guess if you're not interested, I can go to the beach by myself. I'm sure plenty of people will appreciate it."

You step away from him, already starting toward the bedroom the two of you had shared the night before. Before you can get more than a couple steps, though, Echo's arm shoots out, wrapping around your waist and hauling you back against him. You turn to find him smiling down at you, his eyes dancing with amusement, and he leans in, brushing his nose against yours.

"That's not going to happen," he murmurs. He leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, all the stress and tension seems to melt out of his body. He pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours and letting out a little sigh. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to get a little fresh air. But if I get sand in my joints, I'm not going to be happy."

You smile triumphantly and lean forward to peck him on the cheek.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," you murmur, and his ears turn bright red. You grin and duck out of his grasp before he can reply, and Echo lets out a little huff as you head for the stairs, tossing a "get your sunscreen, you're going to burn!" over your shoulder.

When you return a few minutes later, your new swimsuit snugly in place under your clothes, Echo is standing in the doorway, and you stop, staring at him. He's wearing a pair of board shorts, a navy-blue color with a white stripe along each side. They fall a couple inches above his knees, and his broad chest is bare, his skin glowing in the sunlight. You've seen him shirtless plenty of times, but there's something about him wearing these casual clothes, something about the way he looks, relaxed and at ease and not quite as tense, that makes your heart do a funny little flip in your chest.

"Is this okay?" he asks, and you realize you've been staring at him. He has a button down shirt in his hand in an obnoxious floral pattern, one you know he got from one of the boys as a joke. You hadn't expected him to actually wear it, but it makes you smile to think that he's actually embracing the beach-vacation vibe.

"You look good," you say, and your voice comes out a little bit breathy. You clear your throat and try again. "I mean, it's fine. You look fine. Great. I'm—we should go."

You can't read the expression on his face, but his lips are twitching as he tugs the shirt on over his shoulders, and you grab the bag of supplies before turning toward the door.

"Come on," you say, jerking your head for him to follow. "Let's get out of here."

He follows you out, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire time, his gaze lingering on the skin that's visible between the bottom of your cropped shirt and the top of your shorts. When you catch his eye, he grins, not even trying to hide the fact that he's ogling you.

"Shut up," you mutter, but he only grins wider.

The two of you have never done anything like this before. There'd been a couple nights, during the brief respites the two of you had gotten on different missions, where you'd both gone out and had a little fun, but that had always ended the same way, with you heading back to one of your rooms or to a secluded corner and spending the rest of the night wrapped up in each other.

But this, the two of you wandering down the streets together, stopping at a café to get something to eat, laughing and joking together like a real couple... it's nice. Really nice.

You can feel Echo relaxing the longer the two of you walk, and he doesn't hesitate before ordering a caff for the two of you, getting yours the way you like it without having to ask. He holds the door open for you and pays for both of your meals, and by the time the two of you are walking down the beach toward the spot you'd had in mind, his arm slung over your shoulders, you're practically beaming.

The spot is far enough away from the main strip of shops and restaurants to avoid most of the foot traffic, but not so far away that the two of you will have to walk for miles to get back. It's quiet, with most people including the rest of the Batch at work or school or who knows where, and the sound of the waves is soothing.

Still, Echo stays close, his arm hovering near you as if he expects you to suddenly collapse, and he tenses a little whenever someone passes. When the two of you finally reach your spot, he pulls away, turning his back to you while you lay out the blanket.

"Checking for traps?" you ask dryly, and he shrugs, not looking at you.

"Or enemies," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah, right."

"Just because we haven't seen any doesn't mean they're not out there," he argues, and you can tell he's about to launch into a full-blown speech, so you reach out and wrap your hand around his wrist, tugging him down to the blanket.

"We're fine," you say. "Really. It's the middle of the day, and I don't think any undercover Imperials are going to try and jump us in the middle of a public beach."

"You never know," he says, and the look on his face tells you he's completely serious. "It wouldn't be the first time."

You roll your eyes and settle down on the blanket, propping yourself up on your elbows.

"Well, I'm sure I'll be safe with a big, strong ARC trooper protecting me," you tease, and his expression turns sour. You wink, and his scowl deepens.

"Ha ha," he says, not looking amused.

"I'm kidding," you say, nudging him with your shoulder. You tilt your head, and Echo's eyes are drawn to the long line of your neck. "Let's just... try and forget about that, okay? Let's pretend, for just a little while, that we're normal. We're just a normal couple, and we're having a normal date. Okay?"

He's still frowning, his brow furrowed, but after a moment, he sighs, his shoulders slumping a little.

"Okay," he mutters. "I can do that."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, and Echo turns, his mouth finding yours. His hand comes up, his thumb brushing across your cheek, and he pulls you closer, kissing you softly.

You let yourself sink into it, the sound of the ocean and the feeling of the sun on your skin making everything feel a little bit like a dream.

When you break apart, he's smiling, and some of the tension has finally melted from his body.

"So," you say, grinning, "what do you think? About this normal-couple-on-a-date thing?"

"I think... I could get used to it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles at you, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners, and the sight of him, relaxed and smiling and looking happier than you've seen him in weeks, sends a flood of warmth through your chest. "It's kind of nice, actually."

"Good," you say. "Now take off your shirt. You're going to need a little sunscreen."

Echo's eyebrows lift. “What?”

"Come on," you wheedle, shaking the bottle at him. "Don't worry, I'll help."

"That's not—" he begins, but he doesn't seem to be able to find the words to finish. Finally, he sighs and shrugs out of his shirt, folding it and placing it on the blanket. Before he can say anything else, you move behind him, squeezing a generous amount of the lotion into your hands and rubbing them together.

"I'm going to start with your back," you tell him. You smooth your hands over his shoulders, feeling the soft skin beneath your palms, and his muscles flex beneath your touch. You move your hands over his broad back, covering every inch of exposed skin, and Echo groans as you hit a knot just below his shoulder blade.

"Right there?"

"Yeah," he says. He's practically melting under your touch, and you keep working, kneading your thumbs into the spot. "Force, that feels good."

You don't answer, focusing instead on getting the last bit of sunscreen in his skin. After a moment, he seems to gather himself, and you see him glance at the bottle, his brow furrowing.

"Why do I need sunscreen?" he asks.

"To keep you from burning."

He looks confused.

"You have sensitive skin, remember? And we've been traveling a lot lately, which means you haven't gotten much time in the sun. You don't want to burn."

Echo opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already climbing into his lap, your hands skimming over his shoulders.

"I should get your front, too," you murmur, and his eyes darken. His hand finds your hip, his scomp skimming up your back, and he's looking up at you, his expression open and vulnerable. You can feel the warmth of him through your clothes, and a familiar heat starts to coil in your stomach.

"You're distracting me," he mutters, his gaze flickering down to your lips.

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

You smirk and lean in, brushing a kiss against his mouth before smearing a line of sunscreen down the bridge of his nose. He yel and you pull back, laughing as his face scrunches up in distaste.

"What—"

"That's what you get," you say, grinning. "Come on, let's get the rest of you covered."

Echo grumbles a little but settles back against the blanket. You're thorough, taking care to spread the lotion across his arms and legs, over his broad chest, and down the smooth planes of his stomach. He's warm and pliant under your touch, letting out little noises of contentment whenever you find a particularly tight spot. By the time you've covered the last inch of skin, he looks thoroughly relaxed.

"There," you say, smiling at him. You run your hand down his side, and Echo shudders. "All done."

"Thanks," he says. He opens his eyes, squinting against the sunlight, and frowns. You’re already standing up, dusting sand off your legs, and you see him tense.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

You pause, your hands on the hem of your shirt.

"What does it look like I’m doing?”

He pushes himself up onto his elbows.

"It looks like you're taking off your clothes."

"I am."

You strip off your shirt, and you toss it over his head, smiling as he pulls it away. He freezes, staring at the scrap of fabric in his hand, and his eyes drop to your chest.

"This is..."

"I told you I had a new swimsuit," you remind him as you drop your shorts and step out of them, "and now you get to see it."

He looks like his brain is short circuiting, and his gaze rakes across your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin and the tiny bits of fabric covering the parts that aren't. You grin and turn around, slowly bending over to pick up the discarded shorts. You look back over your shoulder and his eyes are wide, and he swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"See something you like?"

"Uh huh," he says faintly. He licks his lips and tries to drag his eyes up, but they're fixed firmly on the swell of your ass, the way the fabric hugs the curve of it and leaves the skin exposed. His mouth opens, and you know he's trying to find the words, but instead, all that comes out is a faint croak.

"Good," you say. "I'm glad."

You grab the bottle of sunscreen and settle down on the blanket.

"I'm going to need a little help, though," you say. "I can't get my back."

You tilt your head back and Echo nods, the motion slow and almost hypnotized. He stands, crossing the blanket and kneeling down behind you. He waits for you to dispense some into his hand, and his fingers trail across the nape of your neck as he smooths the lotion over your skin. His touch is warm, and gentle, and the feeling sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

It’s rare for the two of you to have this much time alone together, and you can't help but let yourself enjoy it, leaning into his touch. You're not even trying to tease him, but his breath still catches every time his hands sweep lower, his fingers tracing along the waistband of your swimsuit. He takes his time, making sure that not a single inch of skin is left uncovered, and by the time he's done, the tension between the two of you is practically crackling.

He sits back, his hand still lingering on the small of your back, and the two of you are quiet. He's staring at you, and there's something different about the way he's looking at you, something almost... reverent.

You've always known he wants you, have been able to read it on his face and in his touch, but this, the way he's staring at you now, is more than that. It's desire, yes, but there's something deeper, something softer and sweeter, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest.

The two of you haven't done anything like this before. Even your previous trysts had been frantic and rushed, a matter of stolen moments in darkened rooms and shadowy corners. But here, the two of you are exposed, out in the open where anyone could see, and yet the thought doesn't fill you with dread or worry. It's thrilling, in a way, and the fact that Echo doesn't seem to care either way just adds to it.

But despite that, neither of you make a move. You sit there, both of you watching each other, and you know that if you gave the slightest indication, he'd pounce, and the two of you would be wrapped up in each other, just like all those times before. But for the first time, you don't want that. You want him to stay just like this, watching you, and for you to watch him in turn.

So, instead, you reach out and brush your thumb over his bottom lip, and he sighs, his eyelids fluttering closed. He's warm under your touch, his lips slightly chapped from the wind, and he leans into you, pressing a kiss to your palm. His scomp skims up your back, the metal warm from the sun, and he pulls you close.

You press yourself against his chest, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder, and his arm comes around to wrap around your waist, holding you there.

It's peaceful, the two of you sitting together like that. It feels normal, and right, and the feeling that settles over you is warm and comfortable, like being wrapped up in a blanket. It's perfect, and you never want it to end.

But, like all good things, it eventually has to, and Echo's comm chirps. The noise seems to echo across the sand, shattering the fragile bubble of peace the two of you have found. He pulls away, digging through the pockets of his shorts, and he swears under his breath.

“Rex,” he says as he holds up the comm. You nod, and he activates it, and the captain's voice crackles through.

"Echo, I just sent over some new intel. Can you check it out? It might be a lead on the ship."

"Yeah, of course," Echo replies, though his tone is a little hesitant. He glances over at you, his brows drawing together, and you force a smile, ignoring the way your heart has plummeted into the pit of your stomach.

"Duty calls," you say, trying for levity.

Echo hesitates, glancing at the comm and back at you, and he lets out a sigh.

“Everything okay?” Rex asks.

Echo doesn't answer, not looking away from you. You give him a reassuring smile, and his expression clears, his mouth twitching a little as if he's thinking.

"Everything's fine," he says finally. “I'm a little busy right now, but I'll look over the intel and get back to you later."

There’s a moment of silence, and you hold your breath, wondering if Rex will call him out. But instead, he laughs.

"Busy, huh?"

Echo rolls his eyes.

"Yeah," he says. He shifts, pulling you closer, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "Something like that."

"All right, fine," Rex says, and he sounds amused. "Glad you’re enjoying your vacation."

"I'm— yeah. Thanks, Rex."

"Bye, Rex," you add, leaning closer and raising your voice a little. Echo smirks, and he cuts the transmission.

"So," you say, "you're just going to ignore the fact that we got called in for work, huh?"

"No," Echo replies, looking defensive. He sets the comm aside, reaching out to take your hand. "We're on a break. They can handle things without us for a day or two."

You smile at him, and he brushes his thumb over your knuckles, his eyes soft.

"Who are you and what have you done with Echo?" you tease. You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head, but when Echo's grip on your hand tightens, you freeze, a jolt running down your spine.

He scowls, his mouth twisting, and his eyes flicker away from you, looking out across the water. His hand falls away from yours, and his shoulders slump, the easy happiness that had surrounded him moments ago bleeding away.

"Don't say that," he mutters.

"What? Why not?"

"I just..."

He looks frustrated, and a little lost, and you wait, giving him time to find the words. His mouth is open, but he closes it, letting out a harsh sigh through his nose. His brow furrows, and he stares down at his lap, his jaw clenched tight.

"I'm sorry," you murmur, your hand finding his. "I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I—" he stops, closing his eyes. "I know."

He takes a deep breath, his hand turning to lace his fingers through yours.

"I'm tired," he says finally, his voice small. "I'm tired of... not getting to be with you, because we're always running, or on a mission, or just never in the same place. We never get a chance to be alone, and it's..."

His brow furrows, and his lips press together, as if he's frustrated.

"It's not enough," he says, and there's a note of finality to it, like the decision has been made. "And I'm done with it. So unless the galaxy is literally ending, I'm not leaving until we've had a chance to enjoy ourselves a little."

"And what if the galaxy is ending?"

"Then I'm sure Rex and the rest of the boys will take care of it," Echo says. He grins at you, looking proud of himself, and you laugh, shaking your head. "Until then, I'm staying here with you. And," he adds, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the side of your jaw, "you can distract me from thinking about work, if you want."

You lean into him, letting him press another kiss to your neck.

"Hmm," you murmur, pretending to think. "I guess I could do that. After all, we are supposed to be on a date."

"Exactly," he says. He smiles against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver. "Come on, we can't let the day go to waste."

"I mean, there is one thing we can do," you say, grinning mischievously.

Echo's eyes darken, and his voice is a low rumble.

"What's that?"

You smile and stand, reaching down and tugging him up.

"Swim!"

He groans, and you laugh, ducking out of his grasp and darting for the waves. He's faster, though, and he catches you easily, his arms wrapping around your waist as he lifts you off the ground.

"Echo!" you yelp. You can hear the waves lapping against the shore, and you struggle in his grip. "Don't you dare! Don't you—"

"Sorry," he says, not sounding the least bit apologetic, and you shriek as he tosses you into the surf. You land with a splash, the cool water enveloping you, and you break the surface, pushing the wet strands of hair out of your face.

Echo is watching you, looking smug, and you glare at him.

"What's the matter?" he asks, feigning innocence. "Not having fun?"

You splutter a little, wiping the water from your eyes, and you launch yourself at him. You can't actually pick him up, and he doesn't fall, but the move does throw him off balance, and he stumbles backward, almost falling into the water. You laugh and try to shove him again, but his arm comes around your waist, holding you steady.

"Is that how it's going to be?"

You grin, and the two of you wrestle, the sounds of your laughter carrying over the waves.

"Oh, no, please!" Echo yelps. He tries to fend you off, and you laugh, ducking around his arms and splashing water up at him. "Mercy!"

"Never," you declare. You grab his shoulders, and he lets you push him under the waves. He comes up sputtering, and his arm comes around your waist, dragging you down with him.

You both surface, and Echo is laughing, the sound loud and free and happier than you've ever heard him. It sends a surge of warmth through your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you're leaning in and kissing him.

Echo kisses you back, his hands finding your waist. He's warm against you, even with the cool water lapping around your bodies, and his lips are soft and gentle. It's the opposite of the way you usually kiss him, all tongue and teeth and bruising hands, and it makes your chest ache, makes the longing that's always present whenever he's around swell a little bigger.

He must feel it too, because his grip on you tightens, and he hauls you closer, the two of you clinging to each other like your life depends on it.

When you break apart, he doesn't let go, and neither do you. The two of you stand there for a long time, breathing in sync, and for a moment, everything seems to slow. There's no war, no missions, no responsibilities or tasks. There's just you and him and the feeling of the ocean around you, the two of you pressed so close together it's hard to tell where one of you ends and the other begins.

“So,” he starts, his forehead pressing against yours. “What else do normal couples do on dates, anyway?"

You grin and step back, taking his hand.

"Come on, I'll show you."

And you do. The two of you spend the afternoon walking along the beach, collecting shells and talking, and occasionally, the two of you find yourselves making out like a couple of teenagers, hands roaming over each other and mouths moving frantically together. It's not until the sun is beginning to set that the two of you finally wander back up the hill to the house, and by the time you're back in the kitchen, Echo has you pinned against the counter, his mouth hot and demanding against yours.

"We're supposed to be getting ready for dinner," you mumble, even as you tilt your head, giving him better access to your neck.

"Fuck dinner," Echo growls. He nips at the skin just below your ear, and you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."

You're both still wet from the water, and you can feel him, hot and hard and pressing insistently against your hip. Your own desire surges, and suddenly the thought of a crowded restaurant or a stuffy dining room is the last thing you want.

"I've got a better idea," you murmur, and he groans against your neck.

"Tell me," he breathes, and the feeling of his breath against your skin makes you shiver.

"Shower," you manage. The word has barely left your lips before he's pulling away, tugging you after him as he heads for the stairs.

The two of you don't make it far, and neither of you seems to care. As soon as the door to the bedroom is closed behind him, he's crowding you up against it, his hands sliding under your shirt and his mouth hot on yours. You can feel him, hard and insistent against you, and he groans, grinding his hips against you.

"Gods, I missed this," he pants. He nips at your ear, his teeth scraping across the skin. "Missed you. Missed touching you and kissing you and—"

"Shower," you repeat, gasping as he bites down on your shoulder. "Now.”

"Whatever you want," he mumbles.

He pulls back, and the two of you race down the hall, stripping out of your clothes as you go. He's in the fresher before you, the water already on, and by the time you step in behind him, he's got his back pressed to the tile, his cock hard and heavy between his legs.

You step inside, the water cascading down around the two of you, and Echo's gaze drops, raking over your body. You can see him, taking in the way the water streams over your skin, and the way his eyes darken sends a thrill through you.

You don't bother teasing him. Instead, you push him up against the wall, dropping to your knees and pressing a line of kisses down his stomach. His hand drops to your hair, tangling in the wet strands, and he lets out a choked moan.

"This is a date, right?" you ask, smiling innocently up at him. He nods, his gaze fixed firmly on you, and his grip on your hair tightens. "Good. I've always wanted to give someone a blowjob on a first date."

"Oh, fuck," he moans, and his head thumps back against the wall.

You take him into your mouth, and his fingers tighten in your hair. You look up at him, watching as his expression twists, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching, and the sight sends a thrill through you.

Echo isn't big on talking during sex. Most of the time, it's just groans and whines, with the occasional curse or muttered endearment. But now, his words seem to be spilling from his lips, the filthiest things you've ever heard pouring out as you suck and lick and take him deeper into your mouth.

"Yes, just like that," he groans, his hips jerking a little. His scomp slides up the wall, searching for purchase, and the sound of the metal scraping against the tile sends a rush of heat through you. "Your mouth is so good, sweetheart. So perfect. Fuck, I can't wait to get inside you."

His fingers are tangled in your hair, not pulling or tugging, just holding you in place. You're practically dripping, and you can feel your cunt clench, the ache in your core growing with every filthy thing that falls from his lips.

"Look at you," he mutters, his voice ragged. His eyes are fixed on the spot where his cock disappears into your mouth, and you hum, the vibrations making him shiver. "Gorgeous. Look so good on your knees for me."

You keep going, working him over until his voice is cracking, his words dissolving into incoherent moans and gasps.

"Fuck," he hisses, his hips stuttering a little. He's close, you can tell, his muscles trembling and his breathing ragged. "Stop. Need— want to—"

He tugs at your hair, trying to pull you off, and you ignore him, keeping up the pace. His words dissolve into a string of curses, and you look up at him, blinking innocently and hollowing your cheeks.

That's all it takes.

"Shit," he manages. "I'm— I'm gonna—"

His cock twitches, and his eyes squeeze shut, his face twisting as he comes, his mouth falling open. He shudders, and you swallow, keeping your eyes on him as his chest heaves, his muscles quivering.

You keep going until he's trembling, his hand pushing weakly at your head, and you let him slide from your lips, sitting back on your heels and grinning up at him. He's slumped against the wall, looking absolutely wrecked, and you smirk, reaching for the bottle of shampoo and standing up.

"Feel good?" you ask, and he nods, his eyes glazed and his lips parted.

"So good," he mumbles. "Need a minute."

"Take your time," you say, stepping around him and putting a generous amount of shampoo in your hands. You work it into your hair, feeling him watching you, and you smile to yourself, humming as you wash the salt from your skin.

"You're evil," he murmurs. He presses up behind you, his mouth dropping to the side of your neck.

"I think the term you're looking for is generous," you tease.

"That, too."

He kisses the spot just below your ear, his teeth grazing against the skin. His hand finds your waist, and his scomp slides up your arm, tugging your hand away from your hair.

"Let me," he murmurs, and you nod. He gently works the suds out, his hand running through your hair and sending pleasant shivers down your spine. His scomp slides down, brushing over the side of your breast, and his other hand joins, the water raining down on the two of you.

"You're beautiful," he says, and you turn your head, looking back at him. He's watching you, his expression open and unguarded, and there's a look in his eyes that makes your breath catch in your throat. "I'm so lucky."

"Echo," you start, but the words die on your lips as his scomp skims lower, brushing against your hip and slipping between your legs. The tip finds your clit, and you gasp, arching back against him.

"So beautiful," he repeats. He rubs tight circles over your clit, his scomp moving slowly, almost lazily, and you lean back, resting your head on his shoulder. His arm comes around your waist, and his hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing against the nipple. "You're amazing, sweetheart. I love watching you."

You moan and turn your head to press your mouth against his. He kisses you, his hand cupping your jaw, and you gasp as his scomp moves a little faster.

"I love the noises you make," he murmurs. He nips at the corner of your jaw, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting. "Love the way you taste, the way you feel."

He's everywhere, his lips pressing against the side of your neck, his hand sliding down your stomach and between your legs, his fingers brushing against where you're aching for him. He presses them into you, and his thumb replaces his scomp, the tip  tracing patterns over your thigh as his fingers curl, finding that spot inside of you that makes you shudder.

"Echo," you gasp, the sound practically a sob. You reach back, grabbing onto his neck, and he hums, his arm tightening around you.

"I love being inside you," he says, and his voice is ragged, the sound sending a pulse of heat through you. His cock is hard again, pressing insistently against your ass, and his hips grind forward, the feeling of his body against yours sending a rush of warmth through you.

"Want that," you gasp. "Want you."

"You have me," he murmurs. He adds a third finger, and you whine, your nails digging into his neck.

"Not enough."

He grins against your skin, and the motion makes something inside you snap. You're suddenly desperate for him, for the feeling of him filling you up and driving away the ache that's been building for weeks. You try and turn, but his arm keeps you in place, and he chuckles, his thumb moving a little faster.

"Wait," he says.

"Echo, please," you beg, and he groans, his teeth grazing over your skin.

"Patience," he murmurs. "You can wait a little longer."

He presses his lips to the side of your neck, and his fingers work, curling and thrusting and making your whole body go tight. His arm is solid around you, holding you in place, and the thought of him, surrounding you, pinning you to the spot and taking what he wants, sends a rush of heat through you.

"Please," you whisper, and his fingers twist, his thumb moving faster. "I'm gonna—"

"Yeah," he breathes. "That's it. Come for me, sweetheart. Let me see you."

The sound of his voice, the feeling of his fingers moving inside you and his cock pressed against you is too much. You break, coming with a loud cry, and he keeps going, working you through it. Your body goes limp, and Echo holds you, keeping his fingers buried inside you and his scomp drawing tight circles over your clit. You whimper and try to push him away, the sensations too much, but he doesn't stop, not until a second wave hits and you're writhing, clinging to him for dear life.

By the time he finally pulls away, your legs are trembling, and you're panting, slumped against him and unable to do anything but whimper as he turns the water off and steps out of the shower.

You don't register him drying you off or lifting you and carrying you down the hall, and it's not until the door to the bedroom closes behind him that your brain finally clears enough to form coherent thoughts.

"Echo," you say.

He looks down at you, smiling softly, and he kisses you, the press of his lips warm and gentle. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to. He lays you down on the bed, his eyes drinking in every inch of you, and it's so tender, so sweet that the emotion wells up, filling your chest until you're sure it will burst.

It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. The longing, the worry, the fear... it's been eating away at you, and being here with him, like this, makes the stress and anxiety from the past month melt away, leaving you feeling more at peace than you have in weeks.

He's always been the calm in the storm. You've lost track of the number of times you've lain awake at night, wondering if this was the last time, if this would be the one where something went wrong and neither of you came home. He's always been there, a solid presence, an unwavering support, and the thought of losing him is almost too much to bear.

But here, in this moment, there's nothing but the two of you. There's no war, or missions, or fighting or running. It's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, safe and warm and together.

And in that moment, you're so happy, you think your heart might explode.

He lays down next to you, his hand finding your waist, and you kiss him, your hands cupping his jaw and stubble scraping across your palms. It's gentle and unhurried, the two of you taking the time to relearn each other. The feeling of his mouth against yours, his skin under your hands, his body pressed against you is almost overwhelming, and you find yourself clinging to him, holding him as close as you can and trying to commit the feeling to memory.

It's not until he rolls on top of you that the slow, lazy pace breaks.

You gasp, his mouth hot and demanding against yours, and his cock presses insistently against your thigh. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he groans, grinding his hips down.

"Want you," you manage. Your hands run over his back, sliding down and gripping his ass.

"You have me," he says, his voice rough. He kisses down your neck, nipping and biting at the soft skin.

"Inside," you gasp, and he moans, his mouth dropping lower, his lips moving over the swell of your breasts.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, I want that."

"Come on," you say, pushing at his shoulders. He sits up and kneels between your legs, and he reaches down, stroking his cock and giving it a firm squeeze. He looks massive from this angle, his broad chest and shoulders towering over you, and the sight makes something clench deep in your core.

"I don't want to rush," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to the apex of your thighs. "Want to take my time."

You sit up, and his hand finds your waist, pulling you forward and into his lap. Your arms wind around his neck, and his scomp slides up the length of your back, pressing you closer.

"We have time," you tell him, and his eyes are dark and soft and full of a tenderness that makes your heart flutter.

"Yeah," he says. "We do."

You press a kiss to his cheek, and his hand drops between the two of you, gripping his cock and lining it up with your entrance. His mouth finds yours as the thick head slides into you, and it's slow, so agonizingly slow, you're sure he's trying to drive you insane.

You don't remember him being this big.

You know that's ridiculous, that of course he's still the same size, but the thought has a whimper falling from your lips. You try and grind down, needing more, but his arm comes around, pinning you to his chest, and he shakes his head.

"You're killing me," you mutter, and his teeth flash in the fading sunlight, his eyes dancing.

"I can stop," he teases.

"Don't you dare," you say, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your lips.

He keeps going, the steady, agonizing pressure of his cock pushing inside making your whole body go tense. You can feel the way he's stretching you open, the way your body has to make room for him, and the thought makes your mind blank, the ache in your core growing.

By the time he's finally, finally all the way inside, the two of you are breathing heavily. He’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been, and the stretch is just shy of painful. It makes your hips jerk a little, and Echo lets out a moan, his hand finding your hip and his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"You're perfect," he mumbles, and you laugh, the sound turning into a moan as he grinds his hips up, pushing a little deeper.

You cling to him, his arms coming around you and pulling you closer. His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pull you closer, as close as possible. The two of you stay like that, holding each other and letting the sensation wash over you.

Eventually, the pressure becomes too much, and you start to squirm, shifting and rocking your hips. Echo takes the hint and starts to move, and the first slow, lazy thrust makes the both of you moan.

He starts a rhythm, and it's like the entire galaxy has narrowed down to just the two of you. Nothing else matters, just the feeling of his cock sliding into you, the warmth of his breath on your neck, the feeling of his heartbeat against your skin.

You know how much he loves being inside you. He's always told you, whispered it against the skin of your neck, moaned it in the dead of night, panted it while you rode him, the words falling from his lips like a prayer. He never seems to tire of it, always desperate to get as deep as possible, and sometimes, you've wondered if there's a part of him that's afraid this will be the last time.

But he's never done it like this.

He's never held you in his arms and pressed kisses to your skin, his hand and scomp running reverently over every inch of your body. He's never taken his time, his hips rocking forward in a steady, measured rhythm, his mouth finding yours again and again. He's never let himself drown in the feeling of it, his eyes half-closed and his face twisted in an expression of pure bliss.

He's never made love to you before.

You've never put a name to it, the way the two of you are together. You've always been careful not to call it anything, knowing that doing so would cross a line neither of you wanted to. It's dangerous, the sort of thing that can break hearts and destroy lives, and you'd both known it. So you'd never said it, never acknowledged it, and had kept it to yourselves, locked away where no one else could ever see.

But now, with his arms wrapped around you, his touch tender and his mouth soft against yours, there's no other word for it. It's the only explanation for the feeling, the one that's welling up inside of you and threatening to swallow you whole, and the realization sends a thrill through you, settling in the pit of your stomach and burning like a sun.

He's making love to you.

You hold him closer, your hand gripping the back of his neck, and his lips find yours, warm and soft. He doesn't say anything, his gaze fixed firmly on your face, and his brow is furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning.

"So beautiful," he mumbles. His hand runs over your waist, squeezing lightly, and he lets out a shaky breath. "I love this. Love you."

Your breath catches, and for a second, it feels like the world stops. The only sound is his breathing, the only feeling is his hand on your skin, and the only thing that exists is him.

"Echo," you whisper, and his name is a question, the only thing you can manage.

He doesn't seem to hear you, or maybe he doesn't understand.

"Love seeing you like this," he mumbles, his gaze flitting over your face. "Love touching you, love being with you. I don't—"

He breaks off, and his head drops, his nose brushing against your jaw. His breathing is ragged, and his grip on you tightens, and something tells you he didn't mean to say that, didn't mean for those words to fall from his lips.

His hips slow, and he holds you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck and taking a deep, shuddering breath. You can feel him, his entire body trembling, and you pull him closer, your fingers cradling the back of his head and holding him against you.

"It's okay," you say softly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

His scomp skims down your back, the metal still warm from the sun and the warm water. It's a tender gesture, and the fact that he's using it to hold you, instead of his hand, is a testament to how far the two of you have come.

"I love this," he murmurs, and you know what he means.

He doesn't want to leave, doesn't want to go back to the war and the fighting and the constant struggle. He wants to stay, with you, just like this, forever. And as much as you want that, the two of you both know it's not an option.

"Me too," you murmur.

"I wish..."

"Yeah," you breathe. "Me too."

"I love you," he says again.

You swallow, and there's a lump in your throat, a feeling that seems to settle over you, making your skin feel warm and your pulse thrum. You're not sure what it is, but you know that this, whatever it is, is important, that it means something, and the sudden urge to run from it, to shove it down and push it away, is strong. But Echo’s always been there for you, a steady, unwavering presence, and even though you're terrified, the knowledge that he's here, that he won't leave, settles something in you, and the feeling starts to shift.

Instead of the warmth, it's like a fire, burning away the anxiety and the fear, and the knowledge that comes with it makes you feel lighter than you have in months. You're not sure what it means, or what you'll do with it, but there's a sense of comfort in it, and the smile that stretches across your face is genuine.

"I love you, too," you say.

He makes a strangled noise, and his grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into the skin.

"I love you," he repeats, the words falling from his lips. "Force, I love you. So much. I love you."

He says it over and over, the words spilling out of him. He's still hard inside you, and the feeling sends a bolt of heat through you, your cunt clenching around him. He gasps, his hips grinding forward, and he moans, the sound muffled against your skin.

"Please," you whimper, your nails scraping against the back of his neck.

"Anything," he gasps, and his hips start to move, slow and steady.

It's not frenzied, or frantic, and it doesn't need to be. You have time, all the time in the world, and for once, neither of you are trying to race the clock. He's gentle, his movements languid and unhurried, every thrust like a wave, pulling you deeper and deeper.

He's murmuring the whole time, his voice low and rough, the words tumbling from his lips. He's talking about everything, about the way he feels about you, about the things he wants, the places he wants to take you. It's filthy, and sweet, and so perfect, and you let the words wash over you, reveling in the feeling of him inside you and the way his voice makes your stomach clench.

"Echo," you whine, your thighs tightening around his waist. "Close."

"I've got you," he murmurs. His hand slips between the two of you, his thumb finding the swollen, slippery bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles over it. "That's it, sweetheart. Come for me."

The pleasure builds, slowly and steadily, until you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel. It's intense and intimate, Echo's eyes fixed firmly on your face, his lips parted in awe. You feel open, exposed, vulnerable, and the only thing that makes it bearable is the fact that he's right there with you, his expression twisted and his muscles trembling, his control slipping more and more with each passing second.

"Please," you beg, and his hips speed up, his rhythm faltering as he starts to lose his grip.

"Come for me," he gasps. "Let go. I'll take care of you."

And you do, his words sending a flood of warmth through you, spreading out until you can feel it everywhere, in every part of your body. Your cunt pulses, clenching around him, and Echo groans, his eyes squeezing shut and his mouth dropping open.

"Fuck," he chokes out. He doesn't slow, doesn't stop, just keeps fucking you through it, and you're shaking, clinging to him and shuddering as the pleasure keeps building. "Shit, sweetheart. You feel so good."

"Love the way you feel," you manage, your voice hoarse and strained. "So full. Love your cock, love you."

He curses, his hips jerking, and his scomp digs into the skin of your back, holding you tighter. His hand leaves your clit, and he grabs your thigh, wrapping his arm around your leg and hiking it higher. The angle changes, and he hits something inside of you that makes you sob, his hips snapping forward.

"Again," he grunts.

You nod, the feeling so intense that you can't manage words. You're practically sobbing, the sounds falling from your lips without thought, and Echo's gaze is fixed on you, his expression hungry and awestruck.

"Fuck," he growls, his thrusts getting more and more erratic. "Come on, sweetheart. Want to feel you. Wanna watch you come. Gonna fill you up. Make you mine."

It's filthy, the things he's saying, and you're lost in him, his hand gripping your waist and his scomp pressed into the small of your back. His gaze is burning, and it feels like the room is spinning, like the world is coming apart at the seams and there's nothing left but the two of you, moving together.

"I can't—"

"That's it," he encourages, his voice rough. He's shaking, and you know he's close. "One more. Come on."

You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks, and his eyes are wide, his expression stunned.

"Please," you gasp. "Echo, please."

"Fuck," he breathes.

It's like a switch has been flipped, and the slow, steady pace falls apart, his thrusts hard and fast. He surges forward, your back hitting the bed, and his scomp slides under your back, lifting you off the mattress.

It's too much, the new angle and the way he's staring at you, and a sob breaks from your throat, your fingers twisting in the sheets.

"Gorgeous," he breathes. "You're perfect. I love you."

There's a moment, a heartbeat where it seems like everything is suspended. His eyes are wide, and he looks almost... shocked, as if he can't believe what's happening, and something tells you that it's not just about this, about the two of you. It's bigger, somehow, deeper and more profound and the feeling that washes over you is pure, unadulterated joy.

And you can see it on his face, in the way his eyes widen and his mouth drops open. He looks like he's about to burst, and it's so raw, so perfect, and the realization hits you like a blaster bolt.

He's happy.

He's the happiest you've ever seen him, and the fact that it's because of you is overwhelming.

"Love you," he murmurs, and it's the last thing either of you say before the feeling crashes over the two of you.

You cry out, and the dam breaks. The pleasure rushes through you, hot and cold, and the waves break, sweeping over the both of you and carrying you away.

You come with a choked gasp, his name on your lips and his fingers digging into the skin of your thigh. His hips snap forward, and he grinds into you, his face twisting and a loud moan falling from his mouth at the way your body pulls him in, squeezing and pulsing around him.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes.

You cling to him, your eyes fixed on his face. He's beautiful like this, his lips parted and his cheeks flushed, his expression twisted into an expression of pure ecstasy. He holds himself there, buried to the hilt inside you as he starts to come, the first pulse of heat making you whimper.

You can feel his cock twitch, and his brow furrows, a broken sob falling from his lips. His grip on your thigh tightens, and his hips start to stutter, grinding into you and filling you up, his come dripping from you. He lets out another choked noise, and he falls forward, his weight settling on top of you and his mouth finding yours.

"So perfect," he pants, his hips rocking forward a few more times, his movements lazy and slow.

You can't respond, still gasping for air, and you can feel the way he's twitching, the way his body is shaking. It feels like forever before the feeling finally fades and Echo pulls back slightly, mindful of his weight. You can feel him dripping from where the two of you are connected, and you bite your lip, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Hi," you whisper, and he laughs, the sound breathless and a little giddy.

"Hi," he replies, grinning.

Echo's chest is heaving, his muscles quivering, and he looks absolutely wrecked. He's staring at you, his lips parted and his eyes wide, and he's looking at you the way people look at the sun after they've spent too long in the dark, like he's seeing something for the first time and never wants to look away.

"I love watching you," he says, his voice raw and hoarse. "Wish you could see yourself."

"Yeah?"

He nods and reaches up, brushing a strand of damp hair out of your face.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs. "Perfect. Wish I could stay inside you forever."

You hum, and his gaze drops, watching as he finally slides out, a trickle of his release following. He swallows, and he reaches down, his thumb slipping between your folds.

"Echo," you whine, your hips jerking a little.

"Gonna miss that," he mumbles, his tone almost dreamy.

"We've got a few days," you remind him. "And I'm not done with you yet."

He grins, and it's so boyish, so genuine and unguarded, that you find yourself reaching for him. Your hands slide up his chest, over the broad expanse of his shoulders and his neck, and your fingers brush over the spot just below his ear, tracing the edge of his jaw.

Echo leans into your touch, his eyes closing, and his head turns, his lips pressing against the inside of your wrist. You shiver and lean forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He wrinkles it, his eyes still closed, and you can't help the laugh that falls from your lips.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," you say, and he cracks one eye open, looking suspicious.

"You're laughing," he accuses.

"Because you're adorable."

His lips part, and his eyebrows rise. He doesn't say anything, but his face flushes, his cheeks going pink, and you grin.

"That's the last word I'd use to describe myself," he mutters. “Especially when I’m still inside you.”

"I think I'm the best judge of that," you point out, and he smirks, his eyes glinting.

"Well, if that's the case, I'd have to say the same about you," he teases, and he leans forward, nipping at the soft skin just below your ear. You yelp, and he chuckles, pressing another kiss to your shoulder before he pulls away, searching for his pants.

"Where are you going?" you whine.

"To order food," he says. He tugs his pants on, and the sight of him, completely naked except for the loose fitting black cargo pants, is enough to make your mouth water. "I'm starving, and if I'm going to keep this up, I'm gonna need my strength."

"You mean it?" you ask.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Did you really think I'd pass up the opportunity to have sex with the woman I love all day? In an actual bed? With an actual door that locks?"

Your heart flutters, and you grin.

"No, but I'm still glad to hear it."

"Good," he says. He walks back over, leaning down and kissing you, his lips warm and his stubble scraping against your skin.

"Order some food," you murmur, and he nods. "And maybe a bottle of wine."

"Whatever you want," he says. He steps away, and his gaze flits over you, taking in the way you're sprawled across the bed, still naked and covered in sweat and your combined release. He swallows and shakes his head, backing toward the door.

"I'll be back soon," he promises. He points a finger at you. "Don't move."

You give him a salute, and he grins, his eyes dancing.

"I love you," he says, and it's so easy, the words falling from his lips like they've always been there.

"I love you," you tell him, and the smile he gives you is enough to light up the entire room.

The door closes behind him, and you collapse back onto the pillows, closing your eyes and letting yourself revel in the feeling of the bed beneath you, the cool air drifting over your heated skin, and the lingering ache between your thighs.

This isn't how you imagined this week would go. You'd thought that it would be a brief respite, a chance to relax before heading back to the fight. You'd expected a week of stress and anxiety, of wondering if it would be the last one, and whether or not you'd get to spend any of it with the man we’re falling for despite your better judgement.

Instead, you're here, lying in a bed, in a place where there's no war and no missions and no responsibilities. For the first time in months, there's no one depending on you, no one waiting for you to save them, and no one demanding things from you that you're not sure you can give.

It's peaceful, and it's perfect, and the thought that Echo, the man who's seen and experienced more than anyone should ever have to, feels the same makes you smile.

For the first time since the war started, everything is good.

You let your eyes fall closed, and the sound of the waves is soothing, the faint noise carrying up the hill.

In the end, it's not the ocean or the house or the fact that for once, you have nothing to do.

It's him.

Echo.

He's the reason this feels like home.

And in the end, you know that's the only thing that really matters.

Taglist: @baddest-batchers @covert1ntrovert @stellarbit @bruh-myguy-what @champagnejaig

@spicy-clones @kindalonleystars @cw80831 @totallyunidentified @heidnspeak

@lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @chocolatewastelandtriumph @etod @puppetscenario

@umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano

@burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @mali-777

@schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @dreamie411 @sukithebean

@bimboshaggy @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @callsign-denmark

@julli-bee @sonicrainbooms @captn-trex @feral-ferrule @webslinger-holland

[hermitcraftx]

just got a dm abt one of my posts and y'all please don't try and show the hermits (or any minecraft youtuber or content creator for that matter) my posts, i'm uncomfortable with it and don't want any of my posts shown to a cc. if they stumble upon it naturally that's unfortunate but i can live with it since i do maintag a lot (something i REALLY need to stop doing tbh i already know i need to make a tagging system just for my blog that wont clog results) but going out of ur way to show a cc is entirely different and something i am not comfortable with.

no hate to the person at all but even if i wasn't a little silly and weird with it sometimes i wouldn't be comfortable with it, i want my blog to be a purely fandom only space with none of the creators involved <3 please respect this

[fluxweeed]

hey. hope this message doesn't bother you. I love you. I love your work. you are one of my favorite fic authors, I am absolutely obsessed with everything you write. reread everything ten times over, drarry or not, fluffy or angsty - even when it absolutely shatters my heart (e.g. for lack of wanting, SUCH a great fic btw i'm so obsessed with it). the four doors? life changing. two to lie and one to listen? engraved into my brain for eternity. what's mine is yours? what a ride holy shit, im VERY normal about it. wrapped? my comfort read. and so it goes.

if I could aggressively smother you with kudos and love I WOULD!!!

awhile ago you said that there's no such thing as "big deals" in fandom and I 100% agree but at the same time you are a big deal TO ME!!! not in the sense of any kind of hierarchy but purely based on the fact that I think you are such a cool person and your writing is amazing and poignant and your presence in fandom makes it so much better. it's been a pleasure following you here on tumblr and just reading your tags and posts.

idk I just think you rule. that's it. thank you for hanging with us. MWAH 💛

ahhhh anon sorry for leaving this message sitting in my inbox for a couple of days but !! i have zero idea how to react to this!! you're so kind!! thank you!! please discard any and all inclinations u have that i am a cool person bc i can assure you i am NOT!!

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Dorian Pavus

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: IT'S GONNA FEEL SO GOOD, I PROMISE!

.ೃ࿐ he's dreamt about fucking you for months, and now that you're finally in his sheets, he has no intent of letting you go—especially when he finds out that he's your first time. NSFW

contents: fem!reader. virgin!reader. kinda sorta subtle coercion, corruption kink, slight dubcon, fingering, p –> v, lots of praise!!, mentions of prior dirty dreams (about you).

author's note: had this stuck in my drafts for a while so uhhhh. yea enjoy. tagging @mymegumi bc i love selene ꨄ︎

"please, baby, it'll feel so good," satoru cooes, threading his fingers through your hair and pulling your face closer to his. "i promise i'll be gentle."

you shrug, scrunching up your nose at satoru hesitantly. "i don't know..."

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours briefly and smiles tenderly. satoru's soft eyes are fixed on you, only you as he widens them pleadingly. "i wanna teach you how to fuck. please, sweetheart, we can stop anytime. jus' wanna make you feel good, i promise!"

it's only partially a lie—yes, satoru certainly wants to teach you to fuck, but he's not entirely certain that he could just stop anytime. especially because he's well aware that fucking a virgin is such an addicting experience—satoru knows you're gonna be so tight that you'll just suck him in, and he isn't that confident that he'll be able to stop once he's started.

but whatever, that's a problem for later—for now, he's focused on persuading you to spread those legs for him and show him your pretty pussy.

you pause, considering his proposal. after a couple seconds, you nod hesitantly. "you promise you'll be gentle?" you ask meekly, averting your eyes.

satoru nods, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "of course—now c'mon, let's get those clothes off of you, baby." and a couple agonizing minutes later, you're half naked underneath a shirtless satoru, and his fingers trace the inside of your thigh.

"so first, i'm gonna make you cum on my fingers, 'kay?" satoru informs you. "needa loosen you up so you can take my dick."

"o-okay," you whisper, swallowing nervously. "i'm a little scared," you admit, fiddling with the waistband of your lacy underwear. "will it hurt?"

after a moment, satoru nods in response. "at first it will. but then you're gonna feel so good, i promise."

"you promise?"

"i do."

satoru tugs down your panties and grins at the sight of your pussy, untouched and reserved just for him. he's dying to just fuck you then and there, rough and no prep, but he made a promise. and satoru has no intention of breaking it.

"ready?" he breathes, positioning his fingers just outside of your entrance. when you nod, he shakes his head. "i'm gonna need to hear it from you, baby. use your words."

"i'm r-ready," you confirm, inching your thighs farther apart for him.

"good girl."

then satoru slips his fingers inside, and you can't suppress the sudden moan that slips out of your lips. to you, it's embarrassing, but to satoru, it's music to his ears. he steadily pushes his fingers farther and farther into your tight cunt, and satoru can't help but marvel at the way you just suck him in.

"you're so fuckin' tight," satoru mumbles, eyes fixed on your pussy. "and so wet, too. i've barely even touched you, fuck."

it's agonizing, really—the sensation of having someone else's fingers inside of you is so new and so strange that you can almost ignore the pain (which is present but not as throbbing as you had feared). satoru makes sure to be as gentle as he can, which unfortunately isn't quite as gentle as you'd like—but it's not too rough for you to handle.

satoru starts widening his fingers in a scissor-like motion, stretching you farther apart to make room for his already rock-hard dick. you squirm around him and whine about how deep his fingers are, but satoru dismisses your complaints with a laugh. "c'mon, this is barely the beginning. if ya can't take this, how're you gonna take my dick?"

a couple minutes later, when satoru finally deems you loose enough, he pulls out his now-drenched fingers. looking you in the eye with a smug smile, he slips his fingers into his mouth and licks your slick off of them. "mm, you taste so good, pretty. lemme see if you feel as good as you taste, yeah?"

and that's how he convinces you to keep your thighs nice and spread wide open for him as he positions the head of his dick at your entrance, practically trembling from the effort it takes to not just pound into you. you're so compliant and perfect for satoru, and it takes every ounce of his willpower to resist the urge to push you up against the headboard and fuck you until you pass out.

but somehow, he manages to control himself. "alright, baby, this is gonna hurt," satoru warns, touching his reddening tip to your soaked pussy. "you ready?"

"y-yeah," you breathe, distantly noticing the way your hands start to tremble. satoru exhales softly and shakes his hair out of his eyes before gently pushing himself inside of you, and the first thought that enters your head is that he's ridiculously big—it feels like you're getting torn apart every second he goes in farther.

"satoruuu," you whine, starting to paw at his chest when he goes in farther, and it's too much, too fast, but he only grins down at you in response. "it hurts, ow... y're too—"

"uh uh, just shut your pretty mouth n' take it," satoru groans, shifting the angle of his hips and going in a little deeper. you cry out in pain, face scrunching up in an effort to numb the stinging sensation around your waist. satoru dips his head and kisses your forehead, murmuring praises on how well you're doing.

"it'll feel so good soon, i promise, baby," he insists, pressing his lips to the spot in between your eyes. "you're takin' me so good, fuck— agh, you're so damn tight, this one's gonna hurt like hell, but you can take it, yeah? my pretty princess, you'll do anythin' i say, won't ya..."

satoru doesn't give you a chance to respond before he says something about this being the last stretch, but his words don't really sink in until he's two more inches deep into you. his last thrust is so sudden and jarring that it makes you cry out his name, over and over and over until the pain evident on your face starts to turn into something that looks a lot like... pleasure?

a self-assured smile grows on satoru's flushed face when he sees the chance, and a thousand more words of praise fall from his lips. your vision's a little fuzzy in the corners, and your mind is all but gone—it's hard to focus on anything but the slowly fading pain.

satoru starts to move his hips back and forth, easing your loosening cunt into him and nodding at the way you slowly start to show signs of wanting more. your eyes brighten up a little and you seem more alert the longer satoru opens you up.

"startin' to feel good now?" he asks, smiling smugly when you nod your head. "yeah, told you so." the prominent blush on his face starts to creep down his neck, and when you reach up and tentatively touch his cheek, that's when he loses it.

it takes every drop of self-restraint in his body to not flip you over, face-down and ass-up and fuck your tight cunt the way he's dreamed about for months. satoru's imagined it for so long that it's practically a reality for him—the way you would whimper his name and claw at the sheets, the way you would cum all over him too many times to count, all of it. he's seen it a thousand times in his head, but having his fantasy so close and yet so far drives him insane.

but as you smile up at him, the almost unnoticeable tremble in your bottom lip assures him that this probably isn't the time. after all, you're not leaving him anytime soon, so he might as well train you first before even attempting any of that on your perfect, untouched body.

"what do i do now?" you ask, and the simplicity of the question is almost childish. especially when satoru almost laughs in response, soft blue eyes glinting with amusement.

"jus' lie there and stay pretty f'me. and keep your legs spread wiiide open," satoru cooes, shaking his hair out of his eyes only for it to fall right back in.

"yeah, you're doin' so good that i don't even buy that you were a virgin—or are you just naturally made for me, huh? maybe that's it, 'cause i swear on my life that i've never fucked a cunt this fuckin' pretty, heh."

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[storiedhistories]

THEY’RE A 10 BUT… // Accepting

@missallanea asked: [ THEY’RE A 10 BUT … ] unfortunately fer the rest've us, he knows he's a ten. Smug bastard. / rogue for remy

"I have ta be, chere," he says with a smirk. "Not just anyone can pull off dis colour," Remy adds, glancing down at his fuchsia uniform. But he always loves it when she tells him he's good-looking.

[glossgojo]

father charlie mayhew x undercover detective fem! reader/that one fleabag scene

5k words (i went crazy with this one)

oh boy where do i begin

TAGS: siren reader!, AFAB reader, religious themes, nonreligious reader, confession booth is sexy, oraI male receiving, big d!ck charlie, dubious consent, p in v, no protection, breeding cuz duh it’s me, blood k!nk (if u squint)

after lois was nearly detained for being belligerently drunk at work, the FBI called you in. not to work alongside her no, to survey and investigate the community. the crimes surrounded her. you became lois’s daughter’s “friend” living with her and hanging around whenever you could. fortunately for both of you, lois did actually like your company and so did her daughter.

with some miracle you became a part of her everyday life, even tagging along when she met sister megan once. the nun was peculiar and although you weren’t nearly as trusting as lois you liked her enough to fake your way into an unlikely friendship. you the hard on her luck “college student” and her the eccentric murder-obsessed nun. it worked well enough for a cover story and she seemed to buy it. given your experience you knew enough about murderers to get along with her, pretending to share her passion for serial killers and the like. she had mentioned visiting the diner over text one day, you thought it a great opportunity to get out and people watch but what you didn’t expect was that she had company.

you knew megan was unconventional to say the least but you didn’t expect her to be on a date with, the looks of it, a lady killer. the closer you got the more you had to mask your reaction, she was with the new priest. you just didn’t expect him to be near your age and straight out of a GQ magazine. you willed a smile to your lips as you sauntered to the side of her booth, throwing an around the back of her seat and leaning down. megan tore her eyes away from the priest, meeting yours after what felt like minutes. you didn’t blame her, you were having a hard time ignoring him as well. “megan! hey i hope i'm not interrupting.” you finally looked pointedly towards him, your smile withering as you met his chocolate eyes. you hadn’t seen eyes so dark in a while.

“did something happen?” she assumed you had an update, it wouldn’t be the first time since you lived so close to lois. you sometimes told her details to gain her trust, of course clearing it with lois first. you pretended you did, pretended whatever you had to say was not for the eyes of a very curious priest. his eyes hadn’t left you since you interrupted.

“no, uh we can talk later.” you motioned slightly towards him and megan realized she’d never made introductions. she broke eye contact turning towards the priest, finding him already looking at you, well more so the small sliver of skin your crop top displayed above your skirt from the way you stretched over her booth. she knew father mayhew was less traditional but she didn’t expect this.

“oh y/n this is father mayhew.” you looked at him waiting a beat before you smiled brighter than before, he was intrigued to say the least. you were confusing him, sending signals he couldn’t quite decipher. maybe he wasn’t your type because you seemed wholly unaffected by him. that or you were just good at hiding it.

“nice to meet you mr.mayhew.” there was no way you were calling him father, you weren’t religious much less catholic.

“father-“ megan started to correct you and you cocked your head to the side, ready to remind her you didn’t believe in organized religion.

“charlie is fine, please y/n, it’s nice to meet you.” he cut in before you two began your conversation, seeing the way your eyes narrowed at the correction. your eyes were back on him as soon as he said your name, masterfully hiding how your stomach flipped at it coming from his lips. it didn’t matter to him that you weren’t religious, hell it might be for the best if you weren’t. he would rather never see you or your red heels ever again.

“charlie, i’ll leave you two to it.” you attributed the startling attraction you felt to the taboo of it all. a priest, sinfully handsome, and from the look of his shoulders and arms his body was even more unholy. your glances had been brief but they were enough to spike your curiosity.

“please join us, i’d be interested to hear whatever you were about to share.” there was that egotistical expression on his face that made you think he didn’t usually get no from women.

“oh i don’t know it’s kind of a secret. can you keep a secret charlie?” you were pulling out all the stops, straightening your posture, batting your eyelids, even cocking your head to the side and if megan wasn’t so transfixed by his reaction she would’ve taken notes. he was completely drawn into you, reminding himself to blink and respond when you a smile twitched at the corner of your lips when you were met with silence. you knew you had him and he knew too.

“let’s pretend this is confession.” he drew his arms out, leaning back against the booth and you took the challenge, sitting next to megan before she could try to leave you two alone. the scent of your perfume hit him as you sat down, sensual and distinct. he’d remember it for days.

“sure confession, i’ve always liked the notion. there’s something so sexy about the whole thing don’t you think megan?” charlie watched you try to shift the subject away from whatever you came to say. he wasn’t so naive. however one thing became clear, you didn’t trust him.

“oh geez, i guess it is sexy. you’re dishing out your deepest darkest secrets in a small box where you can’t see the other person.” he could see the way your eyes softened around the edges when you looked at megan. and the way they changed when you looked back towards him. he hadn’t felt so wholly consumed by someone. whatever trap you had laid out, he was ensnared.

“i’ve always wondered who a priest confesses to?”

“God.” his eyebrow cocked at the question, eyes lighting up in amusement and you bashfully nodded your head.

“ah right.” megan laughed at your response, finding the exchange a bit trivial. she was itching to hear the new information.

“i’m gonna head back to the church, can’t exactly leave it unattended this long. sister it was great to speak with you and again nice to meet you y/n.” you waved him a goodbye as he got up and walked past you both, your eyes never leaving him until you couldn’t crane your neck much further. megan shook off the worries that were beginning to surface and instead pestered you to spill your guts. you did as soon as the diner’s bell rang to signal the door closing. you told her what you had rehearsed all the while being haunted by the ghost of father mayhew’s appearance.

the murders continued and you spent late nights with lois spinning every possible theory. you couldn’t scratch the itch that bothered you about megan and charlie. instead of asking megan to meet you, you decided to visit the father himself. although you would play it off as a last minute plan you carefully dressed for the occasion, a baby pink cropped cardigan covered your lacy tank top fit with high waisted flare jeans that hugged your curves just right. it looked casual and your skin was indeed covered enough for church but if you stretched or raised your arms even slightly your skin would show and you knew his eyes would find their way there just like before. you wore baby pink platform heels to match even, your hair up in a seemingly effortless updo that actually took you thirty minutes to perfect. and to top it all off you made sure to smell downright sinful and gloss your lips to the heavens.

he didn’t stand a chance.

you were grateful to find the church empty save the priest in question sitting in the pews reading what you assumed was the bible. the click of your heels drew his gaze over his shoulder, he would lose this battle without a doubt in his mind. he only hoped god would forgive him after. he rose to stand, abandoning the bible with ease and a smile crept to your lips as he met you in the walkway between the pews.

“y/n, what a surprise i thought you weren’t religious.” he didn’t think he’d see you again, not like this at least. maybe only in his dreams or when the desire deep inside him took over.

“oh i’m not, just curious.” you cocked your head to the side and charlie had a sneaking suspicion you got whatever you wanted when you did that. he wasn’t a stranger to using his looks to get things handed to him, he just didn’t expect to be so easily swayed by it himself.

“anything i can help you with?” as much as he would have liked to continue this staring contest he had an idea you were here on a mission. you had unsuccessfully hidden how taken you were with him. now standing at his full height you were finding it hard to disguise your attraction. he was tall, much taller than you had figured and even in your heels you came up to his shoulder. his body was crafted for sports, for modeling, for anything but the cloth. the sheer strength he wielded was going to waste, you wondered why he needed it all.

“you and sister megan are so wholly devoted to all this. i’ve never had that, something so…guiding.” he invited you to sit next to where he was situated before, you did with ease crossing your legs and sitting closer than you should be.

“your morals surely come from somewhere.”

“my parents, they weren’t religious, at least not catholic. all these murders, it just made me wonder.” you spoke in hushed whispers, the church was eerily quiet, so starkly different from the chaos of lois’s home.

“you’re scared, it’s reasonable to be. faith can give you strength but it can’t fix everything.” his head turned down towards you, onyx eyes sucking you in, you were captivated.

“hey i thought i was the atheist here.” you bumped your shoulder against his or really your shoulder against the muscle of his arms. he sucked in a breath, finding himself thinking less of religion the more he looked into your eyes. charlie drew the bible in front of him, turning the page to where he knew he’d find distraction.

“Isaiah 41:13 God promises to comfort and help those who are worried, and to take their hand and guide them through difficult times.” he turned the page to continue, not licking his finger in time and cutting his finger on the paper. it had never happened before and he didn’t even notice it until you listened on, eyes naturally drawn to his large veiny hands and then the pearl of blood that threatened to drop on the spotless floor.

“oh charlie,” you took his right hand in both of yours, thoroughly stopping his reading. you did the first thing you could think of, not wanting the blood to spill anywhere, bringing it to your lips and licking it off, meeting his gaze bashfully. the familiar taste of salty iron lined your teeth. the wet warm lap of your tongue against the pad of his finger combined with the sheen of your lips and your eye contact made charlie suddenly very aware of his corporeal form, all the rest of his blood rushing south. you did it so casually, as if consuming his blood was as natural as wine. the quiet vulnerability making him twitch in his pants. he thanked god it wasn’t well lit in the church or the bulge in his black slacks would be apparent. fortunately for him you were also too embarrassed to notice.

“s-sorry i just didn’t want it to spill.” you dropped his hand quickly, ignoring the warmth between your legs and opting to look very intently at the first button of his dress shirt. he needed to diffuse the situation before he coaxed you upstairs and smudged your damned lip gloss.

“it’s alright, i’m gonna grab a bandaid.”

“okay i’ll be hiding in the confession box trying not to burst into flames.” he laughed at your admission, he hadn’t expected you to be so embarrassed. it was probably the hottest thing he’d experienced and he thought you would own it, own that you were unabashedly seducing him. perhaps he’d misjudged your intentions all along. he came back to empty pews and he scoffed at the realization you were actually in the booth.

“what do you wish to confess?” he assumed the position, taking it as seriously as he could muster. part of him was wishing you would just tell him something substantial about yourself, he didn’t even know what you did for a living.

“how much time do you have?” charlie huffed a laugh at your words and you liked his laugh, it was airier and lighter than you expected. “i suppose ill start with the most recent sin, i embarrassed myself in front of a priest. surely that’s against some rule.”

“not entirely, embarrassment isn’t a sin.” he crossed his arms across his chest, endeared by your admission.

“right, what about lust?” he closed his eyes, he’d nearly gone half-soft but here you were painting deadly images in his mind. he felt like a teenage boy, rock hard and trying to will it down.

“lust, one of the seven deadly sins, but it can be forgiven. that is if you don’t act on it.”

“ah i’ve never been good at that part.”

“i can pray for you, kneel with me.” you did as he said, finding it hard to deny him of anything when his voice was so deep and commanding through the grated screen. you waited a beat and then another, breathing out in and out. you wondered if he was trying to remember a prayer or you were too far gone for one that readily came to mind. instead you heard him grumble under his breath, the church far too quiet for it to go unnoticed.

“fuck it.” you blinked your eyes in surprise, the wood digging into your knees as you waited another beat and the curtain to your side was drawn open and charlie stood in front of you. the sight of you kneeling nearly made him pass out, he swore he’d never been so hard in his life.

“tell me no.” his large hand, now with a bandage on one finger, slid to the side of your face, tilting your face up and up until your neck craned to meet his as he stepped closer. the heat of his body radiated against you. his thumb pushed at the plush of your bottom lip, the lip gloss was as sticky as he imagined, drawing your mouth open. your eyelashes fluttered at the gentle pressure, the coaxing, the slow sensuality of it all. you felt as if you would actually burst into flames, you wished you had worn a skirt. the denim of your jeans felt like hot coals against your skin, your underwear sticky with need. he could see the desire dripping from your gaze, but he needed to be sure.

“i can’t.” you whispered, like the obedient girl you were. and that was enough for him, he shoved the thumb fully between your lips, you hummed at the intrusion. the warm wet heat of your mouth made him whimper as you swirled around the finger sucking it like you wanted so desperately to do something else. your gaze finally moved from his eyes down the length of his body to his slacks, you raised up on your knees and you were eye level with his bulge. even in the dim light you could tell he was massive and your jaw would be sore tomorrow.

“father let me help you, please?” he huffed a breath at the name, there was no going back now though, he knew what he was doing making you kneel. he nodded at your request, removing his hand from your face so you could do as you pleased. the urgency in your motions made him scoff as you practically tore his zipper down and cupped his bulge. you fidgeted to get his length through and when you did you grinned at the sight. the shadow of his length covered your face and while you were intimidated and failing to hide it you still licked tentatively at the furious red tip.

“good girl.” he smiled down at you and you squeezed your thighs at his words, cleaning up all the precum along his slit. he was so big you didn’t think you’d get him even halfway down your throat, but you were never a quitter. your hand circled his base, one cupping his heavy balls as you licked along his shaft, veins protruding angrily and you kissed the tip one more time before flattening your tongue against the bottom of him, stretching your mouth as wide as you could to accommodate his girth. it was a struggle to attempt and you groaned at how hard it was. he chuckled at your frustration, he couldn’t deny how hot the whole scene was. he placed a hand on your head, guiding you down his length and you moaned at the feeling, shivering from how badly you needed him. you wished for some sense of relief and so you took one hand off his balls and tried to touch yourself. it was no use because charlie saw you, catching your wrist. he was gentle until then, forcing you down his length and you gagged. he was so heavy and thick you felt like you couldn’t breathe. the sensation made you nearly lightheaded and he finally released his grip letting you relax and slink back. you got into a comfortable rhythm then, pumping the length you couldn’t reach and swirling your tongue along his veins while moving up and down his length. he could tell he was close from the small groans and whimpers you could hear, his grip on your wrist tightening until he let go completely and pulled you off him. he tapped his cock against your tongue, debating if he should finish this now or give in fully to what he needed.

“tell me about your sin.” your eyes glazed over as he held his cock away from your mouth, letting you speak but making you mourn the heavy feeling. it took you a few seconds to remember what he was talking about.

“i’ve touched myself thinking about this man, but he’s devoted to someone else, to god. it never feels as good as i know he can make me feel.” your gaze traveling from his cock to his eyes, he jaw clenched as he looked away before leaning down and lifting you effortlessly out of the booth and into his hold. your legs looped around his waist and your arms around his neck. he was strong and solid against you, and you whined at the slightest hint of friction of your core bumping his belt buckle.

“we can attone later.” it’s all he says as he’s walking purposefully up the stairs and down a hallway, the walk is long or at least it feels that way when you’re nearly drunk from desire.

your back hits something soft, you realize it’s his bed as he’s climbing over you. you sit up, unbuttoning his shirt while he’s doing the same to your pesky jeans. his shirt is unbuttoned before he’s pulling them off you and you marvel at the sculpted muscles of his body. you're not sure if you’re drooling but you could be. he doesn’t bother to take your heels off, opting for your cardigan and crop top next. and you whine as you try to reach the buttons of his slacks, he tucked himself back in at some point and you don’t like the insinuation. charlie can’t help but laugh at you, maybe you weren’t the femme fatale he thought you were. “patience is a virtue.” he’s got you in your bra and panties splayed out under him and he relished in the sight of your lip gloss smudged. in the light of his room he could see all the sinful details of your body and he couldn’t wait to wreck every part he hadn’t touched yet. he kneels in front of you, shirt gone and his slacks unbuttoned, watching your chest rise and fall in anticipation as you maintain eye contact. he can tell you’re struggling to, the way your eyelids droop and narrow. when he’s finally bare in front of you, you’re looping your arms around his neck and pulling him down, finally kissing him and it’s as messy as you hoped for. all teeth and tongue, he bites your lip hard enough to draw blood and you groan into his mouth. he’s feral and you can’t help but arch into him, the hard planes of his body pressing so deliciously against you, you silently wish you could grind against his abs for some kind of friction. charlie pins your wrists above you with one of his hands, the other deftly unclasping your bra, an action that speaks volumes of his experience.

he doesn’t loosen his grip on your wrists even slightly, somehow in control despite the rabid look in his eyes, trailing his lips down your neck, biting and sucking likely leaving marks for tomorrow. you buck your hips into him, desperate for something, anything. he’s so hard against your core, sliding against your stomach. you can’t imagine he’ll fit, not with how far up your chest his length reaches. your thoughts are drawn back to the hot mouth that’s latching to your nipple, bitting and sucking like it’s the last thing he’ll do. charlie groans around your breast, massaging the other one with his hand rough palms creating a friction you try to get closer to. he’s slurping and biting so roughly you’re whining without realizing, tears pricking your eyes from the sharp pain. it’s so devastating you think it might be the way you want to go out.

and when you feel you might just come from his mouth on your breasts, he’s moving off you with a pop to his lips. it’s reminiscent of your actions downstairs and his cock twitches at the image. he leans back to take a look at his work releasing your wrists, bite marks and bruises littering your shaking chest and his lips curl in a smile. you think you’ve never seen him genuinely happy until now. he stays out of your reach kneeling between your spread legs and you almost complain until he’s peeling your underwear off you, it’s sticky and you revel in the cool air finally grazing your heat. charlie’s eyes are inexplicably drawn to how you’re nearly dripping onto his sheets, the light illuminating how badly you needed him, and from the looks of it it was just as long as he did. you can’t help the moan slip from your mouth when he’s biting his lips and spreading your folds to watch a fat wad of arousal drop down to your ass.

your pleasure ends when you see him leaning down for a taste, far too gone for any more foreplay. you need him and you need him now. you’re twitching when you slide your fingers into his hair, drawing your gaze to him. the hunger in his gaze doesn’t dissolve but the black of his eyes seems to soften when he sees your wrecked expression.

“please i need your cock, now please.” you’re begging and charlie can’t say no to that. he’s been aching for what feels like forever. he coos at your request, wiping the tears you didn’t even notice were falling and moves back on top of you, the satisfying weight against you calming whatever worries you had. but he doesn’t give you what you want. his fingers, still spreading your folds dip into you, there’s zero resistance from your sopping entrance, but the stretch makes your eyes roll back. “please.” you don’t want his fingers, you don’t care if he splits you in half at this point.

“relax baby,” he’s soothing you as best as he can when he just wants to sink into you. instead of focusing on where he can make you unravel, he scissors you open, getting impatient himself. you hum at the shift, bringing his lips to yours with a hand still threading through his hair. when he adds a third finger you groan at the stretch. “so tight darling, you won’t be able to take me.” he’s purring at you, teasing you. you can’t string the words together to dissuade him. when he’s satisfied you’re stretched enough he pulls back, licking his fingers and groaning at the taste. devine, just like he expected.

despite your wishes he’s leaning back, tapping his angry cock head against your clit, and you realize his words may be true. your legs slide over his shoulders like they were made to be there and when you look down at your entrance, panic creeps in.

“i don’t think it will fit.” he watches your eyes widen, your brows furrowed in genuine concern. it’s comical.

“where did my good girl go? you were just begging for it.” he’s teasing you, laughing at the way your wide eyes meet his. without you responding, he slips his head towards your entrance, catching on it and slipping away, fuck you were so tight. you whimpered at the feeling, trying to slink away from him but he tightens his hold on your hips. you realize, albeit far too late, your heels are still on and very much on his shoulders.

“it won’t fit.” you’re pleading with him, for what exactly you’re not sure. and then he’s leaning down, pressing the tops of your thighs back towards you, folding you in half, his lips not quite reaching yours.

“i’ll make it fit.” without warning he’s nudging at your entrance again, bullying his way in and you whine and jostle at the feeling. it’s too big, the stretch too much and you feel tears prick your eyes. he’s tearing you open, ruining your for anyone else and you can’t find it in you to care.

when the tip is finally in you breathe out in relief, there’s still an ache between your legs and you know you’re dripping onto his sheets but you think the worst is over. you don’t know you’re far from it. because while charlie is a man of faith, of perseverance and virtue he can’t hold back from how addictive your pussy is. the tight hug of your cunt around his tip drives him to ease his full length into you without warning. you paw at his chest, eyes rolling back as he pushes his way fully in nestling against your cervix and curving inside you. making you gush out more liquid than you knew you had. in fact, it’s so much you’re not sure if you’re squirting or you just came. the pain and pleasure mix into one and you think scream his name. you swear you can feel him in your ribcage and you choke out a breath.

he’s barely holding himself still when his balls finally rest against you. your walls are molding to him, and he think he might have died and gone to heaven. “so fucking tight, you were made for me.” a deep groan leaves him before he can hold back and you whine at the sound, clenching down on him and making him only more painfully turned on. you can feeling him throbbing inside, carving you out, the veins of his cock pressed against.

when you begin to squirm under him, still not used to his size but not in pain, he starts moving. every time he moves out he feels he has to push back in, your poor abused cunt is gripping him so tight, he feels bad even pulling out. the burn becomes so intense and every time his tip bumps your cervix you twitch beneath him. he presses a sweet kiss to your ankle over the strap of your heels before pressing his hips down and reaching even deeper. you cry out his name at the change in position and then he’s drilling into you like he wants you to be ruined forever. you don’t know where your orgasms start or end as he continuously fucks against your most sensitive spot, your mind numb from pleasure and the only word leaving your lips is his name and cries of pleasure.

he’s no better, he swears he might be addicted to you. the way you call out his name, the way you clench around him when he groans and how you seem to still get wetter from his thrusts. he hopes you don’t blame him when he feels himself getting close already, from the look on your face he realizes you might not be able to think at all. his pace is cruel, driving you into the mattress and likely denting the wooden floor.

your mind is fractured into a million tiny pieces; the only thing you know is that you need him. and when he’s close he’s pressing into you like he wants to get you pregnant, he’s breeding you, making you his and you come again. there’s no room for his cum inside you, so it’s leaking out the sides and he can’t have that, not after how good you’ve been, how well you take him, so he’s scooping it back up and fingering it inside you all the while pumping you full. you don’t know when you started crying but you can taste the saltiness of your tears when you pull him down for a kiss, savoring in the drag of his tongue along your teeth and you suck on it slightly, still hungry. he wishes the moment could last forever, but begrudgingly he pulls out and swallows down your whimper. how could he ever begin to atone for this? he had a feeling he would be begging for forgiveness for the rest of his life, there was no way he could forget you.

[sinsofsummers]

cupcake

1.9k | teacher!logan x fem!student!reader

(gif not mine!!)

summary: logan eats you for lunch. warnings: porn! teacher!logan and student!reader, so a bit of a taboo age gap, but an established situationship. oral (f receiving), desperate logan—like he is A LEWSER, p in v, creampie because he doesn’t last long (because he’s a whore), logan is a slut for ur releases mixed together, sub!logan tbh, let me know if i miss any! note: wow. sorry. this was also supposed to be a night of writing a longer fic. but i think this is my brand! short and sweet and salacious little things! enjoy, my loves! also i'm tagging @cavillscurls , @bren-lee-bear0404 , @ieatgoldfishy and @hughverine for this one cause...it just seemed like u guys were extra eager for it hehehe!

You can sense him behind you as you make your way down the corridor, heading for your room. You’ve just gotten out of an exam, and as the relaxation-lover you are, you’re thinking of one thing and one thing only—your bed, and curling up in it.

But just like Logan can sense you at all times, you’re no stranger to the feeling of being under his watchful gaze. It’s a heady feeling, and even though you can’t see him, you know that if you turn around he’ll be just a few paces behind you. 

And maybe you shouldn’t have gotten under your history teacher in an attempt to get over him, but by now it’s far too late. Logan has all but ruined everyone for you, anyway, a fact that you’re sure he would put on a billboard if you’d let him.

You put your head down and pretend to ignore the sound of his footsteps getting faster. 

You smirk. Thankfully the hallway is empty, or you’d have to answer for why your history teacher is chasing you down. 

He’s not exactly discreet; or at least, not when you’re in the same room as him. Whether it’s his intense brown eyes staring you down like a challenge, or his hands somehow finding their way to your shoulders, or your hands, trying to look innocent enough…you’re pretty sure Logan’s made it obvious. 

“Hey.”

There he is.

You pause, about to turn the corner, but he swings a hand around your arm and makes you whirl around to face him. His eyes are hard, but there’s a spark of mischief that has you flashing a tight-lipped smirk back in his face, blinking slowly. 

“Yes, Professor?” you cross your arms, holding the textbooks in your hands to your chest. “Did I miss an assignment?”

Logan’s mouth twitches into an amused grin, and he tilts his head. “C’mere,” he says gently, and tugs you toward the nearest classroom—his own. 

You’ve had your fair share of classes here, but you blush as he closes the door and sidles up behind you, his broad, heavy chest pressing against your back. 

“Where’ve you been, sugar?” His voice is smooth, low, and reeks of sex. You know exactly why you’re here.

Your throat goes dry, but you swallow and turn around, taking a step back. With a wink, you keep your hands clutched to your textbook. “I’ve been working.” 

You’re goading him. “If you hadn’t noticed, I still need to study for my exams,” you say nonchalantly, and watch as he confidently strides forward, following you up to the front of the room. 

In no time at all, his desk hits the backs of your thighs, stopping you from your retreat. Logan’s only a step away from you and capitalizes on it. You’ve got no room to squirm away; he towers over you and puts his hands on his desk, trapping you there.

“Time for a break, I think,” he hums, nipping at your jaw when you chuckle and turn away from his attempt to kiss you. “You’ve been working that brain so hard,” he continues, tugging the textbook out of your hands and tossing it to the floor with a heavy thud. “I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re still pleased at the admission. You take it upon yourself to hop up on the desk, though it doesn’t give you much more leverage; he’s still got the upper…everything. “Oh, you have?” 

Logan lifts a hand to cup your jaw and neck, bringing your face closer to him. His hand is rough but the guidance of his touch is gentle, and he rests his forehead against yours. His next words are a whisper. “I have,” he nods. “You look so sweet, sugar. Can’t you just take a break?”

Your stomach turns in a familiar knot, and your thighs tense. It’s not that you haven’t fooled around on his desk before. But you really do have exams to study for.

“I know,” you sigh, turning to press a series of kisses to his beard. “I know, I want to be done, too. But I—”

“Then be done,” he whispers, his other hand landing on your thigh. “You’ll pass all your exams, bub, you know you will. Such a smart girl,” he says as his hand creeps toward the inside of your leg. “Why don’t you let me do something for you, smart girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and bite the inside of your cheek, but it does nothing to hide your smile. “Logan,” you whine, trying your best to sound exasperated. “I can’t just drop my panties for you everytime you want.”

His hand has wandered to the waistline of your shorts; an elastic band is all that bars him from your thin panties. 

“Of course,” he says, and then his eyes dart down to the crux of your legs as he hooks a finger in your waistband, tugging it away from your body. “But you sure do leave them sopping wet, don’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Well, if they weren’t before, they are now.

Your jaw drops open an inch, and for a moment you don’t know what to say.

Another finger hooks into your waistband, and he swipes his fingertips across your lower stomach, not daring to go any further until you give him the go ahead. “Please, sugar,” he whispers, and his voice shakes as he tilts your head up, holding his lips just an inch from your own. 

“I’ll be quick. I won’t even tease, baby,” he says, his hot breath fanning over your face, that delicious hint of tobacco making you flutter your eyes closed.

“Logan…” you try again, but he ducks his head into your neck and whimpers. Whimpers. 

“I’ll be good and quick, bub,” he says again. “Just let me taste you. I won’t ask for anything else, I swear.”

“Yeah right,” you say breathlessly, your composure slipping. “You always want more.”

“Can’t help it,” he breathes heavily, and his hand clenches your shorts in a fist. “M’gonna go insane if I can’t taste you, cupcake.”

You’ve never seen him this desperate, this much of a loser for your pussy, that you choke out a sigh and push his hand down your stomach. His eyes go wide and his mouth stutters as his fingers reach your mound, shoulders shuddering at the velvety smooth touch of your core. 

“Fine,” you say quietly, a smile growing on your face. “But just for a minute.”

“Minute’s all I need, sugar.” Logan doesn’t waste his time, molding his lips to yours with a deep groan that borders on the side of a growl, something that ignites a fire in your gut. 

In a flash, he’s practically torn your shorts from your body and he’s getting on his knees, eyes flitting up to yours as he leans into your core. The flush of cool air on your lower half is almost relieving. 

He pauses, closing his eyes right as he’s about to dive in. And he sucks in a breath through his nose, inhaling the scent of your arousal. It’s like a fucking ritual for him. Like a monk bent to pray, he worships the source of your sweetness.

You shake your head, carding your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a freak,” you breathe, but the humor leaves your voice as he darts his tongue out to flick your clit. 

And with your hands in his hair, he growls into your pussy and laps at it like a starving man, swirling circles around your clit and wasting no time before his fingers are teasing your entrance. 

“God,” you gasp, squeezing your thighs around his head. 

He lifts his head, and you wish you could take a picture of how fucking desperate he looks, with his beard already glistening with your wetness and his eyes wide as a puppy’s. “Not God,” he huffs, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Just me, bub.”

“Shut the fuck up and make me come,” you sigh, tilting your head back and letting out a soft giggle. “Your minute’s almost up.”

Of course, you don’t have any plans on cutting him off. Once he gets his tongue on your core, you won’t be satisfied until he’s filling you to the brim. 

He moans with every drop that slips out of you and lands on his tongue, which only makes your pussy weep more for him. “Come on, baby,” he says into you, his fingers slipping inside you and stretching you deliciously over his thick digits. “Come on daddy’s face.”

He has the gall to ask you to call him daddy? When he just spent the last ten minutes begging to get on his knees for you?

You almost laugh, but then his fingers curl inside you. He’s hitting that one spongy spot that has you arching your back, your eyes rolling back and your hand pressing down on his head, holding him to your core as you ride out your release. “Fuck, Logan,” you whine, rolling your hips into his mouth to make the ecstasy last longer.

He pulls away from you, and you can’t even lift your head before you hear the clink of his belt hitting the floor. His face comes into view, and then his tip is sliding against your slit, throwing you into a frenzy as your legs shake at the sensitivity. 

“I’m sorry, sugar,” he says, voice hoarse as he circles your clit with his angry, leaking tip. “I’m close already, I just wanna…”

“You wanna fill me up,” you finish breathlessly, head resting against his desk.

“Yes,” he whimpers, and you swear you could come again at the sound of it. “Please, cupcake.”

You nod, a string of yes please falling from your lips. And not a moment later, he’s shoving himself inside, and suddenly you realize how empty you’d felt all day before this moment, before his thick cock was making room for itself in your body. 

He doesn’t look like he’ll last long enough to give you another orgasm, but you don’t really care; he looks so fucking pretty like this that it’ll be enough to fuel an entire night of play when you’re on your own.

With a guttural groan and a few uneven thrusts, Logan bursts. The swing sound of metal claws unsheathing themselves is like a drug as he empties himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, cupcake,” he shudders, laying himself over you on the desk. “M’sorry I couldn’t—”

“It’s okay,” you wrap an arm around his shoulders, savoring the feeling of his dick still pulsing inside you. “I like it when you’re so…”

You trail off. Nothing can quite describe the essence of Logan when he’s begging to eat you out. But there’s something so undeniably filthy about someone like Logan—your rugged, perfect Professor Logan—shedding his grumpy exterior for a taste of you.

The two of you lay there for a few more moments before he straightens, pulling you to a sitting position. He slowly pulls out, catching his seed and pushing it gently back inside you as best he can. 

You hum at the sight, and finally stand, pulling your wrecked shorts back onto your hips. “How are you gonna explain that?” You point at the small puddle of your releases, mixed together.

His hair is still messy, his fingers still shining with your arousal, but he winks. Claws retracted, he swipes a finger through the mess and puts it to his lips, drinking down the result of your pleasure. 

“Frosting,” he grins, and the return of the cocksure professor you know so well has returned. He presses a kiss to your temple and whispers in your ear. “From the sweetest of cupcakes.”

[the-unidentified-author]

Like Northerners | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Cregan Stark x Southern Noble Reader

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW}, smut, minors DNI, established relationship, p in v, creampie, cum play, a little rough, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, orgasm denial, one orgasm after another.

You're the wife of Lord Cregan Stark and you share an intimate moment together

Words: 5,644

A/N: This is feral and fithy and I have nothing to say for myself.

*Not my gif and I don’t have anyone to read my fics before I post them so please excuse mistakes.

As laughter and music swirled around you, the candlelight danced like flickering fireflies, casting shadows across the bustling hall. The room hummed with energy, filled with the chatter and movement of people, yet you couldn't recall a time when you'd felt more alone. Your husband thrived in this setting, effortlessly navigating the festivities with the ease of one accustomed to grand gatherings since childhood.

You watched as he mingled with the Northern men who had pledged their loyalty, their voices rising in camaraderie as they spoke of allegiances and battles. Each interaction was smooth and natural, his laughter a deep, comforting sound that mingled with the clinking of goblets. His face crinkled into a warm smile as he clapped a man on the back, their goblets clashing together in a celebratory toast.

In that moment, he unexpectedly turned his gaze to you, his grey eyes finding yours across the room. The connection, filled with unspoken affection and recognition, caught you off guard. Flustered, you let your eyes drop back to your plate, your heart fluttering with a mix of longing and shyness under the weight of his attention.

Cregan rounded the head table where you were seated, moving with an easy grace that belied his formidable presence. As he approached, he paused just behind you, leaning in so that his mouth was close to your ear.

You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending a thrilling shiver down your spine. The air was thick with the hum of conversation and music, but Cregan’s closeness seemed to draw you into a world of your own. His subtle scent—a mix of leather and fresh pine—wrapped around you like a familiar cloak. A moment passed, charged with anticipation.

Suddenly, a soft touch on your shoulder broke through your reverie. You turned to find Cregan leaning closer, his storm - grey eyes glinting with mischief. "Enjoying the festivities, my love?" he asked, his voice a low murmur. "Have you eaten your fill?"

"It’s quite the gathering. The preparations are… grand. And no, my lord." you replied, nudging the chicken leg and roasted potatoes on your plate with your fork. "I don't have much of an appetite."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "Grand? Or tedious?" His gaze was playful, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness in it.

You smiled softly, glancing at the bustling crowd. "A bit of both, perhaps. But the company makes it bearable. It's just so different from what I'm used to."

As if on cue, there was the sound of smashing tableware and the crowd parted in one of the corners, two men at the centre appearing to be making at attempt at a fight. The evening had been long and the two men clearly having indulged a little more than they should have, each throwing slow unbalanced punches that the other could easily sidestep even in their drunken state.

Cregan let out a deep sigh, and he leaned closer. "I was hoping you’d find a moment to escape with me," he said, his breath brushing against your ear, sending tingles down your spine. "There’s a terrace outside, away from all this. Just a few minutes, I promise."

Your heart raced at his suggestion, excitement, and nervousness coiling within you. You nodded, unable to speak for fear of betraying the fluttering in your stomach. Cregan reached for your hand, his grip warm and reassuring as he guided you through the throng of guests.

As you stepped outside onto the terrace, the cool night air enveloped you both. The stars shimmered overhead, twinkling like diamonds scattered across the deep blue sky. Cregan released your hand, and you both leaned against the ornate stone railing, looking out over the vast expanse of Winterfell. The night was cold, your breath leaving your lungs in great white clouds that were pulled out and away from you by the chill wind. On your first night, Cregan had presented you with a beautiful black cloak made from the fur of a dire-wolf he had hunted in the weeks before your wedding. It did a wonderful job at protecting you from the frigid temperature.

“This is more peaceful,” you remarked, taking a deep breath of the crisp air, feeling liberated from the clamour inside.

He turned to you, the moonlight accentuating the strong lines of his face. “Just us here, away from the talk of war and duty.” There was a heaviness to his words, a reminder of the trials that lay ahead. “I needed a moment with you, away from the eyes of the Northern lords.”

"Well, husband," you started, and you could see the flicker of happiness in his eye as you spoke the word. "You are more than welcome to use me as a means of escape whenever you like.”

A flicker of appreciation flashed in his eyes, and he stepped closer, the distance between you diminishing. His gaze softened as he studied your face, the laughter, and merriment of the hall dissolving into the background. “You always know how to ground me,” he said softly. “In these uncertain times, you are my anchor.”

"I think there is at least another hour before I can depart from this celebration without suspicion." he started, looking from you out over the castle.

"Why, would you want to leave the festivities early?" you asked.

His lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes sparkling with an intoxicating blend of affection and raw desire. The low rumble of his voice sent a pleasant shiver coursing down your spine. "Well, my love," he continued, his breath still warms against your neck. "I have a new wife, who, I believe, is in need of attention." A playful glint shone from his stormy grey eyes. "We have tried your soft southern way," he continued, leaning in, his breath warm against your skin. "Tonight we fuck hard,” he paused, your breath catching in your throat as he met your eye. "Like Northerners."

His voice was deep and gravelly, rich with the promise of pleasure. The light of the party in the great hall spilled from the doorway behind you both. He stepped forwards and cupped your face in his large hand and kissed you. The kiss was filled with promises of the night ahead. His free hand moving to grip your waist, it was firm and possessive, as though he couldn't bear the thought of letting you go.

Then he stepped away from you, moving back through the doorway into the throng of people enjoying the evening. Your breath caught in your throat, and a rush of warmth flooded your cheeks as you glanced around the empty balcony, terrified for a moment that someone might have overheard his words. Anxiety swirled within you, but there wasn’t anyone out here with you; the lively music spilled from the doorway as you attempted to steel yourself to reenter the celebrations. Yet, the heat in your face lingered, a vivid reminder of the raw emotion he’d stirred in you. The vibrant laughter and clinking of glasses felt distant, as if you were trapped in a world where only his words resonated. You pushed forwards back into the crowd, your eyes searching for him.

As he moved, the shadows in the room seemed to cling to him, accentuating the sharp lines of his features. The orange - hued light made his storm grey eyes appear darker, betraying the unbridled desire that lurked behind them as he glanced over at you. A shiver ran down your spine, not just from the sudden absence of his hands on your body but from the electric anticipation that now filled the space between you.

As the feast continued, the laughter and lively chatter around you seemed to ebb, leaving you cocooned in your thoughts. The golden glow of the torches flickered like fireflies, casting playful shadows on the ornate tapestries that lined the walls. You returned to your seat and absentmindedly picked at your plate, the food forgotten as the thrill of Cregan’s words danced in your mind.

The hour had dragged on, so much so that you began to think it was the longest sixty minutes of your entire life. But finally Cregan returned to your table, excusing himself from conversation with a couple of Lords that stepped into his way on his path to you. He leaned over the back of your chair, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Shall we?" he asked, looking at you then back to the crowd.

You nodded quickly standing and accepting the arm he offered you. One of the Lords, likely drunk, didn’t accept that Cregan was no longer in the mood for conversation and blocked the two of you before you had managed to make it to the exit.

"My Lord," he slurred, standing unsteady on his feet. "I think we really must talk about this war with the inbred white haired foreigners." he mumbled, gesturing with his goblet so wildly that some slopped out onto the floor at your feet. He looked down at the puddle on the floor and then into his cup as though he were perplexed as to how it had fallen out.

"My Lord," Cregan replied in a tone that almost hid his irritation at the man. "My wife and I are to retire to our chambers for the night, and I believe it to be in your best interest to do the same. Lest someone other than myself hear the treasonous words you so confidently let leave your lips."

The lord's face contorted with fear, and despite his inebriated state making his actions difficult to control, the respect and fear he held for the Warden of the North shot through his haze, sobering him just enough to regain his composure.

""Yes, yes," he replied meekly, pretending someone in the crowd was calling him over. He gave you and Cregan a curt nod before slipping away.

Cregan glanced at you, a soft warmth in his stormy eyes, before placing his free hand gently over your arm that was entwined with his. With a subtle nod to the guards, he signalled them to open the doors. As they swung open, you both stepped out from the crowded room, moving towards the quiet comfort and privacy of your chambers, leaving behind the clamour and revelry of the feast. The anticipation of solitude and the closeness of his touch made your heart beat a little faster as you walked side by side.

* 

As you both reached the quiet solitude of your chambers, the door closed softly behind you, shutting out the distant echoes of the night's celebrations. The room was dimly lit by a fire flickering in the hearth, the flames cast lively, warm shadows across the ancient stone walls, it made the space feel cosy, the stress of the day melting off you. Cregan guided you to a chair covered with furs near the fire, the heat a striking contrast to the persistent chill that lingered in Winterfell’s expansive halls.

He knelt beside you, his eyes roaming your face with affectionate tenderness. "I’ve been wanting to steal you away all evening," he murmured, his voice tinged with relief now that you were finally alone.

You smiled, reaching out to entwine your fingers with his. "I’m glad you finally managed it."

Cregan chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. "The whole night my thoughts have only been of you. "

He stood up, drawing you into his arms. The warmth of his embrace was comforting, grounding you amidst the uncertainties beyond these walls. "For now, let's forget everything else," he said softly.

Cregan's fingers traced slow circles on your hand, his gaze soft and focused solely on you. You could sense the shift in the atmosphere, the intimacy between you both becoming more palpable.

"What do you think, wife?" he murmured, his voice a warm caress that matched the heat in his gaze as it returned to yours. "Do you think we should retire to bed for the night?"

You smiled and stood, allowing him to draw you close, pulling you against his solid frame. His arms wrapped around you securely, and he gazed down at you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

"I assume sleeping is not what you have in mind?" you teased, your eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"No," he whispered against your hair, his breath warm and inviting, "that is not what I have in mind at all."

You tilted your head slightly, playful curiosity painted across your features. "You mentioned the northern way. Would you enlighten me on what that means?"

He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. "In the south," he explained, his voice deepening with affection, "it seems to be the duty of the wife to satisfy the husband. Here in the North, it is the duty and responsibility of a husband to ensure his wife is well taken care of."

"Taken care of?" you asked.

With a gentle chuckle, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Let me show you," he murmured, his voice a soothing promise. His fingers wove into your hair, guiding your gaze back to his as he captured your lips in a kiss, before pulling away.

Slowly, he took your hand, leading you toward the bed, each step a silent vow of what was to come. The room was a sanctuary, the flickering fire painting playful shadows across the stone walls. As he drew you near the bed, his touch was both gentle and firm, conveying strength and tenderness in equal measure.

His hands lingered on your waist, tracing the curve of your back with reverence. He paused for a moment, his stormy grey eyes locking with yours, silently asking for permission, for trust. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips, and together you sank onto the bed, your back welcomed by the soft furs as he moved over you.

Cregan leaned in, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. Your breath caught in your throat, anticipation swirling within you as he moved closer.

His hand reached up, gently cupping your cheek as he tilted your face towards his. The kiss that followed was unhurried, achingly slow exploration of lips and breath, each movement filled with an emotional depth that seemed to transcend mere physicality.

His lips were warm and soft against yours, the slight roughness of his stubble creating a delicious friction against your skin. A low, breathy sound escaped from the back of your throat as you leaned into him, your hands finding his shoulders, holding on to him as if to anchor yourself amidst the swirling current of emotions.

With the kiss deepening, Cregan's hands began to explore, tracing a line from the curve of your waist to your lower back, pulling you closer. The sensation of his touch sent a shiver racing across your skin, heightening every sense.

Breaking the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, he smiled against your lips, a mixture of warmth and desire in his eyes. Gently, he began to slide the fabric of your dress from your shoulders, the soft material whispering down your arms as it slowly fell away.

His fingers were sure and tender as they traced the newly exposed skin, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. The cool air was a stark contrast to his touch, enhancing the sensation and causing the hairs on your skin to stand on end.

"You are beautiful," he whispered, his voice a husky murmur that made your heart race. His large hands spanned your waist, drawing you closer still, his breath mingling with yours in the intimate space between you. "Out there I am a Lord and you are a Lady. In here, you are my wife, and I am your husband, do you understand me?"

Your breath hitched, words stuck somewhere between thought and voice. You nodded, a small, affirmative gesture that spoke louder than any words could. A soft laugh bubbled from his chest, rich and warm.

"There won't be an inch of you left untouched tonight, not a part of you that doesnt know my touch" he murmured, his voice a soft promise carried by the crackling of hearth flames. His fingertips continued their exploration, memorising every curve and line of your body like a map he intended to know by heart.

His hands traveled down your arms, featherlight across your skin, stirring electric anticipation with every touch. As he reached the intricate fastenings of your dress, he took a moment, fingers moving with careful skill. The complicated ties and loops gradually gave way under his gentle yet assured attention, each undone knot a quiet act of unfolding trust between you.

Despite the complexity, there was no rush. Each movement was deliberate, a testament to the patience and reverence he held for you. As he finally loosened the last of the fabric, it cascaded slowly away, finally revealing your body to him.

As he gazed down at you, lying nude beneath him, Cregan's eyes were filled with desire. The sight of you ignited a fire within him, a fire that burned hotter with every curve and line of your body that his eyes explored. He leaned forwards, placing another kiss on your lips before his lips moved across the contour of your jaw and down below your ear towards your neck.

He nipped playfully at the curve of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, igniting a primal fire within you. His hands were everywhere, gripping your hips possessively as he worshipped your body with an intensity that made you feel both alive and claimed. His hands were large and rough, the sensation of them driving you to buck your hips towards him, an action that earned you a smile from him.

His mouth found your breasts, and he lavished fierce attention there, his tongue and teeth teasing your sensitive skin with a raw, untamed passion. You gasped, arching into him, caught in the delicious tension between pleasure and the edge of pain. Unfamiliar ground, but a place you desperately wanted to explore.

Moving lower, his kisses trailed down your stomach, his rough stubble leaving a faint, delightful sting in its wake. His tongue flicked out, tasting your skin, savouring every moment like a beast intoxicated by the scent of his mate. The Wolf of the North was becoming a more fitting title with every passing moment.

As he descended, his hands traveled over your thighs, gripping firmly, spreading you open with a commanding authority. The heat of his breath lingered over the most sensitive parts of you, promising a wild, primal ecstasy that set your nerve endings aflame.

As he spread you open with a commanding authority, his eyes never left yours, locked in an intimate connection that intensified the already potent atmosphere. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, the sound of it echoing in your ears like the primal growl of a predator claiming its mate.

His fingers dug into your thighs, the sensation both possessive and possessively pleasurable, a reminder of the raw, animalistic passion that coursed through his veins. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the heat of his breath teasing you with the promise of the wild, primal ecstasy that awaited you.

And then, without warning, his tongue darted out, tasting your most sensitive flesh with a skill that belied his seemingly untamed demeanour. You cried out, the sound a mixture of shock and pleasure, as if the very air had been set alight.

Every lick, every touch, served to fan the flames of your desire, the room around you seeming to grow hotter and more humid with each passing second. Your heart was racing, your breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed in the charged silence between you.

Then, just as you thought you might shatter from the intensity, he stopped. The sound that left your lips was a mixture of desperation and longing as you lifted your head, peering down at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

His focus shifted to his attire, hands moving with a fevered urgency as he worked to free himself from the confines of his clothing. He shrugged off his cloak, the fabric falling away followed by the soft sound of it hitting the floor.

Next came the leather armour, the buckles, and straps relinquishing their hold under his skilled hands. Piece by piece, it slipped away, revealing the well-defined muscles that lay beneath, each movement unveiling more of the powerful physique that had surprised you the first night you had met him.

Finally, he reached for the linen shirt, the last barrier between you and the man beneath. He pulled it over his head in one fluid motion, the fabric tousling his dark hair before falling forgotten to the floor.

Your breath caught at the sight before you—his chest, broad and strong, the muscles shifting beneath the skin like a promise of the power he possessed. His skin gleamed softly in the firelight, each shadow and highlight accentuating the raw, masculine beauty of his form. The light played across his chest, catching on the subtle scars that marked his skin, each one a testament to his strength and prowess as a warrior. They told silent tales of battles fought and won, accentuating the sinewy resilience of a body refined through conflict and survival. The body of a Northerner.

With nothing left to hide, he met your gaze once more, his storm-grey eyes locked onto yours, reflecting a hunger as deep and consuming as your own. He swept his hair from his eyes, a movement filled with deliberate intent, and closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, his body descending like a promise of passion unspoken.

He was rougher with you than he had been before, his tongue moving with firm skill that served only to push you towards the precipice of pleasure. His arms were circled your thighs, his fingertips digging into your skin, right to the point that lingered between pleasure and pain. He chased you to the edge of ecstasy, your hips bucking upwards in response, the intensity of your climax completely overwhelming you. But he didn't relent, his tongue persisting in its relentless pursuit, never wavering from its mission, as though he was driven by a primal need to bring you to the brink of pleasure again and again.

The room seemed to swirl around you, the air thick with the scent of desire and the sounds of your ragged breaths.

"Cregan," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched your back, the muscles in your legs tensing as you rode out another wave of pleasure. Your other hand clutched at the furs beside you, as you bucked your hips and rode out another wave of pleasure.

His mouth drifted away from yours, and you thought the unrelenting rhythm had finally paused. But then, his finger pressed into you with a gentle insistence, a sensation that was teasing rather than painful. As if sensing your reaction, his mouth returned to your sensitive spot, and his finger curled upwards, creating a blissful mix of sensations.

You found yourself gripping the sheets, your jaw tight, as you tried to hold back the temptation to cry out. The intensity of his actions sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you breathless and utterly captivated in the moment.

His mouth moved from you, and you thought that the relentless cycle had come to an end, you felt one of his fingers gently press into you, it wasn’t painful, but tender. His mouth returned to your clit just as his finger curled upwards towards your bellybutton. It made you grab at the sheets and clench your jaw as you resisted the urge to scream out at the overwhelming pleasure both actions made wash over you.

As his mouth returned to your clit, your hands found the sheets, gripping them tightly as you steeled yourself against the onslaught of sensations. The sensation of his finger curling upwards towards your bellybutton was an exquisite mix of pleasure and anticipation, the intensity building up within you like a tempest.

Your jaw clenched, your breath coming in ragged gasps that echoed in the charged silence between you both. In that moment, it was as if the entire world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

His mouth moved from you, his breath hot on your sensitive flesh. "I want to hear you." he whispered before returning his mouth to you. His finger flexed up, and you again resisted the urge to cry out in pleasure.

His mouth lifted away, and you felt his hot breath on your sensitive skin. "I want to hear you," he murmured softly, his voice like a tempting promise, before he returned his mouth to you. His finger flexed upward, drawing out a surge of pleasure that tested your restraint.

Then he began to kiss and suck relentless again, as if attempting to draw the screams from you. His finger curled upwards, touching something inside that made your vision go white at the moment your climax once again washed over you.

"Cregan," you yelled, your hand grabbing his hair so hard it must have hurt, but he didn’t flinch.

Finally , he pulled away from you, looking up your body and meeting your eye. His mouth was slick with you. His shoulders flexed with a subtle, powerful grace, he slid another finger alongside the first, his touch both careful and deliberate, igniting a new wave of anticipation.

Rising to his feet, he maintained a slow, deliberate rhythm with his fingers, each movement sending shivers down your spine as the fire inside your stomach began to build again. His other hand skilfully worked the belt, the buckle coming undone with a precise flick of his wrist. As he slipped it free, his gaze remained locked on the mesmerising dance of his fingers moving in and out of you. His hand found its way into his trousers, fingers curling around himself, the heat of his own desire evident in his touch. The intensity in his storm-grey eyes reflected the deep, consuming hunger that mirrored your own.

You yearned for him, no, you needed him. The anticipation he had teased out in you ignited a craving deeper than you'd ever imagined possible, reaching into the very core of your being.

He withdrew his fingers from you, leaving you aching with unfulfilled desire. With a decisive movement, he pushed his trousers down his hips, the fabric hitting the floor with a soft thud. His thick cock sprang free, the sight of it causing a fresh wave of lust to surge through you.

You moved to climb off the bed, your desire to take him in your mouth burning bright within you. But as you sat up, he stepped forwards with an air of quiet authority. "No, you stay." he whispered, as he caught your hand as you reached to touch his cock.

"Please?" you whimpered, your eyes falling to his cock, thick veins bulging along its surface.

"Lie back, I told you. Tonight we fuck like Northerners.” he breathed, and you swallowed, sinking back onto the soft furs as you lay on the mattress.

He stepped forwards, grabbing your hips and pulling you roughly, so your pussy was in line with the edge of the bed. His thumb moved to circle your clit. The action causing you to draw in a sharp intake of breath as his rough thumb rubbed the sensitive pearl of flesh.

tThen, his hand shifted, the intensity replaced by the hot head of his cock now sliding up the length of your pussy. He paused momentarily, drawing a sharp intake of breath from you, before he delivered a single swift thrust. Then, he began to glide the length of his cock over your sensitive clit, his movements slow and torturous, each deliberate stroke arousing torment against the bundle of nerves.

Next, he shifted his position, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss as he continued to slowly thrust over you. His hand cradled the back of your head, his fingers gently tangling in your hair, while the other hand braced his weight against the bed. His lips trailed down your neck, before his hand left your hair to take his cock in his hand. With meticulous care, he guided the head of his cock into you, letting out a deep, throaty moan as he began to move into you with agonising slowness. His determination to make you feel every inch of his thick shaft was evident in his every deliberate movement.

The sensation of him slowly entering you was a mix of intensity and closeness. He seemed to relish the way you moved beneath him, the gradual pace allowing you to adjust to his presence comfortably. Your eyes were drawn to the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply, the tension evident in his firm grip on the bedding beside you, his knuckles turning white. You took comfort in the fact that this was just as torturous for him as it was for you.

With a low grunt from him, he fully seated himself inside you, the sensation an overwhelming mix of pleasure and an indescribable sensation. You revealed in the way that you could take all of him, and the way that he filled you up so completely.

Then he began to rock his hips, slowly, barely any movement at all to begin with, as his grey eyes searched yours asking a silent question. You grabbed the wrist of his hand that was still clutching your hip and nodded.

As his rhythm quickened, his restraint fell away, replaced by a raw, instinctual drive. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you to him as every thrust sent waves of pleasure cascading through your body. Your fingers found his wrists, holding on tightly, each touch grounding you in the exquisite intensity of the moment.

He leaned forward, the heat of his breath mingling with yours, every exhale punctuated by a low, primal sound. The connection between your bodies was electric, a shared surge of desire that spurred him to move even faster, each movement more powerful, more consuming.

His hands shifted, one pressing gently on your lower stomach, sending a delightful pressure radiating through you. The sensation heightened your awareness of him, feeling the rhythm of his thrusts and the warmth of his body as it melded with yours.

On the brink of climax, his furious movements pushed you ever closer to that edge—a presence so consuming it threatened to unravel you completely. When the wave finally crashed over you, pulling you under in a rush of explosive sensation, he didn't stop. The relentless rhythm continued, driving you beyond the familiar boundaries of pleasure.

Overwhelmed, you tipped your head back, an almost guttural scream escaping your lips, a testament to the raw, unfiltered intensity coursing through you. You found yourself dancing on that delicate line where ecstasy and pain blurred, but you didn’t dare tell him to stop.

You whimpered softly, your fingers clenching into a tight fist as you bit down on your knuckle. The waves of pleasure threatened to consume you whole, yet in this moment of raw intensity, you found unexpected strength.

Cregan's voice, low and gravelly, resonated with a heady mixture of desire and reverence, punctuating the rhythm of their intimate dance. "Come on now wife," he murmured between breathy moans, the sound of his words blending with the symphony of gasps and sighs that filled the air. "You're the lady of Winterfell. You can take its Lord."

His words were a potent reminder of your role, your status, and what this act would hopefully lead to.

You gritted your teeth, clutching the sheets tightly as another wave of pleasure surged through you. Looking up at him, you marvelled at the way his muscles rippled, flexing with every powerful thrust. The firelight danced across his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat that accentuated his strong, chiseled form.

In that moment, there was an undeniable sense of possessiveness that bloomed within you—he was yours, completely yours.

His thrusts grew increasingly needy, each one carrying a fiery urgency that filled the quiet room with its resonance. His grunts grew louder, breaking through the stillness, raw and primal. He breathed heavily, the oxygen fuelling his relentless pace.

You watched as his jaw clenched tightly, the muscle in his cheek flexing, a clear sign of his nearing peak. The intensity in his eyes spoke volumes, revealing a vulnerability rarely seen—a moment where desire and emotion intertwined, leaving you both on the cusp of something beautifully potent.

Then he reached his peak, a loud grunt escaping his lips as his final, powerful thrusts rocked through you. The rhythm became a series of uncontrolled, yet intimately satisfying movements, until he nestled deep inside you, your hips aligned perfectly.

He leaned down, the heat of his breath mingling with yours as he captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. You cupped his face tenderly, feeling the warmth and tenderness of the moment, his kiss sloppy but passionate.

He released himself gently, collapsing onto the bed beside you with a satisfied sigh. Rolling over, he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you close against his chest, his heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath your ear.

In the soft glow of the firelight, you nestled into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. It was a moment of peace and connection, where words were unnecessary, and the world seemed to shrink away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a cocoon of shared warmth and tenderness.

[jj-one]

MIND GAMES ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ bf!Jungkook x gf!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre/tags. smut, v small amount of angst, fluff, thigh riding, face sitting, body worshipping, jk lowkey simping hella hard in this & we love to see it <3 words. 1.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

“Can you stop ignoring me please? It's driving me crazy.” You whine to your nonchalant boyfriend, urging him to mutter at least one word.

He has been giving you the silent treatment since this morning. You and Jungkook got into a petty argument that could've been easily resolved within seconds had he not just stormed out mid-convo.

Rightfully so— you were upset by him not wanting to talk things out and he got all defensive by saying you were ‘overreacting’. The bickering only spiraled from there and once you realized you had to leave for work you left without even saying goodbye.

You felt bad for not at least giving a peck on the cheek but you were slightly annoyed by how immature he could be at times. Once you came back home, you wanted to talk with him immediately to patch things up yet he's still being difficult with you. His silence was speaking mere volumes.

“So you're really going to play that game now huh? You know you can't ignore me forever Kook.” You snicker, all those pent up emotions filling you with an intense longing for him. “Can you say something?”

Jungkook remained quiet as a mouse, still refusing to speak, just sitting there examining you. Taking all of you in, basking in his own little glory. He wasn't trying to ignore you at first but now it has turned into a game for him. His only goal was seeing how far he could push your buttons until you break.

There was nothing more frustrating than craving someone's affection. His affection. Usually he'd give it to you on a silver platter, spoiling you with all the love and attention he could provide. But today — you were gonna have to work for it, and that you did.

Since talking wasn't the solution you try your best guess and think of something else. That's when an evil plan struck your mind — you were going to get a word of out him one way or another.

You were still wearing your work clothes so you strip naked right in front him, taking off every piece of clothing to only leave you in your panties. He tried to make it not so obvious that he was staring but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Still quiet, he looks up at you with his big, brown doe eyes — glancing over every inch of your bare form.

Licking his lips while leaning back on the couch he takes in all of you, losing himself in your alluring gaze. As much as he wanted to believe he had all the control in this situation, you played a deafening role in making sure this won't be an easy win for him.

As soon as you fully undressed you make your way over to Jungkook, subtly swaying your hips to send a rise out of him. Walking up to your boyfriend you find yourself straddling his thighs between your legs, the bitter silence only creating a thicker tension. His face looked so innocent, you couldn't help but go in to kiss him. Grabbing the side of his face to pull him in for a sweet, sensual kiss, molding your lips to match his hungry movement.

He was passionate with the kiss — almost leaving you winded by the end. You could tell that he's been holding that in since this morning, you couldn't open your eyes afterwards, savoring in the taste of him on your tongue.

“I'm an asshole, sorry y/n. I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes… but l'm thankful I have someone as patient as you in my life.” Jungkook finally spoke, his gentle tone brings you a familiar source of comfort.

Heated make outs turned you both into even more dangerous territory. A constant rush of heat surges throughout your body, leading all the way down to your aching core, you swung your head back in pleasure while riding your boyfriend's pretty, muscular thighs. The light-blue distressed jeans he wore showing just the slightest bit of skin to make you go feral. The weak, sweaty kisses in between rutting against him — the friction of his jeans grazing over your clothed heat, making you feverishly whimper out for him.

Jungkook couldn't keep his hands off you if he tried. Everything about you is absolutely stunning and perfect to him. His hands dance along the perimeters of your body, tracing every line and curve of your heavenly beauty — embarking on the notion that you are all his. He needs to show how grateful and lucky he is to have you more often.

“God... need you so bad right now..I don't wanna waste another second without having my cock inside you.” He keens, migrating his lips up the side of your earlobe.

He's going to have to put in the work to get a reward like that though.

“I want you to eat me out then we can talk later.” You boldly counter, not even giving him an option at this point.

His face lights up with an idea, “Wanna sit on my face princess?” You nod right away, letting Jungkook maneuver you to the side so he could lye down comfortably — he looks up at you with wandering eyes as you go in for another kiss. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands to grab your ass. It's beginning to become too unbearable to keep your panties on.

Breaking the kiss to remove your soaked underwear, you toss them on the floor and meet your boyfriend's handsome face once again.

The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to devour your pretty little pussy already ;( As soon as you positioned yourself below him, he held onto your thighs with both hands — making eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss to your swollen bud.

Any minor touch to your clit makes you overtly sensitive, letting out a tiny mewl from the light action. His lips part open to dip his tongue into your wetness, “mmmh... fuck Koo” you hiss, already needing to brace yourself to not cum early. His mouth always works magic on you, leaving you with an earth-shattering orgasm every single time.

He flattens his tongue completely now, dragging a long stripe across your slit, drinking up all your essence, letting none of you go to waste. His face was so deeply buried into you all you could see now was the top of his head — grabbing a fistful of his messy hair to pull on later. You rock your hips back and forth to build more movement, grinding on his face while not having a care in the world if he could breathe or not.

From the looks of it, there were no complications on his end since he started moaning against you — the vibrations sending instant chills to your spine. You feel his nose brush up against your bundle of nerves, his tongue appears again to spread it’s brutal attack on your clit. His warmth on the sensitive sprout makes you jut your hips into a hastier motion.

“Shit... keep going just like that…i'll cum all over your face,” you cry out, feeling yourself close to making a huge mess and creaming all over his face.

“Cum on my face please, my precious little doll.” He only breaks away to say that quickly and attaches hisself back instantly.

Those words did it for you, it was like ultimate green light to reaching your climax. Two digits enter your weeping cunt and his tongue goes back to sucking on your puffy abused clit — the knot in your stomach tightens as he produces sloppier licks to your leaking folds.

A lusty, guttural moan escaped your lips, screaming your boyfriend's name at the top of your lungs. Jungkook keeps your hips steady with a tight grasp to help ride out your intense high; his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. His face saturated with the glint of your sweet nectar, he licks his lips and savors the delicious taste of you, there's nothing that'll ever compare.

"So beautiful my baby.. so fucking gorgeous.." he chants under his breath, kissing the apex of your thighs. He'll never get tired of admiring your pretty body— or you in general.

Jungkook has always been more of a giver than a receiver, he likes to watch his partner writhe under him, loves when they cry and violently shake while he's giving them the most pleasurable moments of their life. He also likes to get what he wants in the end but that isn't always needed for him to be satisfied. He'll get his nut eventually, but in the meantime he's going to keep playing with you some more.

[xxchumanixx]

Hey can you do one where the reader and Tim is in the middle of having s*x and Tim gets a phone call from his job in metro and he answers the phone while he is still inside of her

Duty Calls

Tim Bradford x reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, mdni!, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it!)

Word count: tba

Authors Note: Hello love, thanks for the request! Hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!

You flinched, as his phone went off again.

"Maybe you should answer it." you suggested breathlessly, on the verge of a moan. He grumbled something against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin.

When his phone went silent again, his grip on your hips tightened, his movements becoming faster. You moaned his name, your own grip on him tightening as well.

"Tim." you moaned his name, hips coming up to meet his. "Please, don't sto-" you were cut off when his phone went off again, and he groaned.

His head left the crook of you neck, as he fished for the intruder, his pace never once faltering. He glanced at you, before he pressed the answer button, holding the phone against his ear.

Your eyes went wide and you pushed against him, trying to make him stop. Biting on your lip to hold back a moan, his pace stayed the same, though.

"Yeah?" he spoke into the device, surprisingly calm despite the pleasure coursing through his body with every thrust of his hips. "Sure, when?"

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as he shifted his hips slightly, now hitting that sweet spot of yours that had you see stars with each thrust.

His brows and lips twitched, as he held back a moan of his own, as you clenched around him. "Okay, what will we find there?" he spoke, his other hand tightening its grip around your waist for leverage.

Your hand slipped between your lips, biting down to keep quiet, as a moan rumbled through you.

His lips twitched again, eyes fluttering, as he somehow managed to increase his pace. "Yeah, sure. Send me the location. What about the others?" he spoke, clearing his throat, and your breathing hitched at how close you were.

You tried to hold off on it, as he leaned more forward, elbow propped on the mattress, phone still pressed to his ear. He was so close you could hear his boss.

Head thrown back, your brows knitted in pleasure, biting down on your hand again to stay quiet.

He hummed into the phone, trying desperately to keep his breathing in check, as he felt himself near his climax as well.

"Yeah I- I'll be there." he pressed out, before hanging up, throwing the phone to the side. His now free hand gripped your thigh, moving you against him with every thrust.

"Metro." he breathed out, panting. Your hand slipped from your mouth, making way for a sinful moan, his name on your parted lips.

You nodded, back arching.

"I'm so close!" you breathed out, moaning again. He nodded in return, pace quickening even further. "Me too." he pressed out through clenched teeth, groaning in pleasure. "Me too."

He watched the way your tits bounced, as his phone went off again. Your body chose the exact same moment to let the coil in your belly snap, pleasure coursing through you with a cry of his name.

Your orgasm triggered his own, and he spilled himself into you, moaning and groaning your name, riding you through it, before he stilled.

Panting, your head fell back into the pillows, as his phone went silent again.

"I'm gonna have to go now." Tim breathed out, trying to catch his own breath. You nodded, as your own phone went off.

Groaning, your arm covered your eyes.

"Me too."

Tag List

@newobsessionweekly @laheysfilm

@augustvandyne @rookietrek @dhunhdchrih

@nachofriess @wonderland2425

@dtftheavengers

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

[rootedinrevisions]

What's Mine

SUMMARY: After months of secretly seeing each other, you and Tyler find yourselves caught between professional boundaries and personal desires. When a flirtatious rival pushes Tyler's jealousy to the surface, he claims you in a way that leaves no doubt about your relationship status-to you or anyone else.

A/N: sorry that these requests are taking so long! I appreciate everyone's patience as I try to juggle writing with Thank you to the person who sent the request for this one in. This one came from the prompt “I’m not the jealous type, but what’s mine is mine.” I've had this one mostly done for a while (like a week or so) but the scene at the end just wasn't coming together the way I wanted it to. But I think I'm finally happy with the final result. Hope you like it! xx

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. Cursing (I assume, I'm not positive though). Smut (P in V, Unprotected)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The bar was alive with energy, the hum of conversation and laughter mixing with the low strains of a country tune from the jukebox. Boone, Dani, Dexter, and Lily were engrossed in a heated pool game, their competitive banter rising above the noise. You and Tyler had claimed a small table near the edge of the room, tucked away just enough to let you watch the chaos unfold.

Tyler sat back in his chair, nursing a Budweiser. His long fingers tapped idly against the glass bottle, his eyes scanning the room with the kind of quiet intensity he always carried. You were close enough to feel his presence, that steady, grounding calm he exuded without even trying. But far enough apart to not draw suspicion from the rest of the team.

Your drink was nearly gone, and you stood, brushing your hand lightly over his shoulder. “I’m getting another. You want one?”

He glanced up at you, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, darlin’.”

You nodded and made your way toward the bar. It was busy, and a line was forming as people crowded to get the bartender’s attention. You leaned against the counter, letting out a soft sigh as you waited.

“Hell of a storm today, huh?”

The voice came from your right, smooth and friendly. You turned to find a man standing beside you, his elbow resting on the bar. He was tall, with a confident grin and a storm-chaser logo stitched onto his jacket—a rival team.

“Yeah,” you replied, keeping your tone polite but neutral. “Definitely one to remember.”

“Bet you’ve got some good footage from it,” he said, his grin widening as he leaned in slightly. “You’re with Owens’ team, right?”

You nodded, not bothering to hide the pride in your voice. “That’s right.”

“Lucky guy,” he said, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “I mean, you guys have a solid team. And... well, looks like you’re not just good at chasing storms.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smile tight. “Appreciate the compliment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement—Tyler. He was still at the table, but his body language had shifted. His posture was no longer relaxed; he sat forward slightly, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of his beer bottle. His sharp green eyes were locked on you, his expression unreadable but intense.

The man at the bar didn’t seem to notice. He continued, his voice low and smooth. “If you ever get tired of running with Owens, maybe you should give our team a shot. We’ve always got room for someone like you.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Thanks but I’ll pass. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

The man didn’t back off, his grin turning slightly smug. “Well, if you ever change your mind—or just feel like grabbing a drink sometime—”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you cut him off firmly, turning back to the bar as the bartender handed you your drink.

You glanced over your shoulder toward Tyler. He was still watching, his jaw tight, the muscle ticking in his cheek. His eyes flicked briefly to the man beside you before returning to yours. There was no mistaking the tension radiating from him.

You gave the man a polite nod before stepping away, leaving him at the bar as you made your way back to Tyler.

As you approached, Tyler’s gaze never left you. He set his beer down, his fingers drumming once against the table before he stood.

“Everything good?” he asked, his voice casual, but there was an edge to it—a quiet undertone that only you would catch.

“Fine,” you replied with a small smile, though you couldn’t resist teasing him just a little. “Why do you ask?”

He shrugged, his expression neutral, but his eyes gave him away. “No reason.”

You took a sip of your drink, watching him over the rim of the glass. His attention briefly flicked past you, toward the bar where the man still lingered. Tyler’s jaw tightened again, and he looked back at you, his gaze steady.

You raised an eyebrow, fighting the urge to smile. “You sure? Because you look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Tyler didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back as he leaned in. “Let’s dance,” he said, his voice low and firm.

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift. “Dance?”

“Yeah,” he said, already guiding you toward the dance floor. His hand stayed on your back, the contact warm and steady as he maneuvered you through the crowd.

The dance floor was dimly lit, strings of lights crisscrossing overhead and casting a warm glow over the couples swaying to the music. The song was slow and soft, a welcome contrast to the energy of the bar. Tyler stopped just at the edge of the dance floor, turning to face you.

“Here?” you asked, feigning nonchalance even as your heart gave a little leap at the intent in his eyes.

“Here,” he confirmed, sliding his hands to your waist.

He pulled you closer, the motion smooth and confident, and suddenly the crowded bar felt a lot smaller. You placed your hands on his shoulders, your fingers brushing against the soft, worn fabric of his flannel. The scent of him—faint cologne, beer, and the outdoors—wrapped around you, grounding you in the moment.

The two of you moved together, the rhythm of the song dictating the slow, deliberate steps. Tyler’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the hem of your shirt where it met your skin. His other hand rested lightly on your back, keeping you pressed against him.

But there was something in the way he held you tonight—something different. His movements were just a little firmer, his grip a little more possessive. You felt it in the tension radiating from him, in the way his eyes stayed locked on yours.

“You’re tense,” you teased, tilting your head to study him.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too even, his expression unreadable.

Your lips quirked into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’ve been glaring at the bar like it owes you money.”

That earned a soft huff of laughter from him, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, his gaze flicked past you, just for a moment. Curious, you glanced over your shoulder and spotted the storm chaser from earlier still lingering at the bar, his eyes darting toward you and Tyler on the dance floor. When you turned back to Tyler, his jaw was tight again, his green eyes darker than usual.

“Oh my God,” you said, the realization dawning. A grin spread across your face. “You’re jealous.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. “No, I’m not.”

“You so are,” you teased, leaning in just a little closer. “You’ve been staring him down ever since I got back.”

Tyler’s hand on your waist slid a fraction higher, pulling you tighter against him. His voice dropped, low and rough. “I’m not the jealous type,” he said, his eyes locking on yours, “but what’s mine is mine. And I didn’t like how he was looking at what’s mine.”

Your breath caught at the intensity in his tone, but you weren’t about to let him off the hook so easily. “What’s yours?” you asked, your voice light but laced with challenge. "Not sure I know what you mean."

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, his other hand combing up and his thumb brushing along your jawline. The touch was intimate, deliberate. “You know exactly what I mean,” he murmured, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You smiled, though your heart was pounding. “Do I? Because last I checked, there’s no label on this... whatever this is. We’re just keeping things casual, remember?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement breaking through his tension. “You’re pushing your luck.”

“Am I?” you countered, tilting your head as if to test him. “Because I’m thinking maybe I’ll let him buy me my next drink. He seemed nice. Even offered to let me ride with him if I want.”

Tyler’s grip on you tightened, his jaw clenching visibly. “You better watch that mouth of yours,” he warned, his voice low and steady, “before it gets you into trouble.”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face. Leaning in closer, you let your hand rest on his chest, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of his flannel. The touch was casual enough to appear innocent, but the way his eyes darkened told you he didn’t take it that way.

“What kind of trouble?” you asked softly, your voice teasing but edged with genuine curiosity.

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small, almost dangerous smile. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. “If you keep running that little mouth of yours,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “I’m gonna take you against the nearest surface I can find. And trust me, darlin’, I’ll make sure everyone—including him—knows exactly who you belong to. So unless you want us both taking a ride for indecent exposure tonight, I'd suggest you knock it off.”

A shiver ran down your spine, his words leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could recover, the song shifted, transitioning into a faster tempo. Tyler pulled back, the satisfied glint in his eyes unmistakable as he saw the look on your face.

He grinned, spinning you out in a smooth twirl under his arm before pulling you back against him. His confidence was infuriatingly attractive, and you couldn’t help but smile despite yourself.

And then, without warning, he dipped you low, his hand steady at your back as he leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was firm and unapologetic, a silent claim that left no room for doubt to anyone looking.

When he pulled back, his hand still cradling your back, you blinked up at him, your breath uneven. His gaze softened slightly, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. “Are you done being a brat, or do I need to make things even more official?”

You laughed softly, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck. “I don’t know,” you teased, still catching your breath. “I kind of like seeing you jealous.”

Tyler’s hand stayed firmly on your back as he guided you off the dance floor, weaving through the clusters of people. You were still reeling from the kiss—your lips tingling, your heart racing. His confidence had left you breathless, but there was also something grounding about his presence, his solid grip on you as though letting go wasn’t an option.

As you reached your table at the edge of the bar, Tyler pulled you into a quieter corner where the music softened to background noise. His hand lingered on your waist, his thumb brushing idly over your hip as if staking his claim.

“Subtle,” you teased, leaning against the wall. “You think that was enough for him to get the message?”

Tyler’s lips twitched into a small smirk, his green eyes glittering with amusement. “Don't care. I wasn’t doing it for him,” he said, his tone low and deliberate.

For a moment, you forgot the noise of the bar, the crowd, and even the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. All you could focus on was Tyler—his steady gaze, the way his hand still rested on your hip, and the unspoken promise in the way he stood so close to you.

“So, what was that all about then?” you asked, tilting your head, your voice softer now.

Tyler leaned in slightly, his free hand bracing against the wall beside your head. The proximity was intoxicating, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“I told you,” he murmured. “What’s mine is mine. I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart did a little flip at his words, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “But we're still not official, though,” you pointed out, your tone teasing.

Tyler exhaled a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t let up, do you?”

“Not when I want something,” you shot back, your eyes glinting with challenge.

Tyler pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his hand resting on the side of your face as he caressed your jaw. “You want official? Fine,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk, but his eyes held something more—something tender.

Tyler leaned in, his forehead brushing yours as he lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Call me whatever you want—boyfriend, lover, or just Tyler—but as long as you call me yours, that’s all I care about.” His thumb traced the line of your lips, and the weight of his words settled around you like a promise.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, fierce and tender all at once. He kissed you slowly, his mouth lingering over yours, as if sealing the words he’d just spoken with a kiss that spoke louder than anything else. His hand cradled your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.

Tyler’s lips pulled away from yours, but his forehead stayed pressed against yours as he looked into your eyes, that mischievous spark returning to his gaze. He traced his thumb gently over your cheek, as though savoring the moment.

“So,” he said, a teasing smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, “was that official enough for you, or are you gonna make me actually say it?”

You tilted your head, matching his grin, letting your fingers lightly graze the back of his neck as you gave him a playful challenge. “I think I kind of want to hear you say it,” you teased, your voice soft but laced with amusement.

Tyler sighed dramatically, his eyes rolling with mock exasperation, but it was clear he was enjoying this little moment just as much as you were. He leaned back slightly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave you a mock-serious look.

“Darlin’,” he began, his voice dripping with affection and a touch of humor. “Will you please be my girlfriend?”

You burst into laughter, the sound light and carefree, as Tyler grinned at you, clearly pleased with himself. His hands found your waist again, pulling you closer as his lips quirked upward.

“See?” he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I sounded ridiculous, didn't I?”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of the moment settle in. "I don't know...I kind of liked it,” you replied, a hint of sweetness in your voice. “Thank you. I know you probably think it was stupid, but it was nice to hear.”

Tyler leaned in, brushing his lips over your forehead in a soft, affectionate kiss. “Darlin', I'll do whatever makes you happy. If that means saying it, then I'm happy to do it,” he murmured, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you closer again.

Your chest tightened at the honesty in his tone, and for a moment, all the teasing and banter fell away. This was real—so much more real than you’d expected it to be when the two of you started this quiet, undefined thing.

The moment hung between you, charged and intimate, until the sound of laughter from your team broke the spell. You glanced over Tyler’s shoulder to see Dani and Boone watching you from the pool table, their expressions ranging from amused to downright smug.

“Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” you said, your lips quirking into a small smile.

Tyler turned to follow your gaze, his hand dropping back to your waist. “Good,” he said simply. Then, louder, so the rest of the team could hear, he added, “Yeah, we’re together. Anyone got a problem with that?”

The table erupted into laughter and a chorus of good-natured teasing, but no one seemed surprised. Dani shot you a knowing look, and Boone raised his beer in a mock toast.

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you turned back to Tyler. “You're as subtle as a freight train,” you teased.

He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against your temple. “You love it,” he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

And he was right—you did.

As the night eased into a comfortable rhythm, the initial teasing about you and Tyler began to fade—well, mostly. The team had always been a tight-knit group, and now that the two of you were officially “out,” it seemed like fair game for them to poke fun.

Dani was the first to pounce, sidling up to your table after winning yet another round of pool. She leaned her cue against the wall and smirked. “So, is this why you always rode shotgun with Tyler on every drive?” she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Boone joined in, raising his beer. “Oh, I get it now. ‘I’ll navigate.’ ‘I’m the best with maps.’ Sure, that’s why,” he said, making exaggerated air quotes.

Your face burned, but you couldn’t help laughing. “I am good with maps,” you said defensively, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

Dexter, usually the quiet one, chimed in with a rare grin. “Guess that explains all the ‘extra stops’ you two needed on those long drives. Thought it was weird how often you needed coffee breaks.”

You groaned, hiding your face behind your hands. “Oh my god, you guys are impossible.”

Tyler, on the other hand, was taking it all in stride. He leaned back in his chair, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, the very picture of smug confidence. “Jealousy’s a bad look on y’all,” he said, his lips twitching into a smirk.

Dani rolled her eyes. “Please. We’re not jealous. Just annoyed it took you this long to admit what we all already knew.”

Boone nodded in agreement. “Seriously, the way you two looked at each other—like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie. We were just waiting for the dramatic kiss in the rain.”

Tyler grinned, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

You shot him a look, though you couldn’t hide your own smile. “Interesting is one word for it,” you muttered, leaning into his side despite yourself.

As the team’s attention shifted back to their game, you stole a moment to glance up at Tyler. His green eyes met yours, and for a second, the noise of the bar faded away. He gave you a small, almost private smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

When it was finally time to call it a night, the group began gathering their things. Dani slung her bag over her shoulder and paused by the door, looking back at the two of you with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Hey, lovebirds,” she called out, her voice carrying over the music. “Try to keep it down tonight, okay? Some of us would like to actually get some sleep for once.”

Your cheeks went bright red as the rest of the team burst into laughter. “Dani!” you protested, your voice high with embarrassment as you hid your face in Tyler’s shoulder.

Tyler, however, was completely unfazed. In fact, he looked downright pleased with himself. He tightened his arm around you, giving the group a lazy grin. “No promises,” he said, his tone teasing but dripping with that cocky charm you both loved and hated.

The laughter grew louder as you groaned again, playfully smacking his chest. With his arm still wrapped around you, Tyler guided you out of the bar, his hand resting securely on your hip as you stepped into the cool night air. The laughter and teasing from your teammates still echoed in your ears, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Think they’ll ever let us live this down?” you asked, glancing up at him.

Tyler chuckled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Not a chance,” he said, pulling you closer. “But as long as I’ve got you, I don’t really care.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you walked toward his truck.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional murmur of a country station playing on the radio. Tyler had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on your knee, his thumb idly brushing over the fabric of your jeans. Every so often, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn’t help himself.

But your mind was racing, and as much as you wanted to let yourself get lost in the warmth of his touch, you couldn’t shake the doubt creeping in. Was what happened back at the bar real, or was it just Tyler getting caught up in the moment?

When you pulled into the motel parking lot, the tension was still simmering beneath your skin. Tyler parked the truck, turned off the engine, and hopped out, coming around to open your door like he always did. You followed him up the stairs to your room, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, you turned to face him. “So…” you started, your voice careful, testing the waters.

Tyler paused, halfway through pulling his flannel shirt off. He tilted his head at you, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “So?” he repeated, his tone light.

You crossed your arms, shifting on your feet. “What happened back there… at the bar,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “Was that real? Or are you gonna wake up tomorrow and tell the team it was all some big joke? Just you messing around for some laughs?”

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, you regretted saying anything. But then Tyler stepped closer, his flannel discarded on the back of a chair, leaving him in just his plain white t-shirt that clung to his frame in all the right ways.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice steady, “do I look like I’m joking to you?”

You glanced up at him, searching his face for any hint of hesitation. But all you saw was certainty.

“I meant every word I said tonight,” Tyler continued, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you a step closer. “You’re mine. And I don’t care who knows it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the intensity in his voice. “But… you said we needed to keep things low-key,” you reminded him, though your voice wavered.

“That was before,” he said simply, his thumb brushing along your side. “Before I realized how much I hated watchin’ someone else try to take what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill down your spine, but it was the tenderness in his eyes that made you melt.

“Tyler…” you whispered, but whatever you were going to say next was lost as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It started slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the moment. But as you kissed him back, threading your fingers through his hair, it deepened, his grip on your waist tightening as if he couldn’t get close enough.

Tyler walked you backward until your legs hit the edge of the bed. His hands were everywhere—your waist, your hips, the curve of your jaw—each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours.

“Does that feel like I’m jokin’?” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

You shook your head, your fingers still tangled in his hair. “No,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

He grinned, that familiar cocky charm flashing through for just a second. “Good,” he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

The kiss deepened as Tyler pressed you back onto the bed, his hands trailing down your sides with a possessiveness that sent shivers through you. His touch wasn’t rushed—no, Tyler Owens was deliberate, savoring every moment as though he had all the time in the world to prove his point.

When he pulled back, his lips were swollen, his hair slightly mussed from your fingers. The sight of him like this—raw, unguarded—made your heart race. He sat back on his knees, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt. He tugged it up and then peeled it up over your head, tossing it aside carelessly. His hands roamed your bare skin, his touch warm and grounding, but his eyes were what made you feel like you were the only person in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice roughened by desire. His thumb traced along the edge of your bra, just barely brushing your skin. “All mine.”

His words sent heat coursing through you, and you couldn’t help but arch into his touch. Tyler leaned down, his lips brushing the column of your throat.

“Every inch of you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin, “belongs to me.”

He kissed his way down, his lips teasing, his hands skillfully finding the clasp of your bra and unhooking it with ease. As he slid the straps from your shoulders, his gaze was reverent, almost awed.

“My girl,” he said, his voice low. His hands moved to your waist again, hooking into the band of your jeans.

As the cool air hit your skin, you bit your lip, trying to stifle the sound that threatened to escape. Tyler noticed immediately, his sharp gaze flicking up to meet yours. His head tilted slightly, and his lips curled into a smirk that sent a wave of both heat and embarrassment through you.

“None of that,” he said, his voice firm but teasing. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, coaxing it free from your teeth. “They all know now, sweetheart. No need to hide.”

Your eyes widened, and you gave him a look that was part incredulous, part exasperated. “Tyler, we can’t …what if we get a noise complaint!”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich as his hands slid down to rest on your hips, his thumbs tracing slow, maddening circles.

“I don’t care about a noise complaint,” he said, leaning down until his lips were barely an inch from yours. “The team knows. Hell, everyone at the bar knows. But now…” His smirk widened, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Now it’s time every chaser in this motel knows who you belong to.”

“Tyler,” you started, but before you could get another word out, his mouth was on yours again, silencing your protest. His kiss was commanding, his hands sliding over your body in a way that left no room for doubt about his intentions. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with something primal.

“Now,” he said, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your flushed skin. “Who do you belong to?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could, he shifted, his lips finding that sensitive spot just below your ear. His tongue flicked against your skin, and the combination of his touch and his words sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

“Tyler,” you moaned, his name spilling from your lips before you could stop yourself.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, that infuriatingly smug smirk firmly in place. “That’s right, baby,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “Say it again.”

You glared at him, your face heating with both embarrassment and arousal, but the challenge in his eyes only spurred you on. “You,” you said breathlessly, your voice trembling with need. “I belong to you.”

His grin softened slightly, turning into something warmer, something that made your chest ache. He leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips, and when he pulled back, his hand slid to the small of your back, holding you close.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, and the possessiveness in his voice was tempered by an unmistakable tenderness.

As he kissed you again, deeper this time, your earlier doubts and insecurities melted away. Tyler wasn’t just claiming you—he was showing you, in every touch and every word, that he meant it.

Tyler’s hands moved over your body with a slow reverence, his touch igniting sparks wherever his fingertips lingered. The playful smirk that had been on his face earlier softened into something else—something deeper. His eyes locked on yours, his gaze steady and intense as if he wanted to commit every detail of this moment to memory.

He finished undressing you as he slid your panties agonizingly slow down your legs, letting them fall away as his hands brushed your hips. The air felt charged like you were both standing on the edge of something bigger than either of you could name.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky but carrying a weight of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

Your hand found its way to his face, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. “Tyler…” you whispered, but you couldn’t find the words to finish. The look in his eyes—unwavering and full of something unspoken—was undoing you.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, and then the tip of your nose. Each kiss felt like a promise, slow and deliberate. His hands framed your face as he kissed you fully again, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

He shifted, guiding your body beneath his as he shed the last of his clothing, his movements unhurried but purposeful. The heat of his skin against yours was electric, but it was the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—that had your heart pounding.

Tyler paused for a moment, his weight braced above you, his forehead resting against yours. His hand brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek. 

“I need you to know,” he said, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t just…” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “This isn’t just about wanting to fuck you. It’s more than that.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the raw vulnerability in them wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. You reached up, your hand tangling in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss, your lips conveying everything you couldn’t put into words.

When he finally started to push inside you, the moment felt like time had stopped. His movements were slow, measured, as if he were afraid of rushing it. This wasn’t like the other times you’d been with Tyler before. Every time before had felt like it was just physical. Practically ripping clothes off of each other and hot and heated kisses him getting inside of you as fast as he could.

But this time…this time his touches were just a little softer. His kisses were just a little deeper. And the way he was holding you, like he was cherishing you made you swoon.

As he moved with you, his hands roamed your body. He murmured your name like a prayer, each syllable dripping with affection. And when your hand gripped his shoulder, your nails digging slightly into his skin, he leaned down to kiss you again, his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You couldn’t stop the small sounds that escaped your lips, your body responding to his in ways that felt like second nature. But it wasn’t just physical—there was something so much deeper in the way he held you, the way his hand laced with yours, fingers intertwining as though he needed to feel connected to every part of you.

It wasn’t long before the tension building between you both crested, your body trembling in his arms as your climax washed over you. Tyler held you close, whispering soothing words in your ear. When he followed moments later, his face buried in the crook of your neck, the quiet groan that escaped his lips sent another shiver down your spine.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your breathing the only sound in the room. Tyler finally shifted, rolling to his side but pulling you with him so that you stayed nestled against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as though letting go was not an option.

He pressed a kiss to your hair, his lips lingering there as he murmured, “I meant it, you know. You’re mine.”

You looked up at him, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “And you’re mine,” you said softly, the words feeling like a vow.

His lips curved into a soft smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your back. “Damn right, I am.”

As you lay there, tangled together in the quiet aftermath, the weight of the moment settled over you. This wasn’t just another night, another stolen moment of passion. This was the start of something new—something real.

And as Tyler held you close, his breathing evening out as sleep began to claim him, you couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, everything felt exactly as it should.

[pedrospatch]

baby, i’m yours

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You remind Joel that you’re his.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION however she does wear Joel’s t-shirt and he semi lifts her onto a counter? sorta but not really? UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (Joel is in his 50’s but reader’s specific age is not mentioned). established relationship, sort of. consumption of food (if you are allergic to peanuts, i so sorry). angst, Joel and Ellie’s strained relationship is lightly implied, Joel is insecure, it’s implied reader did some horrible things in her past, reassurance, brief smut, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, consider it a quickie idk. apologies if i missed anything.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this short lil thing has been sitting in my drafts forever. i finished it while i was in ireland and finally had the chance to sit down and do a quick edit and when i say it was quick, i flew through it so i could hop onto my next wip so please excuse any errors! here’s a spotify link to the song if anyone’s curious, it’s an oldie but a goodie although it may not be everyone’s cup of tea.

main masterlist l fic notifs

Joel rolls over in bed, his arm outstretched and seeking the warmth of your soft, naked body.

“Mmph,” a small, sleepy groan falls from his lips as his long, thick fingers feel around on your side of the bed—of his bed. Of course, you have your very own bedroom in the house you all had been placed in when you first arrived in Jackson. Your very own bed to sleep in is just down the hallway, but lately, you’ve been waking up beside him a lot more often than not, especially now that Ellie’s a bit older and she’s gone and made herself her own space out in the garage behind the house. Being under the same roof as Joel did those two more harm than it did good, and while you missed having her around, it was for the best.

“She’ll come around, Joel,” you’d assured him. “I know she will. She just needs a bit of time is all.”

“Hope you’re right, darlin’,” he had murmured sadly in response.

Still lost somewhere in between sleep and full consciousness, Joel continues feeling around for you, but all he finds are the wrinkled sheets, cold and abandoned. Confused, his eyes finally flutter open and with a painful protest from his sore, stiff back, he sits up, blinking furiously as he looks around the darkness of his bedroom. The door’s been left cracked open ever so slightly, and as his vision adjusts now that he’s fully awake, he notices the dim glow of the hallway light that’s peeking through into the room.

He turns and glances over at the old digital alarm clock perched on his nightstand, the obnoxious, bright red numbers practically screaming at him that it’s a quarter past midnight. With a small, tired grunt, Joel switches on the lamp beside the clock and swings his legs over the side of the mattress, goosebumps erupting across his flesh the instant that his bare feet meet the cold, hardwood floor. He stands and fumbles around for his clothes, which he’d tossed carelessly somewhere over his shoulder hours earlier when he’d been lost in the heat of the moment with you. He finds his faded, navy blue sweatpants strewn across a chair next to the door and pulls them on over his naked lower body before searching for his t-shirt. When he doesn’t immediately see it, he doesn’t bother, figuring that it’s just going to come back off when he climbs back into bed with you.

Padding out of his bedroom, he makes his way down the hallway, heading towards the staircase. As he draws closer, he hears it—the soft music that’s coming from downstairs.

Baby, I'm yours

and I'll be yours until the stars fall from the sky

yours until the rivers all run dry

in other words, until I die

He’s led towards the kitchen and that’s where he finds you.

Joel wants to be annoyed. 

Fuck, he tries to be annoyed. But he can’t help the way that the corners of his mouth threaten to turn upwards when his eyes take in the sight before him.

You’re standing at the center island slowly swaying your hips from side to side along to the beat of the song that’s playing from the record player perched next to the instant coffee maker on the counter behind you. He’d nearly wrung your neck when he found out what all you had traded just to get your hands on it, but you loved that thing more than life itself it seemed, so he couldn’t stay mad for very long. You’re making yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—the peanut butter you’d learned how to make yourself with the old food processor he found deep in one of the kitchen cabinets, and the strawberry preserves you had picked up from the market earlier that week. Clad in nothing but his t-shirt, you’re singing along quietly to the lyrics as you finish making your late night snack.

Baby, I’m yours

and I’ll be yours until the sun no longer shines

yours until the poets run out of rhyme

in other words, until the end of time

Joel leans against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his bare chest as he watches you carefully lick the remnants of peanut butter off of the knife you’re using before setting it down on the counter. You then pick up the two pieces of bread and slap them together—you’d also learned how to bake homemade bread using some old nineties cookbook you had found in the commune’s library. Your sourdough is the reason he had to go up a notch in his belt.

Sandwich in hand, you do a little spin, humming happily as you take your first bite.

Joel loudly clears his throat from the doorway.

Startled, you whirl around and freeze, your eyes wide.

“Enjoyin’ yourself there, darlin’?” He asks amusedly as he approaches you.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me, Joel!” You hiss at him. You then realize what time of night it is and a look of guilt crosses your features. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, did I wake you up? I honestly thought that I had the volume down low enough in here—”

Frowning, you turn around and reach towards the record player to turn the music off, but much to your surprise, Joel stops you. “No, s’okay. I woke up on my own,” he assures you. “I reached over for you and you were gone.” The admission slips before he can even think to stop it. He notices how taken aback you are by what he’d just said and quickly asks, “What’cha doin’ up so late, anyway?”

“I was hungry,” you tell him, sheepishly holding up your food. You always have one hell of an appetite after Joel was through fucking you senseless. You take another bite and offer it to him. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

He accepts and takes a corner of the sandwich before handing it back to you. His fingers brush against yours and his face burns at the contact.

Fucking Christ. 

You’re standing there in nothing but his fucking t-shirt after he had, yet again, made you his in his own fucking bed, and that’s what gets him?

Truth be told, the only time he holds your hand is when he’s inside of you—his fingers lace with your own as he comforts you and praises you for being such a good girl for taking his cock the way you do.

For being so, so fucking good for him.

He’s thought about taking your hand in front of others. Particularly when he notices the way some of the men in town stare at you. Joel wants to make it known that you’re already spoken for. Only, you’re not spoken for, not really. 

You’re his, but you’re not really his. It’s not that he doesn’t want to take the leap and acknowledge the two of you are far more than just patrol partners, far more than just two people who fought like fucking hell to get some smart assed teenager—and the world’s only hope for a cure—across the country.

He feels undeserving of it. Of you and your heart.

Several seasons had come and gone since you’d both arrived in Jackson with Ellie in tow, and somehow, Joel still can’t fathom what you’re doing by his side. She’s out of the house now and there’s nothing tying you to him, so why are you still here?

He’s so much older. Closer and closer to being on his way out, while you still had your entire life left ahead of you. He’s worn down, hardened from the post outbreak world. And you, you hadn’t lost any of your softness, your sweetness. Not even after the things you’d been forced to do to survive because of him.

You could meet someone younger, someone closer to your own age. You could marry, even start a family. You could be with someone who could give you a good life, the life you deserve.

The life that he’s too fucking broken to give you.

“Joel?” Your voice breaks into his thoughts. “Hey. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. M’fine.” He gestures to the record player with a nod of his head. “Y’know, this song’s older than me. By a few years. Came out in the early sixties.”

Joel half expects you to make some wisecrack joke and tease him over his age like you have done in the past—especially when the kid would get you going. Instead, he watches you set what’s left of your sandwich down and brush the crumbs from your hands before holding one of them out to him.

Confused, he stares at it for a moment before his dark eyes meet yours. “What are you doin’?”

“Dance with me,” you say, smiling at him.

“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” When he realizes you’re being serious, he shakes his head. “Y’know I don’t—I can’t dance.”

Dropping your hand back down to your side, you turn around and flip the record, starting the song over again before whirling back around and taking Joel’s hands in yours.

“Just follow my lead,” you tell him as you place them on your waist. Your own hands settle themselves on his broad shoulders, his skin warm beneath your fingertips. “Don’t overthink it.”

“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous,” Joel grumbles underneath his breath, however he finds himself moving along with you without further protest. Subconsciously, he pulls you closer against him as the two of you slowly sway from side to side along to the beat of the music. He chuckles, “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

“And your point is?” You rest your head on his shoulder and exhale a soft, contended sigh.

Joel’s lips threaten to pull down once more.

Could it be that you’re actually content with him?

Head still on his shoulder, you sing along softly with Barbara Lewis. 

“I’m gonna stay right here by your side

do my best to keep you satisfied

nothing in this world can drive me away

‘cause every day you'll hear me say…”

It quickly becomes too much for him. Joel’s hands leave your waist. Taking your wrists, he tugs your arms from around his neck and gently pushes you away from him. “Why?” he finally asks the question that’s been hanging off the tip of his tongue for the better part of the last three years. “Why me?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “What?”

“Why me?” he repeats himself. “Why me when you can have anyone else—”

Your reply is prompt and you say it so simply.

“Because I don’t want anyone else.”

“You deserve better.”

You peer at him curiously. “I deserve better?”

“You do. Ain’t got no business being with someone like me. After all the terrible shit I’ve done—”

“I did the same exact shit, Joel. Sometimes I did even fucking worse.” Somehow, softness laces your tone. You have never been angry with him and you weren’t about to start now. “What makes my hands any cleaner than yours?”

Joel begins to sputter. “M’older than you. Much older. Should’a been a lot more careful. Should’a done more so you didn’t have to do those things.”

His hands still curled around your wrists, you reach up and gingerly cradle the sides of his face. He winces, but then quickly melts into your touch, the very same touch that could heal his wounds, if only he would allow it.

“I made my own choices,” you remind him, quietly. Neither of you realize the music has stopped. “Quit acting like blood doesn’t stain my hands too because it does.”

His lips press into a tight line. “Blood stains your hands ‘cause of me. S’my fault. I was responsible for you. I was s’pposed to take care of you. I didn’t protect you the way I should’ve.”

You sigh.

“When are you going to stop blaming yourself, Joel?”

The muscle in his jaw ticks as it clenches. He averts his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor. He doesn’t answer.

You stroke the scruff of his beard lightly with your thumbs. “When are you going to stop thinking you’re not good enough for me? What’s it going to take for me to prove to you that you are all I could ever need and want?”

“You’re just wastin’ your fuckin’ life on me, darlin’. S’the truth and you fuckin’ know it as well as I do.”

Pulling your wrists out of his hands, you pivot on your heel and suck in a sharp breath, stubbornly blinking back the tears stinging your eyes. You’re frustrated.

It cuts you to your very core to know the man you’ve grown to love more than anything and anyone else on what’s left of this fucking planet can’t see that he’s enough. He’s more than enough.

Joel bites back his own frustrated sigh. He knows he can’t rely on you to tell him, rely on the reassurance—he needs to do his part and believe it. If he keeps trying to push you away, he just may very well succeed one day. He will lose you.

After a moment, he walks up behind you and wraps his arms around you, his lips lightly brushing your neck. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, his own voice thickening as a lump forms in the back of his throat. He’s quick to swallow it down. “Jus’ have a hard time believin’ you’re mine. S’almost like my mind is lookin’ to prove me wrong.”

“But I am yours, Joel. I’m yours, I’m fucking yours.”

It’s more than just reassurance. It’s an oath, one you’ll honor for the rest of your life.

He holds you tighter. “Yeah?” He nips at the delicate spot right below your ear, his teeth scraping along tender flesh. “S’that right, baby? You’re all mine?”

“All yours,” you confirm breathlessly as his hands slowly begin trailing down the length of your sides, his fingers skimming the hem of his t-shirt.

Joel swiftly turns you around in his arms and slips his hand between your thighs. The next thing you know, he has you backed up against the counter and he’s shoving his sweatpants down, freeing his hard, thick cock. With one of your legs hooked around his waist, he buries himself into the warmth of your cunt and begins to deliver smooth, languid strokes.

“Say it again, baby,” he rasps into your neck. He coaxes your other leg up and around his waist and his large hands curl securely underneath your thighs as he bucks up into you. He’d deal with the back pain later. He pants, “Need—need to hear you say it, my sweet girl.”

You hold onto the countertop behind you as he fucks you, your fingernails digging into the laminated wood. “Fuck, I’m yours,” you moan into his shoulder. “I’m all yours, Joel. Oh fuck—”

You say it over and over again and he believes it.

He finally fucking believes it.

Sweet nothings fall from his lips with each thrust.

“S’lucky you’re all fuckin’ mine.”

“My beautiful, beautiful girl.”

“Gonna keep you for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

When he spills into you, there’s no regret on his part nor yours. You’d always wanted to feel him come inside of you—secretly, so did he. Joel’s deep, guttural groans bounce off of the kitchen walls as your pussy fills with him, with all of him, taking as much as it can before he begins leaking out of you and down the insides of your thighs.

“Jesus,” he exhales. He dips his head for a kiss. “You’re all messy now, baby,” he mumbles against your lips. “How’s about we go upstairs and get back into bed so I can clean you up?”

Giggling, you mimic him and remind him of what he’d said earlier. “Y’know we gotta be up at the asscrack of dawn for patrol, right?”

Joel grins. “And your point is?”

You laugh again as he leads you out of the kitchen and back up to his bedroom—to yours and his bedroom.

[eupheme]

— the season for second third fourth chances

[part v of sugar, sugar] | [masterlist]

wolverine/logan howlett x neighbor!f!reader

rated e - 4.5k

tags: holiday fluff, reader references/celebrates christmas, misunderstandings, light angst, references to canon-typical anxiety, violence, wade's cancer diagnosis, and death, references plot events in DP 1 & 2, sexual innuendos/implied smut, feelings

With the holidays on the horizon, your afternoons are filled with preparations for Wade’s annual holiday party. With baking and cookie decorating, finishing up wrapping presents - and maybe even a little Christmas miracle, when you find yourself running into a familiar face.

"What?"

It slips from you, as your eyebrows shoot up - glancing down at the piece of cardstock. Before you're adding -

"Why?"

Wade huffs, his finger tapping against the text that loops across the top.

"Don't give me that, Sugar. I spent ages picking out the right font, I know the contrast is enough for you to read it clearly."

And he's right. You can definitely read it, even without the coarse coat of glitter making the headline sparkle.

‘Spread Some Christmas Cheer’

The letters arching above a photo of Wade. His suit on, of course, as he lounges across the lap of what appears to be a mall Santa. Dread in the man’s once-twinkling blue eyes, as one of Wade’s legs drapes across the velvet red suit, the other kicked high against the back of the padded red chair.

‘With Wade Wilson's Winter Wonderland’ in script beneath - with dates and time for his party listed below.

"I can definitely read it," You acknowledge, "I was just asking what, as in what made you take this, and maybe even where, because-"

"Oh," He chuckles, "Yeah, I'm absolutely banned from JCPenney, but worth it, right? This is my best-looking card yet."

You can't help the smile, "It's definitely something."

He grins, "So, you'll come? I heard there might be a certain someone there."

"Is that right?" Your tongue pokes against your cheek.

"Mhmm. Pretty sure he sees you when you're sleeping. Definitely know if you've been naughty or nice, and I know for a fact I've seen you in his lap-"

There's a sound of disgust, as your nose wrinkles, "Okay, can you not talk about Logan that way? I don't need a Santa comparison in my head."

"Just thought I'd spice some things up for you. It's nothing to be ashamed of, we've all had a crush on the big man."

"On who?" There's a rough voice behind you - Logan hand fisted around the fleece jacket tugged from the back of the armchair.

"He knows what I'm talking about," Wade points, "I'm just saying, if Santa needs help handling that sack of his, I'm so fucking down."

"Jesus fucking Christ." An arm curls around you, as Logan glances at the invite, "Wait, this is this weekend?"

"Yes, this weekend," Wade sniffs, "We talked about it yesterday."

"Wasn't home yesterday." Logan's eyebrow cocks, "Or the day before."

"Well, I talked about it with somebody." Wade shrugs - another tapped finger at the bottom of the card, "Anyways, blah, blah, blah. It’s all here, proper name, place name, backstory stuff... just be there, because I know where you live-"

"We'll be there." You interrupt, biting back your smile, "Want me to bring anything?"

Wade's look turns pleased, and then thoughtful, "Well, I was going to get some cookies from Yeastie Boys Bakery..."

The words trailing off, as you groan - already so over the new bakery in town, their stupid jingle and 'viral' cupcakes that taste like shit.

"Don't even talk to me about them."

You can feel the way Logan's hands brace on your shoulder. The low, "he's kidding sweetheart-" rumbled in your ear.

"Guilty." Wade's hands spread wide, "Was just trying to rile you up into offering some of your own splendid wares. Al still talks about the ones you brought over last year. If it’s not too much work…"

The sentence trails off, as he bats his brown, pleading, puppy-dog eyes at you.

"Lead with that next time, asshole." Logan sighs.

"It's not." You answer automatically, though you're already mentally running through your schedule.

The presents you still have to wrap. The loose ends of Wade's gift that you still have to weave in. Another trip to the grocery store, for certain - you'll have to bake at home, since it's a favor.

There's a kiss pressed to your temple, as Logan moves around you.

"I know that look. Don't push too hard, honey." He finishes shrugging on his jacket, "I’ll see if Laura and I can help you out tomorrow."

Wade's voice chiming in, “And let it be known I am formally offering to help, but-”

You huff, “Thank you, but you’re still banned from my kitchen, Wade.”

Still not over the surprise of your gingerbread appearing with piped anatomically correct additions, after you had left him unsupervised last year.

The kiss goodbye you share with Logan lingers, a grateful press of your mouth against his. Wondering what you did to deserve such a man, still ready to pinch yourself every day.

A look in his eyes that matches yours, as he steps around Wade, who still lingers.

"Thanks, Sugar." He grins, "And remember - you better be good for goodness sake-"

You groan, as you shove him out the door. Logan's fingers curling around the collar of Wade’s jacket, the other tugging at the handle.

Unable to help adding your usual farewell, “Be careful out there, okay? Come back safe.”

Not that they need it, not with their powers. But it still feels like a charm, tucked carefully into their pockets as they head out together again - off on a new mission.

"I’ll take care of your Sugar Bear.” It's sung out, muffled behind the closed door. “Love you byeee!"

A sigh, as you shake your head.

Guess you have some work to do.

Your pen marks another item off your list, as you inch your cart through the too-busy grocery store.

It’s already half-filled with other last-minute items. Another couple gifts, now that official date of the party looms on the horizon - you can’t leave Peter, Ellie, and Yukio out, after all.

A new decorative Christmas plate for the cookies - you had lost yours in the impromptu disc golf match that Wade hosted at the apartment last year.

Last you heard, it was still on the roof next door.

Molasses, brown sugar, and spices for gingerbread. A fresh box of food coloring, for the sugar cookies - you were out of red, from last year as well.

A pack of powdered sugar drops down into your cart. Reaching for a second, just as another hand bumps against yours.

Twin apologies chime, as your eyes flick to the side.

Instantly recognizing the woman next to you - the sheepish look on your face cooling.

“Oh.” Her eyes widen in recognition, “Hey.”

“Hi, Vanessa.” You offer a half-smile - the last dregs of your annoyance with Wade vanishing, as you rest the second bag on top of the other.

A beat, before you manage, “How are you?”

“Good. Office party,” She wiggles her own bag, before it slips into the basket at her elbow, “You?”

“Um, I’m good, too.” You shrug, “And no, uh… friend’s party.”

Wade seemed mostly over the disaster that happened close to two months ago. More prone to forgiving and forgetting - gracious, in a way that you could be, when you wanted. That you were, most of the time.

After all, it was easier, to let something slide off your back when it came to a personal grudge. You could be an adult and move on, then.

But it was still hard to forget how crushed Wade had been. How you knew that she knew he had been cooking for her the night she stood him up- a drunken confession that he had seen the notification that she had watched the stories he had snapped for his social media stories.

And even if he was over it, you weren’t sure you were.

“Wade’s party?” She guesses, and it makes you blink.

Wondering when and how she had been invited. As far as you knew, her name hadn’t passed his lips in weeks.

“Yeah.” Your eyes search hers - the tightness in them, how she bites the inside of her cheek, “Are… you?”

“Undecided,” Her lips lift. A breath, before she’s asking, “How’s he been lately? Is he…”

You can’t help the small frown, a mark deepening between your brows, “He’s good.”

A half-truth, before you tack a little more on, “Sure he’s appreciating the extra space. Fixed Al up with a Murphy bed, and Logan’s been staying with me a lot lately.”

“Oh. I thought-” Vanessa’s sentence trails off.

She looks lost for a moment. A glance downward, picking at the manicured edge of a nail.

You haven’t seen her like this before. Too used to her confidence, those sharp edges that you lack.

Pity flickers through you.

“I really have to go. If I don’t start these soon, I’ll be up all night.”

It comes out apologetic - and you realize, you actually mean it, “But why don’t you swing by my apartment in a bit? I’m gonna be baking all afternoon, but I make a mean boozy hot chocolate.”

The look she gives you is tinged with relief.

It’s enough to make you wonder what you’re missing.

“Wait, what?” You yelp - for the second time, in forty-eight hours.

There’s a smudge of flour on your sweater. Holiday music pouring through the speaker on your counter. Vanessa carefully inching the gingerbread cutouts an inch apart.

A shoulder lifting, as she repeats herself, “I said I thought he moved on. With you.”

Not knowing, with the way she had come late to the party where you had met Logan. Left early, with her new corporate schedule.

You almost over-pour the ground cinnamon into the second batch. Tipping it back into the jar, as you let the spoon clatter against the counter. Her head tilts, at your expression.

“You haven’t thought about it? I know you’re both close.”

In another world, perhaps.

Another life - one where you hadn’t met Logan when you did. Hadn’t spent months cheering Wade on, those once barely-there flickers of interest fading to something solidly platonic some time ago.

Your head shakes, the words coming slowly, “It’s always been you, Vanessa. Everyone knows that.”

The corner of her lips lift. Fingernails tapping against the aluminum pan.

“I thought so, too.”

You frown, “Is that why didn’t you show? When he asked you over for dinner?”

Vanessa laughs then, rueful.

“The dinner.” Her eyes flick away, going back to a memory - a beat, before the snap to yours, “Yeah. I wanted to go. I uh, just split with Dermot. From work.”

You nod, remembering - overhearing the conversation at Wade’s birthday.

“He wanted me to move in. Said he saw a future with me, but when it came down to taking that step…” Her lips press together, the lift of a shoulder, “I’ve never seen myself with anyone else. Only him.”

Only Wade.

“But… then I saw you with him. The stories he posted. The two of you cooking, dressed up like a date.” It comes in a rush, “I thought, incorrectly, apparently-”

“He was cooking for you.” There’s a furrow in your brow, trying to piece together the way she saw it.

The sundress you wore for Logan. The captions that tipped towards lewd that you had tried to get him to delete - jokes about “getting lucky”, or the chicken not the only thing “being stuffed tonight”.

She nods, “I’m getting that now.”

“I think you still should have gone.” It’s starting to make sense, but you can’t help the reproach in your tone, ”He was devastated.”

The look she shoots you is defensive. Vanessa had always carried an intensity you lacked, and you take the full brunt of it now. Your fingers curl into fists for strength, not letting your gaze drop first. A beat, before she nods.

“I guess it’s just become easier to run.” Vanessa admits, “Defense mechanism. Get out first. Ironic, I know.”

You frown, not knowing, “Has that… has that happened before?”

“Which time?” Her laugh is close to a scoff, as she sighs.

Your eyes drop now, as you go back to your work. Back to measuring, tipping the spices into your mixer. The words coming slowly.

”He hasn’t told me a lot. Just a bit about last time. About…” You search for the words, feeling guilty. “About him not doing enough. That you wanted him to do something meaningful, and then the stuff with the Avengers, and…”

The words die, when you see her face.

Sorrow and anger, with the sharp shake of her head, “I never gave a damn about the Avengers. That was all Wade.”

A sigh, as she collects herself.

“I just wanted him to find his passion again. He changed… a few years ago. Something happened, a really close call. He fixed it, but he wasn’t the same after.”

A breath, before she adding, “He took it hard. Guilt, I think. All I really wanted was for him to talk to me. To let me help him, but he never let me in because he didn’t want me getting hurt again. He shut down, and stopped talking to me.”

The mixer hums. A beep of your timer, as the minutes tick down.

“You know Wade. Always has a joke ready. Never wants to get serious if he can help it. It’s stupid, but we... drifted.” Vanessa’s throat bobs as she swallows, “I was dealing with my own shit, and when he pushed me away, it reminded me of last time.”

She catches your expression again, as the dough tips out of the bowl. The furrow of your brow, as you swap it for a chilled portion in your fridge.

“It’s been a recurring theme,” It comes out blunt.

Her look turning considering, then, when the frown doesn't waver.

“Do you love Logan?”

The rolling pin slips in your grip. Pressing too hard, denting dough.

“I-,” You breathe. The question unexpected, leaving you wholly unprepared, even as your heart beats out the answer.

Her expression softens, “You care about him.”

You nod mutely.

“What would you do, if Logan just - disappeared? No trace of him, just gone in the night?”

Her question hangs. A physical ache in your chest at the mere thought, one that leaves you unable to breathe. Pieces starting to click together - little bits of what you know, forming some sort of photo.

“Is that what Wade did?”

She nods, “It was right after his cancer diagnosis. He was going through a lot, and just - left. For years. I thought… I thought he had died. I mourned him. It crushed me.”

You can’t help but reach across the table - hesitant, in the way you squeeze her arm.

She lets you, a look shot your way. Defending him, unable to help it.

“I get it, though. I get that it was a lot. I’ve forgiven him. But…” Her teeth pinch at her cheek, that guilt coming back, “When he started pulling away, I thought it was happening again. I couldn’t live through that again.”

You finish for her, “So you left first.”

She nods.

Silence lingers. Nails tapping on the countertop, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers. The heat of the oven curling across your arms, as you swap one tray for another. Setting it aside to cool.

“You should go talk to him.” Your voice cracks through the quiet, when you turn - hands bracing against the counter.

Her eyebrows raise, “And say what?”

”Tell him what you told me. That you were just scared.” Your voice softens, “He invited you to his party because he still *wants* you in his life.”

She blinks, silent.

“I’ll help you,” You coax, “Logan’s already coming over tonight.”

Your eyes flick down to your phone, checking, ”Uh, really soon, actually. I’ll go next door with you, and bring Althea back with me. Give you two some time to catch up.”

Vanessa’s fingers cards through her hair - pushing back the long strands, the words coming slowly, “I don’t know…”

“Wade is crazy about you.” It comes out bluntly, and it’s this that pulls her attention.

You’re already swiping a container off the counter. Filling the bottom with sugar cookies baked this morning - cut into trees and mittens, decorated with buttercream and sprinkles.

The lid snaps on, as you hold it out to her.

“Trust me?”

Her eyes meet yours, and you can see the swirl of emotions across her face.

You smile and finally - she nods.

She follows a step behind, as you leave the apartment. The hallway chilly, the entrance bringing in a dusting of snow across the carpet, with the revolving holiday traffic.

The closing front door downstairs echoes with your own, as you head the next apartment over. Knuckles rapping against the wood, fingers mentally crossed.

A voice ringing out, muffled, “If you’re part of Rudolph and the Red-Hot Reindeers, you’re a day early-”

Opening to reveal Wade, dressed down in a shirt and sweatpants with his Deadpool logo patterned across them.

“Oh, hey Sugar.” He smiles, “What’s up?”

“Well,” You stall for a second, trying to figure out what exactly to say, “Is Althea home? Was wondering if she could help me with something.”

Wade chuckles.

“Fat fucking chance, she’s two episodes into the Golden Bachelor right now and she’s sure as hell not moving-” The words die out as Vanessa moves into view, the container in hand.

He goes silent, for the first time you can remember.

“I have the same streaming apps as you, I’m sure I can convince her.” Your shift - a hand touching at her shoulder, urging her forward, “And maybe you could do me a favor, too. Taste test these for tomorrow?”

For a moment, you think he doesn’t hear you. His eyes lingering on Vanessa, his face bleeding from surprise to confusion to hope, as he takes her in.

“Yeah.” He manages after a long moment - clearing his throat.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, not with the way Al enjoys a cup of piping hot tea as much as you do - along with the promise she can watch her beloved show in peace. Almost giddy in the way she makes for the door, cane in hand and Dogpool tucked in the crook of her other arm.

The door just shutting behind you before she’s hissing, “What in God’s name was that?”

You shush her, eyes flicking back towards the apartment. Almost jumping out of your skin when it’s followed by another voice, this one pitched low.

“Seconded. Busy afternoon?”

Logan leans against the wall, Laura expression clear with the pull of her brows. Thirded.

“Something like that.” You herd them inside your apartment, before they can be overheard - not that Wade was listening, you’re sure.

The door is barely shut, before they’re rounding on you. Your own hands on your hips - a nod directing them towards the kitchen table, laden with bare gingerbread cookies.

Al tucked in the armchair, spun around the face the bustle of the kitchen, her show long forgotten.

“You’re stalling.” Laura points out bluntly, as you hand her the bag of icing.

Your tongue tucked against your teeth, as you shoot Logan a look. His eyebrows raised in response, eyes sliding over to the brick wall that separates your apartment from Wade.

“I’m not,” The word strings out, “It’s just, like, it’s not a big deal, right?”

She scoffs.

Althea’s cane taps the ground, “Something happened, and you’d better spill.”

“Alright,” Your fingers spread in front of you, “I ran into Vanessa at the store today. And we got to talking, and I invited her back here. I think she regrets what happened between them.”

There’s a snort of derision, and you can feel yourself starting to bristle.

“We all have our opinions, myself included-” You allow, as another noise interrupts you - lower and more gruff this time. You spin, shooting Logan another look.

“But I think she was genuine. I’ve certainly had my fair share of… miscommunications,” His expressions softens at your words, the corner of his lips curling as you shift to face Al.

“And I got some really good advice once from someone. Something about ‘talking about it’, and that’s what I encouraged her to do.”

“Hope you’re right,” Al sighs- but there’s a smile there, hidden in the way her lips press together, “That boy is more sensitive than my left tit in a snowstorm.”

“Jesus.” It’s muttered, at your shoulder. Logan’s head shaking as he joins Laura, the hint of a smirk as she works on piping a set of angry eyebrows.

Your eyes roll, “I am.”

Spinning back to face the table, as you grab your own bag of frosting.

“After all, it’s Christmas,” You can’t help but throw her way, from over your shoulder.

“And isn’t that the best time for a miracle?”

Logan’s arms wrap around you later, as you snap the last lid in place. Finally done with your last-minute idea - decorating each of the gingerbread to look like your friends.

Laura slipping out a few minutes ago, intent on staying until the end. Just as determined as Logan to see things through, even though you tried to get her to leave a few times - worried about the weather, the long drive back to the mansion.

The slight smile as her eyes rolled - with your affection towards her, you forget how impervious she is.

Althea long asleep in the couch, the quilt Logan’s borrowed so many nights before tucked around her. Ambient holiday music still pouring through the speaker, your attempt to drown out the enthusiastic reunion taking place next door.

Can’t bring yourself to mind. More relieved than anything.

And you deserve it, you suppose.

“You did a good thing.” It’s murmured into your hair, as you finally relax into him.

Arms curling beneath his, wrapping around his broad back to embrace him. You hum with contentment as his lips brush your temple.

“Don’t know if I can manage a miracle,” His lips curve when you lean back, eyes flicking up to meet his, “But if there anything else you might want for Christmas?”

Your teeth sink into your lip, as you grin.

The answer is easy, as your face tips towards his.

“Just want more time with you.”

Logan huffs, as his hand dips down. Cupping soft flesh, kneading - as he tugs you the rest of the way. A grin, just before his mouth presses against yours.

“Mm. Hope you don’t mind celebrating a little early, then.”

Red and green have exploded in the apartment next door - the flamingo lights that spill from the kitchen replaced with blinking bulbs. A tree that you’re truly unsure how it fit through the door, much less the narrow hallway, tucked in the corner.

You and Logan had helped decorate it earlier in the month - Wade directing from the couch, as the two of you and Althea arranged the ornaments. A ninja star zip-tied to the top, but with the lights turned low, and the swirl of snow coming down outside - it’s cozy.

It’s familiar - faces you’ve come to know well, known to love, fill the space. The cookies are a hit, sweet exclamations as they find the ones that represent them. Woolen and knitted sweaters, bodies tucked together on a hodgepodge of surfaces.

And perhaps, you do end up on Logan’s lap. His thighs spread wide in an armchair Wade found on the curb, out of place against the brick walls and industrial windows with its floral pattern.

Your eyes meeting Wade’s from across the living room, anticipating the tease.

But he only smiles back.

Something soft - an arm slung around Vanessa’s shoulder. The ‘white elephant in the room’, as he had cheekily alluded to it, addressed with a carefully placed piece of mistletoe.

Side-eyes and stunned silence easing into smiles, when you all saw the way they looked at each other.

And when he corners you to tell you thank you, you know the bone-crushing hug is not just for the handmade red-and-black beanie and scarf that you had gotten up early to finish for him.

The rest of your gifts don’t quite reach the same level, but you’re pleased all the same. Laura’s smile shy as she tries on the Docs you caught her eyeing, ankle twisting as her eyes dip down.

Logan’s arm tightening around your waist when you hand him the wrapped package. His eyes lingering on yours until the paper is loosened, a pleased hum when he sees the lined leather jacket you picked out for him.

“Your first winter with us in New York,” You smile, “Can’t have you catching cold.”

Something to keep in warm, when he tinkers on the bike stashed in the basement. To protect him, when he’s not in his suit. Better than that the faded fleece he’s lifted from Wade’s closet.

And even though you’d been fairly certain he’d given you your gift last night - and again this morning - there’s still a pretty card tucked into your palm. A piece of paper folded inside, next to sentiments that made heat rise to your cheeks.

A photo printed out - a cozy little cabin, the roof lined with snow. Framed with a thick ring of woods and surrounded by wilderness. The reservation dates and details marked out in the text below.

“A vacation?” You can’t remember the last time you’ve been away. Excitement surging at the thought of spending a week tucked away with your boyfriend, “For us?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” Logan husks, “Found a nice little place up north. Just you and me.”

His fingers flex against your waist, his face tipping up to yours, “Would you like that?”

“I’d love that.” You smile.

You love him.

You’re certain of that - a name for that warm weight in your chest that’s been there for weeks. Since the beginning really, coming to a full flourish with the conversation the day before.

Maybe with the turn of the new year, you’ll pluck up enough courage to tell him.

For now, you beam at him. Pressing yourself close - entwining fingers that squeeze. Hoping he can read the soft look you give him, the words murmured out, in the little bubble you’ve found yourselves in.

“Merry Christmas, Logan.”

His thumb brushes your cheek, before he tugs you down to meet him.

“Merry Christmas, Sugar.”

after part iii, i could not leave our bff wade with a sad ending!!! 💖 for a little bit early on i toyed with the idea of making this series a poly one (before come on and show me) hence a couple little references throughout (and the reason to keep the breakup in the first place) (which I still have beef with in the movie, BUT I did my best). thank you for checking out this series, it might be one of my favorite things I’ve had the pleasure to work on and seeing the love on it has been so amazing 💕