#(Considering 'The Beginning' is dropping TOMORROW)

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-six of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon laughs into his mouth and kisses him back easy and eager, and the moment Tim drops his hands off his face he’s looping his arms around his neck–which Tim is very normal about, for the record–and leaning down into him. Tim puts his hands on his hips in return and feels several extremely complicated ways about someone who’s capable of lifting literal construction equipment trusting him with their weight, most of which he’s pretty sure are going to haunt him for the rest of his life, or at least his next four to six months of, uh–personal time. 

. . . he can never, ever be anywhere near any telepath again. Ever. Just ever. 

Or at least for the next four to six months, anyway.

The park really is deserted now, and lit by a couple of streetlights and a bit of bleedover from the street, but not much else. The rest of the streetlights are definitely out, and it looks like there weren’t that many to begin with. The neighborhood isn’t even that bad, really, but it’s Gotham, so Tim’s not surprised. He’s assuming the other skaters were regulars who knew how bad the lighting gets here this late, given most of them cleared out around the same time and how it’s only gotten darker since they did. 

Well, he doesn’t mind the dark, personally, and definitely doesn’t mind the privacy. 

“Sorry,” he says as he leans back from the kiss for a moment, mostly to make sure he doesn’t get carried away with anything. “Didn’t mean to cut you off.” 

“Yeah, you’ll have to make it up to me by doing it some more,” Kon teases, squeezing his arms around his neck for a moment before giving him a peck on the cheek. Tim gives himself three seconds to be a useless mess of goo, then clears his throat and presses a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth in return. Kon grins underneath it, and Tim needs another three seconds to burn alive, then clears his throat again. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and Kon giggles again. Tim really has no idea how he feels about the giggling thing. It’s so cute he wants to throw himself in the harbor, but also he’s weirdly, like–just weirdly aware that it’s just not a thing he’s ever heard Kon do as Robin. Which, yeah, obviously there are several things going on right now that would not be going on with Robin, but still keeps throwing him off. 

Kon’s just . . . like, he’s very clearly the same annoying bastard who’s been driving Robin literally insane every single time Young Justice meets up, but also he’s doing all these things that he’d never normally do and Tim feels like he’s just constantly learning weird little unexpected new tidbits about him, most of them directly targeted to destroy his life. 

And then–one or two less “little” things that are directly targeted to destroy his life in a very different way, but that’s just not something Tim wants to be thinking about while Kon’s grinning and giggling at him and just–like this, he guesses. 

He’ll update his fifteen-year plan after patrol tomorrow, he promises himself. At least take some preliminary notes, anyway. 

“Can you teach me?” Kon asks, and Tim–blinks, trying to figure out what–

“To skate?” he asks in disbelief. 

“Yeah!” Kon says excitedly, and Tim almost reminds him he can literally fly, but can’t really bring himself to in the face of that inexplicable excitement. 

“Um, sure, yeah,” he says. “I can teach you a couple things, maybe.” 

Kon beams at him. Tim, somehow, is still completely unprepared. He thinks Kon just makes it very hard for him to be prepared, somehow.

So that's a weird experience, all things considered.

[more-than-a-princess]

She likely was tiring out her new friend with all of her questions, but Sonia simply couldn't help herself. It was a habit: questioning and evaluating and learning until she could no longer pursue a train of thought and then something else sparked her interest. According to her father, King Alexandre of Novoselic, to stop learning was to die, and she endeavored to uphold that view by trying to learn something new every single day. No matter how seemingly inconsequential: that day, it was how to communicate with a horse.

"Germany, hmm?" Sonia clarified, humming in response as she considered the answer. "You may have traveled from one of our neighboring countries but you are a long way from home indeed. It is even more imperative that Novoselic treats you as a guest held in the highest esteem. Which includes a brush!"

She smiled, stepping just to the side of the horse's stall to gather a toolbox of everything she presumed she'd need. Then, with care, she quietly opened the lock to the horse's stall, pushing the door open just enough so she and the toolbox could slip inside. "We will need to trust each other," She advised her, setting the toolbox down carefully. "You must entrust this new friend of yours to groom you without a rough hand or too much pulling at tangles, and I must trust you not to be too dissatisfied with my care. It is, after all, my first time grooming a horse in a cocktail dress. I may be a bit unwieldy at first!" She chuckled, looking down at the pastel outfit and its full skirt, ending just below the knee. A rather stark contrast with the dark, knee high rubber boots she'd exchanged her heels for.

Stooping down, she reached for the first step in the process: a rubber currycomb, with its circular bristles. "I will begin, if you have no objections," She told her, reaching out to pat her neck gently in encouragement. "I won't use the metal comb on you, just the rubber one, to get all of the loose hair and dirt out of your coat first. Just your body, too: your neck, head, and legs require far more gentle care." With a deep breath and hoping the horse wouldn't buck or kick in response, she began to move the brush in slow, circular strokes over her shoulders and down her back. As expected, the loose hair and bits of dirt and foliage that had gotten stuck began to lift.

"There we go, you are looking much more tidy already," Sonia soothed her, assuring her, carefully patting her haunches near her tail so she could pass by quickly all the while allowing the horse to detect her. "Thank you for not kicking me there. I think that would make this painful for the both of us." She soon began working on the horse's other side: down her back, over her haunches, and across her belly at the side. Once she was satisfied, she gave the horse's neck another gentle pat as she passed before her to drop the currycomb in the box, reaching for a wiry bristled brush instead.

"The next step! The first brush to start getting all of that newly-loosened hair off of you," She explained as she began to brush over where the currycomb had just been. "This process will allow your coat to shine, Miss. I hope you are relaxed by it, too."

In her role, Sonia hardly ever had the chance to groom her own horses anymore. As a child it had been important she was taught, just to understand the care the stablehands and grooms put into caring for the equine members of staff. But as an adult, she would so often meet Persephone already groomed with tack on, ready for a ride. She hardly ever got the chance to bond with her like this, like the way she did with this new arrival, her new friend. It was a pity, she thought with a sniff, that they'd have to say farewell tomorrow.

She was right, all of this was new, all of this was strange, all of this was an experience, that much was for certain, but at the same time, there were slight issues. What is out there? What are the rules? What is resting in the whole wide world, the endless forests and the countless open fields of the land? Yes, she could have taken a chance. Maybe she should have also had more faith in herself to not risk it, but then. She didn’t know the first thing, nothing. The rules, the laws, how one survives in the open fields, in nature, against humans that would want to capture her and predators that would wish to devour her.

Going with Sonia, was the best choice to make, it might not have been the wisest, but in the end, it was by far the safest of all of them, the one that would ensure that she would be taken in and she would be protected, because that and that alone was what mattered the most. Sonia was kind, and gentle and had been nothing other than helpful towards her, she would not take this new friendship for granted and besides, it was not as if she was a prisoner here, right? If she wished to leave, she could. She was not like the others. Despite the glances here and there, she didn’t wish to be anywhere near them at all, all she wished for for the time being, was to have a roof over her head, and not to be sleeping outside, where anything at all could have happened to her. So this was the best path to take, for the time being. To be here, for a while at least, she had doubts, come tomorrow. When Sonia would learn there was no trace of her, but for now, she had somewhere to stay, a good rest then, and then she would see what she needed to do.

She watched Sonia for the moment, keeping her eyes on her, as she waited to see if she would understand, that she was trying to communicate with her, as she had waited, trying to figure out, what the best route would be to try and form some sort of communication with her, stomping at the right moment and the right amount then when Sonia asked her questions, start small, for now and then try and see if she could bridge that distance between her, but for now it was a start, as her mind was still a haze, she was exhausted, alone and scared a little, but with Sonia, all of that seemed to fade away for the time being, as if everything would be a little bit better now. As she listened, to Sonia put it together, before she burst out and asked, quite a lot, as she would quickly stomp, to refuse the locations, until Germany was mentioned, which sounded familiar, that sounded right as she settled on that then, hoping Sonia picked it up.

Ouch. As she looked down, all that stomping was hurting her hoof, as she glanced down, hm. That was a problem, as she floor was hard, not soft, painful a little bit as well, as she was trying to make enough noise for Sonia to hear her, as she would have to be a little bit more careful then it seemed by doing such a thing, as she sighed and looked back up as Sonia spoke again.

That sounded terrible, in every way possible, she didn’t wish for anyone to be near her too much, getting brought in here, was one thing, her guard had been done as she had watched Sonia go inside, but that. She thought about it for the moment, and would think, Sonia has done nothing wrong, not a single thing, as she didn’t stomp, not this time, instead she nodded her head once, just to see what it was and what it was like, before they both retired for the night.

[izzyizumi]

Digimon Adventure Last Evolution: Kizuna ~ ~ Meiko Mochizuki’s (Canon) Appearance (as Younger Meiko, same design used in Tri) + Meiko & Meicoomon

“Mochizuki...” - Yamato Ishida (Taichi also watching), Voice wavering, in growing shock

Bonus:

{Young Meiko, in Tottori} {Kyousei; Film #5 Flashback} (wearing the exact same outfit) {With the same Japanese-style home} Gifs by @izzyizumi / @koushirouizumi​ {Do Not Repost or Reproduce without my Permission} {Do Not Remove Caption} (Please Ask to Use)

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[grrrrriffin]

Hmmmm

[ssahotchnerr]

begging for nanny!reader x hotch

aka aaron discovers reader is going on a date, our man gets a bit mean and jealous, things get a bit steamy and it ends with him begging reader not to go🙈🙈

right now

🤭 cw; fem nanny!reader, jealous and some possessive!aaron 😵‍💫, slight bratty reader?, heavy suggestion - minors dni wc; 1.2k

"Homework is done. Soccer bag is packed for tomorrow, but uniform is finishing up in the dryer now." You relayed everything on your internal to-do list, mentally checking off each box. "Oh, he has a permission slip for a class trip in his folder that needs signing. I reminded Jack to remind you, but just so you're aware, too. He's eating at his friend's, so you don't have to worry about dinner."

Aaron nodded along to your instructions. You looked throughout the kitchen, as if something would pounce out and remind you of something you'd potentially forgotten.

When nothing availed, "Okay, that should cover it."

"You're amazing, per usual." Aaron complimented, exhaling an at-eased breath. He glanced around the clean apartment, before discreetly admiring you. "I can't tell you how nice it is knowing things are taken care of here. I'm able to come home and breathe. Jack adores you. Seriously, what would we do without you?"

You blushed at his praise, warmth sweeping through you. "Happy to help."

"How was he today?" He asked, swiftly grabbing the mail from the table, beginning to poke through it.

"Perfect. Per usual." You shared, tossing Aaron a grin. Jack made your job tremendously easy - he was cooperative, kind mannered, overall the sweetest kid. "Although, I did have to remind him to stop leaving his shoes in the middle of the entryway." You added jokingly, as if it could be an inconvenience.

Aaron chuckled. His eyes squinted humorously as he quipped in return, "I'll have a chat with him."

Your smile lingered, fading away gradually as you began packing yourself up. "And thanks for relieving me early. I know how busy you are, so I really do appreciate it."

Nervousness pumped through your veins at the thought of your evening plans. You've been in the Hotchners' lives for a few months now, so casually discussing your plans should've come naturally, easily, but it didn't. Not with all things considered.

"No problem, happy to accommodate. You deserve to relax too." His eyebrows furrowed, tossing aside unimportant, junk mail. "If you don't mind me asking, what're you up to tonight?"

"I, um," Your gaze dropped, grabbing ahold of your bag. Your cheeks flushed, suddenly feeling very guilty. You took your time answering, "I have a date, actually."

He stopped stifling through the mail at once, his gaze lifting. "A date?"

"Yeah." You continued to pack up, throwing your bag over your shoulder and avoiding his eyes altogether. "A date."

"With who?" Aaron's words were harsher than he anticipated, causing you to freeze this time. He didn't like the concept of you seeing someone, not a bit.

Your eyes finally met his - his hardened stare. The expression awakened something in you, and you reciprocated back, your words equally as blunt. "Nobody you know."

You've never witnessed Aaron like this, and likewise, it brought something out in you as well; a newfound attitude. You wanted to disobey, solely to see how he reacted. He clearly wasn't happy, and you were entranced to find out more; curious as to what he would do, and hoping it was what you had in mind.

Aaron stood there rigidly, silently seething. The atmosphere had changed completely. No longer was it a light, witty one - but filled with the utmost tension.

"Well, thanks again-" Your hand found the doorknob, pulling the door open a few inches. You didn't make it far; Aaron's hand found the door above your head, pushing it shut.

"What's he like?"

You always caught whiffs of Aaron's cologne all throughout the apartment, whether he was in the residence or not. It was spicy, yet subtly sweet; suitable for him.

But now with his close proximity, mumbling into your ear, it was dizzying. You couldn't think straight even if you tried. You turned, coming face to face with his chest. His button-up was stretched tight against his torso, adding to the illusion of the strong muscle he possessed underneath. His arm had also stayed put, to the right of your temple.

You were caged in, and not complaining.

It had a notable effect it had on you. You wanted to be all consumed by him; you needed him to take charge, and you'd willingly allow it.

Your back met the door, as well as your head as you gazed up at him. You were lost with words, your heart thumping wildly in your chest, restricting any normal breathing.

"What's he like?" He repeated, urging you to answer. While his voice remained taut, it was joined by a condensing tone. As if he knew better. Knew you better, and you weren't the one to object.

Needless to say, he was enjoying this: making you noticeably squirm, and the fact it didn't take much to do so.

Your breath hitched, going fuzzy at the edges. "I don't know. A friend set us up."

"I think you should cancel it."

"Excuse me?'

"By all means, you can go. Only," His eyes flicked up and down your body, slotting a thigh between your legs. "What you're exhibiting tells me you'd rather not."

You resisted the urge to grind down on his leg, attempting to remain as neutral as possible. "Are you profiling me?"

"Maybe." Aaron smirked softly. His eyes were dark, a deep contrast to the glow you had witnessed earlier. "Maybe I have been for a while."

"Okay." You challenged him, forcing yourself to speak up. With an arch of your eyebrow, "What have you noticed?"

A delightful little laugh escaped him. As stern as he was portraying, there was still a gentleness to him. "You want me to touch you right now."

"What?" You squeaked out. He wasn't wrong.

"Don't interrupt. Let me finish." He leaned in closer, his hands itching to make contact with your waist - to firmly hold you - to dig his fingertips just enough into your hips to leave marks. "I see the way you look at me. I always have. Similar to now, only your pupils are dilated. Your breath has picked up so dramatically, it's almost amusing."

You remained silent, holding your gaze, while he continued.

"This is the closest we've ever been to each other, and by no means are you trying to move away. You have the space to." He relaxed his stance, to emphasize his point. "You're in no hurry."

You bit your lip, resisting the urge to squirm. You were getting worked up, arousal pooling in you - it didn't help with your need for friction.

"I haven't done anything yet, and just look at you."

A soft whimper left you as you forced your posture to straighten, slowly perching up on your tiptoes. Your lip ached to meet his. The gap between the two of you was maddening; you needed him on you, you on him, you didn't care. As long as the contact was there.

"Do you want me to? I need a yes, sweetheart." He inched closer, his lips dangerously close, centimeters apart.

And with that, you succumbed to him completely, scrambling to throw your arms over his neck and pulling his body to yours.

"Yes."

[sleepyjuice]

dying in the heat rn, so how do you think jj would react if you moved to sleep somewhere else in the middle of the night because you were too hot with his body heat?

Oh JJ would not stand for that! After hours of tossing and turning throughout the night, you finally gave up on trying to sleep with JJ’s body heat pressed against you.

You didn’t know how he was sleeping so soundly considering he was quite literally a human furnace, but his soft snores got quieter and quieter as you pulled yourself out of the bed and padded out to the pullout couch in the living room of the chateau.

You got yourself comfortable, sighing as you felt yourself begin to cool off, eyes becoming heavy as sleep finally took over.

It didn’t last long, however, because just as you were about to enter a deep sleep, you felt yourself being lifted into the air, immediately making you gasp loudly, your eyes shooting open only to realize JJ was fucking carrying you back to bed.

“JJ! What the fuck?” You smacked his arm lightly, your heart rate slowing down once you realized it was just him. In your sleepy daze, you thought you were being kidnapped or something.

“Shh, ‘s alright, just me,” he laid you down in the bed before plopping down beside you. “What were you doin’ out there?” He asked you, his voice thick with sleep. He had clearly left the bedroom to find you only seconds after he had woken up.

You sighed, feeling annoyed with how you were heating up once again but also a bit guilty.

“It’s so fucking hot in here and — as much as I love sleeping with you, you are a human furnace. I can’t sleep when it’s so hot.” You explained, gentle with your tone. It wasn’t his fault he was so warm. When it was colder out, that was something you really loved about him, just not during this heatwave from hell.

He hummed at your words, not saying anything for a moment as if he were taking a second to process what you had said. Like he was mentally trying to come up with a solution.

“Be right back.” Was all he said in response, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and exiting the bedroom. Lord knew what he was doing, but he didn’t seem offended, so that was good.

You fanned yourself with your hand as you lay there waiting for his return, turning your head towards the door once you heard him approaching.

“Alright, we can go get an extra box fan or somethin’ tomorrow, but maybe this’ll help for tonight.” He shut the bedroom door behind him before stepping over to your side of the bed, an ice pack and a washcloth in his hands.

“What is this—“

“Sit up for me, baby.”

You did as he said, sitting up just a little as he wrapped the cool washcloth around the ice pack and placed it on your pillow, right where the back of your neck would go. He gently lowered you back down and you could have moaned at the cool feeling that tickled your neck and slowly started to cool you off completely.

“Oh that… that feels nice.” You giggled softly, earning a satisfied grin from your boyfriend as he crawled back into bed beside you, lovingly kissing your slightly sweaty forehead.

“Mm, salty.” He licked his lips once he pulled away, which got him a middle finger in response, but you quickly dropped it, reaching out to him to pull him closer to you.

“Thank you for this, ‘m sorry I just left. I didn’t think I would wake you up.” You told him, his head resting against the side of your boobs, one of his favorite places to be.

“Can’t sleep without you, baby. Hopefully this helps.” He said simply, brushing off your apology. To him, it wasn’t necessary.

Your eyes grew heavy, the soft murmur of JJ’s voice mixed with the cool sensation below your neck was relaxing you finally. Plus, JJ was nuzzled against you, still warm but the coolness from the ice pack mellowed it out quite a bit.

Maybe you would wake up sweaty and overheated again, but you would manage. This was your favorite place to be, whether or not you were on the verge of a heat stroke.

[pucksandpower]

For the Best

Logan Sargeant x Wolff!Reader

Summary: Logan thinks that losing his Williams seat marks the beginning of the end … little does he know that it’s really just the start of the rest of his life

Logan steps into the cool, air-conditioned room, his race suit clinging to his skin after a grueling drive. The contrast between the bustling paddock and the quiet meeting room is jarring, and he can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.

His team principal sits at the head of the table, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a somber expression. Beside him, to Logan’s surprise, is the imposing figure of Mercedes’ team principal.

“Logan, thanks for coming,” James begins, his voice careful and measured. “Please, have a seat.”

Logan slides into a chair, his heart rate picking up. “What’s this about?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

James and Toto exchange a glance before James clears his throat. “Logan, you’ve been a valuable part of our team, and we’ve appreciated your dedication and hard work.”

The use of past tense doesn’t escape Logan’s notice. His stomach drops.

“But?” Logan prompts, bracing himself.

James sighs. “But we’ve decided to go in a different direction for next season. We’ll be announcing tomorrow that we’re signing Carlos Sainz.”

The words hit Logan like a physical blow. He knew his seat wasn’t secure, but hearing it confirmed ... it’s devastating.

“I-I see,” Logan manages, his voice barely above a whisper.

Toto leans forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Logan. “This is where I come in, Logan. We’ve been watching your progress closely, and while Williams may not have a race seat for you next year, we see potential in you.”

Logan’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“Mercedes and Williams would like to offer you a position as a reserve driver for next season,” Toto explains. “It would give you the opportunity to stay involved in F1, continue your development, and potentially step in if needed.”

Logan’s mind races. It’s not a race seat, but it’s something. A lifeline in a sport that can be ruthlessly unforgiving.

“I ... I don’t know what to say,” Logan admits, his voice shaky.

James leans in, his expression softening. “Logan, I know this isn’t the news you wanted to hear. But this could be a great opportunity for you. You’d be working with one of the top teams in the sport.”

Logan nods slowly, trying to process everything. “Can I ask ... why? Why make this decision now?”

James shifts uncomfortably. “It’s a combination of factors. Carlos became available, and with his experience ...”

“You think he can bring more to the team,” Logan finishes, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.

“Logan,” Toto interjects, his tone firm but not unkind. “This sport is brutal, we all know that. But it’s also about timing and opportunities. This reserve role could set you up for future success.”

Logan takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “And if I say no? If I want to pursue other options?”

James and Toto exchange another glance. “That’s your prerogative,” James says carefully. “But I would strongly advise you to consider this offer. It’s not often a driver gets this kind of opportunity with a team like Mercedes.”

Logan nods, his mind whirling. “How long do I have to decide?”

“We’d need an answer by the end of the week,” Toto replies. “We understand this is a big decision, but we also need to move forward with our plans.”

Logan stands up, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small room. “I ... I need some time to think about this. Is that okay?”

James nods, standing as well. “Of course, Logan. Take the time you need. But please, keep this conversation confidential until the announcement on Monday.”

Logan nods numbly, turning towards the door. As he reaches for the handle, Toto’s voice stops him.

“Logan,” the Mercedes boss says, his tone softer than before. “I know this feels like a setback. But sometimes, a step back can lead to two steps forward. Don’t lose faith in yourself.”

Logan meets Toto’s gaze, seeing a mix of sympathy and determination in the older man’s eyes. He manages a weak smile. “Thank you, Mr. Wolff. I’ll ... I’ll be in touch.”

As Logan steps out of the room, the hectic sounds of the paddock wash over him. And not for the first time in his F1 career, he feels completely lost in the familiar chaos.

***

Logan sits alone at a table in the Mercedes cafeteria, pushing his food around his plate. It’s his first day as a reserve driver, and the reality of his situation is sinking in. The familiar faces he’d grown accustomed to at Williams are replaced by a sea of strangers, all wearing the unmistakable Mercedes black and silver.

He takes a halfhearted bite of his chicken, lost in thought. The clink of a tray beside him startles him out of his reverie.

“Mind if I join you?” A cheerful voice asks.

Logan looks up to see a young woman with a bright smile sliding into the seat across from him. Her eyes sparkle with warmth and curiosity.

“Uh, sure,” Logan manages, caught off guard by the unexpected company.

You beam at him, extending a hand. “I’m Y/N. You must be Logan, right? The new reserve driver?”

Logan nods, shaking your hand. “That’s me. Nice to meet you.”

“So, how’s your first day going?” You ask, digging into your own lunch with enthusiasm.

Logan shrugs, trying to muster up some positivity. “It’s ... different. Still trying to find my bearings, I guess.”

You nod sympathetically. “I can imagine. It must be a big change from Williams. But hey, everyone here is pretty friendly once you get to know them. Give it time.”

Logan finds himself relaxing a bit in the face of your easy-going demeanor. “Thanks. I appreciate that. So, uh, what do you do here?”

You laugh, a melodious sound that draws a few glances from nearby tables. “Oh, a bit of everything, really. I like to keep busy. But tell me more about you! How are you finding Brackley compared to Grove?”

Logan blinks, surprised by your genuine interest. “It’s ... bigger, for sure. More advanced facilities. It’s a bit overwhelming, to be honest.”

You lean in, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret? It can be overwhelming for all of us sometimes. But that’s what makes it exciting, right?”

A small smile tugs at Logan’s lips. “I guess you’re right. It’s just ... I keep thinking about what could have been, you know? If I’d kept my race seat ...”

Your expression softens. “I get it. It’s tough to feel like you’re taking a step back. But sometimes, that step back gives you the perspective you need to leap forward.”

Logan raises an eyebrow. “You sound like To- I mean, Mr. Wolff.”

You grin mischievously. “Well, great minds think alike, I suppose. But seriously, Logan, try to see this as an opportunity. You’re working with one of the best teams in F1. There’s so much you can learn here.”

Logan nods slowly, your enthusiasm starting to rub off on him. “You’re right. I should be grateful for this chance. It’s just hard not to feel a bit ... lost, I guess.”

“That’s totally normal,” you assure him. “But you know what? I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here. You’ve got that spark, Logan. I can see it.”

Logan feels a warmth spreading through his chest at your words. “Thanks, Y/N. That ... that means a lot.”

You wave off his gratitude with a smile. “Hey, newbies have to stick together, right?”

Logan tilts his head, confused. “Newbies? How long have you been here?”

You laugh again, and Logan finds himself thinking it’s a sound he could get used to. “Oh, I’ve been around forever. But I still feel new sometimes. This place is always evolving, always pushing forward. It keeps you on your toes.”

Logan nods, understanding dawning. “I can see that. It’s a bit intimidating, actually. Everyone here seems so ... focused. Driven.”

“That’s the Mercedes way,” you agree. “But don’t let it psych you out. We’re all human here. Well, except for the cars, of course.”

Logan chuckles, surprising himself. It’s the first time he’s laughed since ... well, since that meeting with James and Toto.

“So,” you continue, leaning forward with interest, “tell me about your journey. How did you end up in F1?”

Logan hesitates for a moment, then finds himself opening up. He tells you about his early days in karting, the move to Europe, the struggles and triumphs in the junior categories. You listen intently, asking thoughtful questions and offering encouragement.

“... and then Williams gave me my shot,” Logan concludes. “It was a dream come true, you know? But now ...”

You reach across the table, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Hey, your F1 journey isn’t over. It’s just taking a different path. And who knows? This could lead to even better things.”

Logan feels a flutter in his chest at your touch, quickly pushing the feeling aside. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” you say with conviction. “You’ve got talent. Anyone can see that. And now you’ve got the backing of Mercedes. That’s a powerful combination.”

Logan finds himself smiling, your optimism infectious. “Thanks, Y/N. I ... I really needed to hear that today.”

You wink at him. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Friends?” Logan echoes, surprised but pleased.

“Of course!” you exclaim. “Unless you’d rather keep eating lunch alone?”

Logan shakes his head quickly. “No, no. Friends sounds good. Great, actually.”

You beam at him. “Excellent. Now, let me give you the inside scoop on the best coffee spots around here. Trust me, you’re going to need it.”

As you launch into a detailed description of the various cafes and their specialties, Logan finds himself relaxing fully for the first time since arriving at Mercedes. Your easy banter and genuine interest make him feel welcome, like he might actually belong here after all.

“... and whatever you do, avoid the vending machine on the third floor,” you’re saying. “It ate my money twice last week, and-”

“Y/N,” a familiar voice interrupts.

Logan looks up to see Toto Wolff standing beside their table, his imposing figure casting a shadow. Logan immediately straightens, suddenly very aware of his posture.

“Oh, hi Vati!” You say brightly.

Logan’s brain short-circuits. Vati? His eyes dart between you and Toto, noticing for the first time the similarities in your features.

Toto smiles warmly at you, then drops a kiss on top of your head. “I see you’re making our new reserve driver feel welcome.”

You grin up at your father. “Of course! Someone has to show him the ropes around here.”

Toto nods approvingly, then turns to Logan. “I hope my daughter isn’t talking your ear off. She can be quite enthusiastic.”

Logan, still reeling from the revelation, manages to stammer out, “N-no, sir. She’s been very helpful.”

“Good,” Toto says. “Y/N, don’t forget about the meeting at three. Logan, keep up the good work. I look forward to seeing what you can do in the simulator next week.”

With that, Toto strides away, leaving Logan staring at you in shock.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “You okay there, Logan? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Logan tries to speak, fails, then tries again. “You ... you’re Toto Wolff’s daughter?”

You nod, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Yep. Did I forget to mention that?”

Logan feels his face heating up. “I-I had no idea. I thought you were in PR or something.”

You burst out laughing. “PR? Oh, that’s a good one. No, I’m more of a behind-the-scenes type. Strategy, data analysis, that sort of thing.”

Logan’s mind is reeling. He’s been sitting here, pouring his heart out to his boss’s daughter. The boss’s daughter who is smart, funny, and undeniably attractive. The boss’s daughter who he might have been developing a tiny crush on.

“I’m sorry,” Logan says, mortified. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have-”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. “Logan, relax. I’m still the same person I was five minutes ago. The only thing that’s changed is that now you know I have an overprotective dad who happens to run the team.”

Logan swallows hard. “Right. No pressure or anything.”

You lean in, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Hey, look on the bright side. Now you’ve got an inside track to the big boss. Just don’t ask me to put in a good word for you. I have a strict no nepotism policy.”

Despite his embarrassment, Logan finds himself chuckling. “Noted. I’ll just have to impress him on my own merits, then.”

“That’s the spirit,” you say, raising your water bottle in a mock toast. “To new beginnings and unexpected friendships.”

Logan clinks his own bottle against yours, a smile spreading across his face despite his lingering shock. “To new beginnings,” he echoes.

As you launch back into conversation, Logan can’t help but think that his time at Mercedes might be more interesting than he’d anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, this step back might lead to something amazing after all.

***

Logan leans against the table, his eyes fixed on the monitors displaying George Russell’s lap times. The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit, but inside the Mercedes garage, the atmosphere is tense with concentration as pre-season testing commences.

“Looking good, George,” Marcus Dudley, his race engineer, says into the radio. “Let’s push for one more flying lap before we bring you in.”

Logan nods to himself, impressed by George’s consistency. He’s about to turn to grab a water bottle when a collective gasp from the crew draws his attention back to the screens.

George’s car is spinning, kicking up dust and gravel as it careens towards the barrier. The sickening crunch of carbon fiber meeting concrete echoes through the speakers.

“George, are you okay?” Marcus calls urgently. “George, do you copy?”

Silence.

Logan’s heart races as he watches the still car, willing George to respond. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you rushing past, your face pale with worry.

“Carmen,” you call out, spotting George’s girlfriend near the back of the garage. You reach her just as her knees seem to give out, catching her before she falls.

Logan wants to help, but he knows his place. He turns back to the screens, straining to hear any news.

Marcus tries again, his voice tight with concern. “George, if you can hear me, give us any sign. Tap the radio, move your hand, anything.”

Still nothing.

The garage erupts into controlled chaos. Toto strides in, his face a mask of worry. “What happened?” He demands.

“Lost the rear in turn 11,” one of the engineers reports. “Looks like a suspension failure, but we won’t know for sure until we get the car back.”

Toto nods grimly. “And George?”

Marcus shakes his head. “No response on the radio.”

Logan watches as the medical car speeds towards the crash site. He catches snippets of radio chatter from the marshals.

“Driver non-responsive ... possible head trauma ... prepare for extraction ...”

The words send a chill down Logan’s spine. This is the dark side of the sport they all love, the ever-present danger that lurks behind every high-speed corner.

You appear at Logan’s side, your face etched with worry. “Any news?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan shakes his head. “Nothing yet. They’re working on getting him out now.”

You nod, biting your lower lip. “Carmen ... she’s not doing well. I’ve got Aleix with her now.”

Logan glances over to where Carmen sits, hunched over, the arm of George’s performance coach around her shoulders. The sight makes his chest tighten.

“This is my fault,” you murmur.

Logan turns to you, surprised. “What? How could this possibly be your fault?”

You run a hand through your hair, frustration evident in every movement. “I was the one who pushed for the new suspension design. If I had just stuck with the old one ...”

“Hey,” Logan says firmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. George knows the risks. This isn’t on you.”

You give him a weak smile, gratitude flashing in your eyes. “Thanks, Logan. I just ... I can’t help but feel responsible.”

Before Logan can respond, a flurry of activity on the screens catches their attention. The medical team has successfully extracted George from the car.

“He’s out,” Marcus announces, his relief palpable. “Still unconscious, but he’s breathing on his own.”

A collective sigh of relief ripples through the garage. Carmen lets out a sob, burying her face in Aleix’s shoulder.

Toto approaches you and Logan, his face grim but composed. “They’re airlifting him to the hospital for full scans. Y/N, I need you to go with Carmen. Logan, I want you suited up and ready. If George can’t drive ...”

The implication hangs in the air. Logan nods, his throat suddenly dry. “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.”

As Toto moves away to handle the press, you turn to Logan. “Are you okay?” You ask, concern evident in your voice.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I think so. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted my chance to come.”

You squeeze his arm gently. “I know. But George would want you to do your best. That’s all any of us can do right now.”

Logan nods, trying to steel himself for what might come next. “You’re right. Go take care of Carmen. I’ll ... I’ll be here if you need me.”

You give him a grateful smile before hurrying off to Carmen’s side. Logan watches as you gently lead her out of the garage, whispering words of comfort.

The next few minutes pass in a blur. Logan finds himself going through the motions of preparation, all while keeping an ear out for any news about George. The garage is unnaturally quiet, the usual banter and joking replaced by tense whispers and worried glances.

Finally, Marcus approaches Logan, his face drawn with fatigue. “They’re loading George into the chopper now. Toto wants you on standby, but we won’t make any decisions until we hear from the medical team.”

Logan nods, his stomach churning with a mix of concern for George and nervous anticipation. “Understood. How ... how does he look?”

Marcus sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Still unconscious, but stable. They’re optimistic, but they won’t know more until they run some tests at the hospital.”

As if on cue, the distant thrum of helicopter blades fills the air. Logan steps out of the garage, shielding his eyes against the sun as he watches the medical helicopter rise into the sky, carrying George away.

You appear beside him, your eyes red-rimmed but dry. “Carmen’s gone with him,” you say softly. “Vati arranged for a car to take her to the hospital.”

Logan nods, not taking his eyes off the retreating helicopter. “This is the part of the job we try not to think about, isn’t it?”

You lean against him slightly, seeking comfort. “Yeah. It’s easy to forget sometimes, when everything’s going well. But days like today ... they remind us of the reality.”

Logan wraps an arm around your shoulders, offering what support he can. “George is tough. He’ll pull through this.”

You nod against his shoulder. “I hope so. God, I hope so.”

As the helicopter disappears from view, Logan feels the weight of the moment settle over him. The exhilaration of potentially getting his chance to drive is tempered by the circumstances that might make it possible.

“Come on,” he says gently, guiding you back towards the garage. “Let’s get back inside. There’s work to be done, and George would kick our butts if he knew we were standing around moping.”

You manage a weak chuckle. “You’re right. He’d probably tell us to get back to optimizing the aero package or something.”

As they walk back into the garage, Logan can’t help but feel the shift in the atmosphere. The team moves with renewed purpose, channeling their worry into productivity.

Toto approaches them, his face set in determined lines. “Logan, I need you in the simulator within the hour. If George can’t drive, we need you ready to step in at a moment’s notice.”

Logan straightens, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. “Yes, sir. I won’t let the team down.”

Toto nods approvingly. “I know you won’t. Y/N, I need you to liaise with the medical team. Keep me updated on George’s condition.”

You nod, already pulling out your phone. “On it, Vati.”

As Toto moves away, Logan turns to you. “Hey,” he says softly, “we’ve got this, okay? Whatever happens, we’ll handle it.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Logan. I ... I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest at your words. “Me too,” he says. “Now, let’s show everyone what Mercedes is made of.”

***

Logan’s heart pounds as he approaches Toto’s office. The events of the past twenty-four hours have left him in a state of emotional whiplash, torn between concern for George and the possibility of his own opportunity.

He knocks on the door, hearing Toto’s muffled “Come in.” Taking a deep breath, Logan enters.

Toto looks up from his desk, his face etched with fatigue. “Logan, thank you for coming. Please, sit down.”

Logan sinks into the chair across from Toto, his mouth suddenly dry. “How ... how’s George?” He manages to ask.

Toto sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “Not good, I’m afraid. The doctors have completed their initial assessments. George has suffered multiple injuries — a concussion, fractured ribs, and a broken collarbone. The most concerning is a compound fracture in his left leg.”

Logan winces, imagining the pain George must be in. “That sounds serious.”

“It is,” Toto confirms. “The medical team estimates his recovery will take around nine months. Which brings me to why I’ve called you here.”

Logan’s pulse quickens, a mix of anticipation and guilt churning in his stomach.

Toto leans forward, his gaze intense. “We need you to step up, Logan. The team needs you to drive full-time for the entire season.”

Despite having suspected this might be coming, hearing the words out loud leaves Logan momentarily speechless.

“I ... of course, sir,” he finally manages. “I’ll do whatever the team needs.”

Toto nods, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. “I know this isn’t how you wanted your chance to come. But I believe you’re ready for this. George believes it too.”

Logan’s head snaps up. “You’ve spoken to George?”

“Briefly,” Toto confirms. “He’s still groggy from the pain medication, but he was clear on one thing — he wants you in that car.”

A lump forms in Logan’s throat. “I ... I don’t know what to say.”

Toto stands, coming around the desk to place a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “You don’t need to say anything. Just drive, Logan. Show us what you’re capable of.”

Logan nods, standing as well. “I won’t let you down, sir. Or George.”

As he turns to leave, Toto’s voice stops him. “Logan? Remember, this is your chance. Don’t waste it feeling guilty. George wouldn’t want that.”

Logan manages a weak smile. “I’ll try to remember that. Thank you, Toto.”

Stepping out of Toto’s office, Logan feels as though he’s in a daze. This is what he’s been working towards his entire career — a full-time drive with a top team. So why does it feel so complicated?

Instead of heading to the cafeteria or his driver’s room, Logan finds himself walking towards the simulator. He nods at the technician on duty, who looks surprised to see him.

“Logan? We weren’t expecting you today ...”

“I know,” Logan says, already reaching for his racing gloves. “But I need to be in there. Can you set up a long run in Melbourne?”

The technician hesitates for a moment before nodding. “Of course. Just ... don’t overdo it, okay?”

Logan manages a tight smile. “I’ll be fine. Thanks.”

As he settles into the simulator, Logan feels a sense of calm wash over him. Here, in this imitation of a race car, things make sense. There’s no guilt, no complicated emotions — just him, the track, and the pursuit of speed.

Hours pass in a blur of virtual laps and telemetry data. Logan pushes himself harder with each run, shaving off tenths of a second here and there. He’s so focused that he doesn’t hear the door open behind him.

“You know, I’m pretty sure there are labor laws against working this hard,” your voice cuts through his concentration.

Logan startles, nearly losing control of the virtual car. He quickly ends the simulation and turns to face you, sheepishly running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

“Y/N, I didn’t hear you come in.”

You raise an eyebrow, holding up a small box. “Clearly. I’ve been standing here for five minutes, watching you try to bend the laws of physics.”

Logan manages a weak chuckle. “Just trying to get up to speed. What’s in the box?”

You grin, opening it to reveal a single cupcake with rainbow sprinkles. “A little celebration. Vati told me about your promotion.”

The sight of the cupcake makes Logan’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “I ... I don’t really feel like celebrating.”

Your smile fades, replaced by a look of understanding. “I get it. But Logan, running yourself ragged in here won’t help anyone. Least of all George.”

Logan sighs, slumping in the simulator seat. “I know. It’s just ... this isn’t how I wanted it to happen. George is hurt and I’m benefiting from it. It feels wrong.”

You set the cupcake down and perch on the edge of the simulator, your eyes soft with sympathy. “Logan, listen to me. What happened to George is terrible, but it’s not your fault. And taking this opportunity doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it, though?” Logan asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “I should be devastated that my teammate is hurt, not ... not excited about getting my chance.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm. “Who says you can’t be both? You can be worried about George and excited about your opportunity. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

Logan looks up at you, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. “I just ... I don’t want people to think I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

You shake your head firmly. “Anyone who knows you would never think that. And you know what? George wouldn’t want you feeling this way. He’d want you to grab this chance with both hands and show everyone what you can do.”

Logan manages a small smile. “You sound pretty sure about that.”

“That’s because I am,” you say, squeezing his arm gently. “I talked to George earlier. You know what he said? He said, and I quote, ‘Tell that American idiot to stop moping and start driving. I didn’t crash just for him to waste this chance.’”

A surprised laugh escapes Logan. “He really said that?”

You grin. “Well, maybe I paraphrased a bit. The pain meds make him a little ... colorful. But the sentiment is there.”

Logan shakes his head, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. “George Russell, giving pep talks from his hospital bed. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know him,” you say simply. “And you know he’s right. Logan, this is your moment. Don’t let guilt or fear hold you back.”

Logan takes a deep breath, nodding slowly. “You’re right. Both of you. I just ... I needed to hear it, I guess.”

You smile, reaching for the cupcake. “That’s what friends are for. Now, are you going to help me eat this or do I have to force-feed you?”

Logan chuckles, accepting the cupcake. “I wouldn’t dream of making you eat alone.”

As the two of you share the small treat, Logan feels something shift inside him. The guilt doesn’t disappear entirely, but it’s tempered now by determination. George is counting on him, the team is counting on him, and he’s not going to let them down.

“So,” you say, licking frosting off your finger, “what’s next on the agenda, hotshot? More simulator laps?”

Logan shakes his head, a newfound energy coursing through him. “No, I think I’ve done enough of that for today. I was thinking maybe we could go over some of the race strategies? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Your eyes light up. “Are you kidding? Strategy talk is my favorite kind of talk. But first, you’re going to take a shower and eat a proper meal. Can’t have our driver passing out from exhaustion, can we?”

Logan grins, feeling truly relaxed for the first time since George’s accident. “Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”

As you leave the simulator together, Logan feels a surge of gratitude. For George’s support, for the team’s faith in him, and for your friendship. Whatever challenges lie ahead, he knows he won’t face them alone.

“Hey, Y/N?” He says as you walk down the corridor.

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

You bump your shoulder against his, a warm smile on your face. “Anytime, Sargeant. Now, let’s go plot your path to Formula 1 glory. I hear the catering team made lasagna today.”

Logan laughs, matching your stride. The road ahead won’t be easy, but with friends like you by his side, he’s ready to face whatever comes his way.

***

The Australian sun beats down on the Albert Park circuit as Logan sits in his Mercedes, heart pounding in his chest. The familiar pre-race butterflies are amplified tenfold — this isn’t just any race, it’s his debut for Mercedes.

“Okay Logan, how are we feeling?” Marcus Dudley’s voice crackles through the radio.

Logan takes a deep breath. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s do this.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Remember, clean start, manage those tires, and we’ll see where we end up. You’ve got this, kid.”

As the formation lap begins, Logan can’t help but think of George, watching from his hospital bed. This one’s for you, he thinks.

“And we’re off for the formation lap here in Melbourne. All eyes are on Logan Sargeant today, the young American making his Mercedes debut in rather unexpected circumstances.”

“That’s right, Crofty. It’s a big ask, stepping into George Russell’s shoes after that nasty crash in testing. But Toto Wolff clearly sees something in Sargeant, and this is his chance to prove the Mercedes boss right.”

The cars line up on the grid. Logan’s eyes are fixed on the lights. Red ... red ... red ...

“Lights out and away we go!”

Logan reacts instantly, getting a clean start off the line. He holds his position into the first corner, fending off a challenge from behind.

“And it’s a good start for Sargeant, maintaining his fifth place into Turn 1. His rookie teammate Kimi Antonelli has also held position in seventh.”

The first few laps are a blur of intense focus. Logan settles into a rhythm, hitting his marks and managing the gap to the cars ahead and behind.

“Great job, Logan,” Marcus says. “You’re keeping pace with the leaders. Let’s see if we can put some pressure on Norris ahead.”

Logan grits his teeth, pushing harder. He closes the gap to Lando’s McLaren, looking for any opportunity to make a move.

“Sargeant is really impressing here in his Mercedes debut. He’s matching the pace of the frontrunners and is now right on the gearbox of Lando Norris.”

On lap 15, Logan sees his chance. Norris locks up slightly into Turn 3, and Logan pounces, sweeping around the outside to take fourth place.

“Yes!” Logan exclaims, unable to contain his excitement.

“Brilliant move, Logan!” Marcus cheers. “P4 now, let’s keep this up!”

“What a pass from Sargeant! He’s showing no signs of first-race nerves here, making a bold move on the more experienced McLaren driver. The Mercedes pit wall will no doubt be delighted with this performance so far.”

The race continues, with Logan holding his position firmly. He’s in a rhythm now, hitting every apex, managing his tires expertly.

Around the halfway point, things get more challenging. “Logan, we’ve got Verstappen closing in behind. He’s on fresher tires, so don’t take any unnecessary risks,” Marcus warns.

Logan nods to himself, adjusting his focus. He defends hard but fair, making his car as wide as possible on the straights.

“Verstappen is all over the back of Sargeant now. This is a real test for the young American — can he hold off the reigning world champion?”

For several laps, Logan and Max engage in a thrilling battle. Logan uses every trick in his arsenal, positioning his car perfectly to deny Max any opportunity.

“This is exceptional defensive driving from Sargeant. He’s not putting a wheel wrong under immense pressure from Verstappen.”

Finally, on lap 42, Max makes his move, slipping past Logan into Turn 1.

“Verstappen’s through,” Logan reports, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“No worries, Logan,” Marcus reassures him. “You did brilliantly to hold him off for so long. We’re still on for a great result here. Keep pushing!”

The final laps of the race are a test of endurance. Logan’s arms ache, his neck strains against the g-forces, but he pushes through the fatigue.

“As we enter the final lap here in Melbourne, Logan Sargeant is holding steady in fifth place. What a debut this has been for the American in the Mercedes!”

Logan crosses the finish line, a mix of exhaustion and elation washing over him. He’s done it — he’s finished his first race for Mercedes.

“And that’s the chequered flag, Logan!” Marcus’ voice comes through, filled with excitement. “P4! Fantastic job, mate!”

Logan blinks in confusion. “P4? But Verstappen passed me ...”

“Leclerc had a late puncture,” Marcus explains. “You moved back up to fourth. I’m completely serious, Logan. You’ve just finished P4 in your first race for us. You should be incredibly proud.”

The reality of his achievement starts to sink in. “I ... wow. Thank you, Marcus. Thank you to everyone on the team. This is ... it’s incredible.”

As Logan does his cool-down lap, waving to the cheering crowds, he feels a surge of emotion. This is what he’s worked for his entire life, and he’s proved he belongs here.

“What a drive from Logan Sargeant! Fourth place in his Mercedes debut. Toto Wolff must be feeling very good about his decision right now.”

“Absolutely, Martin. Sargeant has shown real maturity and pace today. This could be the start of something special for the young American.”

Logan pulls into parc fermé, parking behind the top three cars. As he climbs out, he’s immediately engulfed in a group hug by the Mercedes team.

Toto appears, a broad smile on his face. “Excellent job, Logan. You’ve made us all very proud today.”

“Thank you, sir,” Logan says, still slightly dazed. “I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support.”

As Logan makes his way through the paddock, he’s stopped by various team members and even rival drivers offering congratulations. It’s surreal, but Logan soaks in every moment.

Suddenly, he spots a familiar face pushing through the crowd. You’re beaming, your eyes shining with pride and unshed tears.

“Logan!” You exclaim, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “That was amazing! I knew you could do it!”

Logan hugs you back, laughing. “I can hardly believe it myself. P4 ... it’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders. “Well, believe it. You earned this, Logan. Every single bit of it.”

As you chat excitedly about the race, Logan’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out to see a message from George.

Not bad for a newbie. Next time aim for the podium 😉 Seriously though, great job. Proud of you.

Logan grins, showing you the message. “Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me next race.”

You laugh, linking your arm through his. “Oh, I have no doubt you’re up for the challenge. But first, I think this calls for a celebration. Vati is organizing a team dinner. You up for it?”

Logan nods, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Australian heat. “Absolutely. Lead the way!”

As you walk towards the Mercedes hospitality area, Logan can’t help but reflect on the whirlwind of the past few weeks. From reserve driver to P4 in his debut race with the team — it’s more than he could have ever imagined.

“Hey,” you say softly, nudging him. “What are you thinking about?”

Logan smiles, squeezing your arm gently. “Just ... grateful. For this opportunity, for the team’s faith in me, for your support. I couldn’t have done this without you, Y/N.”

You blush slightly, looking pleased. “That’s what friends are for, right? Now come on, American boy. Time to bask in your well-deserved glory.”

As you join the celebrating team, Logan feels a sense of belonging wash over him. This is where he’s meant to be, and he’s ready for whatever challenges and triumphs lie ahead.

***

The Miami sun beats down on the podium as Logan stands there, still in disbelief. The weight of the P2 trophy in his hands feels surreal, a reminder of what he’s just achieved. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, the elation of his first podium finish — it’s almost too much to process.

As he steps down from the podium, sticky with champagne and grinning from ear to ear, Logan is immediately engulfed by the Mercedes team. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but it all becomes a blur as he spots a familiar figure pushing through the crowd.

You burst through, your eyes shining with pride and excitement. Without hesitation, you throw your arms around him, not caring about the champagne that’s now soaking into your team shirt.

“Logan! Oh my god, you did it!” You exclaim, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m so, so proud of you!”

Logan laughs, wrapping his free arm around you and spinning you both around in a moment of pure joy. “I can hardly believe it myself,” he admits as he sets you down. “It’s like a dream.”

You pull back, your hands on his shoulders, beaming up at him. “Well, believe it, hotshot. P2 in your home race — you’ve earned this!”

Logan feels a warmth spread through his chest that has nothing to do with the Miami heat. “Thanks, Y/N. I couldn’t have done it without the team’s support. Without your support.”

You shake your head, still grinning. “Oh no, this was all you out there on the track. But speaking of support ...” Your eyes sparkle mischievously. “We absolutely have to celebrate properly tonight. Miami style!”

Logan raises an eyebrow, amused. “Miami style? Should I be worried?”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart skip a beat. “Only if you’re afraid of having too much fun. Come on, it’s your first podium, in your home race no less! We have to mark the occasion.”

Before Logan can respond, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek. The brief contact sends a jolt through him, leaving him momentarily speechless.

“Promise me you’ll come out with the team tonight,” you say, your eyes locked on his. “No excuses about needing to analyze data or whatever. Tonight, we celebrate!”

Logan nods, still a bit dazed from the kiss. “I ... yeah, of course. I promise.”

You beam at him. “Perfect! I’ll text you the details later. Now, go bask in your well-deserved glory. I think there are about a hundred journalists waiting to talk to Miami’s new hero.”

With a wink, you disappear back into the crowd, leaving Logan standing there, trophy in hand and mind reeling.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of interviews, photographs, and congratulations. Logan goes through the motions, answering questions on autopilot while his mind keeps drifting back to that moment with you.

It didn’t mean anything, he tells himself. You’re European, after all. Cheek kisses are just a normal thing, right? It was just excitement over the podium, nothing more.

But try as he might, Logan can’t shake the memory of your lips on his cheek, the way his heart raced at your touch.

“Earth to Logan,” Marcus’ voice cuts through his thoughts. “You still with us, mate?”

Logan blinks, focusing on his race engineer. “Sorry, what was that?”

Marcus grins knowingly. “I said, great job out there today. You should be proud. But maybe save the daydreaming for after the debrief, yeah?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “Right, sorry. Just ... still processing everything, I guess.”

“I bet,” Marcus chuckles. “First podium’s always special. Even more so on home turf. Now, let’s go over those last few laps ...”

As they dive into the race analysis, Logan tries to focus. But his mind keeps wandering. To the podium. To the celebration to come. To you.

It’s just excitement over the race result, he rationalizes. You’re his boss’s daughter, for crying out loud. And more importantly, you’re his friend. One of his best friends, if he’s honest with himself. He can’t risk messing that up by reading too much into a friendly gesture.

The debrief finally ends, and Logan heads back to his driver’s room to change. As he’s pulling on a fresh team shirt, his phone buzzes with a text from you.

E11EVEN at 10 PM. Wear something nice 😘 Can’t wait to celebrate with you!

Logan stares at the message, his heart doing that annoying skip thing again. It’s just a normal text, he tells himself. Friends celebrate together all the time. The kiss doesn’t mean anything.

Right?

He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. This is ridiculous. He just achieved his first podium in Formula 1, at his home race no less. He should be on top of the world, not overthinking a simple friendly interaction.

As he leaves the track, Logan is stopped by a group of fans clamoring for autographs and selfies. He obliges with a smile, the excitement of the crowd helping to lift his mood.

“Logan! Logan!” A young boy calls out. “You were amazing today! I want to be just like you when I grow up!”

Logan kneels down to the boy’s level, touched by his enthusiasm. “Thanks, buddy. Just remember, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication. But if you believe in yourself and never give up, you can achieve anything.”

The boy nods solemnly, clutching his newly signed cap to his chest. “I will! I’m going to practice every day!”

As Logan stands, he catches sight of you talking to some team members nearby. You glance over, catching his eye, and give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. Logan feels that now-familiar flutter in his chest and quickly turns back to the fans.

It’s going to be a long night, he thinks to himself.

Back at the hotel, Logan takes his time getting ready for the celebration. He stands in front of the mirror, fussing with his hair and second-guessing his outfit choice. Why is he so nervous? It’s just a team celebration, like dozens he’s been to before.

But it’s not just any celebration, a voice in his head reminds him. It’s his first podium celebration. And you’ll be there.

Logan groans, running a hand through his hair and messing it up again. “Get it together, Sargeant,” he mutters to his reflection. “It’s just a night out with the team. With your friend. Your boss’s daughter. Who you definitely don’t have any non-platonic feelings for.”

Even he doesn’t believe himself.

A knock at the door startles him out of his internal monologue. “Logan? You ready?” Kimi’s voice calls out.

Logan takes a deep breath, giving himself one last look in the mirror. “Yeah, coming!” He calls back.

As he joins Kimi in the hallway, his teammate gives him an appraising look. “Not bad, Sargeant. Trying to impress someone?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up. “What? No, I just ... wanted to look nice for the celebration.”

Kimi raises an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Uh-huh. Sure. Come on, lover boy. Your adoring public awaits.”

As they make their way to the club, Logan tries to calm his nerves. It’s just a normal team celebration, he tells himself. Nothing to be nervous about. You’re just friends. Really good friends who sometimes share cheek kisses and make his heart race with a simple smile.

Oh, who is he kidding? He’s in trouble and he knows it.

The bass from the club is audible from down the street, and as they approach, Logan sees a line stretching around the block. But Kimi leads him straight to the VIP entrance, where they’re immediately ushered inside.

The club is a sensory overload — pulsing music, flashing lights, and the press of bodies on the dance floor. Logan blinks, trying to adjust to the atmosphere. Suddenly, he feels a hand on his arm and turns to see you beaming up at him.

“You made it!” You shout over the music, your eyes sparkling in the club lights. “Come on, everyone’s waiting to toast the man of the hour!”

As you lead him through the crowd, your hand still on his arm, Logan tries to ignore the electricity he feels at your touch. Friends touch all the time, he reminds himself. It doesn’t mean anything.

You reach a VIP section where the rest of the team is gathered. A cheer goes up as they spot Logan, and suddenly he’s being passed around for hugs and backslaps and congratulations.

Toto appears, handing Logan a glass of champagne. “To Logan,” he says, raising his own glass. “For a brilliant drive and Mercedes’ first podium of the season. May it be the first of many!”

The team echoes the toast and Logan takes a sip of the bubbly, feeling a surge of pride and belonging. This is what he’s worked for his entire life and he’s finally made it.

As the celebration continues, Logan finds himself relaxing, caught up in the excitement and camaraderie of the team. He chats with mechanics, engineers, and fellow drivers, reliving the best moments of the race.

But his eyes keep drifting back to you. You’re in your element, moving from group to group, laughing and chatting animatedly. Every now and then, you glance his way, flashing him a smile that makes his heart race.

It’s just the atmosphere, Logan tells himself. The adrenaline from the race, the excitement of the celebration. That’s all it is.

But as the night wears on and the champagne flows freely, Logan finds it harder and harder to maintain that rationalization. Especially when you grab his hand and pull him onto the dance floor, your body moving in perfect rhythm to the pulsing beat.

“Come on!” You shout over the music, grinning up at him. “Show me some of those dance moves!”

Logan laughs, letting himself get caught up in the moment. He may not be the world’s best dancer, but with you smiling at him like that, he feels like he could take on anything.

As you dance, Logan can’t help but notice how perfectly you fit against him, how natural it feels to have his hands on your waist as you move together. It’s just dancing, he reminds himself. Friends dance together all the time.

But when the DJ switches to a slower song and you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, Logan knows he’s fighting a losing battle. There’s no denying the way his heart races, the way his skin tingles where you touch him.

As you sway together, Logan finally allows himself to admit the truth he’s been trying to ignore for months. He’s falling for you, hard and fast, and he has no idea what to do about it.

You look up at him, your eyes soft in the dim light of the club. “I’m really proud of you,” you say, your voice barely audible over the music. “You belong here, you know. On the podium, in F1, with m-” you cut yourself off, biting your lip.

Logan’s heart leaps. Were you about to say “with me”? He wants to ask, wants to pull you closer and find out if you feel this connection too.

But before he can say anything, the song ends and the moment is broken. You step back, a slightly flustered look on your face.

“I, uh ... I need a drink,” you say quickly. “Want anything?”

Logan shakes his head, still trying to process what just happened. “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

As you disappear into the crowd, Logan makes his way back to the VIP section, his mind reeling. What was that? Did he imagine the moment between you? And more importantly, what is he going to do about these feelings he can no longer deny?

As he sinks into a plush couch, Logan realizes that his first podium might not be the most significant event of the night after all. Whatever happens next, he knows one thing for certain — his relationship with you will never be the same.

***

The Union Jack flutters in the cool Silverstone breeze as Logan crosses the finish line, his heart pounding in his ears. The chequered flag waves, and suddenly, the reality hits him like a tidal wave.

“Logan, you’ve done it!” Marcus’ voice crackles through the radio, filled with unbridled joy. “P1! Your first Formula 1 win!”

Logan lets out a whoop of excitement, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! We did it, guys! Thank you, thank you so much!”

As he starts his cooldown lap, waving to the cheering crowds, Logan can’t help but chuckle at the irony. An American winning the British Grand Prix. He can almost hear the collective groan of disappointment from the British fans who were hoping for a home victory.

“Sorry, folks,” he murmurs to himself, grinning. “The colonists strike again.”

The sea of orange in the grandstands catches his eye — Dutch fans who always come to support Max Verstappen no matter the location. Logan remembers the intense battle he had with the reigning world champion in the closing laps. The memory sends another surge of pride through him. He didn’t just win, he beat the best of the best.

As he rounds the final corner, heading towards parc fermé, Logan’s mind drifts to you. He wonders if you’re watching, if you’re as excited as he is. Ever since that kiss on the cheek in Miami, he’s been unable to get you out of his head. Every smile, every touch, every late-night strategy session has taken on new meaning.

But fear has held him back. Fear of ruining your friendship, fear of making things awkward with the team, fear of misreading the signals. So he’s kept his feelings bottled up, content (or so he tells himself) with your close friendship.

Logan pulls into his spot in parc fermé, bringing the car to a stop. He takes a deep breath, savoring this moment. His first win. It almost doesn’t feel real.

He unclips his harness and stands up in the cockpit, raising his arms in triumph. The roar of the crowd washes over him and he spots his team gathered at the barriers, jumping and cheering.

Without hesitation, Logan clambers out of the car and runs towards them. He leaps over the barrier, immediately engulfed in a sea of jubilant Mercedes personnel. Hands pat his back, voices offer congratulations, but Logan is searching for one face in particular.

Suddenly, the crowd parts, and there you are. Your eyes are shining with pride and something else, something that makes Logan’s heart race even faster than it already is.

Before he can say anything, you stride forward purposefully. Your hands grasp the collar of his race suit, and in one swift motion, you pull him towards you and press your lips firmly against his.

For a split second, Logan is too shocked to react. But then his brain catches up, and he’s kissing you back with every ounce of pent-up emotion he’s been holding back for months.

The world around you fades away — the cheering crowd, the flashing cameras, the excited chatter of the team. All Logan can focus on is the softness of your lips, the warmth of your body pressed against his, the rightness of this moment.

When you finally break apart, both slightly breathless, Logan can’t help but grin. “Wow,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “That was ...”

“Long overdue,” you finish for him, a matching grin on your face.

Logan chuckles, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “I couldn’t agree more. But, uh ... your dad isn’t going to fire me for this, is he?”

You laugh, the sound music to Logan’s ears. “Please. He’s been trying to set us up for months. I think he’ll be relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Before Logan can respond, a throat clears behind them. They turn to see Toto standing there, an amused smirk on his face.

“While I’m thrilled you two have finally sorted yourselves out,” he says dryly, “perhaps we could save the more ... intimate celebrations for after the podium ceremony?”

Logan feels his face heat up, but you just laugh, linking your arm through his. “Sorry, Vati. Got caught up in the moment. Come on, Logan. Time to get you on that top step where you belong.”

As you make your way through the paddock, Logan can’t wipe the grin off his face. Crew members, other drivers, and media personnel offer their congratulations, but it all feels secondary to the warmth of you pressed against his side.

“So,” Logan says as they near the cooldown room, “does this mean you’ll be my date to the celebration tonight?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t know. I might have other plans. I hear there’s this hot new F1 winner in town ...”

Logan laughs, pulling you closer. “Oh yeah? Well, I happen to know him pretty well. I could put in a good word for you.”

You smile up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and affection. “I’d appreciate that. But you should know, I’m not really interested in a fling. I’m more of a long-term kind of girl.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat at the implication. “Good,” he says softly. “Because I’m in this for the long haul.”

Your smile softens, and you lean up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Glad we’re on the same page. Now go, your adoring public awaits. We’ll continue this discussion later.”

As Logan steps onto the podium not long after, the cheers of the crowd washing over him, he can’t help but think that this — the trophy, the champagne, the adulation — is only the second-best thing to happen to him today.

The ceremony passes in a blur of anthems, champagne sprays, and beaming smiles. Logan clutches his trophy, still hardly believing it’s real. As he steps down from the podium, he’s immediately swarmed by journalists, all clamoring for a quote from F1’s newest race winner.

“Logan! How does it feel to win your first Grand Prix?”

Logan grins, his eyes finding you in the crowd. “It’s incredible. A dream come true. But you know what? I have a feeling this is just the beginning.”

“What do you mean by that?” Another reporter asks.

Logan’s grin widens. “Let’s just say I’m feeling pretty unbeatable right now, both on and off the track.”

You roll your eyes at him from behind the journalists, but your smile gives away your amusement.

As the interviews wind down, Logan finally manages to break away from the press. He makes his way back to you, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“So,” he says, sliding an arm around your waist, “about the team celebration ...”

You lean into him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, I think we might need to have our own private celebration first. You know, to properly commemorate your first win.”

Logan feels a thrill run through him at your words. “I like the way you think. But, uh ... what about your dad?”

You laugh, linking your fingers with his. “Logan, my dad’s the one who’s been pushing us together for months. Trust me, he’ll be thrilled. Although maybe don’t kiss me like that in front of him again. There are some things a father doesn’t need to see.”

Logan chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Noted. So, what now?”

“Now,” you say, tugging him towards the Mercedes motorhome, “we go change. Then we make a brief appearance at the team celebration. And after that ...” you trail off, your eyes twinkling with promise.

“After that?” Logan prompts, his heart racing with anticipation.

You grin up at him. “After that, we start our own celebration. I think we have a lot of lost time to make up for, don’t you?”

Logan nods, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Absolutely. And hey, I’m a quick learner. I bet I can make up for that lost time in record speed.”

You laugh, the sound making Logan’s heart soar. “Always the racer. But you know what? I think this is one race where taking it slow might be the winning strategy.”

As you make their way through the paddock, hand-in-hand, Logan can’t help but marvel at how much his life has changed in just a few short months. From reserve driver to race winner, from pining in silence to ... whatever this wonderful new thing with you is.

One thing’s for sure — this win will always be special. Not just because it’s his first, but because it’s the day everything finally fell into place. The day he not only conquered the track but also found the courage (with a little help) to follow his heart.

As the two of you reach the Mercedes motorhome, Logan pulls you close for one more quick kiss. “Hey,” he says softly, “just in case I forget to say it later ... thank you. For believing in me, for supporting me, for ... well, for everything.”

You smile up at him, your eyes soft with affection. “Always, Logan. Now come on, race winner. We’ve got a lot to celebrate.”

***

The bright lights of the Tonight Show studio beat down on Logan as he sits across from Jimmy Fallon, trying to keep his nerves in check. It’s his first major American talk show appearance, and he wants to make a good impression.

Jimmy leans forward, a warm smile on his face. “So, Logan, it’s been quite a year for you, hasn’t it? From losing your seat at Williams to winning races with Mercedes. How has your life changed?”

Logan chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “Oh man, Jimmy, where do I even start? It’s been an absolute whirlwind. You know, when I lost that Williams seat, I thought my F1 dream was over. I was devastated.”

Jimmy nods sympathetically. “I can imagine. That must have been tough.”

“It was,” Logan agrees. “But you know what? Looking back now, I can honestly say it was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

Jimmy raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? How so?”

Logan grins, leaning forward in his chair. “Well, first of all, it led to this incredible opportunity with Mercedes. I mean, going from potentially being out of F1 to driving for one of the top teams? It’s like something out of a movie.”

The audience cheers, and Logan feels a surge of pride. He’s come a long way from that dejected kid in Toto’s office last year.

“But that’s not all,” Logan continues, his smile softening. “Losing that seat also led me to the love of my life.”

A collective “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy leans in, clearly sensing a good story. “Tell us more!”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up slightly, but he can’t keep the smile off his face. “Her name is Y/N. She works for Mercedes, and she’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful. She was the one who really helped me believe in myself when I joined the team.”

Jimmy grins. “Sounds like quite a woman. How did you two get together?”

Logan laughs, remembering that day at Silverstone. “Well, I’d been pining after her for months, too scared to make a move. Then I won my first race at the British Grand Prix, and she just ... grabbed me and kissed me right there in parc fermé. In front of the whole team, the cameras, everyone.”

The audience cheers and whistles, and Jimmy laughs. “Wow! Talk about a victory celebration! So, she made the first move, huh?”

Logan nods, grinning. “Yep. Thank god one of us had the courage. Although I have to say, her dad being my boss made things a little awkward at first.”

Jimmy’s eyes widen. “Wait, what? Her dad is your boss? You mean ...”

“Yep,” Logan confirms, enjoying the host’s reaction. “I’m dating the boss’s daughter. Toto Wolff’s daughter, to be exact.”

The audience gasps and murmurs, and Jimmy leans back in his chair, looking impressed. “Wow. That’s ... that’s quite a story. So, how does Toto feel about all this?”

Logan chuckles. “You know, he’s been surprisingly cool about it. Turns out he’d been trying to set us up for months. I think he was just relieved we finally figured it out on our own.”

Jimmy laughs. “Well, that’s good to hear. No awkward ‘stay away from my daughter’ talks then?”

“Oh, there were talks,” Logan says, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “But they were more along the lines of ‘if you hurt her, I’ll demote you to test driver faster than you can say DRS.’”

The audience laughs, and Jimmy shakes his head in amusement. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the incentive to be on your best behavior!”

Logan nods, his expression softening. “Absolutely. But you know, even without that ... Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d never do anything to mess that up.”

Another “aww” rises from the audience, and Jimmy smiles warmly. “That’s beautiful, Logan. It sounds like things are really falling into place for you.”

“They really are,” Logan agrees. Then, leaning in conspiratorially, he adds, “And you know what? I’ve actually got a little scoop for you, Jimmy. The team’s given me permission to reveal something pretty big.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up and he leans in as well. “Oh? Do tell!”

Logan grins, then stage whispers, loud enough for the audience to hear, “I’ve just signed a contract extension with Mercedes. I’ll be with the team until 2028.”

The audience erupts in cheers, and Jimmy’s jaw drops. “What? Logan, that’s incredible! Congratulations!”

Logan beams, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. “Thanks, Jimmy. I still can’t quite believe it myself. Three more years with one of the top teams in F1 ... it’s a dream come true.”

Jimmy shakes his head in amazement. “Wow. From losing your Williams seat to a long-term contract with Mercedes. That’s quite the turnaround.”

“It really is,” Logan agrees. “And you know what? I owe a lot of it to Y/N. She’s been my biggest supporter, my rock through all of this. I don’t think I could have done it without her.”

Jimmy smiles warmly. “It sounds like you two make quite the team. Is she here tonight?”

Logan nods, glancing towards the audience. “She is, actually. She’s sitting right over there.”

The camera pans to where you’re sitting, and you give a shy wave as the audience applauds. Logan feels his heart swell with affection at the sight of you.

Jimmy turns back to Logan, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, Logan, now that you’ve got this long-term contract sorted out ... any other long-term plans in the works? Maybe involving a certain boss’s daughter?”

Logan feels his cheeks heat up, but he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Well, Jimmy, let’s just say that when you find the right person, you want to hold onto them for as long as possible. But for now, we’re just enjoying the ride.”

Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well, it sounds like you’ve got a lot to celebrate. Speaking of which, I hear you’ve brought something special to share with us tonight?”

Logan grins, reaching behind his chair to pull out a bottle of champagne. “That’s right. This is the same type of champagne we used for my first win at Silverstone. I thought we could recreate a little podium celebration right here on the show.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh, this is going to be fun! But wait, don’t you usually spray this stuff around?”

Logan laughs, standing up. “We sure do. Hope you don’t mind getting a little wet!”

As Logan shakes the bottle and pops the cork, spraying champagne all over a laughing Jimmy and the cheering audience, he can’t help but marvel at how far he’s come. From the depths of disappointment to the heights of success, both on and off the track.

After the champagne settles and they’re both wiping their faces, Jimmy turns to Logan with a grin. “Alright, Logan, before we let you go, I’ve got one more question for you. What’s next? You’ve got the dream job, the dream girl ... what more could Logan Sargeant possibly want?”

Logan pauses for a moment, considering. “You know, a year ago I would have said winning the World Championship was the ultimate goal. And don’t get me wrong, that’s still very much on my radar. But now ... now I think my goal is just to keep living this dream for as long as I can. To keep pushing myself on the track, to keep growing and learning, and to keep building a life with Y/N.”

He glances over at you in the audience, his eyes softening. “Because at the end of the day, all the trophies and champagne in the world don’t mean much if you don’t have someone to share them with.”

The audience “awws” once more, and Jimmy nods approvingly. “Well said, Logan. I think that’s a perfect note to end on. Ladies and gentlemen, Logan Sargeant!”

As the audience applauds and the show cuts to commercial, Logan makes his way off the stage, his heart full. He finds you waiting for him in the wings, a proud smile on your face.

“You were amazing out there,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Logan hugs you back, breathing in the familiar scent of your perfume. “Thanks. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much with all that mushy stuff.”

You laugh, pulling back to look at him. “Are you kidding? I loved every second of it. Although I have to say, that champagne spray was a bit much. You do realize you’re not actually on a podium, right?”

Logan grins sheepishly. “Sorry, force of habit. But hey, at least I didn’t kiss you in front of millions of viewers. That’s progress, right?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “My hero. Come on, liebling. Let’s go celebrate your big reveal properly.”

As you walk hand-in-hand towards the exit, Logan feels a sense of contentment wash over him. It’s been one hell of a journey, but with you by his side and a bright future ahead, he knows the best is yet to come.

And as you step out into the New York night, Logan can’t help but think that this — the glamor, the success, the adoration — is nothing compared to the simple joy of having you by his side.

Because in the end, it’s not about the trophies or the champagne. It’s about the journey and the people you share it with.

For Logan Sargeant, former underdog turned rising star, the real victory isn’t just on the track. It’s in the love he’s found, the dreams he’s achieving, and the future he’s building — one lap at a time.

[moonlightspencie]

don't want you like a best friend

Description: James is nervous about his inexperience with girls. Luckily he has a best friend who's more than willing to help. (based on an idea formed in part by @amiableness. check out the post)

Pairing: best friend!James Potter x fem!Reader

Warnings: DESPERATE!james, inexperienced!james, blowjob (m receiving), porn with barely any plot

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: kind of muggle!au? doesn't really matter in the context of this though lmao

You walked into James's flat, quite pleased he'd given you a key. It was much easier to bother him whenever you pleased when you could just waltz in any time.

"James!" you called out, toeing off your shoes.

"In here!" he shouted back.

You followed his voice to his room, seeing him laying on his tummy watching tv. You ran up to his bed and flopping down on it next to him. He laughed in that squeaky, joyful way he only ever seemed to do around you.

"Hi," he greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Hi," you replied with an equal grin, then glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"

"Nature documentary about penguins," he responded simply.

You glanced up at him with a quirked brow. "Why?"

"Cause I like penguins," he shrugged.

"...we need to get you a girlfriend."

He went a little quiet, prompting you to look at him again. You tilted your head.

"James?"

He chewed his lip. "I– I do kind of have a date. Tomorrow."

"What?" you exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight. "Who? Since when?"

His cheeks went a little pink. "Sirius set it up for me."

"Oh my god! Why didn't you tell me?!"

"I'm nervous!"

You chuckled softly, still in a bit of disbelief. The boy had been single for far too long in your opinion, especially considering how much girls threw themselves at him in school. He always said that it was just because he had high standards, but part of you was half-convinced he must be terrified of girls. Or commitment. Maybe both.

"I just... I can't believe it. Is she cute?"

He almost grimaced. Not a great sign.

"Uh oh," you snorted a laugh.

"It's not that she's ugly! She's... she is pretty, its just," he sighed, shrugging a little, "she's not really my type, I guess."

"At this point, I'm beginning to believe you don't have a type."

He frowned. "Hey."

"Just saying, James. You never date, and it's not for lack of girls who like you."

"I kind of have to like them back for that to work."

"You sure you're not scared of girls?" you asked with a laugh.

He chuckled a little, shaking his head. "No."

"Commitment?"

"No."

"...Sex?"

"Ugh, don't say that," he groaned, dropping his face against the mattress.

You laughed again. "Sounds like a yes. It's really not that scary."

"It's kinda scary," he mumbled against his comforter.

"James," you called quietly, resting your cheek on the mattress to look at him.

He turned his face towards you, his cheeks pink and his hair even messier than usual. His lips were slightly pouty. Frankly, it was absolutely adorable.

"Everyone but me has done it at this point. The furthest I ever got was touching a boob over clothes in fifth year."

You couldn't help but to laugh at that, causing him to whine your name in protest.

"Sorry..." you said, not all that apologetic. "It's just... cute. You get so flustered. It's really not a big deal."

"It is a big deal to me."

"Aw. I'm sorry, Jamie. I just mean that nobody's going to fault you for being inexperienced."

"They might!"

"No they won't."

"You don't know that."

"At any rate, I think it's sweet."

"But I'm not having sex with you," he argued, then snapped his mouth shut, his cheeks going even darker. "That sounds... I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," you ran a hand through his hair, and he leaned into the touch. "I just mean to say that I'm sure if I think it's sweet, other girls would also probably think it's cute."

"I'm a man. I shouldn't be cute, I should be... strong and masculine. Hot."

"You're very hot, James."

He sighed, still pouting a little.

"Put that lip away," you muttered, tapping his bottom lip.

"You're being mean."

"No, I'm not."

"You're teasing me," he pouted again.

"What? How?"

"You're very hot, James," he mocked in an overly-high-pitched voice.

You snorted a laugh. "Heaven forbid I tell my hot best friend that he is, in fact, hot."

He fell quiet for a moment. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do."

"Mm," he hummed softly, then sighed. "Why can't there be more girls like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, smiling curiously.

"You're always so sweet to me. I just wish there were more girls who act like you, cause then I could just... do it with them and not be so worried about it."

You raised your brows, trying to hold back another laugh. "Oh, really?"

"Don't tease me."

"I'm not. Just, why don't–" you stopped abruptly.

He looked at you with wide eyes. "What?"

"If you're so worried about getting your first time over with, then why don't you just do it with me?"

He looked like he got the wind knocked out of him in that moment, blinking a few times as if he was trying to wake up from a dream. He opened his mouth a few times, though no sound came out.

"I just mean that... you said you'd do it with a girl like me, so why not me? You trust me, I know what I'm doing, you know I won't judge," you listed off some reasons. "It could work, you know?"

"Cause you're... you're my best friend."

"And?"

"And friends don't do that."

"Friends do that all the time," you replied with a shrug.

"What?" he asked, looking totally mortified.

"Friends have sex all the time."

"Since when?"

"Since forever," you chuckled a little. "I'm not saying we have to. Just putting it out there, since you're so nervous about it and all."

"I–I don't..."

"You don't have to say yes."

"I know," he nodded, looking a little uncomfortable. "It's just... I don't think I'm ready to do all of that right now."

You smile a little. "I'm not saying I'd take you to pound town right now..."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Sorry. I just mean to say that, if you wanted to, we could start slow. Work you up to the main event."

He chewed his lip, looking away from you. You sighed softly, then stood from the bed.

"Alright. Let's go and grab a snack or something and take your mind off all this. Stop stressing so much," you said, trying to grab his arm to pull him up.

He shook his head. "Can't."

"What? Yes, you can."

"No, I can't," he emphasized, his cheeks still dark.

"Why not."

He stared at you for a moment, then whined, dropping his head into the comforter again. He mumbled something into the fabric, causing you to groan in annoyance.

"What are you saying? I can't hear you when you mumble."

"You don't understand," he said, looking at you again with a pouty face. "You're not a guy."

"What the hell is that supposed to... Oh," your eyes widened. You let out a disbelieving, delighted little giggle. "Are you–"

"Please don't talk about it. It'll make it worse," he said quickly in his whiny little voice.

"Aww. Poor baby."

"Stop it."

"Let me see."

His eyes widened comically. "What?"

"Let me see. Come on, turn over," you giggle, trying to turn him.

"Lovie, no, I..."

"Please?" you pouted, knowing he could never resist it.

He whined. "Please don't. It's embarrassing."

"It's hot."

He gulped. "...It is?"

You nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of flattering, too. The fact that I barely suggested it and you got all excited."

"It's not my fault. I just... my brain started thinking..."

"Yeah, brains tend to do that," you joked, relishing in him being all flustered. It was so unlike his usual demeanor. "Come on, Jamie. I just want to see."

He swallowed, nodding a little awkwardly before he turned onto his back. You smirked a little to yourself at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants. You sat back on the bed right next to him, glancing back at his nervous face.

"Can I touch?"

"I... I don't know."

"Just over the pants right now."

He considered it for a few moments, before taking a deep breath, nodding.

"Okay," he said quietly, his hands balling into fists.

You smiled. "Relax."

You let your hand rest on his thigh first, watching him as his eyes trailed your every move. You slowly slid up his leg, teasingly, just so you could see him sweat a little at the thought of being touched for the first time. He was generally quite confident, but somehow missed out on anything and everything intimate outside of kissing.

He sucked in a breath as you reached his hip, looking as if he could pass out.

"Hey," you said gently, trying to catch his eye. "Take a deep breath. Relax. It's supposed to feel good."

He sniffed, nodding shakily. "Y-yeah. Sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jamie. Just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay."

You let your hand move again, barely ghosting over his bulge, the tips of your fingers touching the fabric of his sweatpants. You looked up at his face. His cheeks were red, and his eyes were wide and almost glossy. His pretty, pouty lips were just barely parted as he waited in anticipation for your next move.

You lowered your hand, gripping him gently through his pants, forcing a shaky gasp through his lips. You smirked to yourself a little, stroking him through his pants.

"Feels good, huh?" you asked in a quiet voice.

He opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pathetic little moan. You chuckled at the sound, stroking him again. He was bigger than you expected him to be, but not terribly massive. His hips bucked into your hand, another soft whine coming from him.

"Aww. You like it, huh?"

He nodded, breath coming in short.

"Can I do a little more?"

"Uh..."

"I think you'll like it."

"M-maybe," he gasped out, looking utterly wrecked already.

"Can I take off your pants?"

He looked at your face again. "Huh?"

"Can I take them off? I wanna touch you," you stated simply.

He whimpered. "Um... For... for what?"

You furrowed your brow. "So I can feel you. I just want to touch your skin. It'll feel better for you, too. You touch yourself, right?"

"I... Y-yeah. Yeah, sometimes."

"And I assume you don't do it through your pants, right?" you laugh a little.

He merely swallows, nodding dumbly. "Right."

"So... Can I touch you like that? I won't do it unless you say yes."

"Oh..." he sucked in a shaky breath. "O-okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

You smiled, hooking your fingers in his sweatpants and underwear. "Hips up, please."

He followed your instructions easily, lifting his hips for you. You tugged everything down in one go, leaving it all pooled at his ankles on the bed. You nearly moaned yourself when you saw him, hard and leaky and ready. You traced his dick softly with your fingertips, impressed with him, and drawing another moan from his lips.

"So pretty, Jamie. Look at you."

"Don't... fuck," he gasped. "Don't say that."

"I mean it. Your cock is perfect."

He whimpered again, sounding like he could cry. You wrapped a hand around him, stroking him softly as hips bucked into your hand, soft moans and squeaks leaving him in utter desperation.

"P-please," he begged, staring at you as if you hung the stars.

"Please?"

"I... I don't know," he shook his head, his lip quivering.

"You need more?"

He sniffled, nodding quickly. "So bad. Please."

"Can I suck your cock, love?"

The sound that left his lips was utterly pornographic, his chest heaving like he'd run a marathon.

"God..."

"That's not my name, baby," you stroke him again. "I need you to say yes if this is what you want."

"Y-yes. Fuck yes," he said, his hips still shifting under you, trying to get more friction from your hand.

"So needy," you chide jokingly, moving to settle between his legs.

He whined watching you climb between his legs, nearly hyperventilating at the sight and feeling of you kissing along his stomach with your hand pushing his shirt up.

"So pretty," he groaned, stroking your hair.

You smiled against his stomach, licking nearly up to his chest just to hear him make that sound again. You kissed back down his stomach, barely ghosting over the tip of his cock at you looked back up at him.

"Ready?"

He nodded, in a trance as he watched you. You kept his eye contact as you darted your tongue out, tasting him for the first time. He practically sobbed in pleasure, pulling on your hair slightly.

"Told you it would feel good, baby," you mutter, licking from base to tip as he squirmed under your touch. "Isn't this nice?"

"Mmmm..." he nodded, chest heaving.

"Good boy," you kissed his tip.

You stared up at him, smiling to yourself at his sweet little reactions as you started stroking him. He looked so adorable totally wrecked. Like he could pass out at any moment. You couldn't help but to want more.

You wet your lips, figuring you could probably fit most of him into your mouth in one go: so you decided to give it a go. You licked him once more, then shoved his cock down your throat, letting it hit far enough to make you gag.

He shouted, gasping for air before he fell into a puddle of moans and desperate praises of your name. You pulled off of him, but only for a second before you went back down, sucking on him as if your life depended on it. It felt like it did.

He gripped the fabric of his comforter, sobbing in pleasure as his hips jutted up into your mouth. You were about to pull off to make some sly remark, when he whimpered loudly, shooting his cum down your throat. You hummed around him, swallowing everything you could despite your utter surprise that he had finished so quickly. He whined and kept his grip tight in your hair until he was done, his seed dribbling past your lips as you couldn't quite swallow everything. You weren't sure if you'd ever witnessed someone cumming so much before.

You did your best to clean him off without making him overly-sensitive, and finally pulled off.

"Mm... Holy fuck, Jamie. You cum that much every time?” You ask, chuckling a little despite being wildly aroused.

He shook his head, sweaty and still whimpering.

"Awww," you cooed softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You okay?"

"That... that felt..."

"What?"

"Best thing ever," he managed breathily.

You laughed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he uttered, a small smile on his face as he opened his eyes. "I... you're really good at that."

"Apparently too good," you snorted.

"Maybe," he nodded, then hummed softly in pleasure. "Sorry for cumming so fast."

"It was sweet."

"It's not sweet," he shook his head.

"I think so. You're so sensitive," you kissed his cheek.

He hummed again, then sighed softly. You watched him as he took a few steadying breaths before he moved his eyes back to you. He let his eyes linger on your form for several moments, then chewed his lip. He looked up at you, clearly debating something in his mind.

Then he smiled a little.

"Can I return the favor next time?"

[mayasaurusss]

hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part five)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: the wait is over. yay! This isn’t how I expected this part to end but I let my mind take charge…plans change. I hope the end is okay, i’ve never written anything like that before so i’m a little nervy for y’alls reactions lol. let me know what you guys think! Enjoy <3

part five: new york changes you

The whole ‘friends for now’ deal you set with Hugh has been an enthralling experience so far. A month has passed since that night in your living room, a month of struggling to resist the charisma of Hugh Jackman. Right now, your two lives couldn’t be more different: your album had dropped three weeks ago, one week after the deal was made. It has been an absolute success with four of your songs sitting in the top ten since the drop. You were doing interview after interview and rehearsals for your tour started up this past week. Meanwhile, Hugh was living the simple life. He has been done with his Deadpool and Wolverine promo for some time now and he’s been enjoying his free time. That was something you didn’t have much of as of recent- free time. You were trying to balance the few moments of freedom between all of the people you cared for, which mostly consisted of Ashley and Hugh. It’s gotten to a point where you were inviting your friends to the tour rehearsals just to be able to see them. When the idea first popped up, you had been afraid that they would be too distracting but the outcome was the opposite. Having a mini audience that weren’t part of the tour team, allowed everyone to make changes to things with the input of outside opinions. Ashley and a small group of your other friends were rehearsal regulars now.

You’d been seeing Hugh more privately, both of you agreeing to stay out of the public eye for a little bit while the dating rumors died down. Ashley had been a little too enthusiastic about your decision to be Hugh’s friend and nothing more. You loved reminding her that it was hopefully a temporary situation while we decided if being together exclusively was the right choice for both of us. She liked to ignore that part. Her despisement towards Hugh has been a mystery to you. She was always a little protective over you, as any normal friend would be, but it had never been to this extent. 

“Ash, do you wanna come to rehearsal tomorrow. We’re finally putting the choreography on the actual stage. I think you’ll like it. It’s gonna be fun.” You ask. The two of you were currently at Target shopping for her new apartment. “Uhhh of course. I need to catch up on all of the songs I missed. Then maybe you’ll consider putting me up on stage.” The last sentence comes out more singsongy than usual as she tries to convince you. She has brought up being on stage so often, you were beginning to feel bad, but she was a shit dancer. You didn’t have the heart to tell her. “Cool. I have to be there at seven, but I was thinking you guys could show up at noon. That’s when we’re scheduled to move over to the stage.” Her eyes light up. “Ooo. Who else is coming? Please tell me you invited Taylor again, she’s fun.” She rambles on as she pushes the cart through the lamp aisle. “Oh. I didn’t invite the girls again. It’s uh…it’s just gonna be you and Hugh.” She puts the lamp she’s been observing back onto the shelf. “Actually, I just remembered I have plans tomorrow.” She states flatley and starts to push the cart again. You follow her, waiting until you enter an aisle that was free of people before confronting her. “Ashley, don't be like that.” You whine. “I’m not being like anything y/n. I just forgot I had plans.” She shrugs as she busies herself by looking at the bathroom decor on the shelves. “What do you have against him?” You blurt out. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Cut the shit Ash. You know exactly what I'm talking about. I can’t even mention his name without you trying to change the subject. I can’t even talk to my best friend about the guy I like because of this weird fucking grudge you have against him.” She stares at you, giving you a few slow blinks before speaking again. “Fine. I’ll be there but I can’t promise I'll be civil.” 

You didn’t push her any further, her answer was good enough for now. Target wasn’t the right place to fight with her about this and it probably wouldn’t do any good anyway. As much as you loved Ashley, she had a tendency to do and say wherever she pleased but when it came back to her, she played victim. It was becoming harder to deal with now that you weren’t children anymore. Later that night, while on facetime with Hugh, you decided to warn him about the shitshow which he was bound to end up in tomorrow.

“I’m not really sure what her deal is honestly. She won’t tell me why she doesn’t like you.” You pout. “It’s okay baby, not everyone is going to like me. I can handle it.” 

The endearments had been something that Hugh didn’t drop after the ‘just friends’ talk. You thought about talking to him about it but the words sounded too good rolling off of his tongue. You argued that it wasn’t any different than your other friends calling you ‘babe’- it wasn’t the same at all but you didn’t care. You knew it meant more to both of you. 

“I know, but it would be really nice if you two could be friends, ya know? She just gets too overprotective I guess…” You tell him, not really believing your own words. “You don’t have to come tomorrow if you don’t want to. We can pick another day for you to come if you feel like it’ll be too awkward.” “Tomorrow is fine y/n. Everything will be okay. Don’t think about it too much, I’m sure I can charm her a little bit, get her on my side.” He assures you.

Ashley was on her worst behavior and it was pissing you off. It felt like you had covered Hugh in blood and thrown him to the sharks- when you think about it, he probably would have had a better shot at fighting off the sharks. The entire day so far had been full of eye rolls and snarky comments. When you had a moment alone with Hugh, all you could do was apologize for her behavior and he swore it was fine, it wasn't your fault. Ashley was acting weird towards you the entire morning. When you offered her to get up and learn some choreo, she brushed you off saying that she still needed to wake up. You glanced over at Hugh and Ashley every few minutes as they talked. It looked civil. The music was too loud to hear what the conversation was about and it was making you nervous. Hugh kept his eyes mostly on you as he spoke but Ashley’s were set on Hugh, never looking your way. You tried your best to ignore it, focusing on doing your job.

 For one of the songs, you would be giving one of the dancers named Ethan a lap dance. He had become a good friend over the past year you had known him and he made the whole grinding on him thing a lot less awkward than you thought it would be. “Are you and eye candy over there still playing friends?” Ethan asks as he gestures towards where Hugh and Ashley sat. “Yes..but it’s more lenient. Kinda like dating but nothing exclusive.” You explain, eyes on Hugh. He’s looking back at you and you’re sure he can tell that you’re talking about him. “You should do the dance for him, since he’s a special guest today and all.” He offers, smirk present on his face. “You don’t think that would be too mean? I want him to want me but I don’t wanna ruin the man. At least not yet anyways.” A similar smirk to Ethan’s was rising to your lips at the thought of Hugh being flustered over you. “I think you should do it.” You think about it for a moment and shame yourself for how quickly you made your decision. “You’re a bad influence.” You tell Ethan. Hugh’s eyes are still on you and you point your finger at him and wiggle it, motioning him to come here. 

“I’m gonna go sit down, have fun.” Ethan says and goes down the stairs to the stage as Hugh walks up them. “What’s up sweetheart?” He asks. “Ethan isn’t feeling well right now, would you mind standing in for him? You don’t have to do anything, just sit in that chair.” You point to the metal fold up chair that sits in the center of the catwalk. “Yea I can do that.” His smile is authentic, happy to help. “Thank you baby.” You say and you reach up to leave a quick kiss on his cheek. You pick up the mic that you sat on the stage floor earlier and turn it on. “We’re ready to go for the next one.” You announce through it so the sound crew could hear you. They announce ‘places’ and Hugh sits down in the chair. You walk over to the marker on the floor that indicates your starting position for this song. It’s about five feet behind Hugh’s chair, leaving him clueless on what’s happening. 

The song starts and you strut to the beat until you reach the chair. Your hands are on either side of Hugh’s chest and you move your hands around the same way that you had practiced many times before. His chest was hard and you could feel the muscles of his pecs. You slide your hands up to his shoulders and walk slowly around the chair until you're right in front of Hugh. The song slows at this point, giving the perfect moment for you to slowly drop yourself into his lap, arms around his neck. There’s three quick beats and you bounce up and down. Hugh’s eyes are wide in surprise. He’s a lot taller than Ethan and his thighs hold more muscle. It took a moment to get used to as the routine went on. The entire dance was pretty stereotypical: a lot of grinding, ass popping, and touching. You spent a good majority of the song whispering the words quietly to Hugh. He kept his hands to himself, not wanting to interrupt whatever move you had to do next. When the song ends, you’re out of Hugh’s lap and standing a foot in front of him for your ending pose. The crew gives you the okay to move and you turn back to Hugh, mischief present in your face. “Thank you Hugh!” You squeal, giving him a quick hug once he stands up. “Yea. yea…You’re such a tease.” He says the second part low enough so only you hear. As he walks back to his seat, you could have sworn you saw him trying to discreetly reposition whatever was happening in his pants. 

During your lunch break, Ashley’s strange act continued as she made up some excuse for her to leave- you could tell she was lying. Hugh and yourself ended up ordering subs from some local deli and ate in your dressing room. “So what do you think about everything so far?” You ask, referring to the choreo you’d been learning for the past three hours. “It’s…fun.” You huff at that. “You’re so terrible at describing things Hugh. Oh my god.” You complain. “I’m sorry…It's good.” You give him a blank stare, not satisfied with his answers. “Okay okay, don’t give me that look. You’re phenomenal…watching you dance and feeling you dance on me is making it really hard to just be your friend.” He shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich. His answer makes you blush, familiar butterflies fly around your tummy. “Oh.” It’s all you could say. “You don’t have to accept my invites if it’s too hard on you.” “Hm. That’s not it, babe. I definitely want to be here. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss that little stunt you pulled earlier.” He winks as he refers to the lapdance. 

Comments like that had been frequent throughout the past month. Hugh Jackman was a natural flirt. That was a fact you had the pleasure of learning from personal experience and the displeasure of learning from the internet. You had seen countless videos of him being a flirty slut- as a married man. It worried you and had been something you’d been thinking about nonstop since the discovery. Him flirting with you was one thing, but you didn’t like the idea of him flirting with others when he was ‘yours’. You’d also seen videos of him mentioning multiple times that he liked older women, which had become another concern that ate at your brain. Last week, Hugh had come over for a movie night and you planned on casually mentioning the apprehension you had around the issue. 

“Sooo, I heard you liked older women?” 

Casual had never been your thing. 

“Uh..yea. It’s a preference of mine.” You could tell that the question made him uncomfortable. The tiny little toxic part of your heart was happy about that. You let out a short hum. “What was that for?”

 “What was what for?” 

 “Your little ‘hm.’.” You shrug as you speak your next words. “It’s just interesting.” 

 “What’s interesting.”  “You having a preference for older women.”  

“How is that any different from you liking older men?” He asks genuinely and you could honestly smack him right now for not seeing the issue and you would if he wasn’t across the couch. “Hm. I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m currently interested in an older man and you’re straying quite far from your preferences Mr.Jackman.” He lets out a deep belly laugh. “Why are you laughing at me?” You cross your arms, a small pout sits on your lips. “You're jealous.” He smirks. “I’m not jealous. I’m skeptical.”  “There's no reason to be.” His eyes are gentle.  “If you say so.” You didn’t want to damper the mood but your mind was filled with ‘what ifs’ and you needed reassurance.

 “Hey. Come here sweet girl.” He motions for you to sit closer to him. You crawl over and his arm drapes over your shoulder. Your head rests on his chest and his cheek is resting on the crown of your hair. “I promise you have nothing to worry about. I like you and only you.” “Pinky promise?” You look up at him, holding out your pinky. He lets out a chuckle and links his pinky with your own. “Pinky promise.” He was looking down at you. You were staring in his eyes, watching the reflection from the flame of the pumpkin pie scented candle that sat on the coffee table flicker. He slowly leaned down, allowing his lips to softly touch yours. It was a lazy kiss, lips moving every few seconds. You could feel every part of Hugh’s lip slide against yours. The slowness of it all was arousing- the heat from his body wasn’t helping. The upward stretch of your neck became sore after a few minutes,  giving you the perfect excuse to climb into his lap. The makeout session lasted about thirty minutes, never speeding up, both of you enjoying the intimacy of the demure, slow kisses. You ground your hips into his in an undemanding manor, not wanting to rush the moment, just needing to feel him against you. A few whispered moans were thrown about, a few neck kisses here and there. The rules were beyond broken that night. You liked to imagine what would have happened if there wasn’t a knock on the door from the food you ordered earlier. 

Your cheeks heat up at the memory as you pick an onion off of your sandwich. Hugh was right, you were a tease. That night, he had initiated the kiss but you turned it into so much more. You could've stopped it, blaming it on the pain in your neck, but you wanted more. With Hugh, you always wanted more. It was your stupid idea to be his friend first and it was torturing you. “What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Hugh asks, dragging you out of your thoughts. “Nothing...These onions are too strong.” You flick the onion you picked off onto the paper that was once wrapped around your sub. “You sure that’s it? You can talk to me babe.” He’s sincere. He’s always so patient and caring towards you. It makes your heart swell. “I was thinking about our movie night.” You admit. “Anything in particular from that night?” He asks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking about, the wide smirk on his stupid perfect face makes that obvious. “I wasn’t thinking about that, you perv. I was thinking about how I forgot to tell you that I’m going to New York next week.” He didn’t need to know that you were for sure thinking about every detail of his dick that you could remember and you really did forget to tell him that, so you weren’t technically lying. “Hm. I wonder what made you forget?” Smirk still plastered on his face. “I’m gonna ignore that comment.” And you did ignore it, immediately talking about your upcoming trip. “It's kinda gonna be my first time there. I performed a show there but I was gone the next day. I have an entire four days to explore this time. Well except for when I work but whatever.” You shrug at the end, voice filled with excitement ready to see the city in its full glory. “What do you have scheduled when you’re out there?” 

“I have a photoshoot, meetings, then the Tonight Show.” 

“First time on Fallon?” you laugh. “First time on any big talk show, I'm so fucking nervous.” 

“Don’t be. Jimmy’s a great guy and you’re good at talking. It’s easy to pay attention to you.” 

“Do you pay attention to me because I'm a good talker or do you pay attention to me because you think I'm pretty.” You were completely fishing for a compliment and you carried no shame for it. “Both.” 

Hugh had become a really good friend and not just because the two of you shared an occasional kiss. He was there for you when you had no one else. The next day, Ashley came over and you tried to ask her why she lied about needing to leave rehearsal early. She either gave a vague answer for each question or completely dodged it. You never asked Hugh about what they talked about, wanting the answer from your best friend, but it was looking like you would have to turn to him to get closer to the truth. You invited her to New York the second you found out you were going. Trying to get her out of her funky mood, you brought it up, asking if she was excited that it was coming up so soon. She quickly agreed to the excitement but each word came out flat and uninterested. About an hour after she left your house, you got a text. 

bestie boo: hey. i’m actually not gonna be able to make it to new york. sorry, ttyl. 

The text caught you off guard but it wasn’t a total surprise due to Ashley’s behavior while she was at your house. That didn’t mean it hurt any less though. The consistent dodginess from her made your throat tighten up. Your first instinct was to text Hugh, so that’s what you did.

You: hey, are you busy rn? 

Hugh <3: Hi baby. No, I'm not busy. What’s up?

You: can you come over? :(

Hugh <3: On my way! 

When you opened the door for him, worry was written on his face. “What’s wrong?” He takes off his shoes, the same way he has the past few times he’s come over. “I feel like you’re always asking me that.” You slump over slightly. “I gotta make sure my girl is okay.” All of the sadness you had over Ashley almost vanished entirely. “I’m your girl?” You ask looking up at him. “Of course you’re my girl y/n. Just waiting for the day you wanna label it.” He smiles down at you and offers his hand. “Now c’mon, tell me what’s got you all blue.” You grab his hand and he follows the familiar route to your living room couch. He sits down and pulls you down towards him. You’re sitting next to him, your side against his. He pulls your legs up so they lay across his lap and he rubs slow circles into your thigh.

 “What’s got that pretty face of yours frowning?” He pinches your thigh lightly as he asks the question. “It’s Ashley, she’s being really weird Hugh. She always tells me things and now she’s just…not.” He has his own frown now. “I’m sorry baby….Is this about me again?” 

“Kinda but not totally. I just wanted to know why she doesn’t like you. You’ve become so important to me and I plan on having you around for a while. She’s been my best friend since we were kids, I want her to like you and be able to be around you.” You put your hands over your eyes, your palms applying  pressure on them to prevent the tears from falling. All the pent up frustration was starting to reach its limit. “Hey, look at me.” He grabs your chin, a gesture he’s done more times than you can count. “Don’t let me come in between your friendships.” You sigh. “It’s not your fault Hugh.” 

“I…I think it might be my fault a little bit.” He admits with a guilty expression, making your heart sting. “What do you mean?” 

“She uh… Ashley might have flirted with me yesterday. I shut it down but…” He sighs nervously. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how to tell you to be honest..” The room around you both felt stuffie and too small. The tears that were held back by the palms of your hands just a few minutes ago, spill out. You were feeling too many emotions: hurt, anger, betrayal. 

This wasn’t the first time Ashley had done something like this. She’d done it with Pedro when the two of you were already together. The only difference is that she felt so guilty that she confessed. This time, Ashley was too much of a coward to tell you what she had done to your face. You didn’t want to lose your best friend but you couldn’t keep her around when all she seemed to do was hurt you. Hugh holds you as you cry, not saying a word. He leaves little kisses on your head and tells you that ‘it’s okay’ over and over. He let you cry without knowing what it was you were crying about. You felt so stupid to have let this slip past you. It had been almost the exact same situation before. Ashley acted weird towards Pedro, she starts being vague, and then you find out what she did. Déjà fucking vu. You couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s funny sweetheart?” Your mind had been racing so fast, you almost forgot that Hugh’s was still here holding you. He had gone still, the only reminder of his presence was the weight of his arms around you. “I just can’t believe she did it again without me noticing. I feel dumb.” His body jerks in surprise. “Again?” 

—

It was Saint Patrick's day and you were at Ashley’s place getting ready for a party. It was a weird holiday to throw a party for but people used any excuse to get drunk. Leading up to this day, Ashley has been yapping non stop about going to her first celebrity party but tonight, she couldn’t have been more quiet. You excused her behavior for nerves, not questioning it more. Her demeanor has been different for a few days. Ashley wasn’t one to open up quickly or talk about her problems. You only pried as much as you could before being shut out and right now you had been completely blocked off. You tried your best to ignore it, trying to focus on the night ahead of you. 

Billie is who had invited you to the party as the two of you grew close. Being the same age, doing the same job, and experiencing the same things made it impossible for the two of you not to be friends. The party was going to be filled with people you’d never met before, so you asked her if you could bring a person or two- Ashley and Pedro. It was when you told Ashley that Pedro would also be coming, that her prior eagerness for the party dissipated. 

Just as you sat down to start your makeup, Ashley finally spoke. “Y/n…I think I’m gonna skip out on the party tonight.” You lift your head to look at her through the mirror.“What, why? We’ve been talking about this for weeks.” 

 “I just don’t feel like going anymore.” She’s scrolling through her phone. “You’re such a shitty liar, Ash. What’s up? Why don’t you wanna go anymore?” You turn the spinny chair your in to face her. She put her phone down and the look on her face was one you wouldn’t ever forget. It was a look full of guilt, shame. You were trying to comfort your best friend while she was about to tell you the most heat shattering words. “I don’t think it’s smart to be around Pedro.” Your brows knit together in confusion. “Why not. I thought you guys were good now, that you liked him?” She’s fidgeting with her hands. “Y/n we kissed.” 

“Who kissed?” You ask, hoping you were misinterpreting what she was saying. “Me and Pedro.” You hadn’t misunderstood her words. 

Your heart shattered. Pedro has only been your boyfriend for a little over a month but it still hurts. You were still in the honeymoon phase, where everything felt like love even though it was just over infatuation with the new relationship. Without thinking about it, you started collecting your things to leave, gathering the makeup you just placed onto the table back into its bag. “What are you doing?” Ashley asks nervously. “I’m leaving.” She didn’t try to stop you. 

When you got home, you felt numb. There was a strong ache in your chest where your heart sits but there wasn’t an ounce of emotions flowing through you. The betrayal of the person you trusted most in this life was worse than any other pain you could think of. You spend hours laying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, when a knock finally pulls you out of whatever trance you were in. “Hey baby. Ashley texted me saying I should come check on you.” He steps into the house and follows you down the entry hall. “Oh I didn’t know you guys were on texting terms now…” You trail off for a second, not leaving Pedro enough time to say anything before you speak again. “Huh…You know, I guess it would make sense, seeing as you guys are apparently on kissing terms.” You stop and stare at him, looking dead in his eyes. He winces. “She told you about that.” The statement pisses you off. “What the fuck do you mean ‘she told you about that.’? Were you planning on keeping it a secret?” Your voice gradually rises alongside the anger in your body. “No, but I-” 

“but fucking what Pedro? You kiss my best fucking friend and then hide it from me??” Your finger hurts from the pressure of pointing it into his chest. “I didn’t kiss her.” You ignore him. “When did it happen?” “Baby, listen to me. I didn’t kiss Ashley.” He ignores you. “WHEN DID IT HAPPEN?” You scream at him, all of the emotions spilling over. You sink down to the floor, abandoning your prior standing position, and you cry. 

“I didn’t kiss her babygirl. I would never hurt you like that.” He sits down next to you, his back against the wall. You don’t speak. “It was last Tuesday, when she came over to talk to me like you asked her to. She said it was because you wanted her to like me, for us to be friends. She started acting differently and before I knew it she was kissing me. That’s all that happened baby.” He explains as he runs his fingers along the baby hairs on your forehead. “You didn’t kiss her?” You look into his big brown puppy eyes, searching for the truth. “I didn’t kiss her.” He affirms. “I promise, babygirl.” 

“Pinky promise?” He interlocks his pinky with yours. 

You didn’t speak to Ashley for two weeks after that incident. You wanted so badly to know why she did it, but in the end you didn’t think it mattered, each outcome still ended with her being a selfish person- a bad friend. You didn’t really talk things out either but you decided to forgive her. The friendship was too important to you at the time to give up but you wouldn’t let her be anywhere near Pedro again. The idea of them being friends was out the window. 

—

 “What a bitch.” His thick accent shining through extra hard with his own anger.- it makes you laugh. “I don’t even know what to do at this point. I don’t think I can trust her anymore.” he nods in agreement. “I know sweetheart but I'm here for you, no matter what you decide to do. Okay?” it's your turn to nod. “Okay. Thank you Hugh, really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” You look up at him, giving him a small smile and a quick kiss on his side. “You know what sucks more than possibly losing my best friend for good?” You ask, humor shines in your eyes. “What’s that?”

“Losing my New York tour guide.” He laughs. “You’re laughing now, but it’s serious. She created these crazy itineraries for us to be the most obnoxious tourist. Now I have to rely on my own planning skills, which aren’t great.” Hugh goes quiet for a moment. You search his face for his thoughts and he seems unsure of what he’s about to say. 

“I could..uh. I could go to New York with you. I kinda need to go anyways, been meaning to go.” He says and when you don’t speak right away, he panics. “You don’t have to say yes. I know we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I understand if you want some time for yourself..” You giggle at his overthinking. “Hugh, I would love for you to come to New York with me.” He lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding. “Okay good. That’s great! I needed to go back a few weeks ago actually so this works out for the both of us.” 

“Why didn’t you go back when you needed to?” His cheeks go red. “Oh my god! You totally stayed because of me didn’t you?”

 “Maybe..” He admits. “I was scheduled to fly back to New York before your album party, but then you texted me. I couldn’t pass that up.” 

“You keep acting like this and you’re gonna make me fall in love with you Hugh Jackman.” A smug smile falls onto his lips. “You better.” 

The few days leading up to you leaving for New York were short. Hugh left for the city the next day, promising he would see you the moment you landed, sealing the promise with a quick kiss. You busied yourself with tour rehearsals and interview prep. It had been a lonely few days. Hugh was gone and you weren’t talking to Ashley, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You and Hugh texted daily but it wasn’t the same as being in his presence, a presence you had come to enjoy having around. You were close to saying ‘fuck it’ and be fully committed to him but a part of you was still hesitant. Too much has happened recently, it feels like you can’t think straight half the time. Your last relationship was only a few months ago, your best friend was trying to steal every man you liked, and you’re at the peak of your career. You needed a mental breather. 

LAX airport was cold and stuffy. People were walking casually towards their destination with a few runners here and there. While you loved traveling, airports made you feel uneasy. There were so many people going to the most random places on the most random days and random times. It was uncomfortable to think about. You sat there in silence, too afraid to wear headphones. You liked to know what was happening around you at all times, a freak peeve. When it was finally time to board the plane, you were already exhausted from it all. Almost seven hours later, you landed at JFK airport in New York City. Once you turn off airplane mode on your phone, you see a few texts from Hugh. He insisted that he could pick you up from the airport and take you to your hotel. Your ‘personal chauffeur” he jokingly called himself. You texted Hugh back as people hurriedly grabbed their belongings and scurried down the thin aisles. 

You: just landed! see you soon hot stuff ;)

He told you beforehand that he made arrangements to pick you up in a private area, away from prying eyes. You weren’t nearly famous enough to know what that means, so you simply followed the instructions he gave you. It was a little confusing at first, having only been in the busy airport once before. With some help from workers, Hugh was finally in your view. He had a big smile on his face with his arms open wide for you. You walked with a little pep in your step, suitcase rolling behind you. When you got close enough, you let the handle go and ran the rest of the short distance to Hughs arms. His embrace was warm and welcoming, a familiar place. 

“Missed you sweet girl.” He mumbles into your hair. You pull back slightly, arms still holding him. “Missed you too.” Your voice is shy, almost forgetting how it felt to have his attention on you. You had missed him, more than you thought you would. Hearing his voice again made life feel real again after the past mundane days you’ve endured. The walk to his car was intimate- his arm sat atop your shoulders as you walked side by side. He insisted on rolling your luggage for you and wouldn’t take no for an answer when you protested. A true gentleman. He opened the passenger door for you, making sure you were in before putting your suitcase in the trunk and hopping into the driver's side. He looked a lot more presentable than you did. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a black shirt that hugged his biceps in a way that almost made you drool. It was simple but he looked delicious. Your sweats and hoodie couldn’t compare. His beard had finally grown in, no longer the prickly stubble that rested there a month ago. It was full and you hoped he would let it grow to that length that made him look even more expensive. 

“The option to stay at my place is still on the table if you want it babe.” He says, resting his hand on your thigh as he begins to pull out of the hidden parking lot. There was something so attractive about a man driving. Hugh’s side profile was godly and him driving really did something to your brain. “That wouldn’t be very friendly of us Hugh.” You rest your hand on top of his. “I think that’s the friendliest thing I could possibly do. Offer you a place to stay while in town instead of staying in a dingy hotel.” He eggs on trying to convince you. He first pitched the idea the night he offered to come to New York with you. You immediately declined, not wanting to invade his space. You wouldn’t know how to handle it, it made things too real. He had been over to your house countless times, but you had never been to his. You thought it best to keep it that way. You weren’t sure you could control yourself around him when you were surrounded by all things him. “Nothing is ever friendly between us Hugh.” He squeezes your thigh. “I have to argue with you there baby. In my humble opinion, we are too friendly.” He glances over to you and gives you a wink. He hasn’t been afraid of letting his intentions known. To let you know that he wants you, not as a friend. You’ve seen just how bad he craved you and it was tempting. He knew he had a dangerous effect on you, one that you worked really hard to control. 

“You’re always so horny.” You mumble. “It’s hard not to be when I have a gorgeous girl like you around all the time.” God he was so good with his words. His voice and his way of speaking. It was no mystery as to why he had people swooning for him left and right- you included. “Whatever.” You open your phone to text Stacy, letting her know you landed and in good hands. It was weird flying solo. You got so accustomed to flying along Ashley or Stacy. You weren’t particularly mad at the change if it meant you got to see Hugh’s face light up just at seeing you again. “Will you at least come over once?” He asks, hopeful. “I’ve seen your house, I’d really like you to see mine. It’s where I live most of the time. It would mean a lot.” The squeeze on your thigh lingers, his grip lasting longer than the previous one. You didn’t know how to explain that you really didn’t want to do that- be in his house. You didn’t think he would understand what you mean when you say ‘it’s too much’. The desperation in his voice, the yearning he felt to have you in his home. You couldn’t say no. “Yea I can do that.” The small smile that rested on his lips grew, his face lighting up. It made your stomach twist up in knots. 

The hotel that Stacy booked for you was grand. The elegance and class in the places you’ve stayed at while traveling has never failed to amaze you. Growing up, your family didn’t have a lot of money. When you went on family trips, the cheapest hotel, usually a motel 6, was your usual nightly accommodations. The places you stayed in now would have little you screaming and running around. The whole ‘entering fame’ process had been a huge culture shock that you were still learning to navigate appropriately. 

“Hm. Not too shabby, my house is better though.” Hugh says as he sits your luggage to the side. He had put a hat and sunglasses on, trying to make it less obvious that it was him- trying to hide that it was him who was with you. The hat, sunglasses, and beard combo was doing a number on your body. It took a lot of strength to keep yourself from dragging him to the bed and riding him until you were satisfied. Though, you’re not sure that you could ever be fully satisfied with Hugh. Not because you were scared he wouldn’t be good in bed but because you knew once he had you, you would need him again and again until you physically couldn’t handle him anymore. You  felt him that one night on the couch, movie night, you knew that man was packing and that it wouldn’t take much for him to bruise your cervix.

 “Hugh, please.” You warn him. He puts his hands up in defense. “Sorry, sorry…Just don’t forget that it’s an option.” “I don’t think you’d let me forget..” You let out a breathy laugh after. Hugh sits down at a small table and watches you as you walk around, exploring the room. You unpack a few things to make it easier on yourself later. “Are you up for exploring today?” He asks as he walks into the bathroom, where you’re placing your toiletries along the vanity counter. “Oo! I’d love to explore. I have one weird request though.” You're still facing the mirror when Hugh comes up behind you. His arms wrap around your waist, sitting a little higher due to his height. “What’s that baby?” He’s watching you through the mirror, as you organize your skin care. “I wanna go to Trinity Church to see Hamilton's grave.” You say nonchalantly. Hugh laughs and questions you. “I need to sing the ‘he’s buried in Trinity Church near you’ line from Hamilton.” Hugh continues laughing. “What!?” He barely gets the words out. It somewhat offends you.  “I thought you’d understand, being a theater nerd and all but I guess not.” You cross your arms and try to break through his hold to walk away. “Mhm. I’m sorry, come back. I wasn’t trying to make fun of you. You’re just full of surprises.” You relax in his hold. 

“Does that mean you’ll take me?” You look at his eyes through the mirror. “Yea i’ll take you.” He smiles. You look at Hugh in the mirror, observing how the two of you look together. He looks really good holding you and not to toot your own horn, but Hugh and yourself made an attractive couple. He looked good on your arm and you looked good on his. “You're so pretty, baby.” He whispers. “Every time I look at you, I’m blown away that you’re hanging around with me.” His arms tighten around you. “Hmm. I think we look good together, don’t you?” You reach your neck up to look at him as best as you can given the angle. He studies your two bodies in the mirror before agreeing. “Yea we do.”

Walking around with Hugh felt freeing. You’ve been trying so hard to keep things private lately that every time you weren’t in the secure confines of your house with him, you felt panicked. It was something that crossed your mind before the two of you left the hotel but he assured you that it wasn’t very likely that someone would notice both of you. You were a little doubtful in his words, opting to dress in a way that protected you from the early fall breeze and from making it too obvious of who you were. Hugh had been right though, you both were able to walk around pretty freely, undisturbed. He brought you to trinity church first and reluctantly filmed a video of you dramatically singing the line from Hamilton. To you it was peak comedy and Hugh was being a big hater. He took you to a few of his favorite places, hidden gems. It was perfect. You wanted to hold his hand, bodies brushing against each other as you walked, but you couldn’t. The night ended by Hugh taking you to get traditional New York pizza. He ordered a large pepperoni and you both walked back to the hotel. The moment your room door was opened, you were pulling your heeled boots off. The walking destroyed your feet but you’d gone beyond your daily step goals- a win is a win. Sitting at the table with Hugh, you both grabbed a slice of pizza. He waited for you to take a bite first, looking for your reaction. When you took a bite, you let out a moan- you weren’t sure if it was because it tasted that good or because of how hungry you were. “That good?” Hugh asks in amusement. “Yes, I was starving.” He chuckles and takes his own big bite. The two of you down the entire pizza at an embarrassingly fast rate. “Did you have fun today?” He asks you. “Yea, I really did. Thank you Hugh.” 

When Hugh left, you scrolled through all of the pictures and videos you had taken today. You snuck a couple of Hugh and you might have stared at them a little too long. You watched the Trinity Church video so you could post it on TikTok. As you uploaded it into the app and were giving it one last watch before hitting post, a sound caught your attention. You grabbed your headphones and connected them to get a better listen. As you were singing, you could hear Hugh quietly laughing in the background. The sound brought a smile to your face, replaying it over and over just to hear it again. You hit the ‘post’ and called it a night. 

The next morning was an early one. You had to be at the photo shoot at five am to get ready, meaning you were out the door at four. Stacy met you down in the lobby and led you to the car she had waiting for you. “How was your first day in New York? You and Ashley have fun?” She asks as she buckles her seatbelt. “Oh, Ashley didn’t come, we aren’t friends anymore. My first day was good though, really fun.” You smile at the memories of the day prior, ignoring the small pain from hearing Ashley’s name. Stacy gives you a questioning look. You sigh before explaining, “She was being weird and it turns out she was flirting with Hugh the other day when they came to rehearsals. She didn’t even have the decency not to do it in the exact same room.” Her expression turns to an understanding one. “Well, good riddance. I knew after the first time that the girl was nothing but trouble. Good for you babe.” She types on her phone for a moment before turning her attention back to you- your staring out the window, taking in the somewhat empty streets that were full of people the night before.

“So, what did you do yesterday that was so fun?” You don’t look at her when you respond. “Hugh took me exploring, showed me the city.” She snorts. “Hugh, huh?” You look at her sheepishly. “Yea. He felt bad that I didn’t have someone to go with me so he offered.” You shrug. It wasn’t that big of a deal. “I told you.” 

“Told me what?” 

“That you wouldn’t be able to stay away from that man.” She shakes her head. You sometimes forgot just how well Stacy knows you after years of her by your side. The car comes to a stop outside of a short building, shorter than the other ones around it anyway. You sat in hair and makeup for a while, talking to the artists as they worked. You always liked making conversation with the people that helped you, it was always interesting hearing everyone's stories. The photo shoot wasn’t anything crazy. It was a well known photographer that had worked with major stars, her most recent model being Zendaya. It was a huge compliment that she wanted to work with you. It wasn’t like other shoots you had done before, this had been way more artsy and free. You were so used to doing things for brands or for your own music, where everything needed to be a certain way. It was nice to work on projects where you didn’t have to think but just be you. 

When the shoot was over, you sat in a small lobby with Stacy as you waited for the car to come pick you up. You opened tiktok to see what people were saying in the comments of your latest post. Most of them were freaking out over the laugh in the background, over analyzing it to find out who it was. There were a few comments that speculated that it might be Hugh and it made you laugh, shocked by the crazy detective skills your fans had. You kept scrolling when you saw a comment that caught your attention.

‘Y/N GET YOUR MAN UNDER CONTROL SDJFJSDF’ 

You clicked on the ‘view replies’ tab under it trying to figure out what they were talking about. Thankfully, other people were just as confused as you were with multiple ‘context?’ comments under it. 

‘look at hughs recent instagram post 😭’

In curiosity, you closed Tiktok and opened instagram. You went to the search bar, clicking on his username from your recent searched section. You click on the most recent picture making it enlarge and you let out an audible gasp. “Are you okay?” Stacy asks. You almost forgot where you were for a second. “Yea i’m fine…funny tiktok comment.” You tried to play it off, hoping she’d buy the excuse. It seems to work as she gives a small nod, looking back down to her phone. You look back down at your own device, in complete and utter shock. You knew he was built, seeing other pictures he had posted and endless edits of his greasy hawaiian rolls from Deadpool and Wolverine. 

This however seemed so much slutier. He was in, what you assumed was his home bathroom, taking shirtless pictures of himself. You could tell it had been recent because his beard and hair were the same length that it’s been for the past week. You felt frozen, not knowing what to do. He looked absolutely scrumptious. Pulling out your airpods from your purse, you put them on to listen to the attached audio. You had no fucking clue how you were supposed to look him in the eyes the next time you saw him. His voice was something special. It had the ability to make your knees weak at the sound. This was no different. It felt like he was teasing you subtly. You quickly screenshot the picture and swipe out of instagram, opening your message app. 

You: I leave you alone for less than 24 hours and you’re over here posting thirst traps for the internet… 

Hugh <3: I just wanted to thank my team. As the caption said…I am grateful. 

You: hmm you say it’s being grateful, I say it’s being a SLUT!! 

You: you look really fucking good though…

Hugh<3: 😂😂😂

Hugh<3: Thank you baby. Do I get to see you today or are you still busy? 

You: I have meetings the rest of the day :( 

Hugh<3: It’s okay sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow? 

You: I have fallon tmrw night but i’ll be free at 8pm if you wanna meet up then? 

Hugh<3: That works for me. Text me when you’re done for the day, okay? Talk to you later baby

The car finally stops signaling that you were at the first meeting of the day. There were endless introductions, hand shaking, and smiling. It was a lot more tiring than it sounded. Stacy was doing most of the work, covering major details for whatever was being discussed- again you mainly sat and listened. There were a few times when you really had to pay attention as key points were being made but nothing would be final until your team and lawyer looked over whatever deals were being discussed. There was a short two hour break of freedom that Stacy and yourself used to grab some food. Then it was right back to work. You were somewhat grateful for Stacy scheduling all of the heavy work stuff on one day because it meant you didn’t have to do this again on the remaining days of your trip. Stacy liked to set it up that way, giving you more time to be free from work, you loved her for it. The two of you had dinner together and went your separate ways after. You got back to your hotel at ten and to say you were worn out was an understatement. Your head was hurting from all the talking and bright fluorescent lights of each office you sat in today. 

You: I’m finally freeeee!! 

After hitting send, you hopped in the shower. The best thing about staying in an expensive hotel was how great the water pressure was. The hot water felt like heaven against your sticky skin, the thick body glitter from the photoshoot finally slipping away. You let your mind wander back to the picture that had been in your mind all day. Running your hands down your body, teasing yourself while imagining that it was Hugh’s wide hands instead. You let your hands disappear in the place that ached the most, working as your mind played the fantasies that ate away at you. You could almost feel Hugh’s mouth whispering against your ear as the feeling of ecstasy washes over your body, the running water muffling the sounds of your pleasure. 

Hugh still hadn’t texted you back when you had gotten out of the shower. It was unusual for him to take so long to respond but given the time- and his age- he was probably asleep. The downside to dating older men was their need to be in bed so early. You giggled to yourself thinking about the thought of Hugh being knocked the fuck out in bed after yawning since the clock hit 7pm. Laying in bed, you whipped out your phone opening twitter. You tweeted a quick post, reminding your fans to watch Jimmy Fallon tomorrow night. You scrolled lazily for a while, feeling the sleep take over you but when you saw one post in particular, you felt wide awake. 

‘Hugh Jackman and ex-wife seen walking around New York together a year after separation.’ 

You had no right to feel the jealousy and anger that sat tight in your chest. His ex-wife was something you were completely aware of but it was a subject neither Hugh or yourself had talked about. You understood that she would always be around, after being married to her longer than you’d even been alive. You laugh in disbelief. It sounded so stupid when you put it like that. The age gap never bothered you until you put it in perspective. You couldn’t help who you liked though. The overthinking hit faster than you could stop it. You wondered why he didn’t tell you that he was seeing her today. His smile in the picture was a little too wide, he looked too happy. He wasn’t even yours to claim, yet you wanted her to know that he had you now, that he wanted you. The vile thoughts that danced around your head were making your temper rise. You set some alarms and tried to get some sleep. Most of the night was tossing and turning, thinking about Hugh’s ex-wife. 

Hugh<3: Good morning sweet girl. I’m sorry for not getting back to you last night. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to text me lol 

It was what you saw first when your alarm went off. It was sent a few hours ago since you gave yourself some time to sleep in, given the trouble you had getting to sleep last night. You ultimately decided that you wouldn’t be mad at him for it, you didn’t have a reason to be. If the two of you were official, things would be different, but you weren’t. You were going to try your best to swallow the jealousy and let it be. 

You: good morning baby! I figured that’s what happened lol

Hugh<3: Are you excited for Fallon tonight? 😄

You: yea…only a tinsy bit nervous 

Hugh<3: You’re gonna crush it babe, I know it. I still get to see you after yea? Miss you

You: I miss you too :(

You: do you wanna meet at the hotel after or…?

Hugh<3: I can pick you up and we can go to my place? 

You stared at the message contemplating it. Hugh’s house was already a fear of yours but his house at night seemed a lot more intimate. You felt the need to be that intimate with him though- it was fueled by the pictures from last night, you knew it was. If that hadn't happened, you’d be saying no, making up excuses not to. You needed the validation too much to think straight. 

You: yea we can do that :)

Once you get to the Tonight Show studio, you barely have time to put your things down before you're being guided around. Thankfully, you warmed up your voice before leaving your hotel room just in case you didn’t have time to do it here. The crew had you and your dancers do a quick run through of the song to make sure everything was working before you were sent to your dressing room to get ready. Kat, your stylist, and Amari, your makeup and hair artist, were already in the room ready to get to work. You took the time to catch up with both of them, the three of you falling into a familiar routine. Your nerves started to build up as it got closer to the filming time. About twenty minutes before you were called to stage, Jimmy came back to introduce himself. He was a really sweet guy, super bubbly and humble. It eased your mind a little bit but they shot right back up when your name was called. “Y/n L/n everybody!”. The studio audience erupted in cheers as you walked to Jimmy’s desk. “Welcome to the show, how are you doing tonight?” He asks. “I’m doing amazing, thank you so much for having me.” The cheers finally slow down. “So, I got told that this is your first late night show interview, is that right?” 

“Yes, it is!” 

“I’m honored to be the first.” 

“I’m glad it’s you who popped my late night talk show cherry, Jimmy.” You joke, using your song's title as a pun, which he does his famous laugh at. The interview was going really well, most of the questions being ones you’ve answered countless times before.

“There have been a few rumors going around after a tiktok you posted the other day and I have to ask.” You nod ready for whatever question he’s about to ask. “Is the laugh behind the camera Mr. Hugh Jackman?” Your smile falters for a second before you put it right back on. This was something you weren’t prepared for at all. You let out a laugh. “The fans can keep speculating. A girl never kisses and tells.” It probably wasn’t the best answer- you know it wasn’t the best answer- but it’s all you could come up with in that moment. You just hoped no one noticed the split second your calm facade slipped, that it felt longer than it had actually lasted. 

Hugh was already there when you were free to leave, having texted him in the spare moment you had while getting changed into your performance outfit. Once you were in the car, he didn’t hesitate to ask how it went. “It was good. He uh…he asked about you.” You don’t why you were concerned about how he would respond, but you were. “About me?” He glances at you quickly before focusing on the road again. “Uhh..yeah. I posted the Hamilton video on tiktok and you can hear you laughing in it. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal but people started to guess it was you. I’m sorry.” You slump down into the seat, waiting for his anger to come but it never does. “Don’t apologize baby. I want people to know I’m with you.” He never fails at knowing what to say, his words always flow out of his mouth effortlessly. “I kinda redirected the question though, not really giving a solid answer. I don’t know, it really threw me off.” He nods. “They like to do that, be sneaky.” 

It took a little longer than expected to get to his place, New York traffic moving at a snail's pace. When you do finally arrive, he’s pulling into an underground parking garage that sits under a skyscraper that you can’t see the top of. The elevator ride up was easily the longest one you’d ever been on, his penthouse being on the 56th floor. He opens the door and turns on the light switch that is conveniently placed in the entrance. “Welcome to my home. Mi casa es su casa.” He jokes and you let out a short snort at the stupid joke. “Would you like the official Hugh Jackman house tour?” Excitement was radiating off of him and you thought it was cute that he was this worked up about you being here, in his space. “I’d love one.” He offers his hand and you take it. Your once icy hand being warmed up instantly from his large, warm one. 

As he dragged you to the living room, you started to feel that uneasiness again, like you shouldn’t be here. It kept nagging at you in the back of your head but you refused to pick at it. This was making Hugh happy, you weren’t going to ruin that because of whatever issues you were hiding. After showing you the living room, he pulls you into a large kitchen. A vase full of bright pink flowers, balloons, and a cookie cake that reads ‘congrats’ sits on the counter. You let go of his hand and walk over to the island while he stays put. You run your fingertips over the soft petals of the flowers, peonies- your favorite. “Do you like them? I uh..wasn’t sure what your flower preference was, so I chose peonies because of your song.” 

The gesture makes you emotional. You’d never had a man go out of his way for you like this. He hadn’t known what flowers you liked but he remembered your song title to fill in the blank. A song where you had one line that says: ‘you got me roses when you know I like peonies’. A song from your debut album. “I love them. I love this.” You gesture to the display. You walk back over to where he stands and reach up to grab his face, bringing it down to give him a quick peck on his lips. “This means a lot to me, thank you Hugh.” The previous perturbation vanishing from your head, that cherished easiness you felt with Hugh slips back in. You were meant to be here. 

“Shall we finish the tour?” You ask, spirits high. “Of course my lady, right this way.” He leads you room to room, giving you a mini explanation for each one. It was an average home, well average for a millionaire. It was obvious that a single, older man lived here but not in a bad way, there just wasn’t a woman's touch on the place. “This is bathroom number two, the one I use most frequently.” Something about the room seemed familiar as you looked around. There were a few art pieces on the marbled wall, a large mirror across from them. You were looking at the suspiciously large mirror when it clicked. 

“OH MY GOD!! This is the thirst trap bathroom! I can’t believe I have the pleasure of being in such a sacred place.” You move around the space in a theatrical way, pretending you were in a place of true importance. 

“Oh god…shut up.” He groans in embarrassment. “Could you reenact the moment? It would really help me get the full feel of the room.” You’re still teasing him but that question came back to slap you right across the face. You see a smirk on Hugh's face and he’s reaching his hands down and starts lifting his shirt off- but not in the practical way but in the super sexy crossed arms way. “WAIT! I was just kidding.” You practically scream at him, not mentally prepared to see Hugh shirtless in person. He stops and shrugs, turning around to leave the room. Before you can stop yourself, the horny part of your brain is speaking. “Wait no, keep going.” He slowly turns around with that stupid sexy smile of his and the raised eyebrow thing he does. The atmosphere of the small room changed instantly. He’s pulling at his shirt again, painfully slow in your opinion. As he inches it up, you analyze each slither of skin that’s freed. There is a patch of hair below his belly button leading down into his pants. A strong v-line and a thick vein practically popping out of his skin, begging to be traced with your tongue. The shirt goes higher and higher, revealing more of his chest. Each ab pops out and it’s like a gift from God right in front of your eyes. He pulls the shirt over his head, biceps flexing slightly, and drops the shirt onto the floor. You're frozen in place, not believing that this is real. 

You never have been one to believe in karma but you must have been a saint in your past life to deserve this. You see his mouth move but don’t hear a word he says. All you see is the hairy chest you’d been thirsting over, moving closer until it’s right in front of you. He grabs your cheeks between one hand and faces your eyes up towards his own. “Are you okay y/n?” He has a worry behind his eyes. 

“You’re like really hot. It’s actually frustrating how hot you are.” His grip on your face loosens as you speak. “You asked to see, I was only fulfilling your wishes.” You felt dizzy. He hadn’t even touched you and the way your whole face sits in his one hand and the way his abs are begging to be licked, had you flustered. You were drunk on Hugh. “You're wandering again…maybe I should put my shirt back on.” He goes to reach for it but you reach out, lightly grabbing his arm to stop him. “Not yet.” It’s mumbled and quiet, aimed more towards yourself than it was to him. 

Hugh stands back up, his height towering over you. You couldn’t decide if he had always been so tall. Towering over you in a way that made your heart beat faster. Your mind was battling itself: the arousal wanting nothing more than for Hugh to do whatever he wanted with you while the more reasonable side knew that there were too many things that needed to be talked about before crossing this line. The line had been crossed many times before with the kisses, touches, hand holding- the night on the couch… Sex was different. You weren’t fond of casual sex, it was too intimate an act to categorize as such. Whatever was happening between Hugh and yourself was far from casual though and you trusted him not to hurt you.

“You’re kinda scaring me here, pretty girl. Are you okay?” You couldn’t tell him that seeing his chest had sent you into a horny dazed confusion. You looked up at him, into his worried eyes. He was always so concerned about your well being and he cared so much about everything going on in your life. God, you prayed that this wouldn’t come back to bite you in the ass.

“Kiss me please.” Your voice is shaky, unstable. “Are you sure baby?” His hands rest on your shoulders, eyes searching yours for any doubt. 

“Please Hugh. I need you to kiss me.” His once troubled eyes turned dark as he bent down, kissing you like he never had before. The kiss was messy, full of hunger. His hands trailed down your sides until they cupped under the base of your ass. He effortlessly picks you up to sit you on the bathroom counter, lips never breaking contact. You could feel his tongue prodding at the entrance of your mouth as it asked for permission to enter. Granting access, your lips open, a throaty moan draws out as you feel his tongue swipe against yours. He pulls back for a moment. “Can I take this off? Is that okay?” He asks, referring to your shirt. His usual thick australian accent was soft in his breathy voice. You nod shyly and he doesn’t hesitate to reach down. You put your arms up to aid him as he gently pulls the shirt up and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck baby…so fucking pretty.” His hands cup your bra covered breast, thumbs softly trailing over your stiff nipples causing you to drop your head back with a moan of pleasure. “We never finished the tour, sweet girl.” His hands are still fondling you and you lift your head back up to look at him. “What?” 

“There’s one more room I didn't get to show you.” His hands finally drop from your chest and he’s grabbing your hand, leading you towards whatever room it was that you hadn’t seen. He opens the door and the air surrounding you smells like Hugh. It was almost enough to make you pass out, head already light and fuzzy. 

You don’t have time to look around, Hugh immediately turning you to face him, attacking your mouth once again. His hands are reaching for the button of your jeans, pulling them down slowly once he’s got them open. Hugh’s lips escape yours and trail down your neck, your chest, the sides and your body, and finally your stomach as he slowly lowers himself to sit on his knees. He lifted each of your feet, helping you out of each pant leg. At each lift of your leg, he also pulls each sock off, kissing your calves as he does so. You're left in nothing but a black bra and thong. “Mhm. Can I touch you baby?” He asks looking up at you. You nod, the position he was in, all too arousing. He practically growls at your answer and starts leaving messy kisses on your thighs, his hands gripping the back of them. His lips trail up higher, ghosting over where you needed him the most. You could feel his breath through the thin cotton of your panties. Your own breath hitches as he licks a long teasing path between your two folds, the cotton dipping into them from the weight of his tongue. He looks up at you through his lashes, asking for permission. You mouth a small ‘please’ the only word that seems to be in your vocabulary at the moment. 

His thick fingers slip between the fabric and the skin on your hip on either side of your body, pulling the soaked thong down your legs. Before he continues, he’s standing up and guiding you to the bed. “Get up there and spread that pretty pussy for me baby. Wanna see it.” You waste no time doing what he asks, climbing up the unusually tall bed and laying on your back. You don’t open your legs right away, shyness creeping in. You were almost fully exposed to Hugh, the only thing still covered being your boobs, while he was almost fully covered, only his shirt being off. “Don’t go all shy on me now baby.” He says, guiding your legs open, pussy on full display. “Fuck..look at you sweet girl, all wet for me.” His thumbs pull back each fold, exposing the pink that was partially hidden. He leans town and licks from your entrance to your clit. “Mhmm fuck.” You moan out at the feeling. His tongue felt hot against your warm center, beard tickling your skin as he moved. The sound encourages him to continue. He dives down again, tongue lapping around your needy clit. The constant pressure causes your body to jerk voluntarily. Hugh brings both of his hands to hold you down at your legs, tongue still abusing the small bud. Loud moans escape your mouth as his tongue trails down to your entrance sliding in. “Oh fuck me.” You moan out. “Your pussy taste so fucking good.” He mutters against your skin. His right hand moves from its position on your hip, his middle finger sliding down to your opening. He slowly slides it in, the small stretch feels too good. He starts moving it, hitting the spongy bundle of nerves over and over again. “Fuck baby, i’m gonna cum.” You warn him. His head dips back down, tongue returning to your clit and one suck is all it takes for you to come around his finger. You let out a string of moans and curses, Hugh never letting up until your climax is over. He does one more lap around your pussy with his tongue, cleaning everything up before moving up the bed next to you. 

“Been wanting to do that forever baby. Knew you’d have a perfect little pussy.” His words make you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Even with your own orgasm washing the need out of your body, you were still turned on. The sight of your slick in Hugh’s beard and the very noticeable tent in Hugh’s jeans made it worse. You sit up and go to move. “Where are you going?” Hugh asks, sitting up on his forearms to look at you. You don't respond, instead you reach for the button of his jeans. “You don’t have to do that baby.” He assures you. “I want to.” It was the first coherent sentence you’ve been able to muster and it makes Hugh fall back into the bed. You pull his jeans and boxers off in one go, too impatient to wait. His cock springs free, red and angry. It was long, thin, and veiny- exactly as you imagined it being. It made your mouth water. He had a thick patch of pubic hair and it turned you on even more, you were such a whore for hairy men. 

You sat yourself between each of his thighs, running your hands up and down them. He’s watching you as you take your right hand, wrapping it around the base of him. He sucks in a breath. You're looking him in the eyes as you lean your head down, letting your tongue swirl in slow circles around his tip. “Fuck…” You take the tip slowly into your mouth, sucking on it while your tongue still circles. Your left hand replaces the right on his dick, right hand moving down to cup his balls. “Shit..” He hisses out. “Haven’t done this in a while baby, not gonna last long at all.” He confesses but men coming fast had always been something that excited you, so you got to work. Your head dipped lower, taking more of him in your mouth while hollowing your cheeks, creating a dangerous suction on him. Your pace was steady as he moaned. “Yea baby, just like that…mmm fuck.” He was a talker and you loved it. You took him out of your mouth, moving down to his balls instead. You sucked on them as your hands worked his shaft. He was breathing rapidly. “I’m gonna cum baby….ohh fuck baby don’t stop.” You immediately moved your mouth back to his tip, sucking every drop of cum from him, not letting any go to waste. You can feel his thighs clenching next to yours. When you're confident that he was done spewing, you swallow it down happily and smile up at him. 

“You’re a dream, you know that? So fucking perfect for me.” He sighs in content as you crawl up to lay on his chest. “You really believe that?” You ask. “I really believe it, y/n. Haven’t felt this way in a long time..” You didn’t want to ask him what that meant, he would tell you eventually. “You wanna stay here tonight?” You look around, seeing the time on the digital alarm clock he had on a bedside table. It read 11:30pm. “Yea, if that’s okay.” You didn’t want to inconvenience him, even if he’s the one who asked. “More than okay sweet girl.” 

The two of you took a quick shower together, the main goal was to get clean so you could hit the hay. Hugh strayed from that a little bit at the sight of your boobs, which he hadn’t seen fully during the fun you had earlier. He gave them small kisses, worshiping them as you washed your hair. He gave you a shirt to sleep in and you opted to go commando, not wanting to put your dirty underwear back on- Hugh didn’t complain about this. His own pajamas being his boxers and nothing else. The two of you laid in Hugh’s bed, you cuddled on his side running your fingers through the hair on his chest. A silence fell over the room, sleep creeping its way in.

thank you for reading!

part six

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

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[augustinewrites]

“okay! i finally have a plan for your bachelorette party!” shoko exclaims, rubbing her palms together gleefully. 

“shoko, no,” you start, closing your laptop with a sigh. “i already told you, i don’t need a party!”

with the wedding only a week away, the excitement was beginning to sink in for you, satoru, and all your friends. 

“at least hear my plan first,” she insists. “i’m thinking male strippers, penis straws—”

“count me in,” satoru says, joining you on the love seat. your fiancé wraps an arm around you, kissing your temple before looking to shoko. “what time should i be there?”

“no,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “no boys allowed at the bachelorette.”

“could i come if i was the stripper?”

that is an awful idea for so many reasons, the most prevalent being the time satoru tried to do a strip tease on your anniversary and broke his…you know.

but you promised you’d never talk about it again, so you’re relieved when shoko comes to the conclusion on her own.“you have the grace of those inflatable men at car dealerships, so absolutely not.”

gojo mocks her absolutely not in an obnoxiously high pitch, sitting back and fixing her with a petty glare. “who put you in charge?”

“i’m the maid of honour, which means i’m in charge of everything that happens at this bachelorette.” 

you hope that she misses the quick glance you and your fiancé exchange, wincing when you see she doesn’t. 

“what? what’s with the looks?”

“it’s just— tsumiki’s my maid of honour…”

you feel awful when her expression drops. “oh…”

“i’m sorry, i’ve been meaning to tell you,” you apologize quickly. “but she’s like our—”

thankfully your best friend recovers quick, shaking her head and sending you a smile. “you don’t have to explain. it’s okay, i get it. i’m okay with just being a bridesmaid.”

satoru takes a long sip of his drink. you look away guiltily.

“i don’t even get to be a bridesmaid?!”

you scramble for an explanation, looking to satoru for help. “well, he only has one best man and no groomsmen, so it’d be asymmetrical—”

“because that loser doesn’t have any other friends i don’t get to be in the wedding party?!”

“hey, i have friends!”

“you have nanami,” she deadpans, unimpressed. “you guys don’t even hang out.”

“actually, we’re planning on getting lunch tomorrow.” then, after a moment, “if we’re both free…”

“you can be our flower girl!” you blurt before satoru can embarass himself further. 

shoko sits back, considering this. 

“do i get to pick my own dress?”

“sure,” you agree.

“alright, deal. but i’m still throwing you a bachelorette party.”

“shoko!”

_____

“we are not crashing your fiancée’s party.”

“we don’t have to. i can crash it on my own.” satoru points out. 

nanami deeply regrets agreeing to be best man. deeply. “shoko specifically instructed me to stop you if you attempted to pose as a stripper.”

he only scoffs as if he isn't afraid of shoko ieiri himself. “only because she’s scared my pelvic sorcery is too powerful.”

“no, because you lack the grace of a dancer and broke your penis last time you attempted a strip tease.”

“what?! you guys know about that?!”

"of course," nanami shudders, staring forlornly out the window of the cab because he has seen some shit. "we have a group chat."

[kryannoy]

what's not to love about xiangli yao

genre: fluff, headcanon

character: xiangli yao

a/n: my heart was stolen and sadly enough, i'm not loyal to jiyan anymore😔

He's such a gentleman.

I can see him as someone who's really sweet and caring towards his partner.

The type that would definitely bring flowers to your first date. Then, buys different gifts that you would like once he's gotten to know you better.

He has a list of the things you're interested in based on your conversations with him—whether it'd be games, books, shows, etc. He memorizes them so he can give gifts later.

If it's not obvious enough, his love languages are gift giving and quality time.

No matter how busy he is, or how he loves to be couped up in his lab, he will make time for you.

You need him to pick you up? He's on his way. You need necessary items? He's checking out. Need cuddles and attention? Yes please, consider it done.

He wouldn't mind you coming to his workplace, he'll let you stay in the lab while he does his research.

The one time you accidentally knocked his crucible off the table your heart dropped.

He saw your scared expression—your eyes so shiny with your tears begging to stain your cheeks—but he never had the intention to yell at you like you were a kid to begin with. He knows better that it was all an accident.

He approached you and there you started rambling about how it happened and apologized repeatedly until he picked up both your hands and asked, "Are you hurt?" with the most gentle voice you've heard and a worried look. You melted!

He loves to secretly and not-so secretly take pictures of you. He has a camera specifically for you only.

He loves to make plans ahead—for tomorrow, next weekend, next month, heck, even next year and years ahead. He even slipped out his plans of getting married to you and having kids and such. Boy, you never thought it was possible to see how red he can be.

He's always so calm and keeps a cool head. Even when you're yapping about your day and such, he'll attentively listen to you. However, his habit of watching you talk always gets to you and annoyingly, he doesn't get it. His face would look so soft, his gaze is gentle and he always puts a smile.

"Don't look at me with those eyes!" "What eyes?" Definitely happened.

He just can't help it. The way you get excited, or have that angry pout, it was all too adorable for him. He's just so in love with you.

If you're the one to tease him, expect lots of stutters and blinking eyes. He can hide his blush all he wants but the sudden silence and avoiding eye contact are obvious hints he's flustered.

When you patted Xiang-LEE's head when you are fully aware that Xiangli Yao was taking control, he went speechless and stumbled with his words.

But when you patted his actual head, he malfunctioned. He could not maintain eye contact with you at all after that.

Another thing he loves is when you play with his soft hair, but he gets way too shy the whole time no matter how hard he tries to stay calm. If he feels comfortable enough to succumb to the embarrassment, he buries his head into the crook of your neck to hide his blushing face.

If you tease him too much, he might actually burst his bubble.

[p0orbaby]

As We Plunge into the Ocean

summary: snapshots of your pregnancy journey with leah by your side

warnings: pregnancy and its potential symptoms, duh !

a/n: thank you for the request !

word count: 1.8k

-

You have to hand it to Leah, she's really leaned into this whole pregnancy thing. Not that you’re surprised. She’s always been a bit of a control freak. Actually, no, she’s a lot of a control freak. But now, it’s like she’s running drills for motherhood, and you’re the center of her training program.

Month 2: The Overprotective Phase Begins

“You’re glowing,” she tells you one morning. It’s sweet until you deduce she’s actually staring at the sweat on your upper lip. You’re clammy, nauseous, and you smell like day-old toast, but sure, you’re glowing.

Leah’s taken to hovering. She’s always been protective, but now, it’s like you’re made of glass, or maybe like you’re the last good avocado in Waitrose—precious and prone to bruising. She watches you closely, eyes narrowed, as if you might spontaneously combust into a pile of hormones and ash at any moment.

“You’re going to be late for training,” you remind her, trying to shoo her out the door with your tea bag as if you’re some sort of British Gandalf.

She glances at her watch, sighs, and then gives you that look. The one that says, I’m going to worry about you while I’m gone, so don’t do anything stupid like trip over air or suddenly decide to juggle knives.

“Don’t lift anything heavy,” she warns, pulling on her jacket, but making no move toward the door. “Or stand on anything taller than a pancake”

Close enough.

“Okay, Mum,” you say, deadpan. You’re both amused and slightly exasperated because Leah’s version of protective involves a lot of hovering and unnecessary life advice.

She kisses you on the forehead before leaving, like she’s blessing you for the day ahead. Or maybe she thinks you’ll forget how to breathe without her around. Either way, it’s oddly comforting.

When she finally leaves, you flop on the sofa, determined to enjoy the fleeting freedom before she comes home and starts fluffing your pillows like you’re an elderly Victorian woman with consumption.

-

Month 4: The Hormone-Palooza

Leah walks in from training one afternoon to find you sitting on the kitchen floor, crying over an empty jar of pickled onions. To be fair, they were really good onions. You’d eaten the last one two hours ago, and now the world feels like a cruel, onion-less void.

“What happened?” Leah asks, dropping her kit bag and rushing over like there’s been a national emergency.

“The pickled onions,” you sob, pointing dramatically at the empty jar as if it’s committed some unspeakable crime.

She stares at the jar, then at you, and you can see the mental maths she’s doing to figure out if this is worth her calling 999. But then she just nods, like she’s made peace with your hormonal breakdowns.

“I’ll get more tomorrow,” she says, like she’s promising to fetch water from a well three villages over.

You look up at her, eyes wide and wet. “Really?”

She nods. “Really. And I’ll get the sliced red ones this time”

You sniff, feeling vaguely stupid but mostly just grateful. “You’re the best”

“I know,” she says, deadpan, and helps you off the floor like you’re a drunk at a party who just tried to wrestle your reflection in the mirror.

But Leah doesn’t make fun of you for your hormone-fueled tears. She’s too busy making sure you’re okay, which is annoying and endearing in equal measure.

-

Month 6: The Nesting Madness

You wake up one morning to the sound of power tools. In your half-asleep state, you briefly consider the possibility that Leah’s decided to open a B&Q in your living room.

When you manage to roll out of bed, because rolling is now the only way you can get up, you find Leah assembling a cot in the nursery. She’s wearing a headlamp like she’s about to go spelunking. Her tongue is sticking out in concentration, and there’s a distinct air of “I watched this on YouTube once, so I’m basically an expert” about her.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” you ask, leaning against the doorway, trying not to laugh.

She pauses, mid-screw, and gives you a look. “I’m following the instructions,” she says defensively, even though the manual is open to a page that looks more like IKEA hieroglyphics than anything else.

You decide not to mention that the cot is currently upside down. Instead, you settle in to watch Leah’s one-woman DIY show. It’s honestly better than whatever’s on terrestrial right now.

After a good twenty minutes, she steps back, admiring her work. You both stare at the crib, which is somehow missing two legs but is otherwise a valiant effort.

“It’s... something,” you say diplomatically.

Leah sighs, rubbing her temples. “I’ll call my dad”

You nod. “Good idea. He’s got that handyman vibe”

She gives you a mock glare. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t help”

“I’m in charge of moral support,” you reply, patting your stomach. “And the baby’s supervising”

“Lazy,” she mutters, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips.

-

Month 8: The Belly and the Beast

By this point, your belly is so big that it has its own gravitational pull. Leah has taken to treating it like it’s a small planet she needs to orbit. You’re the sun, and she’s some overzealous moon that won’t give you any space.

“Do you need anything?” she asks for the fiftieth time that day, hovering like a helicopter parent who’s misplaced their child in a crowd.

“No,” you reply, staring at the TV, which you can barely see over your stomach.

“How about water? I could get you water. Or juice. Or something with electrolytes. Do you want electrolytes?” Leah’s pacing now, clearly itching to do something.

You eye her, bemused. “I’m fine, Leah”

“Are you sure? I could fluff your pillow, or I could—”

“Leah,” you interrupt, trying to keep a straight face, “the baby and I are okay. You don’t need to, like, feng shui the living room or whatever”

She stops pacing, looking slightly sheepish. “I’m just... I don’t know what to do with myself”

You reach out and grab her hand, pulling her to sit next to you. “You’re doing great,” you tell her, squeezing her hand. “Now, just relax. Let’s watch something. Maybe something without pregnant women, though. I can’t deal with seeing anyone else going through this”

Leah laughs, finally settling in next to you. “Deal”

Five minutes into the show, she’s already got a hand on your belly, her protective instincts kicking in even during a Netflix binge. You roll your eyes fondly but let her be. At least she’s not trying to rearrange the furniture again.

-

Month 9: The Home Stretch (Or, The Last Nerve)

Leah is a bundle of nerves, more wound up than a cat near a cucumber. It’s almost cute, except when she insists on triple-checking the hospital bag, which she’s already checked twice in the last hour.

“Leah, seriously, if you add one more onesie to that bag, it’s going to explode”

“I just want to make sure we have everything,” she mutters, rummaging through the bag as if it’s one of those cursed Hermione purses from Harry Potter.

“We have everything. And then some,” you assure her, eyeing the ludicrous pile of baby supplies that could probably last through an apocalypse.

She finally zips up the bag and sits down next to you. For a moment, there’s silence, and you think maybe, just maybe, she’s finally going to relax. But no. She starts tapping her foot, glancing at you every few seconds.

“Do you think—”

“No,” you cut her off, knowing exactly where this is going.

“But—”

“Leah,” you say firmly, “I love you, but if you ask me if I think the baby’s coming today one more time, I might actually lose it”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, looking like she’s physically restraining herself from speaking.

“I’m sorry,” she finally says, sighing. “I’m just... I’m excited and nervous and I feel like I’m waiting for a bomb to go off, but the bomb is cute and we’re going to love it and—”

“Leah,” you interrupt again, “you’re doing amazing. But you need to chill, or the baby’s going to think it’s coming out to meet a drill sergeant”

She cracks a smile at that. “Okay, okay, I’ll try to relax”

She doesn’t. But she does stop asking you if you’re in labor every fifteen minutes, so you’ll take that as a win.

-

The Grand Finale: The Delivery Room Circus

The day finally arrives. Naturally, it’s at three in the morning because why would your body ever do anything convenient? You wake Leah up by shaking her arm like you’re waking a teenager for school.

“Leah,” you say, trying to stay calm even though your insides feel like they’re being twisted into balloon animals. “It’s time”

She’s up in an instant, wide awake like she’s just heard the starting whistle at the World Cup final. She starts pacing, half-dressed, muttering about the hospital bag.

“We need to go, we need to—oh my god, where are the keys? Do we have the car seat? Should we call an ambulance? No, wait, we’re not calling an ambulance, that’s for emergencies, this is an emergency, but not that kind of emergency—”

You grab her shoulders, trying to steady her. “Leah, breathe. We’ve got time. But we do need to go”

She takes a deep breath, nodding like she’s trying to calm down a very excitable puppy. Then she’s off, running around the house like it’s an obstacle course, grabbing everything and nothing at once. You watch her in bemusement, one hand on your belly, wondering if you should tell her that she’s just thrown her shoe into the fridge.

When she finally gets it together, the drive to the hospital is an adventure in itself. Leah’s driving like she’s on her way to rob a bank, weaving through traffic and swearing under her breath at every red light.

“Leah, the baby’s not going to fall out if we don’t get there in ten minutes,” you say, trying to keep a straight face as she mutters something about the stupidly long red lights.

Finally, you make it to the hospital, where Leah practically drags you to the entrance like a deflated balloon on a string. Once inside, she’s all business, directing the nurses like she’s running a tactical operation.

The actual labour is a blur—hours of pain, and sweat, and Leah alternating between holding your hand and looking like she might faint. But she doesn’t faint. She stays with you the whole time, even when you scream at her that she’s never allowed to touch you again.

When the baby finally arrives, Leah’s expression is one of awe, relief, and sheer, overwhelming love. You’re both exhausted, but when you see her holding your baby, all of her earlier madness makes sense.

She was never just overprotective or anxious. She was just ready—ready to love, ready to care, and maybe, just maybe, ready to stop checking that bloody hospital bag.

Maybe.

Probably not.

But you love her anyway.

[livbedum]

FWB!RAFE ONE SHOT

cw afab!reader , substance use , profanity , smut ( making out , grinding , fingering , recording unprotected pinv , spanking , daddy kink , praise & slight degradation kink , creampie , kinda dom!rafe/sub!reader )

18+ minors DNI

rafe is definitely the one to initiate anything and starts this whole thing you two have going on. you come over to his house one night ( not unusual , considering you’re such close friends ) after you and some guy you were seeing broke up. really you just needed some time to calm down about the entire situation , so rafe offers to smoke you up to help you let loose.

at first , you’re just smoking together while you rant about how much of a douche this guy was to you all the time and how stupid you felt for even liking the kid to begin with. and rafe really , truly can’t understand how the hell any guy could fumble as bad as this. even though he was only ever your friend , rafe had thought about what it’d be like to have you several times — mostly late at night , sometimes when you were hanging out with him and the guys on the Druthers and your swimsuit was riding a little too high.

eventually , the conversation slowly gets more explicit , you recalling all of the times this guy couldn’t even make you cum and laughing about it with rafe. “what an idiot.” it’s the first thing rafe says that really catches your attention , questioning him for the meaning behind his small murmur. “i can’t imagine how pissed i would be if i had the chance to be with you and fucked it up by not being able to make you finish,” he said and just his tone gave off the impression that he wanted to prove it to you— that he wouldn’t make the same mistake this other guy did.

and you’re high , your inhibitions are low , and rafe looks sooo good — so who’s to blame you when you meet him in the middle when he pulls you in for a kiss? he doesn’t hesitate to take over , yanking you into his lap without breaking the kiss ; he deepens it. your hands find purchase in his dirty blonde hair while his find your hips , squeezing tight , running up and down your sides just wanting to feel you.

rafe is kind enough to let you set the pace for a few minutes , letting you grind yourself down onto him which only makes you groan into his mouth. it’s when you pull back that rafe gets to start his work. kissing down your neck , biting and soothing the sting with his tongue , sucking bruises into your skin that you would surely bitch about tomorrow.

you lean back a little , rafe chasing you as you continue to grind against him. your short skirt had ridden up around your hips which only left your small panties in between you and the hard-on he’s sporting under his jeans. every once in awhile you glide against him just right , causing your mouth to drop and rafe’s hands to squeeze your ass a little tighter one of them coming down to spank you only spurring you on further.

“oh , you like that , huh?” so cocky with the way he speaks and laughs lowly in your ear. you can only manage a whimper in response , pulling him away from your neck and back to you to go in for another kiss , needing the relief of his lips against yours again. it was hard to remember the last time just making out felt so good.

one of rafe’s hands sneaks around to the front of you the other finding it’s place on your thigh , testing how far the night could really go , feeling the damp cloth between your legs and the way you melt into him at the delicate touch. he pulls your panties to the side gently before running his middle and ring finger through your slick folds , groaning at how wet you already were.

and he can’t help but think that this all didn’t take much , and he could’ve had made a move a long time ago.

he works you up a little more , rubbing at your clit and holding you to him before teasing your entrance with both fingers. you grab his wrist , impatiently helping him move a little quicker than he’d like. rafe’s taking his time in everything he’s doing , really trying to take it all in. the noises your making , the way you feel , everything.

rafe dips both fingers into you , pussy clenching around the intrusion and a moan ripping through your throat. he starts working his fingers in and out of you while his thumb is rubbing circles on your clit and you help him , grinding into his hand. you forget where you are and the fact that sarah’s upstairs in her room until rafe adds a third finger , causing you to fall into him and moan far louder than you had been.

“take me upstairs,” it’s not a request when you say it. and just like that , you’re empty again with rafe picking you up in his arms and heading straight to his room while you attack his neck with your lips grumbling about how someone’s excited. you let out a soft giggle , kissing him again.

when you get to the room , he tosses you down onto the bed before yanking your hips to the edge by your thighs. you sit up on your elbows , taking in how good rafe looks like this ; swollen lips , messy hair , damp spot formed on his pants thanks to you. you can’t recall a time you didn’t think rafe was attractive. he was objectively a good looking guy. but something about him being so wound up for you made him look even better.

“whatcha looking at me like that for?” rafe asks , head tilting to the side a little bit , cheeky smile gracing his face.

you sit up , pulling your top off and throwing it to the side not caring where it landed. “i’m waiting for you to prove that you’re a little bit better than the rest of the guys on the island , rafe,” you admitted , leaning back on your arms waiting for him to make a move again as he eyes your now free breasts.

“i’m not a little better.”

“no?”

“i’m way better,” he corrects you before kneeling down on the floor and pulling you to him , hot breath hitting your core before he dives in.

it took you off guard , how quickly went to eating you like a starved man , but god , did it feel good.

your hand flies to the back of his head to hold him closer to you. his nose nudges your clit over and over as his tongue dips into you. “taste so good for me , baby.”

baby.

he’d never called you that before. it was always variations of your name , your last name , or simply y/n. never baby.

you let yourself fall back into his bed all the way , head flying back , mouth letting moans fly freely as he added his fingers back into you. the noise was visceral and the only thing you could hear besides rafe’s low groaning into your core and your own breathy moans.

“fuck — don’t stop. gonna cum,” you announced , hips trying to chase the feeling of diving off the edge , but rafe’s free hand pushes you back down , holding you in place to his liking.

you’re so fucking close , and rafe can feeling your cunt tightening over and over again around his fingers. he pulls his mouth away from you , kissing your inner thighs and his fingers pound into you harder. “need you to cum for me , baby. cum on my fingers,” he breathes out.

and with a curl of his fingers that right band within you snapped. rafe’s hand didn’t stop when you fell , helping you through your orgasm and working you up again for another. “good girl , that’s it. did so good for me,” he smiles at you , rising from the floor and unbuckling his belt.

your lips are still tingly and you can’t hear fully quite yet , but you can feel rafe’s body hovering over you , his hands running up and down your thighs in an attempt to soothe you a little. “y’alright?” he worries slightly , tapping your cheek to get you to open your eyes.

you let out a soft hum , your eyes glossed over and trailing down rafe’s body. you sit up again , reaching out for him and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “want this off.”

rafe doesn’t waste any time , ripping his shirt off and taking his pants the rest of the way off , leaving him in just his boxers to match you in your panties. “want to see how much better i can get too?”

so fucking cocky. but nonetheless you nod with a smile , already feeling ready to go again. “give it to me , cameron.”

green light.

rafe grabs you and flips you to your stomach , pulling and maneuvering you the way he sees fit before rubbing his cock up and down your folds. for the first time ever , he hadn’t cared too much about his own relief.

usually , when he was hooking up with someone , it started with him receiving the sloppiest head he could get and following it up with fucking the poor girl into his mattress to finish himself off while getting her to where he needs. but this time , he couldn’t tear his focus away from making you feel good to the best of his abilities.

you can feel rafe pause , still rubbing himself through your arousal. and as greedy as it may seem , you needed him in you now. “condom?” he simply asks. your throat is still dry , so you swallow the lump in your throat rock your hips back , the tip of him catching and sliding all the way into you.

this. this is what heaven felt like.

the two of you groan in sync , rafe’s head tilting back as his grip on your hips tightened , definitely leaving bruises in their wake. “fuck you feel good.”

good doesn’t begin to describe it. you feel so full , so warm. you continue rocking your hips , fucking yourself onto rafe’s cock in an effort to let him take a break after the orgasm he ripped out of you moments before. it’s what he deserved. “yeah? you like this dick , baby?” he grunts , slapping your ass and gripping you to move you on and off of him after you let a whine pass by your lips.

“fucking love it!” you reply , head hitting the sheets as you kept working yourself on him.

with a certain roll of your hips , rafe nearly cums right then. “that’s it,” he grumbles , shifting his weigh and shoving you further into the mattress before slamming into you. he keeps going with his hard thrusts , his pace picking up. “taking it so fucking good for me. bet that idiot you’ve been giving this to would die if he saw you like this.” rafe chuckled lowly , just imagining how good it would feel to see the look on that guys face.

your head raises a little bit , looking over your shoulder and catching rafe’s eye. “why don’t you take a video? show him how much better you are to me than him? if you want,” you suggest , big , glossy eyes staring into his soul. could you be more perfect?

rafe’s hood stutter before coming to a stop. he pulls out quickly , reach over to his nightstand for his phone and opening the camera and starting a video. “c’mere , baby. fuck yourself on my dick for the camera. show everyone who’s treatin’ you so good,” he coaxes you back onto him.

you do as you’re told , sliding back until rafe’s hips start doing the work for you again. his hand comes down on your ass , spanking you a few times in a row only causing you to sink into the bed more. “you feel so good , daddy!”

god , he knows that the two of you have talked about your kinks before. it was just something that came up one night while you were hanging out with your friends , but he didn’t expect you to pull that one out. “yeah? your daddy taking care of you. showing you how it should be?” he fucks into you harder , pulling all the way out before slamming back in. “fuck , i’m gonna cum , baby.”

it’s like he read your mind when he reached around you and starting flicking at your clit again. “cum in me , daddy. shit , fuck! don’t stop , please don’t stop!” you’re babbling at this point , just wanting rafe to keep going , to get you there one last time.

“make your daddy cum , baby. being such a good little slut,” rafe groans , resting back on his calves to let you work for it just a little bit , his hand staying perched on your lower back to help you keep your pace.

you listen to him , throwing your ass back to help him finish just like he had for you earlier. “wanna make you come,” you whine , reaching your hand between your body and the sheets to rubbing your clit , needing just a little bit more. rafe catches this and slaps your hand away , rubbing furiously until he feels you flutter around his length over and over and over until you let out a wail. your legs are shaking as you collapse into the bed , no longer being able to hold yourself up anymore.

rafe drops the phone to the bed , gripping both of your hips and thrusting into you hardest he has yet. he covers your body with his , as his thrusts become sloppier and lips attaching to your neck , mumbling how close he is and how good you are. your cunt spasms around him again , tears flooding your eyes in pleasure. your mind goes fuzzy. you can’t even tell when he stops fucking into you , his body deflating and his weight coming down on you.

“you still with me , baby?” rafe questions , pushing himself off of you and grabbing the camera again. he pulls out , focusing the camera on his cum spilling out of you in a mixture with your own. he slaps your ass and jiggling the fat under his hand before spreading your cheeks to get an even better view of the aftermath. “you did so good for me.”

rafe stops the recording , tossing his phone to the side again before standing up and going to his en suite bathroom. meanwhile , you come back to feeling your legs and roll yourself over to catch your breath. “jesus christ , rafe!” you call out , just loud enough for him to hear you from the bathroom.

he comes back into the room with a damp towel , reaching to clean you up gently. “you staying the night?” he asks softly , looking at your face to meet your eyes.

he sees you ponder it , really think about such a silly , simple question. “yeah , i think i’ll stay,” you smile softly. really , it was because you didn’t think you could sit up let alone get back to your house across the street.

rafe pulls a pair of shorts on swiftly before hopping into the bed next to you and grabbing his phone. “here , send that shit to what’s his face.” he hands his phone over to you , and you can’t help but laugh a little as you type in your ex’s number and press send. you toss rafe his phone back into his lap and let your head hit the pillows again. “straight to the spank bank,” rafe partially joked , putting the video into his hidden folder.

“you’re such a pig , cameron.”

woooo , this was so much longer than i intended it to be. it is my first post & first time writing smut so be gentle with me

[puranami]

✿ Omelette ✿

A/N: A little fic based on one of the prompts I have~

Summary: Sanji finds you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour.

Content: Warning - my really bad attempt at writing anything outside of lil paragraph points (blz help, I have no idea what I'm doing)

Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs! A light dusting of pining, G/N reader. ✿

(Part 2) - (Part 3)

You had tried to sleep and ignore the rumbling in your stomach, but the harder you tried, the more you felt it, and you had finally reached your limit. If you were to be at all functional tomorrow, you needed to eat something. Only then could you try to sleep again.

Exhausted, you drag yourself from the safety and warmth of your blankets, slowly ambling towards the ship's kitchen, single-minded in your endeavour. All that mattered was appeasing your stomach, leaving you completely unaware of the sudden cold that embraced you once you had left the confines of your quarters.

Flicking on the kitchen light, you quickly gathered everything you needed, deciding that the best thing to make would be an omelette. It's an easy dish, filling, and doesn't take long to make. In other words; it was perfect!

You make quick work of prepping the eggs, seasoning to taste, even considering throwing a little cheese in there before deciding against it. It's not like you believed the myth of cheese giving people nightmares if eaten before bed, but you were so desperate to be able to sleep afterwards that you didn't want to risk it. Stranger things have happened on this ship.

The pan hisses as you pour in the eggs, sounding much louder in the empty kitchen, only amplified by the late hour.

"Don't you sass me," you grumble, "The middle of the night is a perfectly acceptable time for an omelette!"

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one awake on the ship, and your late night excursion had attracted attention, clearly not having noticed any of the noise you were making.

"I thought Luffy had snuck in on a midnight raid with all the clattering," a groggy voice behind you laughs, but you are too tired and focused on cooking to even register that you had been joined by anyone. Sanji leans against the table opposite the kitchen island, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt, waiting for an answer that never came.

Surely you heard him, right?

"Is everything alright, darling?"

Nothing.

Terms of endearment usually prompted some kind of response, be it a dismissive laugh or an equally fond term of your own, clearly thinking they meant nothing in particular. He'd accepted pretty quickly that they wouldn't be the way to win you over, but it certainly didn't stop him using them, at least on you. The same couldn't be said about everyone else, as he was no longer vying for the affection of anyone but yourself. Sanji wondered if you'd ever noticed that.

A clumsy flip of the omelette brought him back into the moment, honestly surprised that you hadn't dropped it on the floor.

He moved his way to your side of the kitchen, round the central island toward the stovetop.

"Why are you cooking at this hhhh-" he wheezed at the end, only now seeing that you weren't in the pyjama bottoms he'd assumed you'd be wearing, but in your underwear.

He clasped one of his hands over his mouth, the other grabbing the island for support as he felt his legs begin to fail him. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he blurts out, "W-WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?" as his face went fully crimson.

That finally gets your attention, but you are slow on the uptake, mind completely glazing over the fact that you had at some point gained an observer. Finally, furrowing your brows a little, you murmured a soft "What?" You knew a question was asked, but nothing else beyond that.

"Your pants, darling!" he gestures wildly, continuing to look down, knowing if that he caught sight of your bare legs again, he would lose his mind.

You stand there, pan hovering in the air away from the stove in one hand, a plate in the other, looking absolutely lost; you had completed your mission of acquiring omelette, and so your brain had decided it was no longer needed. Looking down, you see your legs and feet, wiggling your toes a little, then you look back up at the mess of a man in front of you, things finally starting to fall into place in your overtired mind.

"Oh, Sanji, what are you doing here," you ask, sweet as anything, completely ignorant to the battle he was waging internally. Once you plate your omelette, you place it on the island before putting the pan back on the stove to cool and grabbing a fork to tuck in, oblivious to Sanji frantically unbuttoning his night shirt beside you. He refuses to look directly at you until he has covered you with it, cheeks noticeably burning with how flustered he is.

"Darling, you can't do that to me," he says, almost breathless, "I am a weak, weak man; I can't handle seeing you so bare!" He manipulates your arms into the sleeves of his nightshirt, ignoring your protests when he briefly pulls the fork out of your hand in the process, before buttoning you up, doing his best to preserve your dignity.

As you feel the warm sustenance finally begin to settle in your empty stomach, you feel your brain booting back up, at least a little bit.

"Ah, shit I forgot to put on pants..." You giggle, wondering why everything was always funnier when you were tired. Taking another bite of food, you look down at your legs once again, starting to fully comprehend the situation you found yourself in. "I guess I was just too hungry." He can't help but sigh at how nonchalant you are.

Looking back up, your brain once again decides to abandon you, not from how tired you are this time, but from your eyes being met with his bare chest and abs, causing your own face to turn a charming shade of red. Sanji was always so neatly dressed, so he most you ever saw was his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves to work. It made sense that he was in good shape given his fighting ability, but it never really hit you until you saw his body tonight. There wasn't really any way to get accustomed to it, not like there was with someone like Zoro, who had his shirt off at least half the times you saw him, flashing his man tits whenever and wherever he damn well pleased.

Sanji's eyes never left you during this quiet minute, one that felt like hours, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of pride when he watched your eyes dance over his shirtless body, clearly flustered, bringing a confident smile to his face.

"Everything alright down there, sweetheart," he laughed softly.

You were clearly lost in your thoughts, it finally clicking why he was shirtless; he'd put his shirt on you. You brought a long sleeve up to your face as you dragged your eyes away, looking awkwardly to the side to your recently emptied plate. The shirt smelt like him, only without the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. It was sweet and musky. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but you felt a wave of feelings crash into you. Feelings you knew were there but had simply brushed aside, assuming they were just a result of his natural charm more than anything. But, you couldn't so easily disregard them now.

Sanji followed your gaze. "Ah, don't you worry about that, my dear," he says, grabbing the plate and bringing it to the sink, leaving you standing in a bit of a daze. "I'll take care of things here, so you go and get yourself back to bed, alright?"

"Oh, no!" You couldn't help how loud that ended up being, surprising the both of you. "You shouldn't have to clean up my mess," you say with a more regulated volume. If there's one way to get you back in the present, it's offering to do something you feel solely responsible for.

"In all fairness, darling, you shouldn't have been cooking in my kitchen in a state of undress," his cheeks started to go pink at the recent memory. He clears his throat before continuing, "Do you know how dangerous that is?" Ah, the professional chef just can't help himself when it comes to kitchen rules.

You pout slightly as you lean back against the centre island.

"Sorry, Sanji. I wasn't really with it. Too tired, too hungry..."

He makes quick work of the dirty items you had used, all while prattling on about safety and other things you probably should have listened to. Drying his hands, he makes his way back to you. It is evident you hadn't really been paying attention.

"At least promise me this," you look up at his warm, smiling face, "if you ever find yourself in this predicament again, please come and get me."

He brushes back some loose strands of hair, tucking them neatly behind your ear.

"You know that I'm always happy to cook for you, right? Whatever you want, whenever you want it."

Returning a gentle smile of your own, you nod.

"I promise."

With that, Sanji leads you out of the kitchen, plunging it back into darkness as he flicks the light off.

You reach his quarters first since he's closest to the kitchen. He pauses outside his door, hesitating for a moment. There are so many things he wanted to say to you, yet he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word.

Oblivious, you carry on toward your own room, turning back to him to wish him a good night, nearly falling over your own feet in the process, to which he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Bonne nuit, ma chère."

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals; I tried my best! This is my very first full fic ever, so if the grammar, wording, presentation, literally anything is bad; it's bc I am completely winging it! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

[st4rbwrry]

STICKY ☆ eren yeager.

☆. warnings ~ 2.8k. fem!reader, black coded, self pleasure, eren gives us a massage w oil, blowjob, dj on the clit, unedited, kissing, praise, pet names dnt feel like listing, vulgar language, teasing, mention of cycle, dry humping, titty sucking, neck kisses, minors do not interact! reblogs & comments are appreciated.

because this just happened to me and i had no choice but to write it. but imagine eren giving you a full body rub down massage with some shea butter scented baby oil while the two of you watch crime documentaries on netflix. it’s playing soundlessly in the background while the two of you lay comfortably on the black velvet sectional sofa in your cozy studio apartment. it’s raining outside, nighttime nearing. your home smells like salted lemon meringue pie; a candle eren bought for you because he said it reminded him of you.

warm, soft, and sweet. the two of you are cuddling together on the long part of the couch, eren completely pressed up against your left side slowly rubbing your ass in circles under your fuzzy pink blanket. you’re so into your show, sipping on a can of mango arizona, only dressed in an oversized anime tshirt and a pair of pink lace panties printed with hearts that matched the bralette underneath your shirt. he can’t stop touching you. leaning his head on your shoulder, his legs spread out in his gray sweats before his hands sink lower under your blanket to knead into the soft flesh of your hips. delicately working his way up your spine with the points of his thumbs to rub out any tense muscles. you can’t help but giggle at his move, smiling into your hair and biting your lip the higher his hands rise.

massaging your back, hands slipping underneath your bralette as he chews on his pouty lips and scrunch his eyebrows in a focused manner. intent on making you feel good. he knows you’ve been working hard so your body’s been a bit heavy. and you’re dreading heading to work tomorrow morning. so he wanted to ease that stress, as well as the hard-on he’d gotten in his sweats just from the faint moans falling past your pretty lips.

“take this off,” his voice his deep, sultry in its tone and he can’t help it. it drips off his tongue like honey. touching you has his body on fire.

dropping your phone you had picked up to check a text from your best friend, you do as he says, lifting your shirt so you’re left only in your cute lingerie set. eren stands to his full height and clears his throat as he fixes his dick in his sweats. he had to mentally remind himself that you’re ending your cycle and you aren’t really in the mood to have sex. but fuck you’re making it hard looking and sounding like that. you stare with a mischievous grin, following him as he walks towards your bathroom to find your body oil. he comes back, pushing your coffee table back so he can crouch on the floor before you.

“c’mon, lay on your stomach.”

and you’re doing just that. snuggling a neon pink easter bunny plushie close to your face for leverage. eren hums to himself, eyeing your backside as he squirts oil into his big palm and massages them together before rubbing your body down gently. he’s targeting every curve, muscle, tense area. heavy hands gliding across your brown skin with ease. he even uses his forearms and elbows to get those spots like a real masseuse. you’re moaning from how good it feels, shifting in your spot.

eren notices a inconvenience and says. “i need this off too, babe.”

he’s referring to your bralette. you laugh lightly, making a comment about how he’s trying to be nasty when you told him no. he says he promises it isn’t like that. both of you knowing damn well that it’s like that. throughout your princess treatment that you were grateful for, needing it so bad, eren begins to get bold. rubbing his palms over your ass and thick thighs, and then in between. this is torture for you considering your period was a big cockblock. she’s ending but you’re in that spotting phase that goes on and off. and you didn’t have time to check before his little teaser. your hormones were everywhere. being away from him for a full week, no dick, no head, eren’s consistent fucking with you knowing you can’t do anything . . . it’s all pent up. you needed a release so bad. and he’s playing games right now. slyly pulling your underwear down, eren saying ‘relax’ when you get too antsy before rolling and kneading your ass cheeks.

“erenn, stop,” his name comes out airy. your face is planted flat into the couch as your eyes loses their focus and your lower halve begins to ache.

“you don’t sound like you want me to stop.”

and he’s fucking right, you really don’t. you whine, twisting your ass side to side. eren chuckles and slips your panties back up, finishing with the back of your thighs giving you time to breathe with relief. until he’s back again, spreading your legs a little more so he can get into between to touch your pussy. long fingers rushing over your clothes clit, fabric becoming damper from your uncontrolled arousal. how could he make something so intimate instantly nasty? the man can’t focus on one task. his brain switches like a fuse. hissing to himself, he rubs your hardened clit in circles, taking his time, not wanting to get you too riled up. he couldn’t fuck you after all.

your face curls up in pleasure, breathing his name again, your hair covering your view of his face. hips grinding against his hand and gripping your plushie tighter. he smacks your ass a few times, loves to watch it bounce even in the dark living room you currently reside in. eren drags his right hand up your entire backside before placing it on the back of your neck to choke you, not too hard, just enough to hold you still. he’s leaning down, bringing his face mouth to your ear and breathing like a feral animal. spanking you over and over to hear you whimper and whine. squirming in your spot with annoyance when he removes his hand from your cunt, hot and needing more attention immediately.

“okay i’m done,” he announces, rubbing the remaining oil into his own skin and smiling like a cocky bastard. you groan with irritation, shoving your face into your plushie as he stands and laughs like an asshole.

“fuck you, bro.”

“you can’t, remember.”

he’s really testing you. now is not the time to test you. he takes a seat beside you after you advert your attention back onto your show, resting your chin in your palm and purposely ignoring him. titties all out and everything. eren spreads his longs legs as wide as they go, your eyes catching the tint in his crotch. he’s got his arm thrown on the headrest of the couch, looking down at you without your knowledge just to see what you would do. he wants his dick in your mouth so bad. if your willing to do it is the question that remains. it’s not really about him right now, is what your thinking. you gave him the sloppiest head literally yesterday before he had to leave for work, cum and salvia covering your face as you gagged and sucked him off like he’d run away. attempted? definitely. he couldn’t stop moaning and squirming away. especially when you overstimulated him after he nutted, cum shooting in your left eye mind you, risking a damn pink eye for his satisfaction. and he can’t grant you this one thing? you didn’t even want him to fuck you. you just wanted him to touch you.

so you know what you do? you turn your body clockwise to face him, looking up at him as he avoids eye contact and keeps them at the projector on your wall.

“i hate you,” you start with, shifting your hips so he can watch your ass move. you touch his stomach over his hoodie, the man still dressed from earlier when the two of you ran out to get food and came back to get lazy and watch horror movies. not really horror. it was it follows, side note, horrible film.

“why?”

“because you know i can’t fuck you right now, so you’re teasing me.”

“mhm,” he tongues his inner cheek, jade eyes catching your swiftly before redirecting them back to the show. “be a good girl.”

“don’t wanna,” you pout, lifting your upper body to press your face into his neck, kissing and sucking and eren immediately succumbs to you. it’s the most sensitive area on his entire body, other than his hips. he hissed and tosses his head back.

“stop,” he grumbles, but you don’t listen. rolling your neck to catch every inch of his neck with your lips. “stop.”

when he says it that time it’s stern, eren locking your neck in his grasp as he clenches his jaw, dick hard as fuck. he knocks his knees in and out, staring your pretty face down, a smile all over it. unable to contain it, he kisses you. sloppy and with tongue. your hands smoothing down to his crotch to palm the outline of his dick. eren inhales deeply, reaching between your heated thighs to rub your clit again through your panties. gasping, you lift your left leg to give him better access. grinding against his hand as he watches your face churn with contentment.

“gonna be a good girl now?” he taunts, you nod your head that now lays in the crook of his neck, moaning and kissing him still. he’s loosing his self control at this point. your tits are pressed together as you grip the back pillow of the couch and ride his hand, squealing and whimpering. your sounds take over him and he’s soon pulling his sweats to sit at his knees, heavy cock slapping at his abdomen, a clear pearl of pre sitting at the tip.

his hand swerves to the back of your neck to turn your head and push your face to his lap where his dick sat, hard and needy. honestly, your not in the mood to suck dick, your jaw going sore yesterday . . . but for your man, you’ll do anything.

“don’t care what you say,” he shifts up a little so you have better access. “suck on it.”

only your mouth encases his cock, hands clutching his hoodie, cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper and suck hard just like he loves. focusing mostly on the tip because it makes him twitch and you love that reaction more than anything. love when he’s moaning ‘fuck’ or ‘fuck me, baby’ cause it makes you feel good inside. while your head bobs he continues to fuck you with his fingers, reaching inside your panties this time to toy with your clit better. eren comes to his senses and realizes if this proceeds he’s going to fuck you real bad. he swears to god he’s ready to lay a towel down and say fuck it forreal. but he knows it’s not something you’re comfortable with.

“c’mere, princess,” he speaks to you in that low, listen to me tone. you let his dick go with a sloppy pop, swallowing the remainder of spit in your mouth before leveling your face with his, batting your lashes and pushing your matted hair out the way. “do me a favor and cum for me, okay?”

“ ‘kay,” nodding your head mindlessly, eren gets lost in pleasing you again, wrapping his hand around his dick to stroke it while he finger fucks you. nothing compares to when you do it, though. you’ve ruined him, honestly. but he wants to keep it hard for you ‘cause he knows you want it after.

he notices your breath hitching, placing your hand over his when he loses his position and tries to sink his fingers in but you really want him to stay on your clit. you’re about to cum, he also knows because your burying your face in his neck and nodding frequently after he asks, “you cummin’ , princess?”’

“y-yess, m’cummin!” squeaks and mewls stream out of you and he swears it’s the prettiest thing every time you do it. eren latches his mouth back onto yours, groaning as he stops stroking his dick and shoves his tongue in your mouth. your hands have a death grip on his wrist as your thighs enclose his forearm to stop him, already sore.

“there we go, that’s my girl,” he kisses your forehead after, letting you take a moment to calm down before he’s coming up with another attack. doesn’t even give your five full minutes before he’s telling you to get up. and you sulk, whining because you don’t want to move.

“noooo,” you pout at him but he’s not hearing it, grabbing your arms and picking you up to place you on the edge of the sectional. he’s on his knees again before you, dragging you closer so your ass nearly hangs off and intertwines perfectly with his hips. “trying so hard not to fuck you.”

stretching your arms above you, you giggle like your drunk, playfully telling him to get off of you but of course he doesn’t listen. eren’s hovering his big figure above yours, bringing his head down to dart his thick tongue out and drag it slowly over your left nipple, soon latching his cotton candy lips around the bud and sucking. pulling it along as he rotates his head and moans with his eyes shut. you let him do as he pleases, always intrigued when he gets into his moments. as he’s sucking on your chest that’s when he starts grinding his hips forward to fuck against you. the bulge in his sweats rut on your clit waking it up for round two.

“fuck this,” eren makes a pained noise as he tugs his sweats down to reveal his cock again, scooting closer and sitting higher to position it right on your soaked clit he slaps with the tip a few times, dark eyes eyeing you as you bite your lip and moan like a slut from that little play.

eren’s placing your legs over his shoulders, like he loves to do, arching over you so your knees are close to your shoulders. he makes sure your thighs stay closed so the pressure on his dick feels better for friction. he begins to lick up your chest, trailing up to your neck where he laps his tongue and follows with kisses, fucking with you just like you did with him. you’re just as sensitive there. tossing your head back and moaning, gripping onto his shirt since he removed his hoodie, rolling your eyes back. and it gets worse when he starts ramming his dick like he’s actually fucking you. he’s following the bounce of your tits while he rolls his hips and fucks his dick on your sluice folds drinking in the fabric of your panties. your thighs making this feel so much fucking better. it feels good for you too.

“fuck, ma,” eren smacks the outside of your thigh, grunting and hastening his pace, skin slapping and it’s all making your mind hazy. “got me feelin’ like this without bein’ deep in your pussy.”

“erennn, you look so good,” it slips from your mouth without your own permission. you made a mental comment about how good he looks fucking you right now. long hair messy around his face, silver rings on his digits along with spiky or cuban link bracelets on his wrist. ink tatted on various parts of his body. his perfect white teeth sinking into his bottom lip. he’s too fucking handsome. and he’s all yours.

“i look good, huh baby?” he chuckles between a strangled moan, brows creasing.

“unh huh,” you huff out, reaching up to caress his face in your dainty hands.

“you look fuckin’ better,” his eyes turn white as your body rolls somewhat to your right side, eren able to hit it from the side, this position constricting his dick tighter, pounding harder. “fuck, n’ it’s gonna make me nut jus’ lookin’ at you.”

“keep looking,” you bite your lip and keep your face to his, the two of you breathing in each others air. “stare at me when you cum. wanna watch your face.”

“fuck,” it’s crazy what you do to him. because not even a few seconds later he’s shooting cum right on your tummy and it’s a lot, keeps going as he shudders and keeps his eyes on yours like you wanted. he’ll bite his lip off at some point with how much force he’s applying. might even get a headache from his eyes turning white. it’s all worth it though.

you smile like you’ve made the biggest achievement, curling your hands up into a ball and planting your cheek on it, falling back with a dreamy sigh. he’s the prettiest, and he’s all yours.

“i hate you,” eren runs his hands through his hair with a deep laugh, his dick still unable to stop leaking cum. he smacks your thigh again. “fuckin’ hate you.”

“you started it.”

© 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖑𝖊. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life ♡