#But that wasn’t at all what I was saying

[angstandhappiness]

FUCKING YIKES, THE HYPOCRISY

[nezuscribe]

you should be here.

you really shouldn’t be here.

but you were a good friend, maybe too good a friend one would argue, and one of your girls heard about this underground gig (boxing, fighting?) going on and roped you into going.

and knowing you, this was way out of your comfort range. she was shocked you agreed to it, but you were tired of being perceived as the sheltered on and decided to bite the bullet and tag along.

but now you realize that you should’ve just stayed home and rewatched some stupid show.

because this place was giving you all sorts of signals to just get out.

it was in what seemed like a dingy warehouse that could only be accessed through some sketchy alley. you truly have no idea how she found this place and your betting that it wasn’t some ad she told you she saw on someone’s story.

the vast room was barely lit, with only a few lights flickering as they struggled to stay on. you felt like you’d catch an undiscovered disease if you sat anywhere and opted to stand, but that was another issue.

despite how destitute this place seemed to be, it was packed.

there were so many people standing near the ring, everybody yelling praises or shouts of anger as somebody took a punch. you could hear skin hitting skin, could hear the breaking of tissues and bones even from where you were.

your friend dragged you by the arm, seeming as if there was no worry about this place, and it was too late to go back even though the alarms in your head were going off.

fuck, you start thinking, what is this place? what if you bump into someone weird? what if the cops come? what if the location gets leaked? what would happen to you two? what if….

your mind trails off as your friend wiggles her way through an empty spot, bringing the two of you closer to the ring.

you look at the fighters, mouth going dry at the sight.

one of the fighters, the one facing you, seemed bloodied to no return. his eye was black and weeks shut, nose dripping with blood. his face was salted with bruises, his body sagging as the other fighter, the one with his back to you, took another fighting stance.

“he’s who i wanted to see,” bri mutters excitedly, pointing her finger to the fighter with white hair, “i’ve heard he’s really good,”

you nod slowly, looking around in a skittish way. you knew you should’ve said no, but you really cleave no choice but to support her and her dangerous side quests.

he plants another fist to the injured one’s face, making him stumble back as the white haired fighter angles his body sideways, letting you two get a look at his side profile.

he seemed fine, a little bruising on the cheek but nowhere near the damage of the other guy. he must be as good as bri says you guess.

the people around you hoot and holler, pushing you further into on of the poles as you wince in discomfort, your face twisting in pain a little as some of the men behind you push forward with no concept of personal space.

you look over at bri but she’s just as engaged, shouting for the white haired guy to continue beating the other man up in ways that could only be described as primal and very, very illegal.

it’s only a few more minutes before the match is ended and the two fighters are pulled away from each other, the battered one looking like he was one punch away from becoming limp.

the yells around you grow louder and louder, the sound rattling around in your head. you wince, trying to smile for bri as she jumps up and down. you know this is only the beginning of the night and can’t afford to bring the energy down.

the white haired one turns around, raising his hands as he asks for the noise to grow louder, a smile on his face as his bandaged hands curl into fists, one pumped victoriously in the air.

but that’s not what takes you by surprise.

your eyes widen in shock when you see his face, mouth dropping almost comically when you realize this isn’t a random street fighter,

but the nerdy boy who sits next to you in your neuroanatomy class.

and judging by the way gojo looks around until he sees you, the proud smile on his face faltering for a second before his eyes cloud with utter confusion,

he wasn’t expecting to see you here either.

[shawtuzi]

here’s a random best friend!eren drabble bc im bored

cw include: black coded reader, some drug usage (weed), unprotected sex, backshots, sex standing up, sex onna floorrr, lots of dirty talk, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, some choking [ inspo vids: 1 2 3 ]

“you sure about this y/n? i don’t want things to get weird . . .” eren mumbled, his hands fidgeting with the loops on his jeans—something he always did when he was nervous. you just giggled, your mind too cloudy and in a horny daze to care that your about to fuck your childhood best friend.

you were sitting at the edge of your bed with eren standing right in front of you, his large frame towering over yours. his breath hitched when you grabbed onto the hem on his jeans, your chin now resting on his lower stomach. you looked at him through your freshly done lashes, your eyes low n’ red from the blunt you previously smoked together.

“i jus’ wanna see what’s got those girls all crazy about you ren,” you practically purred, smirking when you saw his teeth clamp onto his bottom lip. you could feel the firm bulge in his jeans, your manicured nails trailing up and down the length of it.

“oooo s-shit, f-fuck okay yeah get on all fours.”

sometime later….

“o-oh my goddd, f-fuck erennnn!” your arms flailed behind you to push as eren’s stomach, but him being the dickhead he is, just grabbed your wrists and held you still. he had you bent over the bed, your feet pushing up to your tippy toes to keep up with his brutal thrusts.

“no no don’t run mama—fuck, jus’ take it. cmon fuck me back, fuck renny back,” you pitifully shook your head, salty tears seeping into your comforter.

in all the years you’ve known eren you weren’t aware of the fact that he had such a dirty mouth. filthy praises and promises were flying past his kiss swollen lips left and right, so much so it was making you even more dizzy than you already were.

“who knew my best friend had such a pretty lil’ pussy,” eren breathlessly chuckled, his tongue swiping against his bottom lip as he admired the milky white ring of your essence coating the base of his cock. “n-no eren, too fuckin’ deep s-shit!” you cried, legs trembling as eren pushed all of his weight into your backside. he swiveled his hips, determined to reach that special spot deep inside you.

“heh, now y’see why those girls w-won’t leave me alone, dick is too fuckin’ good ain’t it mama,” eren groaned, smacking your ass harshly. eren wasn’t the best at a lot of things, not that he even really tried to be, but one thing he knew he was good at was beating up some lucky girls guts. sure he wasn’t slanging nine inches, but don’t get it twisted he knew how to use his six and a half inches very, very well. after all it’s not about the size of the wave, but the motion of the ocean or whatever the fuck.

he pulled you up by the neck, keeping you still against his chest. your legs trembled, your hands pushing back softly against eren’s thighs to steady yourself. “this is my favorite way to fuck, it’s so fun watching girls try to run just for me to fuck them to the floor,” he finished off his sentence by licking the shell of your ear, grinning when he felt your body shiver.

“you’re—hah! you’re s-sick ren.”

“shittt say that again baby,” eren groaned, sliding halfway out before slamming back inside. his free hand found purchase on your breast, the other hand squeezing lightly at your neck. “you’re *thrust* so fucking *thrust* s-sick eren!” you gasped out, your hands flinging behind you to tug at eren’s disheveled bun.

all a sudden black dots clouded your vision and your ears began to ring—well this was definitely new. “fuck, you squirtin’ mama?” eren was quick to wrap his arm around your waist, his other hand still securely wrapped around your throat. he fucked you through your orgasm, hearts forming at how soaked his thighs were now. he’s never had a squirter before, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to leave this life after you two were done!

“i *hiccup* didn’t even k-know i could do that,” you whimpered, your eyes rolling back when eren started up a steady rhythm. your pussy felt so sensitive, yet each time he pulled out you wanted him back inside that instant. your legs felt like jello and you knew any moment they were bound to give up.

you took a shaky step towards your bed but eren just followed, his lips upturning into a smirk. now comes his favorite part.

“r-ren okay! okay i get ittt,” you sobbed out, gasping as your knees met the plushness of your carpet. eren remained inside you the entire time, wasting no time as he pushed your face into the carpet until your back with positioned into the perfect arch. as crazy as it sounded each slap of his balls against your clit felt like electricity shooting through your veins, causing nothing but moans and babbles to slip past your drooling lips.

“fuck m’gonna cum mama, get ready,” with four final thrusts eren emptied himself inside you, coating your walls in his sticky warmth. your body slumped more into the carpet, your eyes fluttering shut. eren pulled out slowly, laughing when your lower half fell with a dull thud.

“i *sniffle* see your point,” you whimpered, your back arching when your clit rubbed against the carpet. eren grinned, sitting back on his knees before gently turning your body over. he tapped your thigh softly, “push it out . . . please.”

you rolled your eyes, not looking forward the even bigger mess it would make, but you did as you were told. eren let out a long breath through his nose as he watch he cum drip out of you in thick globs. he peered at you through his lashes—

“we should, um, do this again sometime.”

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Vice-Housewardens + Ruggie

Part 1 with Housewardens

Trey Clover

The argument wasn’t a loud one—no shouting, no slamming doors—just tense words exchanged with too much weight behind them. Trey’s voice had been steady, but his usual patience was stretched thin.

You, equally frustrated, had decided that the best course of action was to remove yourself before either of you said something you’d regret.

So, with a sigh, you grabbed a blanket and made your way to the couch, settling in with your back turned toward the bedroom.

Trey let out a heavy exhale behind you, but he didn’t stop you.

You shifted, adjusting the blanket, willing yourself to fall asleep. It didn’t work. The room was too quiet, too heavy with the remnants of unspoken words. You half-expected Trey to leave you there and go to bed, but then—soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric.

Kneeling beside the couch, Trey placed a hand on the cushion near your arm. His voice was quiet, steady in a way that made something in your chest ache.

“Come back to bed.”

You closed your eyes. “Not yet.”

A pause. Then, a soft sigh. Trey stood. For a moment, you thought he was giving up, finally going to bed without you. The thought left an unexpected hollowness in your chest.

But then, after a few minutes, he returned. You smelled the milk before you saw it—the faint scent of vanilla and honey curling through the air. When you cracked an eye open, there he was, sitting on the floor near the couch, a mug in his hands. He held it out to you.

“Here,” he said. “I know you have trouble sleeping when you’re upset.”

You blinked at him, heart squeezing against your ribs. “Trey…”

He didn’t push, didn’t insist. He just waited, his eyes gentle, patient in the way only he could be.

And just like that, your frustration melted. You took the mug, letting the warmth seep into your fingers. Trey didn’t move, just watched you with that quiet steadiness. Then, softly, he asked again,

“Come back to bed?”

This time, you didn’t hesitate.

You set the mug aside and sat up, only for Trey to immediately wrap his arms around you. His hold was firm, grounding. He buried his face in your shoulder and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, holding him just as tightly. “I’m sorry too.”

Neither of you moved for a long moment, staying there in the quiet. Eventually, Trey pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead.

“C’mon,” he said, voice low, warm. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And this time, when he led you back to bed, you followed without hesitation.

Ruggie Bucchi

The couch wasn’t comfortable. You knew it, and Ruggie knew it. But right now, your stubbornness outweighed your need for a good night’s sleep. You yanked the blanket over yourself, muttering under your breath as you tried to arrange the cushions into something remotely acceptable.

Across the room, Ruggie watched you with wide, calculating eyes. He hadn’t said anything since you stormed off, but you could feel him thinking. And then—

“You remember when you ate my last donut?” he started, voice small.

You froze, narrowing your eyes. “…What?”

“My last donut. You ate it, and you said—” He changed his voice in a mocking impression of you. “‘I owe you one, Ruggie, I swear. Anything you want.’”

You groaned, burying your face in the pillow. “Oh my —”

“But it’s fine,” he continued, so dramatically forlorn you almost threw the pillow at him. “I guess I’ll just be all alone in that big, cold bed. No warmth. No love. Just me. Shivering.”

You lifted your head, ready to tell him off, but then—oh, no.

He hit you with the look.

Ears drooping. Tail flicking. Wide, guilt-inducing eyes that shimmered just enough to make your resolve crack.

You exhaled sharply, dropping your head back down. “You’re the worst.”

He didn’t respond. Just fidgeted. Shuffled his feet like he was actually nervous you’d say no.

And that? That got you.

With a groan of defeat, you sighed and opened your arms. That was all he needed. Ruggie practically launched himself onto the couch, slotting himself beside you in a space absolutely not designed for two people. His weight pressed against you, his tail flicking lazily as he tucked his head under your chin.

“…Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt.

“Shut up.”

His arms tightened around you. A quiet beat passed, then—

“Sorry.”

Your hand found its way into his hair, carding through the strands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Me too.”

Ruggie hummed, content. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and despite the ridiculousness of it all, sleep found you too.

Jade Leech

The couch was lumpy. Or maybe you were just too angry to get comfortable. Either way, you buried your face into the pillow, inhaling deeply through your nose to keep yourself from snapping again. You just needed some space. Needed to not be in the same room as Jade and his infuriating, calmly amused expression.

“I can’t be around you right now,” you had told him before marching off, voice tight with frustration. And for once, he didn’t push. Didn’t smirk or throw another veiled comment your way. He simply inclined his head, watching as you all but collapsed onto the couch.

Now, wrapped in a too-thin blanket, you willed yourself to sleep. You were almost there—drifting, fading—when fingers ghosted over your hair.

Your breath caught, but you kept still.

Soft strokes. Careful, reverent, as if he thought you might break. It was so unlike him, so gentle, that you almost cracked your eyes open to confirm it was really happening. Then—

“…I’m so sorry.”

The whisper was barely there. But it wasn’t the words that made your heart lurch—it was the way his voice shook.

Jade Leech, ever unflappable, sounded unsteady.

He pulled back, and you knew he was about to leave. That should have been fine. You should have let him go.

But your bleeding heart had other plans.

Your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could slip away.

He barely had time to react before you yanked him back—maybe a little too hard, because the next thing you knew, he was crashing onto the couch with you. A rare, wide-eyed look of surprise flashed across his face, so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it.

And then you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Jade froze.

“I’m sorry too,” you murmured. “We can talk in the morning.”

For a long moment, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slow and deliberate, he dipped down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“…Very well,” he whispered.

His weight settled beside you, and this time, when you drifted off, it was to the sound of his steady breathing, warm and close beside you.

The couch standoff had been going on for way too long.

“I’m sleeping here,” you declared, arms crossed as you planted yourself firmly onto the cushions.

“No, you’re not,” Jamil shot back, equally stubborn. “I am.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”

“And I’m not letting you sleep out here while I take the bed.” His arms were crossed now too, mirroring your posture, his sharp gaze unwavering.

For a moment, the tension held. Then, something about the sheer ridiculousness of it all hit you—both of you too annoyed to back down but too caring to let the other suffer the discomfort of the couch.

A laugh bubbled up in your chest before you could stop it. You covered your mouth, but the moment you let out even the smallest chuckle, Jamil’s eyes flickered with reluctant amusement. He exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head.

“This is stupid,” you admitted between giggles.

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. It is.”

You grinned. “Bed?”

Jamil didn’t hesitate. “Bed.”

The moment you both settled under the blankets, the last traces of tension melted away. His arms instinctively curled around you, pulling you close, and you let yourself relax into his warmth.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

His grip tightened, lips brushing against your hair. “Me too.”

Neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The steady rhythm of his breathing and the way he held you just a little closer said enough.

Rook arguing with you was already unexpected. That he let you march off to the couch without a poetic declaration or dramatic plea? Unheard of.

You cocooned yourself in the blanket, stubbornly facing the back of the couch. The silence felt unnatural—too quiet for someone like Rook. A part of you expected him to suddenly recite a Shakespearean sonnet about lovers quarreling.

Instead, something even more ridiculous happened.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance toward the floor—and there he was.

Laying down right beside the couch on a thin blanket, arms crossed behind his head as though he had chosen the most luxurious sleeping arrangement in the world. His golden hair fanned out on the hardwood floor, and despite the clear insanity of the situation, he looked perfectly content.

You stared. Blinked. “Rook.”

“Oui, mon amour?”

“You’re on the floor.”

“Indeed.”

“You’re going to get sick.”

“Then I shall suffer beautifully, just as you do now, exiled from the comfort of our bed.” His eyes twinkled, completely unrepentant. “If my beloved must endure the cruel fate of sleeping alone, then I shall share in their hardship.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples. “Rook, go to bed.”

“I am in bed.”

“No, you’re on the floor, being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? Ah, ma chérie, I am simply a devoted man.”

You groaned, throwing your arm over your face, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you. It was impossible to stay mad when he was like this. Ridiculous. Completely, helplessly devoted.

Sighing, you reached out and flicked his forehead. He gasped theatrically, touching the spot as though you had struck him with Cupid’s arrow. Before he could say something absurd, you leaned down and kissed the spot gently.

“Come to bed, you idiot.”

His eyes widened slightly before his lips stretched into a dazzling smile. Without hesitation, he stood—and then immediately scooped you into his arms.

“Rook—?!?”

“Ah, mon amour, such sweet mercy! Allow me to carry you away from this exile!” He spun dramatically, pressing an exaggerated kiss to your forehead before striding toward the bedroom.

You should have expected nothing less.

You sighed against his shoulder, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you adore me.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Lilia Vanrouge

You had firmly decided that you weren’t going to sleep in the same bed as Lilia tonight.

You needed space. You needed time to cool off. You needed—

Blink.

One second, you were wrapped in your blanket on the couch. The next? You were in bed.

You shot up, heart pounding. Lilia stood at the bedside, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Lilia.” Your voice was dangerously even.

“Yes, my dear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Did you teleport me?”

A smug smile. “Would you rather I carried you?”

Oh, you were about to start another argument—

But then you noticed something. In his hands: a pillow and his own blanket.

You frowned. “What are you doing?”

Lilia hummed, casual as anything. “If my beloved insists on sleeping elsewhere, then I shall take the couch in their place. I have endured far worse in my lifetime—” his eyes twinkled mischievously “—but I’d hate for you to wake up with an aching back.”

You groaned, flopping back onto the mattress. “That’s so unfair.”

“To be this thoughtful and charming? I know.”

You shot him a look, but he simply smiled. You hated how sweet he could be even when you were still irritated.

With an exasperated sigh, you sat up and grabbed his wrist, tugging him toward you. He followed easily, his blanket forgotten as he slipped into bed. Without hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, chin resting atop your head.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry, dear.”

You exhaled, tension leaving your body as you relaxed into his hold. “…I’m sorry too.”

His lips brushed against your temple, and with that, the night’s quarrel was put to rest.

Masterlist

[jamminvroomvroom]

get to work.

LN x leclerc!reader

a sequel of sorts to as sick as it sounds, i loved you first - part 1 - part 2

in which lando starts the life with you that he’s always wanted

hi! me again - obsessed with these two soooo much so best believe i had to write (and will continue to write) more for them! thank you so much for continuing to read my work, ilysm and also huuuuuge shoutout to my brainrot bestie @lavenderlando because i truly could not do any of this without her xoxox lemme know what you think, likes and reblogs are aaaalways so so appreciated!

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! this one is kinda filthy hehe. smut, fluff, highkey breeding kink, brief switch!lando and switch!r, unprotected p in v, general sex acts in silly places, charles still having it out for lando lmao, mentions of pregnancy/family planning

7.2k words

you stare up at him, breathless, awestruck, leaning further into his touch. he’s swaying you gently to the music, ignorant to all the eyes of your nearest and dearest family and friends. fairy lights cast a warm hue over his face, leaving him golden and sparkling, gleaming with his love for you.

lando’s still pristine, suit unwrinkled, dress shirt crisp, tie straight, not yet wrecked by the party that will undoubtedly overflow all around you both as the night progresses. your dress flows out around you, fanning out in intricate layers of sharp white lace. your newly acquired wedding bands feel foreign on your fingers, but perfect nonetheless. you’re more used to it than him, though, having hauled around the giant rock of an engagement ring he’d presented you with just a few months before.

martin had been called on to be a groomsman, but he’d vouched for the DJ who’s inviting the rest of the party to join you and your husband on the dance floor. people swirl all around you, blowing kisses, squeezing your arms affectionately, but lando can’t keep his eyes off of you.

your husband.

your husband your husband your husband.

it felt just as delicious to think of him with that title as it is to say it. you say it anyway.

“my husband.” you hum, content, pressing your head to his chest, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“my wife.” he coos down at you, pressing a lasting kiss to your hairline, cautious not to mess up your carefully crafted hair.

but it’s your wedding night, and you want to kiss him properly! you figure you’ve earned the right to kiss him anywhere, anytime, whenever, so you tilt your head back and drop his hands, pulling him down. his hands find your cheeks, cupping them ever so softly as your lips meet, loving and tender. you smile into it, and he mirrors you.

“can’t wait for everything.” you sigh, blissed out from the adoration rolling off of him in waves.

“everything?” he laughs, forehead resting on yours.

“life, with you. always.”

“i’ll give you everything you want, baby.” he promises.

you wholeheartedly believe him.

-

“better make this quick, norris.” you giggle, backing up towards the marble counter.

lando stalks towards you, grinning hungrily, and hoists you up onto the sink top, making sure not to damage your dress - not that it would be the first time he’d ruined a white dress of yours. wasn’t that how you’d both ended up here, anyway?

“sue me for wanting to fuck my wife, norris.” he mocks, mouthing at the skin of your neck. you flush. mrs norris.

“no marks.” you breathe, trying to convey a tone of warning, but it comes out needy and weak, and would have fallen on deaf ears regardless.

“but you’re all mine now, honey. forever.” lando murmurs against your jaw, and your head falls back to let him run ruin across your delicate skin. “want everyone to know it.”

you don’t protest again, spreading your legs as he ruches the material of your dress so that it bunches around your hips. his hand skates below the material, blindly feeling the satin and lace of your panties. he groans as he traces over a damp patch, sinking his teeth into the junction between your neck and your shoulder.

“soaked for me, baby. been wanting me? just had to ask.” he rambles, tugging your underwear to the side. “can have my cock whenever you want it, you know? it’s all yours.”

lando smears your wetness around with a swipe of his thumb, switching rapidly between messy circles around your clit and teasing dips into your cunt, shallow enough to make you squirm for more.

“just fuck me.” you pant, rutting your hips into his hand.

“the mouth on you, baby. filthy.” he scolds teasingly, but adheres, belt clinking and slacks dropping just enough to free himself.

he drags your hips even closer to the edge of the counter and you feel the warmth of him, hot and throbbing, ghosting over the seam of your pussy. you feel the tip of him press firmly against where you’re leaking, and a roll of his hips sheathes him deep into you smoothly.

“shit, we don’t have a condom.” his eyes fly open, finding yours. you just smirk up at him.

an earnest and vulnerable conversation in the weeks leading up to your wedding had you deciding to abandon your birth control, but you’d been using condoms ever since, not wanting any accidents in the run up to your nuptials.

“you said you wanted to get to work once we got married.” you clench around him for dramatic affect. your desire for flair makes sweat bead in his hairline. “so get to work.” you bite your lip, gazing up at him through lustful, hooded eyes.

“you’re gonna kill me, i swear.” he growls, finding a wild rhythm that makes you writhe into him.

slaps of skin echo through the bathroom, whines and cries of satisfaction and his name bouncing between the cream walls. he can’t take his eyes off of you, beautiful and spent beneath him, rutting your hips to meet his.

“i love you, lando, love you like this, mon amour.” you whimper, clinging to him. his shirt hangs wrinkled, tie loose and brushing against the skin of your chest that your dress doesn’t cover.

“i love you, too, baby. so fucking perfect for me.” lando groans, pressing a messy, open mouthed kiss to your lips. it’s all tongue and teeth, raw desire as you lick into each other. “you want me to put a baby in you already, huh? ready for me to fuck you nice and full and we’ve only be married, what, six hours?” he taunts.

“i want it, please.” you beg, softening your eyes and pouting your lips.

“my wife is such a needy slut for me, yeah, baby? gonna make me a daddy?”

a few more thrusts, and you’re undone, coating him as he stutters, fills you up. you pant into the intimate space between you both, satiated as you giggle, kiss him. you rake your hands through his sweat slicked locks, holding him close.

“we better get back.” he whispers.

“you’re dripping down my thigh.” you deadpan and he cackles, neck flexing as it does. you lick your lips subconsciously, anxious to mark the taut, tanned skin up when you have him all to yourself again.

“don’t worry, honey, i’ll clean it all up later.” he winks, and you slap his shoulder.

and when you’re curled into his side, cry laughing at max’s speech, recounting the unhinged DM you’d sent him once upon a time in qatar, you work overtime to keep your thighs clenched tight.

-

it’s 3am when you finally reach the villa, tucked away somewhere in sardinia, secluded and gorgeous. you creep around exploring while he drops your bags in the master suite, finding yourself on the back deck. from there, you can see the garden, green and ornate, bursting with flowers in shades of pinks and white. then, there’s the sea, waves crashing softly onto the white sand of your private beach. the privacy stretches on for miles in both directions, faint lights far away down the coastline.

you sigh, content, tears pricking your eyes. lando had picked this out, just for you, and his choices made it clear just how well he knows you. that’s how he finds you, wiping a stray tear, and he wraps you in his arms, his head perching on your shoulder. he breathes you in, and you feel him smile against the skin of your neck. open mouthed kisses are dotted over your shoulder and you relax fully into him, eyes fluttering shut.

“it’s so gorgeous, amour. thank you so much.” you whisper, turning your head and awaiting a kiss that quickly comes.

“don’t thank me, baby. this is the least you deserve.” he murmurs, resuming a soft suckle at your neck. you roll your eyes at his generosity. he’s so selfless sometimes that he forgets that he deserves this every bit as much as he thinks you do.

“can we go down to the shore? i’m too excited to sleep.” you giggle, and he hums into the hickey he’s leaving.

“course, honey. we have plenty of time to sleep.”

the plan was, after all, to eat, sleep, fuck, repeat. and swim, of course.

you walk down to the water hand in hand, taking your time through the gardens. he picks you a flower, tucks it sweetly behind your ear.

you ditch your shoes, sighing as your feet sink into the cool sand, damp from the push and pull of the waves. the stars are out, clear as day, and you play dot to dot, pointing out constellations to lando.

“do you have any idea how happy i am?” lando asks when you’re both sat in the sand. he pulls you into his side, your head tucking below his chin.

“if you’re as happy as i am then i’d guess pretty fucking happy.” you reply.

“the wedding was… god. i was kinda nervous about the whole event but as soon as i saw you walking down that aisle…” he trails off, scoffing in disbelief. “you’re a fucking angel.”

“i wasn’t even sure that charles was gonna let me go, you know?” you chuckle, gazing up into his watery eyes.

“i did have to pry him off.” lando laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“and then his speech.” you slap a hand over your mouth, stifling laughter. lando throws his head back in faux agony.

the speech in question had started with “to my sweet, dear baby sister and… lando”, and had ended with “and if you choose, for whatever reason, to make her unhappy, they will never find your body.”

“don’t think he’s ever gonna like me.” lando shrugs, tightening his arm around you, like someone might come and take you away.

“oh, shut up, he likes you! he just… likes to torture you more.” you grin cheekily up at him, and he can’t help but lean down and kiss you urgently.

“you are so beautiful.” he mumbles against your lips. “‘m so fucking in love with you.”

“je t’aime pour toujours.” you coo, licking into his mouth. i love you forever.

something urgent and guttural sounds from deep within him and you smooth your hands through his hair. he pulls away breathless, something wild in his eyes.

“we never talked about what happened in the bathroom.” lando rasps, eyes darkening.

“we got to work.” you smirk, echoing your previous words.

“but last time we spoke about it, you weren’t one hundred percent sure about the timing.” lando furrows his eyebrows, searching your face. your smirk relaxes into a smile, genuine with excitement.

“as soon as we said our vows, i knew i was ready. those things you said about family, about us having our own family… god, lando i would have let you have me right there at the alter.”

you are the light of my life. you make me happier than i ever thought i could be, and i will spend every day trying to make you feel the same way. from the moment i saw you, i was yours and i’ll stay yours until my last breath. my greatest joy so far is getting you call you my wife, and i can’t wait to call you the mother of my children. there’s no one else on this earth that i’d want to live my life with, raise a family with, come home to. you make me whole, baby.

safe to say, you’d said your own vows through a chorus of sobs.

“are you sure you’re ready?” lando whispers.

“i want a family with you, amour. let’s make one.” you raise an eyebrow, an invitation.

“i say we start right here.” lando beams, lunging towards you.

you fall back into the sand, laughing against his lips as he kisses you deeply, mouthing down your jaw. he wastes very little time, pulling at the strap of your camisole, licking over your bare flesh as he drags it down your arm.

“here? in the sand?”

“i said what i said.”

he peels off your top, nips at your bare chest as he pushes your sweats down, just enough to get his hand beneath your panties. you gasp wetly, eyes fluttering shut as he teases your folds with his fingers. he moans into the skin of your breast, hardening at the pooling wetness he’s discovered. a few calculated swipes of his fingers and he’s sinking them deep, your sweat pants restricting his movements. he adapts, rutting his fingers into you in a slow grind, thumb bumping your clit. your nipples peak, the ocean breeze and the cold sand under your back causing you to arch violently into him.

“you’re so wet for me, baby.” lando pants, before he closes his lips around your breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple. you’re sensitive, clenching around his fingers.

“want you inside of me.” you whine, bucking your hips to meet each grind of his digits.

“i am.” he flashes you a devilish grin, punctuating his words with a harder thrust.

“lando!” you growl, warning him.

“anything for my wife.”

he pulls his fingers out of you, the sound of the action obscene, and makes a show of sucking them clean while he strips himself bare. you huff, wriggling your sweats off so that you’re naked too, your thighs falling open on cue. he settles between them, brushing your hair out of your face as he settles on top of you.

you can feel him, throbbing and hot between your legs, small drops of him hitting your bare cunt. you keen into him, rolling your hips up to meet his.

“now, baby, please.” you beg.

“never get used to this, you know?” landos chest heaves as he pushes into you. “always feels as good as the first time.”

he sinks all the way in, taking note of every minuscule movement of your face. his breathing stutters at the warmth and wetness that envelops him whole, his tummy tight. you’re no better, lip caught between your teeth as you watch him hungrily.

“you remember our first time, baby? how good we were together, even then?” lando rasps, pulling out of you the tiniest bit, just to slam his hips right back against yours. it makes electricity shoot up your spine to the top of your head, leaving you hot all over.

“of course, amour, i think about it all the time.” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he sets his pace, slow yet so deliciously brutal.

“did you think then that we’d be doing this forever? that you’d be all mine, begging me to get you pregnant?” he teases, fingers digging into the plush of your hips.

“i used to think about it then, if we’d make it. knew we would. wanted you forever from the very first time.” you choke out, meaning it. “‘m so fucking happy lando.” you gasp, grabbing at every part of him that you can.

your hands smooth over his bronze skin, bound to get even richer from all of the sun kisses the rest of your honeymoon would bring. you zone out, honing in on the sound of the waves dancing against the shoreline, eyes staring up at the moon just behind his head. you can’t believe that you’re his, here, that this is real life and that you share a last name with a man that glows like the sun. a head of chocolate frosted curls obscures your vision, and you realise that you’re crying.

“baby? you with me?” lando draws you back to him, hips still.

“i’m here, ‘m sorry, it’s perfect. you’re so perfect.”

you pull him down, so desperate to taste him, moans muffled. your tears trail down his cheeks as well, so close and intertwined. he’s gentler now, pawing at your sides attentively, pulling your body along with his.

“gonna give you everything you want, pretty girl. my beautiful, beautiful girl.” lando coos.

“come with me.” you plead, nerve endings set alight by the overstimulating way his cock drags against your walls.

“you gonna take it all for me, mama?” and your vision goes white. he’s evil for that, playing you like a fool, but it makes you quiver around him, thighs shaking where they’re locked around his waist.

you chant his name, blasphemy, and words of absolute adoration as you let go, coating him in waves of your very own creation. he tries his best to ride through it, but one look at your twisted face, of your quaking body, and he’s dumb with pleasure, crashing down on top of you like a heated blanket.

the sun rises in the east when he carries you to bed, your eyes drooping as you loop your arms around his neck.

“get some sleep for me, angel. we have a baby to make.”

-

“do you ever wonder about trying new things?” lando asks, hand linked loosely with yours.

sea water rushes over your feet up to your ankles, the sun warming the skin of your backs as you stroll lazily along the coastline. it’s been three days of nothing but each other, a big, peaceful house and endless sunshine.

you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“lando, for the fourteenth fucking time, i promise i’ll play tarkov with you when we get home, but it’s just not really my thing-“ you whine, but his louder than life laugh cuts you off, slicing through the serenity of the beach.

“not what i meant, baby.” he chuckles, utterly fond of the way your face wrinkles with confusion.

“what, then?”

“in the bedroom.” lando smirks, and your eyes go wide.

“like… like what?” you squeak, slightly lost.

your sex life was nothing short of adventurous, to say the least.

“like maybe…” he hums teasingly. “you take control?” lando raises his eyebrows suggestively, and you feel yourself flush.

“me? i thought you liked taking charge?”

lando stops, pulling you into his body. water splatters higher up your legs, cooling you down the slightest amount. his hands cup your cheeks, tilting your head up to look at him.

“i love watching you.” he states simply. “and i wanna watch you push yourself.”

“okay.” you inhale shakily. “okay.” you repeat with more conviction. an idea pops into your head. you can’t resist the smirk that pulls at the corner of your lips, and lando grins at the glimmer in your eyes.

“go back to the house. wait for me in our room.”

“naked?” he quips cheekily.

“what do you think?” you tease. lando kisses you quickly, but you push him back. “go.” you command.

he turns to walk away, repeatedly turning back to you, as if he wants to make sure he hasn’t imagined your entire existence. you just turn your back, staring out to sea. the sky is awash with streaks of purple and orange, and you feel your skin prickle with excitement. you take your time walking back, actively trying to slow yourself down. when you reach the door to the master suite, your breath hitches in your throat.

your husband looks fucking ethereal, stretched out across the off-white linen on the king sized mattress. he’s elongated by the way his head is thrown back, bathed in the lamp light as his muscles flex, taut from the way he’s gripping himself, working himself from base to tip. a faint sheen of sweat coats his bronzer-still skin and your mouth runs dry.

“couldn’t wait?” you rasp, low and dangerous. his eyes flutter open, and the bastard has the audacity to beam at you.

“took too long.” he shrugs, resuming without a care in the world. you hear him pant, teeth gritted from the pleasure.

“hands off, lando.” you slowly undress, untying your sarong and letting it flutter to the floor. your bikini quickly follows, landing in a colourful heap on the floor. you stalk towards him and watch him swallow hard when you perch on your knees at the end of the bed. “you asked for this, amour, and you couldn’t even wait to enjoy it properly.”

you’re pouting at him, feigning sadness. he picks up on it, eyes locked on you, trailing shamelessly over your breasts.

“was thinking about how pretty you looked out there.” lando rasps, fisting the duvet beneath him. you tilt your head to the side, raking your eyes over his frame.

“bad boys don’t get the real thing.”

you smooth your hand up his thigh towards his hipbone, and you notice the way he twitches, cock stood tall and waiting. he’s leaking, desperate and aching, but he plays along, needy for it. you grin lazily, wriggling up the bed until you’re close enough, throwing your leg over one of his until you’re straddling his thigh, the skin warm against your bare cunt.

“baby…” he breathes, bringing up a hand to graze your thigh, but you bat it away.

“no touching.” you scold. “i’m gonna take what i want and,” you pause, thoughtfully. “then, maybe, i’ll give you something.”

lando pouts up at you, slowly retreating his hand until it’s back at his side. his jaw is tight as he fights to keep his mouth shut, trying to be content with just watching. after all, you are quite the sight.

you roll your hips experimentally, gasping at the way your clit grazes his skin. your head falls back, out of it as you find a rhythm that works. you drag yourself backwards and forwards, panting as you go, your wetness smearing across his flexed thigh.

“it’s so good, lando,” you moan. “wish you could touch me, but you don’t behave.” you tut, smirking down at him.

“i’ll be good, baby.” he chokes, and your eyes fly open. you rake you eyes over the shape of him, the tense dips of each of his abs, the way his hip bone pulses, leading all the way down to where he’s throbbing.

“looks painful.” you bite your lip. “want me to help?”

“please.” he coos, reaching out for you again before he thinks better of it, twisting his fingers back into the sheets until his knuckles are white.

you grip the base of his cock, loose at first, squeezing tight a few times. his mouth falls open, a deep, unhinged groan rumbling through his chest. you almost lose yourself in how gorgeous he looks but you remain focused, fucking your hand up and down on him a few times, experimenting.

“you gotta wait, amour.” you warn, thumbing at the tip, smearing beads of pre cum over the head. lando whines, squeezing his eyes shut, teeth gritting so hard that his jawline pops, defining it even more than usual. you grin. he’s wrapped so tight around your finger.

“don’t tease me.” he begs, bucking his hips into your hand.

“but you gotta keep it all in for me, amour. save it all so you can fill me up whenever i want.” your voice drips all over him like honey, making him shiver violently.

“you can’t just say that-“

“i can, lando. i can,” you giggle, evil. “and you’re gonna take it.” it’s a promise and a threat and he’s seconds away from blowing his load all over you.

“jesus, i’ve created a fucking monster.” lando hisses, gasping with every slow rub of your hands over his cock.

“and now you’re gonna deal with the consequences, sweetheart.” you purr. “you wanna fuck me?”

his eyes shoot wide open, and he nods desperately, his gaze boyish and needy.

“so wet for you, lando, think i’ll just sink right…” you trail off, manoeuvring yourself so that you’re hovering over his length, red and swollen. “down.” you moan, filling yourself up with ease.

lando cries out, a broken man of his own design, and you pant, rocking yourself backwards and forward as you adjust to the intrusion.

“we feel so good together.” you breathe, peering down at where he’s splitting you open.

“so good.” lando affirms. “can i touch you?” he whines, the veins in his arms protruding through his skin. they remind you how powerful he is, how easily he could flip you over and pound into you like a madman, but he’s letting you destroy him and he’s loving every second. you clamp down around him at the thought, a gush of your slick dripping down around him.

“touch me.” you comply, and he springs from the mattress, sitting unsupported in the middle of the bed as his hands snake around your waist. you anchor him though, holding him close as he holds you tight against him, rutting up into you so deliciously that you cry out his name wetly, face buried in his hair. “so good for me.” you whisper.

your hands cup his face, pulling back from his frizzy curls enough to press your lips to his, swallowing each-others moans.

“gonna come, baby.” lando mumbles into your lips, eyes glazed over with panic, scared you’re gonna deny him.

“that’s okay, amour, you saved it all for me.” you kiss the words against the corner of his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as your own orgasm tightens your belly to the point of no return. “good boy, lando, fill me up now, sweetheart.”

the grunt he lets out heightens into a whine, lost to the crook of your neck as he releases, grinding into you as he lets go. it sends a rush of heat up your spine, a flame to gunpowder, and you thrash in his arms, meeting your own end seconds later.

you come down in his embrace, pulling away to meet his wide eyes, awestruck and glossy.

“thank you, baby.” he mutters, hugging you tight for just a moment, before rolling you onto your back.

“love you.” you whisper, confused as to where he’s going when he starts to move down the bed.

you don’t have to wonder for long, watching as he settles his head against your thigh, licking his lips as he finds his release dripping out of you. two fingers run through your folds, teasing each and every overstimulated nerve. your teeth sink into your bottom lip right when his fingers sink into your cunt. lando’s in a daze, watching the way everything seeps out of you.

“keep it in for me.” lando slurs, transfixed on every clench of your spent cunt around his thick fingers. your eyes roll back in your head.

-

you roll over in the bed, the sunlight streaming through the linen curtains rousing you from your slumber. you push your hair from your face, reaching blindly for your husband but your hand lands on cold sheets, thudding dully against the mattress. you wrinkle your nose, sitting up and scanning the bedroom. you don’t find him, confused. he never wakes up first. your feet meet the cool tiles of the floor and you pad into the en-suite to freshen up, pulling a loose robe on before you make your way downstairs. you can smell eggs, toast and something floral, and you grin giddily, already anticipating what awaits.

you find lando in the middle of the kitchen, sleepy eyed and smiling at you like you’re the centre of the universe, sent to earth just for him. he’s surrounded, surrounded, by flowers, all kinds of varieties, and they flood the space, every surface covered by bouquets and arrangements. behind him, nestled amongst the sea of pinks, yellow and whites, the table is laid out with a delicious spread, and you feel a pang of hunger at the sight of fresh pastries and juices.

“mon dieu.” you sigh dreamily, grazing a hand over flower petals as you make your way through the jungle towards lando. “all of this for me? how the fuck did you manage this?” you swoon, wrapping your arms around his neck. he leans down, kisses you sweet and slow.

“rumour has it, there are no flowers left on the island.” he chuckles into your neck, and you giggle, leaning up to kiss him again.

“you’re insane.” you reply, awestruck. how did you get so lucky?

“ready for the day?” lando asks, toying with the ends of your hair.

“as long as i get to eat my body weight in sfogliatella first.” you tell him, eyeing the table behind him hungrily.

-

droplets of water sparkle in the sunlight, dripping slowly down his lean back, flexing with every shake of his head.

lando had crawled out the pool, and right between your legs, where he now resides, mouthing at the crotch of your bikini bottoms. he snaps the band of them against your waist, and you arch further into him every time his nose bumps your clothed clit.

“you’re being mean.” you whine, head falling back against the sun lounger. your book has fallen to the stone paved floor, your place surely lost, but you couldn’t care less. every time you pick the damn thing up, your husband has found a new, unique, way to entice you out of actually reading it, usually with his tongue.

“you want my mouth, baby? just say please.” he smirks up at you, wet curls falling over his eyes. water droplets drip over your thighs, cold against your warm skin and you shiver.

“please.” you growl, not really meaning it, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

“polite.” lando tuts, but he relents, twisting the ties that hold the bottoms together until they come undone. he tugs the material away, throws it blindly, and the quiet splash that sounds from behind him tells you both that they’d landed in the pool. he looks up at you, sheepish, and you glare at him.

“make it up to me.” you mutter, bucking your hips into his face.

lando complies, closing his mouth over your clit, sucking softly at the bud. you’re throbbing for him, writhing in the heat of the sun at his electric touch.

two fingers slither between your folds, and he groans into your cunt at the slickness that he finds there, laving his tongue through your slit to savour your taste before his fingers sink inside of you. as he builds a rhythm, fingertips bumping that special spot, you cry out, melting completely into the lounger.

“can feel us from earlier,” lando slurs, lips bumping your clit as he speaks. you shiver, the wet squelch between you quivering thighs leaving you utterly breathless. “so good for me, keeping it all in.”

you let go a few seconds later, grinning languidly as you watch him lick his fingers clean through your sunglasses. he kisses you cheekily, leaving you with your taste on your tongue, and he throws himself back into the pool.

“get my bikini bottoms!” you call, flustered by the way the low sun hits him, paints his golden and shiny.

“but i prefer the view without them.” he winks, but dives under the water to retrieve them nonetheless.

-

“‘m so, so in love with you.” lando rasps into your ear, mouthing at the skin of your flushed cheeks.

you’re chest to chest, eyes locked as he grinds into you, deeper and deeper somehow with every thrust. he leaves you dizzy, tingling and weightless with every stroke, hips brushing yours.

“lando,” you sigh dreamily, threading your fingers through his curls. they’re loosening from the humidity, the heat burning between you both, no longer perfectly coiled like they had been during your dinner date.

lando had hired out a small italian restaurant overlooking the sea, soft fairy lights strung over your heads as you’d sipped wine, hands loosely clasped together. he’d toyed with your wedding band the whole time, eyes rarely leaving yours. it was a perfect end to a perfect honeymoon, and as he’d driven you back to your villa, the tension had simmered.

he had you on your back quickly, but he was careful with you, lazily revealing more and more skin as he slowly undressed you. he’d tried to slide between your thighs, eyes lit up with longing, but you’d refused him. you needed him against you, buried so deep, intertwined. lando hadn’t fought you much, pouting at the deprivation of getting a taste, but when he’d slid his cock through your folds, easy because of your glistening slick, his eyes had rolled back and he’d gotten over the disappointment.

“you’re so perfect.” you pant, leaning up to kiss him. it’s sweet, full of passion, leaves you wanting. “i love you.” you whisper when he pulls away, his forehead resting intimately against yours. warm breaths mingle, rapid and needy from the intensity of it all.

when you fall apart under him, a string of jumbled french rolls off of your tongue, your eyes squeezed shut at the pure inferno of ecstasy that washes over you. you’re both damp with sweat, his curls falling in a mess over his forehead, framing pretty eyes that roll back in his head when he burrows deep and reaches his own release.

once you’re untangled, you lay facing each other and his fingertips ghost over the curve of your bare waist. you watch one another, utterly content with the silence, bathing in the warmth of the bedside lamp and the pale moonlight that filters in through the open balcony doors. the cool nighttime breeze grazes over your naked bodies, pulling you out of the unrelenting heat of the moment and into something serene, peaceful.

“i can’t wait to spend my life with you.” lando whispers, his words soft in the quiet of the room. you let them wash over you, tuned in to the waves rippling against the shore in the distance. you grin coyly back at him, grabbing the hand that he’s stroking you with. you pull it to your lips, kiss it sweetly.

you fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you, your back to his chest, loose curls tickling the skin of your neck. one of his hands rests gently over your lower belly, covered with one of yours.

your bags wait by the door, packed and ready to go home, where the rest of your life with him begins.

-

“i like this colour better, i think.” you muse, flicking between paint swatches. violet white and apple moon have caught your attention, but you wonder if a colder undertone would work best. you’ve taken on the task of redoing a guest room, a little end of summer project.

lando wrinkles his nose and you roll your eyes playfully.

you’re lounged across your sofa, the sun slowly dipping behind the horizon and you watch it through the open balcony doors. the room is tinged orange, glowing, painting your husband angelic.

“don’t you think something… warmer would work better?” he asks, leaning closer to have another look.

“not everyone loves fluorescent yellow.” you tease, and he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side.

“okay, not that.” he laughs. “what about,” he scans the other swatches on the coffee table, reaching for one. “this one?”

he hands you honey beam, and you toy with the small card.

“i think it’s too pink.” you say.

“it’s cute! i just think we should paint it something soft, just in case…” he trails off, leaning forward and immersing himself in the samples. you lean in, too, chasing him. he has this small smile on his lips, lost in thought.

“hey, ‘in case’ what?” you ask.

lando turns to you, just stares for a second. the low sun makes your eyes sparkle, and he melts.

“in case we get pregnant.” he says quietly.

“oh.” you coo, grinning up at him. “i suppose you have a point.”

“yeah?” he breathes, excited in a way you can only compare to a sweet, innocent puppy.

“yeah.”

“like, baby, i love your eye for design but i don’t want our baby to grow up in a a pretentious, grey, prison-“ lando teases you, and you shut him up by wrestling him back onto the sofa.

“ve te faire foutre.” you scold, kissing over his cheeks.

“i love you and i love our house.” lando murmurs sincerely.

the paint swatches are forgotten as you laugh together and kiss him sweetly into the sofa.

-

lando relaxes into the seat, waiting for the plane to take off. oscar sits across from him, already falling asleep, hoodie pulled tight around his head. charles and alexandra are supposed to be joining them on the flight back to nice. he wonders where they are - he wants nothing more than to get home, curl into his wife’s side. lando snaps a picture of his dozing teammate, smirking at the screen, but before he can upload it to his instagram story, your contact photo fills the screen. he accepts the facetime, beaming as your tired eyes meet his through the screen.

“hey baby.” lando coos, sticking his tongue out at you.

“mon amour,” you greet, grinning at him lazily. “have you taken off yet?” you ask softly. you’re on your side in bed, blankets cocooning you, and lando aches to be there with you.

“soon, waiting for your brother and alex.” lando rolls his eyes jokingly, and you tut.

“i’ll tell them off.” you frown, unserious.

“god, don’t do that! i’m already terrified of that man.” lando shivers, and your laugh fills his ears, warms the blood flowing through his cheeks. “are you okay, though, baby? you look tired.”

“yeah, think it’s just sugar crash,” you half shrug. “i’ve been really tired for the last few days, it’s nothing.”

“sugar?” lando’s eyebrows furrow. you’re not one for sugary things, supplementing it with your body weight in snacks. you’re a savoury girl, through and through.

“yeah, i’m all kinder-d out.” you giggle, sheepish. his eyes go wide.

“my kinder?” lando gasps, feigning hurt. he sees it, then, the pile of wrappers on the nightstand behind you.

“whoops? don’t even know what came over me, but your entire stash is gone.”

“how am i ever gonna forgive you for this?” lando shakes his head, smirking at the screen.

“just get more on the way back? please?” you plead, giving him the eyes that he’d die for.

“course, baby.” he promises, but he’s mulling it all over in his head. “you’re not getting sick, are you?”

cravings. overly tired. all you had to say next was that you were nauseous and he’d be buying a crib. he kept his mouth shut, though, because it clearly hasn’t dawned on you yet.

“not sure, i’ve been fine mostly.” you shrug again, and lando can’t help but smile like a fool. “what?” you ask, noticing his untamed expression.

“nothing, i just love you. okay, baby, i’m gonna call charles and see where he is. i’ll be home in a few hours.”

“don’t forget my kinder!” you call, blowing him a kiss. “have a good flight, amour, i love you.”

lando can’t quieten his mind, too overwhelmed with the possibility that you’re about to expand your family, something he’s imagined since before he’d even proposed.

when charles steps onto the small plane, met with the sight of his brother in law grinning like an idiot at absolutely nothing, he wonders, yet again, what kind of joke god was playing on him.

-

you hear the front door open, the soft thud of bags dropping to the floor, and you spring from the mattress. you ignore the way your tummy turns uncomfortably, and speed down the hallway to meet him.

“hey baby.” lando murmurs, holding you tight when you jump into his arms. you never get used to him being gone.

“missed you.” you whisper, breathing in the familiar scent of him, warm and spicy, and even better than usual. “i’m so proud of you.”

lando was leading the championship, but he couldn’t get too comfortable. charles and lewis were looming in the near distance, and oscar was creeping towards the party at a rate of knots. but lando was on a streak of race wins, and he couldn’t deny that your praise made him giddy. after all, these days it was all for you.

“yeah?” lando asks, pressing his forehead against yours. you hum in agreement, leaning in for a kiss. it’s sweet, tender, silent confirmation of just how much you’ve missed one another.

“did you pick up my chocolate?” you pout, fingers intertwined as you walk to the sofa. you drop down, curling up and lando sits next to you.

“i did, and i also got you something else.” lando smiles coyly, unzipping his bag. your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

first, he hands you the kinder chocolate. then, he hands you a pregnancy test.

seeing the two items together makes it dawn on you, and you slap your hands over your face.

“mon dieu!” you gasp. “how did i not realise?” when you lower your hands, lando sees how your eyes glimmer with tears, your lips stretched into a nervous smile.

“so i’m not crazy for thinking it, right?” lando laughs, cupping your cheeks with warm, shaking hands.

“you’re not. should i take it now?”

“i might die if you don’t.” lando’s dead serious, the tension between you palpable.

you stand from the sofa, speed towards the bathroom, and lando watches you go. he sighs, rubbing his eyes, overcome with jitters and excitement.

time seems to stand still as he waits, eyes locked on the door that you’d gone through, waiting for any movement. five minutes must have passed, but if you’d told him it had been five years, he would have believed it. the door handle makes him jump to his feet, and he walks towards you tentatively. your expression is unreadable and he wants to scream.

“so? are you- are we?” lando pleads, only a few steps away from you now.

your neutral expression morphs into one of pure joy, the tears you’d been holding back streaming in a free-for-all.

“all that work we put in must have paid off.” you whisper, and lando surges towards you. your feet leave the ground, held so tight as he spins you around.

“we’re having a baby?” lando breathes, placing you back on the ground carefully.

“you’re gonna be a dad.” you manage through tears.

“my god,” his voice is laced with disbelief, utterly enamoured with you. “i can’t even believe it.” his face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel his wet, hot tears pooling there.

“i’m pregnant.” you say it slowly, tasting it on your tongue, feeling the weight of it. your husband clings to you, and your hands rake through his hair, soothing him with your dull nails across his scalp, as you ground yourself in the ecstasy of the moment.

“we did it!” lando cheers, flushed red, his watery eyes shining like the sun hitting the sea. you’re shaking, fingertips grazing your sweatshirt covered belly. his fingers lace with yours, rubbing gentle circles over the fabric.

“we did.” your voice wobbles, cheeks aching from your unshakable smile. “what the hell do we do now?”

“we plan a really elaborate hiding spot so that charles never finds me. you and the baby can visit.” lando replies earnestly, bursting into giggles when you swat his arm.

he pulls you into a kiss, so slow and gentle that the whole house melts away around you; all that’s left is you and him, and something so beautiful that you’ve created together.

“thank you.” lando mumbles against your lips.

“i’m just glad you convinced me not to paint the spare room grey.”

-

taglist

(lemme know if you wanna be added or removed. tags that don’t work will be removed)

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the black sheep

a/n: wrote this at five in the morning after i woke up from a nightmare ✌️

summary: “don’t,” a sharp breath filled your lungs as you shook your head and your eyes instantly squeezed shut, “don’t do that… don’t act like you care just because my father pays you. I know you’re no better than all of the others out there…” 

warnings: soft!mob!bucky x mob boss daughter!reader, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, forbidden romance, age gap, sexual references, horrible and abusive family, bullying, mental illness (depression, anxiety, stress), references to being institutionalised at a terrible place against one's will, party, dancing, crying

word count: 1511

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist 

The creak of a heavy pair of boots crossing over the threshold found your ears, though didn’t persuade your neck to twist around and see who had appeared in the doorway. 

“Miss?” Bucky’s tone echoed quietly throughout the room as his metal hand continued to clutch the doorhandle he’d just twisted. 

But instead of tearing your eyes away from the night sky that twinkled on the other side of the window, you instead continued to sit on the floor, the fancy dress you’d been forced into wrinkling around your legs, as you faintly began to murmur, “you know, I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little…” your eyes traced one of the constellations gleaming above, “it wasn’t because I had some fascination with space, but it was the one thing I could imagine that would take me as far away from here as possible…” a breath escaped you before your vision finally floated back down to earth and you glanced over your shoulder, “would you mind closing the door? It’s so loud out there…” 

As you reunited your gaze to the world outside and you heard the door shut behind you, the mobster then carefully asked, “are you alright?” 

“Don’t,” a sharp breath filled your lungs as you shook your head and your eyes instantly squeezed shut, “don’t do that… don’t act like you care just because my father pays you. I know you’re no better than all of the others out there…” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried to conceal his painful awareness of your situation. 

“I know what the others say behind my back,” you uttered, your mind haunted by their voices, playing the comments on a loop till they turned into boiling tar, “poor Y/n, weak and broken Y/n who is crazy and could never really be a part of this family… but unfortunately for everyone, I am,” you breathed, memories of your adolescence flooded your system, how they had sent you away to a broken institution at the smallest sign of vulnerability, “so I could never just leave. I couldn’t go out and earn my own money, they would cut off any attempt I made of getting a job in this city,” you pointed out their power, “and if I tried to get away, move to somewhere else, then they would have to take care of that as well because they can’t have a liability just out there. They own me, and they’ve made sure that I am nothing without them, and with them, I’d never be able to accomplish a goddamn thing. They wouldn’t hesitate to cut my life short if I ever stepped out of line again, you know that, it happened to my aunt… for all I know, it’ll probably happen as soon as my brother takes over, it is after all what everyone has surely wished for since the day I was born…” 

As those last few venting words escaped your lips, a sinking feeling bloomed in your stomach as you realised those shattering truths hadn’t been contained in your thoughts alone. 

“Oh shit…” tears began to blur your vision as you spun around and jaggedly rose to your feet, “please don’t tell anyone about any of that,” you took a panicked step forward, “I–… I didn’t mean any of it, it’s not–…” your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared back at the gangster, “what do you want?” you attempted desperately, “do you want money? I could talk to my father and give you another leg up? I’ll give you whatever you want, just please don’t tell anyone, I–…” 

An idea then struck through your terrified blubbering, and without giving it another thought, you dropped down to your knees before him. 

“What are you doing?” he finally spoke, blinking down at you by his feet. 

Wiping your cheek as a steady flow of tears rolled down them, you then reached out for Bucky’s belt and sniffled, “you can have me, if that’s what could buy your silence.” 

But instead, your father’s right-hand man grabbed your hands, “stop,” he pleaded, “just stop.” 

Blinking up into his eyes, your hazy vision then drifted down to his fingers enveloping your wrists before you gloomily concluded, “…right…of course… I get it,” your head bowed even further as you uttered, “why would you think of me any differently… of course, you wouldn’t want me to touch you, you probably think I’m cursed just like the rest of them do…” 

But instead of ripping his touch away from your skin as if it was a scorching flame, Bucky’s frame suddenly lowered to be at your level, kneeling by you before he lifted one of your palms up to cup his stubbly cheek.

“I don’t,” a faint shake found his head, “never have,” you found yourself floating away into the ocean of his eyes as he stared back at you, his slow breath fanning across your wet cheeks at the close proximity, “I won’t tell anyone what you said,” he promised, his deep voice nearly at a whisper, “you have my word.”

But as you were filled with equal amounts of uncertainty, as well as shock, footsteps on the other side of the door found you both and tore you apart, just before the door ripped open and in strolled the boss himself. 

“Barnes!” your father’s glare landed on the mobster first before it shifted to find you, hastily wiping your cheeks, “oh great, you found her,” he uttered impatiently, “darling, come, it’s time for your brother to cut the cake. You need to be there,” he swiftly waved a hand for you to shadow him. 

The storm of the party made you feel as if you could come undone and burst into tears at any moment, pushing and shoving your shaky soul till you felt like just a tiny speck of dust floating around in the air. Keeping your gaze on the floor as you pushed through the bustling crowds, it stayed there as your sibling sank a shiny blade into the ridiculously elaborate cake that was rolled out for everyone to applaud. 

Raw and bleeding while the others drank and laughed, your vision finally found enough courage to flicker up, though only to find those same blue eyes, across the room and locked upon you. 

When the music soon was cranked up high and people swarmed to the middle of the floor in pairs, you briefly spotted one of your brother’s friends, a guy not too far from your own age, march straight towards you with an air of confidence that couldn’t help but relax your tense shoulders as you were slowly filled with hope. 

But as he neared and a greeting fell from your lips, a confused look muddled up his features as he shot you a glance before grabbing the waiting hand of a girl standing in the crowd behind you. 

Amused snickers and cruel comments found your ears even though you knew their tones attempted to be silent.

“What a freak.”

“Could you imagine if it had actually been her he’d wanted to dance with? In her dreams.”

“She should just run back to that insane asylum she somehow escaped from.”

With your back soon pressed up against one of the perimeter walls, a shadow then came to darken the spot on the floor your reddened eyes were glued to. 

“You wanna dance?” you glanced up with a wide pair of eyes to spot Bucky settled in beside you. 

“Why?” your brows knit together, “so that everyone can have another thing to laugh about?” 

Holding out his palm, he then let out a sigh, “just take my hand,” and the next thing you knew, your fingers were tangled in his own. 

Once he’d led you out onto the floor, your eyes darting around to all the bewildered glances that shot your way, a sudden breath then filled your lungs as his wide palm slid over your waist and dragged you in closer to his frame, causing your vision to cease their torture and meet his own steady gaze instead. 

The sway was slow and intimate, though you weren’t sure if the sensation terrified or calmed you, as the intoxicating way he made you feel had previously been something you’d packed far away as just an inconsequential crush back when he’d first started working for your father. Though as he held you in his arms and showed you a rare display of compassion, how could your heart not begin to thump once more?

With your gaze hazily cast over his shoulder as you danced so near that your cheeks almost touched, the warmth of his hand then slid down to your lower back before he whispered in your ear, “I know it won’t fix anything, but if it was up to me, you’d be the one inheriting this whole business, not your brother,” he uttered sincerely under his breath, “he’s a hot-headed idiot, while you are stronger and more brilliant than all of these fools combined.”

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[traveler-at-heart]

Sister, wife?

Summary: The team mistakes you for Natasha's sister when you first meet.

Request by @lynattyx

Loki again.

Thor seemed more annoyed than anyone else, but that was only logical. He had spent centuries putting up with his brother.

“Hey, don’t sweat it. Siblings can be a pain” Natasha tried to comfort him, while he looked ready to release a storm over Loki outsmarting him and escaping.

“Speaking from experience, Red?” Stark asked with a curious stare.

“Got a sister” Natasha shrugged her shoulders, looking out the window of the Quinjet as if she hadn’t said anything interesting.

“Really? What’s her name?” Steve said, intrigued.

“I won’t tell you, because if I say it three times you’ll summon her. That’s a reference from…”

“Yeah, I got it” Steve nodded. “I didn’t really like that Beetlejuice”

“That’s because you hate fun” Tony said, stepping forward. “Alright, we have a signal. Anyone up for a cigar? Loki’s close to Cuba”

—

“Lay low. That’s pretty much all you can do now” Maria said with a somber tone over the comms.

Loki had gone a little too far this time, almost getting half of Havana blown up.

Needless to say, the US wasn’t happy with the diplomatic mess the Avengers had created. Maybe that was Loki’s plan all along; make it impossible for them to go after him with the American government on their backs.

Well, he got what he wished for.

“I don’t suppose we can go to the Compound, then” Tony mumbled. “Barton, Red? Any ideas?”

“Coordinates are set. We’ll be there in a few hours. Try to get some sleep. All of you”

No one was in the mood to ask questions. If Natasha said it was a safe place, then they’d take her word for it and be done with the matter.

“You sure about this?” Clint said, looking at her from the copilot seat.

“Yeah. She’ll just give me a hard time for not telling her in advance. You know how she likes to have everything extra clean when there are guests”

“How did you manage to score such a gal?” he joked and Natasha glared at him.

“Hey, I’m a catch. My mac and cheese is delicious”

“Whatever you say, Tasha”

—

The Quinjet landed, and the only way you could tell was by the tree branches moving with a sudden gust of wind.

“Hey” Natasha said with a coy smile, going up the steps as the rest of the team got off the jet, looking around curiously.

“Welcome home” you pulled her into a hug. “Should have told me they were coming, and I could have cleaned up a bit”

“I missed you too” she joked against your ear, and as she was about to lean and kiss you, Tony interrupted the moment.

“Hey, Romanoff and Romanoff”

“You must be Tony. I’ve heard a lot about you”

“Have you? Because Natasha here didn’t tell us much about you”

“She was probably worried about you running your mouth” you joked, making him smirk.

“You have heard about me”

As Steve walked in, Natasha waited for Clint to show him something she wanted to fix in the garage.

The house was big and in the middle of a little wooded area.

“You’re gonna have to share rooms. And someone will sleep on the couch” you warned them.

“Not it” Tony said, as you pulled out a pillow and a blanket from the closet.

“I’ll take the couch” Steve offered, which of course he did. “Thank you…”

“Y/N” you nodded, waiting for Tony to follow you.

“Barton? Thor?” he looked around.

“Oh, Clint’s probably scolding Natasha because she didn’t fix the ceiling like he told her to” you laughed. “Thor flew away like thirty seconds after landing. And burned part of my lawn in the process”

“So sorry about that. It’s quite the thing to hang out with these brutes. So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a Psychiatrist” you answered, opening the door to the guest room.

“Get to see Natasha a lot?”

“Not as much as I’d like”

“Come by the Compound anytime you like. I’ll send you a pass or shall I just say your name three times?”

“What?” you tilted your head in confusion.

“Nothing. Thanks for letting us crash” he rubbed his neck.

“Sure. Get some rest”

You ran into Clint as he went upstairs, knowing his way around the house.

“She’s outside”

“Is she… is she ok?” you said, sighing. It was one thing to see it in the news, and another one to know she was out there risking her life against literal Gods and aliens.

“Just tired” he assured you. “Seeing you will help. Have a good night”

“You too. Sorry to say you’re sharing a room with Tony”

“Ah, jeez” he groaned, making you laugh.

Steve was lying in the couch, restless. He waved at you shyly as you walked out, knowing Natasha was waiting in the porch.

Honestly? They were a nice bunch.

“Hey” you said, stepping out.

“Hi, detka”

“You ok?” you said, leaning your chin against her shoulder, with your arms around her waist.

“Just tired”

“Funny, that’s exactly what Clint said”

Natasha chuckled at that, squeezing your hands.

“He knows me”

“I know you better”

“Do you, now?” she turned around, quirking up an eyebrow and smiling at you. “So, what do you think I want right now?”

“Cuddles with your wife and then tomorrow morning I think you’ll be in the mood for blueberry pancakes and hot cocoa”

“Damn, you do know me well” she laughed, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s go to bed”

—

You were up next morning, and unsurprisingly, Steve had already been out and running a good ten miles.

“The rest?” he said after greeting you.

“Clint got up early to fix what Natasha broke trying to fix the other thing that broke, God bless his soul. Tony’s asleep and so is Nat”

“Really? Even Romanoff? She’s up at break of dawn”

“Nah, not when she’s home. Now clean yourself up, breakfast is almost done”

“Yes, Ma’am”

Natasha was the first one down, as your room had a private bathroom. By the sounds from upstairs, you suspected the boys were arguing over who go to use the other restroom first.

“Hear that sound? Children. Ready for all that?” Natasha said.

“Yeah, but ours will be cute. And we’ll make Clint build another bathroom” you said, getting a pancake out of the pan.

“You’re so smart, that’s why I love you”

“Only that?” you said, laughing as you felt her hands go around your waist.

“Among other things”

You turned around to protest, but her lips stopped you from saying anything.

“I did miss this” she said, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You moaned against her mouth, forgetting there were more people in the house until you heard Tony slam the door to the bathroom. Natasha went to get some coffee, and you wished she’d kept kissing you.

But the teasing would be endless if they caught you in the middle of it.

“Bathroom's all yours, Cap! Morning, Romanoffs”

“Morning, Tony” you said. “Help yourself to some pancakes and coffee”

“Delicious, thank you”

Steve came down a few minutes later, at the same time Clint walked in, announcing that he had fixed the thing.

“You’re a hero” you said, grateful. “Don’t worry, darling, you’ll get it right next time” you added as Natasha pouted.

“Mean”

“It comes with the territory, doesn’t it?” Tony said. “Including all the hair pulling and slapping and fighting for bras”

“Ah, what?” you said, confused.

“Hey, don’t speak to my wife that way, asshole” Natasha slapped the back of his head, making him choke on his coffee.

“Did you just say wife?” he turned to look between the two of you.

“Yes, Y/N is my wife. Who did you think she was?”

“The maid?” you joked.

“The sister!” Tony looked at Steve for backup.

“Well, to be fair… yeah”

“My sister’s name is Yelena” Natasha said, massaging her temples. “Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. And I didn’t want you to know because you’ll be insufferable about it”

“Babe, they’ve been good so far” you chuckled, squeezing her hand.

“We can behave, honey boo” Tony said.

“Ok, yeah. I get it now” you rolled your eyes.

“Either way, you’re coming to our party” Tony said, poruing himself more coffee.

“When is it?”

“Whenever we get our hands on that Asgardian bastard”

“Language” you said at the same time as Steve.

“This is gonna be fun” Tony laughed, looking at you over his cup of coffee. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Romanoff”

[thejujvtsupost]

It’s Always Been You

🍎F!reader, pet names: (pip/squeak, my girl, sweetheart,) suggestive but not smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief miscommunication and lots of groveling but it works out.🍎

Notes: I struggle with editing. This is totally separate from canon bc I’m heartbroken. It’s also my first lads fic, I’ll ALWAYS be a Sylus girlie but Caleb broke my brain for a minute 😭

Caleb joining the DAA wasn’t the problem at hand…No, it was the fact that you were going to be separated. Spending his last night before he leaves wrapped around each other like you always did when things were tough was the best comfort you could get.

“I’m gonna miss you so much, do you really have to go?” This was going to be the longest you’ve ever been apart since you were kids, and even worse, he wasn’t allowed to have his phone.

This wasn’t any easier on him but he couldn’t just back out. “I’ll be home before you know it, don’t worry too much.” Caleb brushed the hair from your eyes and held you closer, “plus, you get to have six months free of my constant nagging.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to say, the tears you were holding back finally fell. Your hands that were originally wrapped around his waist were now at his chest, between your bodies and fisted tightly in his shirt. “But I love you and your nagging!” You inhaled like you were suffocating. Perhaps you were, under the weight of his impending absence.

“Shh I know, I love you and being a pain in your ass.” That earned him a wet chuckle. “I swear, as soon as I’m home I’ll fulfill my promise and I won’t leave your side. You’ll never have to worry again, about anything.” A soft kiss to your temple solidified his vow.

It took you a few long moments before you were able to get in a proper breath and process what he said. “You made a promise?”

“Don’t remember? Hm that won’t do. Think back to when you were 18, and that boy you had a crush on rejected you and broke your heart.”

“I’d prefer not to remember that, actually.”

“But remember after? When you still hadn’t come home by dinner and I found you alone at the park?” Large hands ran down the length of your back to help soothe you while he spoke.

You’re still lost but it’s coming back to you. Confessing to your crush in the park was supposed to be perfect— except he not only rejected you, but he made fun of you. You could respect rejection, but the way he humiliated you and made a scene wasn’t something you wanted to think about. “That day was awful.”

“You were so upset. I wanted to beat him to a pulp but you didn’t want to be alone. Remember what I told you? The pinky promise we made? It’s only been four years you know, I’d hope your memory isn’t that bad yet.”

The moment flooded you then with a gasp, ‘You’ll never be alone as long as I live sweetheart, and when it’s time, when I finally graduate and become a pilot, I swear I’ll marry you myself to prove it.’ And at the time it made you giggle, because surely he was just joking to cheer you up, right? “You meant it?”

Caleb chuckled and lifted your chin to look at you directly, “of course I did, it’s always been you and me. Don’t you know that?”

A fresh wave of tears formed as you surged forward to meet his lips with yours- and stopped out of embarrassment before you could make contact. “Sorry, I didn’t- I think I’m just being emotional—”

But the space between you closed once again and before you could overthink it, Caleb was kissing you the way he’s wanted to for years. His lips were all consuming and tender. His palm cupped your face like it was glass and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through his hair. Kissing Caleb felt like home, like everything was right.

He tried to break away to bring you both air but you refused to let him, instead pulling him closer and closer until he was on top of you, spreading your legs to accommodate his size. “Slow- slow down, you still need oxygen.” You shook when he started dragging his kisses down your throat, letting out soft moans when gentle sucks were left behind.

“C-Caleb…”

He pulled back and grew tense as if he was afraid he scared you away, “what’s wrong, you tired?” He was trying to give you an out if you wanted it.

You were certain your cheeks were flushed, you shook your head. “I want… more…”

Caleb groaned and buried his face in your neck “you’re killing me, Pip.”

Had you said something wrong? “Sorry- I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I’ll just-” you loosened your arms from around him, thinking you somehow embarrassed yourself yet again.

He stopped you. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. You’re killing me because you have no idea how badly I want you; how long I’ve wanted you.”

“Really?” Having someone like Caleb love you was the best feeling, but him being attracted to you left you wanting him even more.

Deciding to just show you, he ground his hips into yours. And god, it felt good against you. Just that little bit of contact felt better than anything you ever achieved on your own. “You’re-” hard went unsaid. He grunted when you spread your legs wider for him. “Yeah, I am. And if you want me, then you have me. But you can’t take it back, so if you’re not ready for that commitment…”

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“This really isn’t the time for that—”

“Shut up, it’s important.” He sighed and let you continue. Your arms dropped from his neck to hold his face in your hands, brushing the stray hairs from his face. “That guy I had a crush on? I only liked him so much because he reminded me of you. So I’m yours, too. If you want me, then you can take me.”

Words were lost on him so actions took hold, “are you sure?” His kisses resumed their path after meeting your lips, the room grew hotter with each new brush against your skin.

“I trust you, Caleb,” you had no idea your neck was so sensitive, your gasps talking for you. “but I should let you know I’ve never done this before.”

“I’d kill anyone who ever touched you if you had”

“Isn’t that hypocritical? Should I hunt down your past lovers?” You worked his shirt over his head, the dog tag necklace you gave him mere hours ago dangled in front of your face.

He chuckled and discarded your top, your sleep shorts were next. “It’s funny how you think I’d ever want someone that isn’t you.” His revelation hit you full force: he loves you so deeply, there’s truly no doubt to have. “I’d never do this with anyone else.”

Two things happened that night: your bond was solidified, and unbeknownst to you, a life was created

The goodbye was brutal the next day, already missing him terribly before night fell again.

You managed to fall into a routine, though. You would go to work, occasionally spend time with friends— Tara spent the night with you at least once a week to keep your mind off of things; and the days she didn’t you laid in bed desperately wishing he would be by your side.

Your routine was solid, until a month into your separation when you were sick almost every single day. You were fed up by the time a week passed and the day after that you made your way to visit Zayne- who congratulated you because in his words, ‘he and his wife were expecting as well, perhaps they’ll be friends, too.’ Finding out you were pregnant without Caleb with you was difficult, there wasn’t a way to reach him and share the news.

But you weren’t alone anymore. You spent the time you felt lonely talking to your baby now, who definitely couldn’t hear you yet but that didn’t matter. You were kept company with a perfect blend of you and your Caleb.

According to the official statement released last week Caleb would be home any time today, any minute, any second.

The anticipation left butterflies in your tummy, your baby moving with your nerves. It didn’t occur to you that he might not be happy to be a father, that you might’ve been presumptuous that he’d be ready to care for another life so soon.

And when the door flew open, as much as you wanted to jump into his arms (carefully, of course,) you held your breath and waited for him to notice. And of course, because he was your Caleb, it was right away. His happiness and relief fell away to shock and— was that anger? You didn’t expect anger…

“Welcome home, I—”

“Who else has been here?”

“What? I mean Tara has been keeping me company a few times a week but that’s it.”

“What man has been in our home, pipsqueak.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, just a demand. He’s never been so terse with you…

His tone made you anxious, “No one, other than Zayne and his wife for dinner occasionally— Caleb what are you talking about?”

Caleb dropped his bag on the floor with a thud, still not moving from his spot. “I’m talking about the fact that I came home after six months and you didn’t seem to miss me at all, nothing like the way I missed you. How else would you be pregnant? So who is he? Someone from the Hunters Association?”

Oh… he thought… “Oh my god how could you think- I’d never cheat on you Caleb— EVER how could you even think—”

“Well, I certainly couldn’t have knocked you up in the time I’ve been away.”

A knife cut through you at his words, the accusation, the betrayal of thinking you’d ever be with anyone else. And how vulgar it was… Did your first time mean so little? Was it something he just wanted to get out of the way before he left? A sob escaped you, tears spilled over. “You’re an asshole, Caleb.”

His eyes went wide, “I’m the asshole here?”

“Yes! You’re a fucking asshole! I expected you to be shocked but accusing me of cheating on you? Thinking that night was nothing? That’s low. I can’t believe you!”

“That night means everything to me!”

“Ask me how far along I am! Go on, fucking ask!”

That stopped him short, “you mean?”

“SIX MONTHS!” Standing there while he dropped to his knees was barely satisfying. “God I can’t stand you right now! You must’ve lost your damn mind and all your common sense!”

His silence was angering you further, stomping off to the kitchen for a drink of water and trying to calm down was a better use of your time; crying from this much stress wasn’t good for you.

Once he gathered himself he followed you, “Sweetheart… you’re telling me that night…”

“Finally used your brain, did you?”

“I’m so, god I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” His hand reached out to bring you in for a hug but you denied him.

“Do. Not. Touch me.” His audacity made you seethe. No way were you going to give in so easily no matter how much you desired to be in his embrace and reassured.

“Sweetheart—”

“You’re sleeping on the couch. We can decide what to do later.”

His emotions began to overflow, the guilt crushing him; the ring in his pocket practically burning into his flesh. “Decide what?”

“Decide if I should even let you stay.” Your throat felt tight but you continued to hold your sobs back. “Your dinner is in the oven by the way, it’s your favorite so I suggest you don’t let it burn.”

A few hours rolled around before he couldn’t hold himself back anymore hearing your sniffles. You hadn’t eaten dinner, who knows if you had any water, and no matter how (rightfully) mad you were, you still needed to eat.

Grabbing a few of your favorite snacks with a glass of juice instead of the untouched dinner he put in the fridge was his safest option, unsure if seeing the meal would upset you further.

“Pip squeak? I know you’re awake.” Crouching by your side of the bed and setting the snacks on the nightstand, “please talk to me?”

“Go away.”

“You know I can’t do that, you have to eat something.”

You poked your head from the blanket, “oh so you care now that you know it’s yours?”

The jab was deserved but it still earned a wince. “I’d still care even if they weren’t.”

“How noble of you. Sticking around to raise a kid that’s not yours before I even have a ring.”

“Who said I didn’t have a ring?” This time you accepted the comfort of his hand brushing your hair behind your ear and gently cupping your cheek.

Curiosity was a bitch, but you weren’t ready to forgive him yet. “You were really mean.”

“I know, I’m so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry. I can’t imagine you being with anyone else but I didn’t expect to come home to a family either— and I’m beyond happy to be a dad. It’s not an excuse though, never okay to talk to you like that.”

A few leftover sniffles came before he pulled a tissue from the box on your nightstand, opting to dry your tears himself. “Blow,” He said, holding the tissue to help you blow your nose; then offering you the straw of the juice so you could hydrate.

“I missed you so much, I thought you’d still be happy to see me.”

“I’m over the moon, actually. But I hurt my girl, gotta make things right. Think you can forgive me? I’ll earn it forever.”

“Caleb if you ever, I mean ever, speak to me like that again I won’t hesitate to let you talk to the front door. You’ll be out.”

“I’ll cut my tongue out myself.”

“So dramatic as always.” You rolled your eyes, “you mentioned a ring?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth, “there’s my girl. You sure you still want it? Or should I earn it first?” He dug into his pants pocket to show you anyway.

“It wouldn’t hurt your efforts.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle fully before presenting the velvet box to you, “I’m pretty close to the ground but if you sit up for me I’ll get on one knee.”

Sitting up to stretch was good for your back anyway, “I think I’ve waited long enough.”

The velvet box opened and your jaw dropped, “picked it out in Skyhaven. Gideon and I helped the elderly owner of a small shop with some boxes he was struggling with in front of his door. Knew it was perfect right away, gorgeous and one of a kind like you.”

“You’re ridiculous, but I love it.” He slid it on your finger and sealed it with a kiss, and you fell into his arms like you’ve wanted to for the last six months.

Pulling away after many minutes of hugs, ‘I love you’s’ and kisses wasn’t welcomed by you. “Now, how ‘bout some dinner? I don’t think snacks are enough, they were backup. Gotta keep you healthy.”

“Did you like it?”

You were pulled to your feet and carried out of the room. “Didn’t eat without you, sweetheart. Having dinner without you and the baby felt empty.”

“Good. You can reheat it then.” You waited for the perfect moment to drop your bombshell, which happened to be when he was carrying a full glass pitcher of water for the table. “We’re having a daughter, by the way.”

The pitcher fell so fast his evol barely managed to catch it before glass hit the ground. It left you feeling smug.

You couldn’t help but cackle at his shocked spluttering, “A WHAT?”

I’m so flattered, I’ve never had so many people interested or had a taglist this long: @pixelcafe-network @kentochronicles @sashisuslover @lunia-likes-pomegranet @elli4ever @mysssticc @kaemaybae @kamisatoaiko @midiplier @jamseashell @llamabois @boba14 @crimsonspring @angrychinchillanoises @ali-shiii @kazbae95 @ifistoptherain @c-I-stinnett @nephelesthoughts @etherealzi @jjoppees @keithkoganeirl

All divider credits to me @thecutestgrotto

[g1rld1ary]

heart shaped doodles - james potter x reader

wc: 836

summary: you accidentally get given james' essay, covered in doodles with your intials together

me: wrote this in one sitting i love loverboy james!!!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

you were in agonies waiting for your latest potions essay. usually, you had a pretty good grasp of how you were doing academically, but this last project just had you muddled and confused.

the confusion you felt about your essay, though, was completely overshadowed by the utter bewilderment you experienced as you looked down at the piece of paper slughorn had handed you.

all over the heading and through the margins laid doodled hearts, slightly smudged from carelessness. even stranger than the hearts was that your initials sat right in the middle of them, paired with the unmistakable ‘j.p.’.

you quickly paged through the rest of the essay, face draining of colour at the characteristic chicken scratch — and even more so at the clearly accidental inclusion of a page in the middle, filled with doodles and the repeated mantra of ‘mr james’ followed by your last name.

before you could process what you’d just read slughorn snatched the essay out of your hands, booming laugh echoing through the potions classroom.

“sorry about that,” he shook his head as if to reprimand himself, “i must have gotten confused with your initials being all over it.” that got the class’ attention, and several gryffindors craned their necks to catch a glance of the paper as the professor passed.

when slughorn finally made it to james’ desk, dropping the essay down silently, the class erupted into chaos. teasing and heckling ensued as both you and james sunk into your seats, and you were sure your face was the same shade of red as his.

slughorn failed spectacularly at controlling the class after the revelation that the james potter had a crush on you. and not just any crush, a doodle-your-names-together-in-the-margins, down-bad kind of crush. knowing that no more learning was going to happen slughorn dismissed you all, and you had plans to run straight to your dorm and hide there until everyone stopped caring about the whole incident.

remus lupin was immediately at your side, chatting to you about something you weren’t particularly interested in, but you were too polite to tell him of your hibernation plans. you nodded and agreed with him until you were the only ones left in the classroom. apart from james.

you froze, panic overtaking you as you stumbled to put the last of your things in your bag and run when a voice called your name. you knew instantly it was james and turned slowly to face him, forcing yourself to reluctantly make eye contact.

there was still a light dusting of blush above his cheekbones, and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck betrayed his own nervousness.

“hey,” he said, hand clutching the single strap of his bag.

“hi,” you replied, trying to stop your hands from shaking.

“so you, uh, saw my paper?”

“yeah,” you breathed, “um, congrats on the ‘o’ by the way. wish it really was my essay.” james laughed softly at your joke, messing up his hair for something to do.

“i could help you sometime! if you need it, of course.” james cringed at his own reply, the instant realisation that it maybe wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment.

“right,” you trailed off, “well, i’m gonna—”

“wait!” james reached out, a hand catching your bicep lightly. it sent goosebumps up and down the length of your arm. you looked at james expectantly, heart hammering in your chest.

“look, i — fuck. there’s no point pretending we both don’t know now. i really like you. like, an embarrassing amount, as everyone’s discovered today. and i wasn’t gonna do anything about it because i figured you’re so out of my league and aren’t interested, but i suppose i’ve already made a fool out of myself today, might as well full send it. so, what do you say? can i take you out to hogsmeade sometime?”

you pretended to mull it over to give your internal voice time to scream. james potter was without a doubt the hottest guy in school, not to mention smart and funny and good at everything he tried. and he wanted to go out with you! if he wasn’t watching you with anxious interest you thought you might’ve passed out. instead, you played it cool.

“yeah,” you said, smile creeping out despite your best efforts, “yeah, that sounds like fun.”

you almost had to shield your eyes when james beamed, practically its own light source.

“cool!” he said, too loud and fast, “next weekend?” you nodded with almost equal enthusiasm, the two of you sharing the same giggly grins.

behind james you caught a glance of slughorn through the crack in his office door, smiling fondly at the both of you. maybe his slip-up wasn’t so accidental.

“so,” james said, intertwining your fingers boldly as you both turned to leave, “you need me to be your tutor?”

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ first time - teach me how to love

chapter summary: After he dropped hints for weeks, you finally give in to Logan.

word count: 11k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is a bonus chapter! i consider this taking place before make you mine

this is the request that inspired this chapter

(you do NOT have to read the series to understand this oneshot. it's mostly smut)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, shy!reader, mention of twirling hair, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, not proofread

series masterlist

You turned the page of your book, the hum of some old movie playing on the TV in the bedroom. You were lying between Logan’s legs, your head resting below his chin while his hand absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair. His other hand was draped over your stomach, fingers occasionally tapping against the fabric of your shirt like he had a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

“You actually readin’ that thing, or just pretendin’ to so I don’t distract you?” Logan’s voice was low, lazy, the kind of tone he only used when he was completely comfortable.

You didn’t look up from your book. “I was reading.”

“Was,” he echoed, amused. His fingers gave your hair a light tug before smoothing it down again. “So that means I am distractin’ you.”

You sighed, more dramatic than necessary, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “Logan.”

“Darlin’.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you get all smug just ‘cause I like being around you.”

Logan smirked, his fingers trailing absently along your side now. “That a bad thing?”

You sighed again, but this time, you leaned into him a little more, letting your book rest against your chest. “No.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your back. “Didn’t think so.”

The movie flickered in the background, some old Western that Logan had flipped to out of habit. You doubted he was actually paying attention to it. His fingers skimmed over the hem of your shirt now, his touch slow, deliberate. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t even making a real move—just there, lingering, testing.

“Y’know,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along the sliver of skin just above your waistband, “I don’t mind you usin’ me as a pillow, but I gotta say, sweetheart… there are other ways to get comfortable.”

You didn’t take the bait, though your cheeks warmed at his tone. “I am comfortable.”

Logan let out a quiet hum, his fingers tracing the same path over your stomach. “Could be more comfortable.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly in his hold. “Logan.”

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the side of your neck. “Just sayin’.”

You exhaled, turning the page of your book even though you hadn’t actually processed a single word. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” he murmured against your skin. “Just persistent.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him rattle you—at least, not too much. He wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past couple of weeks, Logan had been dropping hints, pushing just enough to see how you’d react. It wasn’t anything overt—no pressure, no expectation. Just a lingering touch here, a teasing remark there, the occasional kiss that lasted a second longer than it needed to.

He was patient, but he wasn’t subtle.

“You’re thinkin’ real hard about somethin’,” Logan murmured, his breath warm against your jaw.

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes trained on your book. “Just… taking in the plot.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. His hand slid just a little higher, resting against your ribs now. “That book’s been on the same page for the last ten minutes.”

You sighed. “Maybe I just like this page.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your temple. “Yeah? What’s it about?”

You hesitated, then groaned, dropping the book onto your lap. “Fine. Maybe I haven’t been paying attention.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “That so?”

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You love being a distraction, don’t you?”

Logan shrugged, unbothered. “If it gets you lookin’ at me instead of that book? Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back with something witty, Logan’s hand slipped beneath your sweater, resting warm and steady against your skin. The touch wasn’t rushed or demanding—just there, grounding, like he was waiting to see if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

Logan took that as an invitation to tilt your chin up, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. He wasn’t pushing for more, but he wasn’t holding back, either. His fingers splayed against your stomach, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin.

By the time he pulled back, his smirk had softened into something quieter, something more certain. “See? Much better than readin’.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

Logan grinned. “Yeah, but you’re still sittin’ here, ain’tcha?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came to mind. Because he was right.

And, more than that, you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

---

The sound of chalk against the board was somewhat soothing—it usually meant just you and equations. But it wasn’t as soothing today since Logan was leaning against your desk watching you as you wrote across the board preparing for class.

He’d been there for the past ten minutes, saying nothing, just watching, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk lingering on his face. You’d done your best to ignore him, focusing on writing out the equation, but every time you glanced over, he was still there. Still watching.

Finally, you sighed, setting the chalk down with a small clink. “Are you just gonna stand there, or are you actually here for something?”

Logan’s smirk deepened. “Dunno. Kinda enjoyin’ the view.”

You rolled your eyes, but your face warmed at the way his voice dipped just slightly, lazy and deliberate. You turned back to the board, trying to ignore the way his presence was making it difficult to focus. “Well, unless you suddenly got real interested in quantum mechanics, you’re gonna get bored pretty quick.”

“Nah,” he said, the sound of his boots scuffing against the floor as he shifted. “You’re way more interestin’ than whatever the hell’s on that board.”

You hesitated just briefly before picking the chalk back up, your grip tightening slightly. “Logan.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone perfectly, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to glare at him, but it was a mistake—because the second you looked at him, you were trapped. His eyes weren’t just amused; they were sharp, knowing, like he could see right through you. And he could, you realized with an exasperated huff.

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered, looking back at the board.

“Yeah?” Logan pushed off your desk, moving closer until he was standing right behind you. “Guess that makes us even, darlin’.”

Your breath hitched as his voice dropped, the warmth of him settling against your back even though he wasn’t touching you. It would be so easy for him to close the distance, to brush his hand against your waist, to tease you just a little further. But he didn’t. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch, making sure you felt him there.

Your grip on the chalk faltered, a small break appearing in the line of your equation.

Logan chuckled. “You sure you ain’t gettin’ distracted, sweetheart?”

You turned sharply, ready to snap at him, but the second you did, his hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray piece of chalk dust off your cheek. The touch was barely there, but it was enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let it drop.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

You swallowed, blinking up at him. His smirk had softened, something quieter settling in the way he looked at you. That look always got you—it was dangerous. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him. And maybe, in some ways, you were.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, pushing past him to grab your notes.

Logan didn’t stop you, but as you moved, he caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Hey.”

You hesitated, looking up at him again.

“Dinner later?” His thumb brushed against your wrist, barely there.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t cocky—it was satisfied. “Good.”

And then he leaned down, his fingers holding your chin gently as he kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips.

His lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, and you felt the familiar warmth pool low in your stomach. Logan wasn’t in a rush—he never was when he kissed you. He liked to take his time, to savor, to leave you breathless in a way that made your head spin long after he pulled away. His fingers curled under your chin, keeping you close, his thumb tracing a slow line along your jaw.

His tongue flicked over your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate swipe before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His smirk was lazy, self-satisfied, and entirely too smug.

“Cherry,” he muttered, his voice low, rough.

“You’re obsessed,” you said, trying to sound unimpressed even as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, his hands slipping lower, resting heavy on your hips. “Ain’t my fault you keep wearin’ it.” His thumbs brushed against your sides, slow, absent-minded. “Like you want me to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “It’s just lip gloss, Logan.”

“Sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Just lip gloss.” His grip on your hips tightened just a fraction. “You always wear this flavor, or is it just ‘round me?”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but the way he was looking at you made your brain short-circuit. His expression wasn’t just teasing anymore—there was something deeper behind his eyes, something unreadable but intense. It sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in again, not quite kissing you, just letting his lips hover near yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower. “Tell me it ain’t for me.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You weren’t sure what was more frustrating—the way he always managed to fluster you so easily, or the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I—” You hesitated, and Logan caught it immediately. His smirk widened, and you wanted to wipe it off his face, but your brain was too fogged up with the scent of him, the way his hands were resting so firmly on your hips, like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

“Thought so,” he muttered, finally pressing his lips to yours again.

This kiss was slower, more deliberate, his mouth moving against yours like he had all the time in the world. His fingers curled slightly, gripping the fabric of your sweater as he pulled you in closer. You felt the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way he tilted his head just right, deepening it just enough to make you forget that you were still standing in the middle of your classroom.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, gripping onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Logan, of course, looked perfectly fine, his smirk still in place, though his breathing was a little heavier than before.

“Now, what were you sayin’ about this bein’ ‘just lip gloss’?”

You groaned, shoving lightly at his chest. “Logan.”

He caught your wrist before you could push him away completely, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of it before finally letting you go. “Alright, alright,” he said, still grinning. “I’ll stop—” He paused, then added, “—for now.”

You exhaled sharply, stepping back to put some space between you. “You’re impossible.”

Logan just chuckled, watching you with that same damn amused expression, like he was enjoying every second of this. And the worst part? He absolutely was.

You turned away quickly, trying to regain your composure, but you could still feel the heat of his hands on your skin, the ghost of his lips on yours.

“You still good for dinner later?” he asked, casually like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes making you forget how to think.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your glasses as you grabbed your notes. “Yeah,” you muttered. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” His voice was warm, satisfied. “See you then, sweetheart.”

And with that, he strolled out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, lips tingling, heart racing, and entirely too aware of the fact that you were already counting down the hours until you saw him again.

---

The mansion was abnormally quiet. Most of the students were out for the weekend—some of the older students were looking after the younger ones—and the team was out doing a simple recon mission.

“One and a half cups of flour,” you muttered, leveling off the measuring cup before dumping it into the mixing bowl. The kitchen was unusually quiet, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clink of your spoon against the bowl as you stirred.

“You talk to yourself when you bake?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway, rough with amusement.

You glanced up, pushing your glasses higher up your nose. “It helps me focus,” you said, reaching for the sugar. “And keeps me from messing up the measurements.”

Logan stepped inside, hands tucked into his jeans as he leaned against the counter, watching you. “Didn’t think you ever messed up.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Everyone messes up.”

“Not you,” he said, smirking. “Not when it comes to stuff like this.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck as you added sugar to the bowl. “Flattery isn’t going to get you cookies any faster.”

Logan just grinned. “Worth a shot.”

He stayed where he was, not offering to help, not interfering, just watching. He always did this—hovering without making it obvious, keeping you in his line of sight like it was second nature. You’d gotten used to it over the past few months, the way he lingered when you were focused on something, content just being there.

His presence was steady, familiar, something you had unconsciously grown comfortable with.

You reached for the blueberries, tossing a handful into the batter before mixing again. “You’re staring.”

Logan shrugged, smirk never fading. “You’re nice to look at.”

Your grip tightened on the spoon. “Logan.”

“What?” He tilted his head, completely unbothered. “I’m just statin’ facts, sweetheart. ‘Specially when you’re wearin’ this.” Logan tugged on the open placket of his flannel, the fabric loose over your frame.

You huffed, turning back to the mixing bowl. “It was just sitting on the chair. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Logan’s fingers skimmed the hem, playing with the edge. “Didn’t say I minded.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Just sayin’ it looks real good on you.”

Your hands faltered slightly as you stirred the batter, but you kept your focus on the task at hand. “You’re just trying to distract me so I mess up these cookies.”

“Me?” He smirked, shifting closer, one hip against the counter now. “I’d never do such a thing.”

You shot him a pointed look. “You do it all the time.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, reaching over to steal a blueberry from the container beside you. “Alright, maybe I do. But it ain’t my fault you’re easy to rile up.”

You swatted at his hand before he could grab another berry. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah?” He popped the blueberry into his mouth, chewing slowly. “And yet, here you are, wearin’ my shirt, makin’ me cookies.”

“I’m not making you cookies,” you said, stirring the batter. “These are the blueberries from Ororo’s garden. She wanted me to make cookies with them.”

Logan made a low sound in the back of his throat, arms still folded as he leaned against the counter. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You scooped another handful of blueberries into the bowl, mixing them in. “So, if you want cookies, you’ll have to take it up with her.”

He smirked. “Think she’d let me have one?”

“Maybe.” You flicked your gaze toward him, pretending to consider it. “If you ask nicely.”

Logan snorted, pushing off the counter to move closer. “You ever known me to ask nicely for anything?”

You gave him a look, reaching for the baking sheet. “Exactly.”

His smirk widened. “So that means I gotta find another way to get one.”

“You could just wait like everyone else,” you pointed out, dropping spoonfuls of batter onto the tray.

“Could.” Logan took another step forward, his fingers brushing against the hem of the flannel you were still wearing. “Or I could keep distractin’ you till you cave.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart picked up just from him being this close. “You’re not as persuasive as you think.”

He hummed, standing directly behind you now, his chest barely a breath away from your back. “That so?”

You swallowed, focusing intently on the cookies. “Yes.”

Logan leaned in just a little, his breath warm against your ear. “Don’t seem so sure, sweetheart.”

Your hands froze for half a second before you forced yourself to keep scooping batter. “I don’t give in that easily.”

“Mm.” His hands skimmed along the counter on either side of you, not touching, just there. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

You exhaled, willing yourself to focus. “The cookies go in the oven in five minutes. Think you can survive that long?”

Logan chuckled, low and deep. “Guess we’ll see.”

His hands finally lifted from the counter, and he stepped back, giving you space again—but not before trailing a slow fingertip down your arm on the way. It was barely anything, just a whisper of a touch, but it left a warm, lingering imprint on your skin.

You shook your head, ignoring the way your cheeks felt hot. “You’re the worst.”

He smirked. “You keep sayin’ that, and yet—” He tugged lightly on the sleeve of the flannel you were still wearing. “Still wearin’ my shirt. Still makin’ cookies.”

You sighed, finally turning to face him fully. “They’re Ororo’s cookies.”

Logan crossed his arms, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You really think everything I do is for you, don’t you?”

He grinned. “No. But I like knowin’ when it is.”

You groaned, turning back to the tray before he could see how much that stupid smirk was affecting you. “You are impossible.”

Logan just chuckled, watching as you slid the tray into the oven. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Logan, you can have a cookie when they’re done.’”

You shut the oven and sighed. “Fine. One.”

His smirk deepened. “Thought you didn’t give in that easily?”

You turned, poking a finger at his chest. “You’re pushing it.”

Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, his fingers warm as they curled lightly around yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just held your hand, his thumb grazing over your knuckles in slow, easy circles.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The playful air between you had shifted, just slightly, into something quieter, something that made your heart beat a little harder.

“Y’know,” Logan murmured, his voice lower now, “I don’t just stick around for the cookies.”

You swallowed, your fingers twitching against his. “I know.”

Logan studied you for a long moment, then, with a small smirk, lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. The warmth of it sent a shiver up your spine.

Your breath wavered, and Logan didn’t miss it. His smirk softened, his eyes flicking up to yours. “I’ll be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

Your stomach flipped, but before you could even think of a response, he turned and strolled toward the door. “I’ll be back when the cookies are done.”

And then he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your hand still tingling from where his lips had been.

You took a slow, steadying breath, staring at the closed door for a long moment.

You were in trouble.

---

The night was like any other night. The TV was playing in the room, another old movie Logan had put on, while you read a book—1st to Die by James Patterson.

Your head was resting against his shoulder, while one of his hands absentmindedly stroked your thigh. His touch was steady, casual, like it had been for months now, but you could feel something else beneath it tonight. A quiet kind of intent.

Logan wasn’t subtle. Not really. He liked to pretend he was, but you had known him long enough to pick up on his patterns. The way his fingers traced absent shapes against your skin, his thumb brushing along the inside of your knee before trailing back down. Slow. Measured. Like he was waiting for you to notice.

You turned the page in your book, trying to ignore the way your heart had started to beat just a little faster.

“Y’like that one?” Logan’s voice was quiet, rough in the way it always was. His thumb dragged up again, stopping just beneath the hem of your shorts.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s good.”

Logan hummed, shifting slightly so he could glance down at you. “Ain’t my usual, but I might give it a shot.”

Your lips twitched. “You barely read anything that isn’t a newspaper.”

Logan smirked. “Fair.” His fingers brushed higher this time, not quite pushing but not retreating either. “But if you like it, I figure it’s worth a look.”

You swallowed, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but they were blurring now, replaced by the warmth of his palm against your thigh, the way his hand lingered, waiting.

After a long moment, you set the book down on your lap and turned slightly, looking up at him. Logan watched you, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze.

His other hand lifted, fingers ghosting along your jaw before his thumb traced over your bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Your breath caught. He didn’t move closer, didn’t push. He just waited.

It had always been this way with him. The teasing, the lingering touches, the quiet intensity that made your pulse stutter. He never rushed. He was never impatient with you.

But he wanted you to be the one to move first.

You hesitated only for a moment before tilting your chin up, closing the space between you.

The second your lips met his, Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening on your thigh. He kissed you slow at first, steady, like he had all the time in the world. But when he started to pull back, you chased him, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to keep him close.

That was all it took.

Logan made a quiet sound in the back of his throat before he kissed you deeper, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he shifted, guiding you gently until you were beneath him, your back pressed against the mattress.

He hovered there for a moment, his weight braced on his forearms as he studied you, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You sure?” Logan’s voice was quieter now, rougher.

You nodded, your fingers sliding up into his hair. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled slowly, something easing in his expression before he dipped his head again, kissing you softer this time.

He grabbed your book and placed it on the bedside table without looking, without even breaking the kiss. His lips were slow, deliberate, savoring the way you yielded beneath him, the way your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His hand slid lower, over the soft fabric of his flannel that still draped over your frame, fingertips tracing the hem where it met your thigh. He pulled back just enough to look at you, smirking at the dazed look in your eyes. “Y’know,” he murmured, his fingers slipping under the fabric, brushing against your bare skin, “I like seein’ you in my clothes.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Yeah?” Logan tilted his head, his smirk deepening as his fingers trailed higher. “Think I might’ve understated it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the effect was ruined when he leaned in again, his mouth brushing along your jaw, then lower, dragging slow kisses down the column of your throat. His hands moved with him, one slipping around to the small of your back, the other pushing the flannel further up your thighs.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging lightly. Logan hummed against your skin, then leaned back just enough to grab the collar of his tee, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of him—bare-chested, golden skin catching the low light—made your breath hitch.

Logan chuckled, catching the way your gaze drifted over him. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

You huffed, feigning exasperation, but your fingers betrayed you as they splayed over his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle. “You’re cocky.”

His smirk widened. “Damn right.” He ducked down again, capturing your lips in another slow kiss, his body settling closer against yours. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, his weight grounding you as his hands continued their exploration, one drifting beneath the fabric of your—his—flannel, the other cupping the back of your neck.

His lips left yours only to find the sensitive skin beneath your ear, teeth scraping lightly before he soothed it with his tongue. “M’gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, his voice rough, his fingers skimming beneath the hem of your sleep shorts. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

Your breath hitched at that, and despite the heat pooling in your stomach, you still managed to murmur, “so cocky.”

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, nipping at your jaw before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That a complaint?”

You held his gaze for a long moment, then shook your head. “No.”

His smirk softened slightly, something warmer flickering in his eyes. He kissed you again, slower this time, more measured, before his hands resumed their path downward. The flannel slid off your shoulders, and Logan eased it down your arms, letting it pool around you before shifting his focus to your shorts.

His fingers traced the waistband, giving you the opportunity to stop him, to hesitate—but you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your hips just enough for him to slip them down, the fabric dragging along your legs before being tossed aside.

His hands traced back up, following the path they’d just taken, but this time there was nothing between you. His palms splayed over your thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to make you squirm before they trailed inward, brushing against the heat of you.

Logan exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he kissed you again, deeper this time. One hand stayed anchored against your hip while the other moved between your thighs, fingers teasing, exploring, until they found the slick warmth waiting for him.

His lips curved against yours. “So fuckin’ soft,” he murmured, tracing slow circles that made you gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “And already so wet for me.”

Your breath stuttered, nails digging into his skin as his fingers worked you open, slow and careful, coaxing soft sounds from your lips that only made his own breath turn heavier.

“You always this sweet for me, darlin’?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “Or is this just ‘cause you’ve been waitin’ on me?”

Logan’s fingers curled just right inside you, pressing against that spot that made your breath stutter, your thighs twitching where they pressed against his hips. His smirk was small but unmistakable, lips brushing against your cheek as his fingers worked you open, slow and deliberate.

“You’re real sensitive, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with something darker, something restrained. His thumb dragged lazy circles over your clit, and you whimpered, your grip on his shoulders tightening. He chuckled, breath warm against your skin. “Damn shame I didn’t do this sooner.”

You couldn’t answer—not with the way he was touching you, not with the heat pooling in your stomach, threatening to snap. Your head tipped back against the pillows, glasses askew, lips parted around soft, breathy sounds that you couldn’t hold back. Logan didn’t stop them. If anything, he worked for them, coaxing every little gasp from your lips like he had all the time in the world.

“That’s it,” he muttered, pressing slow kisses down your jaw, along the line of your throat. His fingers pumped into you steadily, stretching, teasing, dragging that pleasure higher. “Y’been waitin’ on this, haven’t you?”

“Logan—”

His thumb pressed a little firmer against your clit, and your words broke into a moan, your back arching into him. Logan groaned, deep and low, his mouth finding the hollow of your throat as he kept his rhythm.

“Christ, you sound good,” he muttered. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building, sharp and electric, curling tight in your stomach. Logan felt it too—the way your thighs trembled, the way your breath hitched between each desperate sound.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, fingers relentless. “Let me feel it.”

And you did—your body tensed, your breath breaking into a soft, gasping cry as you came apart beneath him. Logan cursed softly, watching you unravel, his fingers slowing just enough to help you ride it out.

You were still trembling when he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips. He met your gaze as he licked them clean, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You taste good.”

Your stomach flipped, heat rising to your cheeks, but Logan was already shifting, already pressing slow, deep kisses against your lips. He took his time, letting you catch your breath, hands steady as they stroked over your hips, your thighs, your waist.

“Still doin’ alright?” he murmured.

You nodded, breathless, fingers curling against his chest. “Yeah.”

Logan smirked, but there was something softer in it, something warmer. “Good.”

His hand skimmed down your side, slow and deliberate, rough fingertips brushing over the curve of your hip. He was watching you too closely, the way he always did when he wanted to be sure you were with him, when he needed to see it in your eyes.

You curled your fingers into his hair and pulled him back down to you, mouth meeting his in a kiss that was less careful this time. You weren’t thinking about shyness, about hesitation—just the heat of his skin, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch.

Logan groaned low against your lips, his body settling fully against yours now, bare skin to bare skin, except for the one piece of clothing left between you. His jeans were rough where they brushed against your thighs, the contrast making you shiver as his hands moved—one sliding beneath you to brace your back, the other gripping your hip, his fingers flexing like he was grounding himself in the feel of you.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, like he wasn’t sure if this was real or if you’d slip through his fingers again.

You felt it in the way he touched you, in the way he lingered, his lips dragging from your mouth down to your jaw, the column of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, each exhale rougher than the last.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Logan murmured against your pulse, his voice low, rasping.

You swallowed hard, nodding before remembering he’d want more than that. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m with you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers tightened against your hip like he was restraining himself, like he had to be careful, because this was you, and even though he’d wanted this for so fucking long, he wouldn’t rush it.

Wouldn’t rush you.

His nose brushed against your cheek as he exhaled, long and slow, before kissing you again—slower this time, deliberate.

His hands started moving again, dragging over the softness of your waist, down to your thighs, his touch firm but steady, mapping you out, savoring. When he reached the inside of your knee, he eased it up, guiding your leg around his waist. The shift pressed you flush against him, and Logan let out a sharp breath through his nose, his forehead resting against yours for a moment like he needed to gather himself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice nearly a growl. His hands flexed against you, one sliding down to your ass, gripping, shifting you just enough that the hard press of him against your core made you whimper.

Logan groaned at the sound, his head dipping, lips grazing your collarbone. “You don’t even know what that does to me,” he murmured, his mouth trailing lower.

You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against his shoulders. “I might have an idea.”

That pulled a rough chuckle from him, but it faded when you moved—when you shifted against him, pressing just enough to draw a hiss from his lips.

His restraint was slipping.

He was already worked up, and you could feel it, the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his breathing had gone ragged. He’d been patient, slow, but the way he was gripping you now, the way his hands were starting to tremble against your skin—he was close to losing that patience.

And you wanted him to.

You reached between you, fingers brushing along his stomach, the waistband of his jeans. Logan’s breath hitched, his hips twitching forward before he caught himself, gripping your wrist before you could go further.

“Darlin’.” His voice was tight, strained. “You don’t gotta—”

“I know,” you murmured, looking up at him. Your free hand brushed against his jaw, grounding him. “I want to.”

Logan’s grip on your wrist loosened at that, his lips parting, something flickering behind his eyes that looked a hell of a lot like reverence.

Then he let go.

You made quick work of his belt, the button, the zipper—your hands were steady, but your heart was racing. Logan watched you, his breath shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as you shoved the last barrier down over his hips.

His skin was hot against yours, his body solid, strong, and when he settled against you again, when there was nothing between you anymore, you let out a sharp, shaking breath at the feeling of him, the sheer heat and weight of him pressing against you.

Logan groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Christ.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. “Logan—”

“I got you,” he murmured. His voice was softer now, and the hand on your hip slid lower. You made a soft, pleading sound, shifting beneath him, your fingers flexing against his skin. Logan exhaled sharply, his hand leaving you to brace himself above you again. His eyes met yours. “You sure?”

You nodded, but Logan didn’t move. He needed to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice quiet but sure. “I’m sure.”

Something in his expression eased, and then—

He pushed in, slow, steady, careful.

Your breath caught. Logan groaned, low and rough, his head tipping forward, his body shuddering as he fought to keep himself controlled.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, his voice thick, strained. His hands flexed against you, his breath ragged against your skin as he pushed in deeper, filling you completely.

You gasped, gripping his arms, your body stretching to take him, adjusting around him. Logan cursed softly, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his hands shaking against you.

“Tell me if—” His voice was almost wrecked. “If I need to slow down, I will.”

You shook your head, breathless. “You’re perfect.”

Logan let out a quiet, shuddering exhale. “Fuck.”

His hips pulled back, then pressed forward again, slow, measured. His restraint was there, barely, his muscles taut beneath your hands, his movements careful but not hesitant.

You moaned softly, your body arching into him, and Logan swore under his breath, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “You feel like you were made for me.”

You trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat, the weight, the way he filled every part of you so completely. Logan was holding himself together by a thread, his hands flexing against your hips like he was steadying himself, grounding himself in the feel of you. His breath was heavy against your skin, rough and uneven, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled inside you, letting you adjust.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Fuck.”

Your fingers curled against the broad planes of his back, nails digging into firm muscle as you took a shaky breath. He was big—not just in size, but in presence, in weight, in the sheer way he surrounded you, body and soul. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt this full before. It was almost too much. Almost.

But Logan wasn’t rushing.

He didn’t move, didn’t push. He just stayed there, his body taut with restraint, his jaw tight. His thumb traced absentminded circles on your hip, a small, grounding motion against the intensity of everything else.

“You okay?” His voice was rough, thick with the effort of holding himself back.

You swallowed, nodding, but when you saw the way he was watching you—his eyes dark, searching—you knew that wasn’t enough. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s throat bobbed as he exhaled slowly, like he needed to hear it, needed the confirmation.

Still, he didn’t move right away. He stayed just like that, warm and solid above you, one hand slipping up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

It was gentler than you’d expected. You weren’t sure why—you knew Logan was careful with you, always. He was rough around the edges, sure, but with you, he never let himself be careless. Even now, even with his body wound tight as a wire, he held himself back, waiting for you to let him know it was okay.

You exhaled softly, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. Logan groaned low in his throat, the hand on your hip tightening fractionally, but he didn’t deepen it—he let you set the pace.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth. “You can move.”

Logan’s whole body tensed at that, his breath hitching. “Fuck,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours again like he was collecting himself. Then, after a long moment—

He pulled back, just a little, before pushing forward again, slow and steady.

The stretch had you gasping, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. Logan gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath as he did it again, his pace careful, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you.

“You’re so goddamn tight,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. His lips brushed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

Heat curled in your stomach at the way he said it—like he couldn’t believe this was real, like he couldn’t believe he had you beneath him, wrapped around him like this.

Your thighs squeezed around his waist instinctively, and Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter.

“Darlin’,” he rasped, his voice strained. “You keep doin’ that, I ain’t gonna last.”

You swallowed hard, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Logan let out a rough chuckle, his lips brushing the side of your neck. “Ain’t complainin’.”

He thrust again, just a little harder this time, and you let out a soft, broken sound, your back arching. Logan groaned, his teeth scraping along your jaw before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, drugging rhythm that matched the roll of his hips.

Your hands slid up his back, over the warm expanse of skin, tracing the dips and ridges of old scars. Logan shuddered beneath your touch, his muscles flexing under your fingers.

His mouth left yours only to drag lower, down the line of your throat, over the curve of your shoulder. “Goddamn,” he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with want. “I’ve wanted this—” He cut himself off with a groan, his fingers flexing against your waist. “You don’t even know how long.”

You whimpered softly, tightening your legs around him. “Then don’t hold back.”

Logan���s head snapped up at that, his breath catching. His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and wanting flashing behind them.

For a second, you thought he might tease you, draw it out longer—but something in your voice must have struck him, because Logan let out a rough breath and gave you exactly what you asked for.

He started moving in earnest now, his rhythm still measured but deeper, more insistent, dragging pleasure from you with every roll of his hips. Your breath hitched, your nails pressing into his shoulders as heat coiled in your stomach, sharp and electric.

You gasped as he thrust again, your body tightening around him. “Logan—”

He groaned at the way you said his name, his fingers digging into your hips. His pace faltered for a second, like he was struggling to keep himself controlled, like he was on the edge of losing himself completely.

And maybe you wanted him to.

Your hands slid up to cup his face, guiding him back down into another kiss, one that was messier now, more desperate. Logan growled against your lips, his movements turning just a little rougher, just a little faster, and you moaned into his mouth, your body arching up to meet him.

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building, tightening, making your breath come faster. Logan felt it too—the way your body trembled, the way your breath caught.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips rolling into yours just right. “Let me feel you.”

The coil snapped.

You cried out, your body shuddering as you came around him, the pleasure cresting over you in sharp, dizzying waves. Logan cursed, his hands gripping you tight as he followed, his rhythm stuttering before he buried himself deep, groaning low against your throat as he let go.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, the quiet hum of the TV still playing in the background. Logan stayed there, his forehead against yours, his hands still steady on your hips, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Then, slowly, he shifted, pulling you into his chest as he rolled onto his side, keeping you close, keeping you warm. His breath was still heavy, but his hands were gentle as they traced over your back, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

“You alright?” he murmured, voice still rough around the edges.

You nodded against his chest, your fingers curling into his skin. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled slowly, something easing in his expression. “You stayin’ here tonight?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I think that’s a given.”

Logan smirked against your hair. “Good.”

---

Bonus Scene

He couldn’t help himself—you looked cute today. To others, it was just a regular outfit, slacks and a sweater, but the difference was those damn heels.

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as you walked down the hall, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. The soft click of your heels against the floor was downright distracting, and the way they made you stand just a little taller—closer to him—wasn’t helping, either.

You adjusted your glasses, scanning over the notes in your hand as you made your way toward the classroom. Logan smirked to himself, shaking his head. Of course, you were completely oblivious.

He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you. “Fancy shoes, sweetheart.”

You glanced up at him, brow furrowing slightly before realization dawned. “Oh. Yeah.” You adjusted your grip on the papers, glancing down at them. “I don’t wear them often, but I figured I should—”

“Keep ‘em.” Logan cut you off before you could finish whatever practical reason you were about to give.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

His smirk deepened, eyes dropping briefly to your heels before dragging back up. “I like ‘em.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but instead, you quickly looked back at your papers, clearing your throat. “They’re just shoes, Logan.”

“Uh-huh.” Logan’s voice was amused, his smirk never fading.

He could see it—the way you fidgeted slightly, the way your grip tightened just a little on the papers. You were flustered, and it was adorable.

You reached your classroom, your free hand on the doorknob, but before you could step inside, Logan’s hand landed on your hip, pulling you back just enough that you felt the warmth of him behind you. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“They make your legs look real nice, too,” he murmured.

You inhaled sharply, your back straightening. “Logan—”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You turned your head just slightly, your cheek barely grazing his. You opened your mouth to say something—probably a scolding, judging by the look in your eyes—but Logan just grinned, giving your hip a final squeeze before stepping back.

“See you later, darlin’.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving you standing there, flustered and gripping the doorknob like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Yeah. He was definitely keeping those heels around.

---

You didn’t wear them again for a while—you usually would only consider wearing them on days when you didn’t have to be in the lab.

So, a few weeks later they were on again. The day went on normally, no interruptions from Logan, at least not any more than usual, and by the end of the workday you were glad to finally take them off.

You had already taken off your cardigan, leaving you in a simple t-shirt, and now you were unstrapping your heels.

The second heel slid off your foot with a relieved sigh. You flexed your toes against the carpet, rolling your ankles slightly. You hadn't even heard Logan come in—not until his voice rumbled from the doorway.

“Lemme help, sweetheart.”

Your head snapped up, caught halfway through massaging the arch of your foot. Logan was already moving toward you, dark eyes locked onto yours with that unreadable expression, something steady and sure. The kind that made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to—”

He crouched down in front of you before you could finish, already reaching for your legs. Large hands wrapped around your calves, rough fingers kneading into muscle as he lifted one foot, pressing his thumb into the soft ache just beneath your toes.

A quiet breath left you, head tipping slightly back at the relief of it. He chuckled, low and knowing.

“Yeah, figured they’d be sore. Been watchin’ you walk around in ‘em all day.” His fingers trailed down, slow and deliberate, past your ankle and along your shin, stopping just above your knee. He looked up then, and something about the way he did it—half-lidded, knowing—made heat bloom low in your stomach.

His hands didn’t move away. Not when he squeezed gently, dragging his palms down the length of your legs again, not even when his fingers hooked into the waistband of your slacks.

Your breath caught. “Logan…”

He hummed, a wordless sound of acknowledgment, but he didn’t stop. He unbuttoned them slowly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Just helpin’ you get comfortable, darlin’.”

You should’ve expected it—Logan wasn’t the type to stop at just your shoes. But still, the sensation of your slacks being eased down, the brush of cool air against your thighs as he worked them off, sent a shiver up your spine.

And then, just as you were about to stand, assuming this was about changing into something else, Logan’s hands were on your hips, pushing you back down.

Your brows furrowed. “I thought—”

But Logan was already reaching for the heels again. He slid them back onto your feet, slow, deliberate. His fingers lingered as he adjusted the straps, the rough scrape of his calloused skin against your ankle making your pulse stutter.

Your lips parted, about to ask what he was doing—but before you could, he pressed a firm hand to your thigh, spreading you open just enough, and then he was moving lower, kneeling between your legs.

The realization hit all at once.

“Logan—”

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you just that much closer to the edge of the bed. He exhaled sharply, and you could feel it—hot, teasing, right against the thin cotton of your underwear. His nose brushed against the fabric, and the sound that left him was almost a growl.

“Been thinkin’ about this all damn day,” he muttered. One of his hands slid up, fingers pressing into the meat of your hip, while the other smoothed down to hook around the back of your knee.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets. “You—” Your voice hitched when his mouth brushed against you again, this time with intent. “You could’ve just said so.”

He chuckled against you, lips dragging over the fabric, teasing. “Nah,” he murmured. “Better like this.”

His tongue traced along the dampening fabric, slow and unhurried, dragging just enough to make you squirm. The first real sound of pleasure slipped from your lips before you could swallow it down. He made a noise of approval, pressing his mouth more firmly against you.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, breath coming faster. “Logan…”

Logan’s breath was hot against you, teasing, his mouth hovering right where you needed him but refusing to give in just yet. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, thumbs pressing circles into your skin, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers curled tighter into the sheets, your breath coming in uneven, shallow little bursts. "Logan—"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His voice was deep, roughened by amusement, like he already knew what you wanted but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

Your nails dug into the fabric beneath you, and Logan chuckled—low, pleased. He pressed a kiss over your underwear, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger before dragging his tongue over the fabric. The heat of his mouth seared through, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

He groaned, hands flexing against your thighs. "Knew you'd be sensitive."

A flush burned hot up your neck, your head tipping back as his fingers traced slow, teasing lines up and down your legs, just enough pressure to keep you on edge but not enough to satisfy. He slid his hands up, past your knees, before hooking his arms beneath your thighs, pulling them up, over his shoulders.

Your breath caught as your calves rested against his broad back, the heels he had insisted you keep on grazing against his muscles. His grip tightened, locking you into place, and something about the sheer strength of him—the way he held you like this, open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy—made your stomach clench.

He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your thigh, then another, working his way back toward the soaked fabric between your legs. His tongue flicked out again, just enough pressure to make you squirm, before he pulled back with a smirk.

"Logan," you breathed, frustration seeping into your tone.

His eyes flicked up, dark and hungry. "What, darlin'?"

"You—" Your fingers curled into the sheets again, your voice catching as he flattened his tongue against you, pressing hard enough that you felt every inch of him through the fabric. Your back arched instinctively, a soft, broken sound slipping from your lips.

That noise seemed to snap something in him.

Logan growled, deep and guttural, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. In one slow, deliberate motion, he dragged them down, letting them catch around your knees before finally tugging them free. His hands didn’t waste any time, gripping the backs of your thighs again, pulling you even closer.

"That's better," he muttered, almost to himself.

And then his mouth was on you, hot and relentless.

A gasp tore from you, your thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut, but his grip held you open. His tongue worked slow at first, dragging long, torturous strokes through your folds, before circling right where you needed him most.

Your breath stuttered. "Oh—"

Logan groaned, the sound vibrating through you. "That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured against you. "Let me hear you."

You bit your lip, trying to keep some of the sounds at bay, but he didn’t like that. His hands squeezed your thighs in warning before his mouth sealed around your clit, sucking just enough to make your entire body jolt.

A cry ripped from your throat.

"Atta girl," he praised, the words sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. His grip adjusted, hands sliding lower, past your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease where your thighs met your body. Holding you still. Keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

His tongue was merciless, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes and firm, insistent pressure that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. Every flick, every graze of his teeth, sent electricity sparking up your spine.

You didn’t even realize you were babbling his name until he groaned in response, pressing his mouth harder against you. The pressure built fast, white-hot and overwhelming, your whole body tightening as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap.

"Logan, I—" Your voice cracked, desperate, hands flying to grip his hair, tugging without thinking.

That was all it took.

Logan growled against you, and then his tongue was working you over with ruthless intent, flicking and sucking in a way that sent you crashing over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching, his name spilling from your lips in broken, breathless gasps as pleasure wracked through you.

He didn’t stop.

Your thighs trembled against him, your whole body oversensitive, but Logan didn’t let up. His grip stayed firm, his tongue still dragging through your folds, teasing, relentless.

A whimper slipped from you, half-plea, half-helpless moan.

“Mmm, Logan?”

Your voice trembled—soft, breathless, still caught in the aftershocks of your first climax, and Logan felt it. The way your thighs quivered against his shoulders, your calves resting against his back, those damn heels grazing along the muscles of his spine. He exhaled sharply through his nose, lips still pressed to the slick heat between your legs.

“What, sweetheart?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating against you.

Your breath hitched. The heat of Logan’s mouth lingered against you, his tongue flicking one last, teasing time before he dragged his lips back up to press against the soft skin of your inner thigh. You twitched beneath him, a small tremor still rippling through your muscles, breath unsteady, fingers weakly curled into the sheets.

“I thought you were—”

Your voice caught as his teeth scraped lightly over your thigh, right where it was still damp from his mouth. He hummed, low and thoughtful, and didn’t move away. If anything, he settled in deeper, his broad hands tightening around your thighs, thumbs smoothing up toward the curve of your hips.

“Done?” His voice was all rough amusement, muffled against your skin.

A shaky exhale left you.

His lips curved. “Oh, sweetheart.” A kiss, slow and open-mouthed, right at the crease of your thigh. “You really think I’m done with you?”

Your breath stuttered. He hadn’t moved back—hadn’t given you any space to recover. He was still right there, his mouth still hovering over sensitive skin, his breath warm, teasing, pressing against you like a promise.

You swallowed, fingers flexing against the sheets. “I—”

He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing right where you were still slick, still sensitive. Your whole body jerked at the touch, an involuntary sound breaking in your throat.

Logan groaned. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his hands were on your hips again, sliding up your sides, holding you steady as he buried his mouth back between your thighs.

A gasp ripped from you, your body jolting at the sheer intensity of it. You’d barely come down from the first wave of pleasure, your skin still too sensitive, too raw—but Logan didn’t care. He was relentless, tongue pressing deep, slow, deliberate, dragging up before circling back around your clit.

You whimpered, your hands flying back to his hair, twisting in the thick strands.

He groaned again at the pull, the vibration of it sending another sharp, overwhelming pulse through you.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he muttered against you, voice thick, wrecked. “Could do this all night.”

Your legs trembled. You didn’t doubt him.

He worked you open with his tongue, slow and indulgent, taking his time, like he had nowhere else to be, no other priority but this—this, and the way you came apart in his hands. He pulled you closer, dragging your thighs up higher over his shoulders, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

The position shifted something, the heels on your feet sliding slightly against his back, the small sharp drag of them making him grunt.

His tongue flicked over you again, lazy, slow, savoring. He had you completely at his mercy, held tight in his grip, and he knew it.

“Logan,” you gasped, voice breaking.

He smirked against you. “That’s it, darlin’.” His tongue circled once, twice, before he sealed his lips around you again, sucking just right.

The pleasure built fast, unbearable, twisting in your stomach like a live wire sparking beneath your skin. Your breath hitched, your thighs shaking against him, the grip you had in his hair tightening as you tried to ground yourself.

Logan groaned, deep and approving, and then he doubled down. His mouth was insatiable, his tongue working you open, pushing you right to the edge without hesitation.

You felt it hit—sharp and sudden, your whole body tensing as your second orgasm crashed through you.

A sob caught in your throat. Logan didn’t stop.

He rode you through it, drinking in every sound, every twitch of your hips, every broken whimper that left you as you shattered against his mouth. He held you steady, his tongue still teasing, slow, languid, like he was tasting you, savoring the way you trembled for him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved up, dragging his lips along your stomach, pressing slow, hot kisses as he went.

“Think you can give me one more, sweetheart?” he murmured against your skin.

Your breath was still coming fast, your body still tingling with aftershocks. “I—”

"Yeah, darlin’," Logan rasped against your thigh, the vibration of his voice sending another tremor through your oversensitive body. He wasn’t asking—just waiting. Waiting for you to tell him no, to push at his shoulders, to make some attempt at stopping him.

You didn’t.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, his stubble dragging against the tender skin of your inner thigh as he pressed another open-mouthed kiss there. His hands stayed firm at your hips, thumbs smoothing slow, absent circles against your flushed skin.

"You got one more in you," he muttered. Not a question. A promise.

Your fingers curled weakly into the sheets, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "Logan, I—I don’t think—"

"You can." His voice was thick, low, possessive. His hands flexed against you, grounding, holding you still like he could feel the way your legs wanted to clamp shut, your body already overwhelmed. "I got you."

And then his mouth was on you again.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back arching as the wet heat of his tongue pressed against your still-sensitive clit. It was too much—the pleasure too sharp, too immediate, your nerves already frayed and exposed from the last two times.

Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, pulling without thinking. Logan groaned against you, the sound vibrating through every inch of your body, his grip tightening in response.

"Fuck," he breathed, pulling back just enough to murmur against your skin. "You’re still so fuckin’ sensitive, huh?" He didn’t wait for an answer. Just grinned against you before dragging his tongue through your folds again, slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every reaction, every helpless little sound that slipped from your lips.

Your breath hitched, thighs trembling against his broad shoulders. "I—Logan, I don’t—"

"Shhh, sweetheart." His voice was rough, but his touch was steady, unwavering. His hands slid up your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, grounding you. "Just let me take care of you."

Your stomach clenched, your body torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. You were too sensitive, too overwhelmed—but Logan wasn’t relenting. He was dragging you over the edge whether you were ready or not.

His tongue pressed deeper, slow and indulgent, before curling up just right, and your body jolted, a sharp cry breaking from your throat. Logan growled at the reaction, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he kept you pinned beneath him.

"You feel that?" he muttered against you, the heat of his breath making you shudder. "How fuckin’ good you taste?" His tongue flicked against you again, making your whole body jerk. "Bet you don’t even know what you do to me."

You moaned, the sound half-frustrated, half-helpless. Your thighs clenched around his head, but Logan only groaned, pressing himself deeper against you, like he wanted to drown in the feeling of you coming apart beneath him.

Your grip in his hair tightened, pulling hard enough to sting. "L-Logan—"

"That’s it," he growled. "Say my name, sweetheart."

You did. Over and over, broken and breathless, as his mouth worked you open, relentless and unforgiving. His tongue was precise, knowing, dragging slow and then fast, flicking before sucking, giving you just enough to send another sharp pulse of pleasure tearing through you.

The coil in your stomach wound tight—too tight, too fast.

You felt it coming, and so did he.

"Give it to me," Logan muttered against you, his voice almost desperate. "Come on, darlin’."

And then he sucked—hard.

White-hot pleasure ripped through you.

Your whole body tensed, your back arching, your breath catching in a sharp, broken cry. The orgasm slammed into you with dizzying force, a wave so intense it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. Your thighs clamped around his head, your fingers fisting in his hair, your entire body trembling against him.

Logan groaned, dragging his tongue through the mess he’d made, working you through every last tremor, every aftershock, until you were nothing but a shivering, spent mess beneath him.

Only then did he slow, his movements easing from hungry and desperate to slow and indulgent, like he was committing the taste of you to memory.

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, your body completely limp against the mattress. Logan finally pulled back, pressing one last open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh before lifting his head.

His lips were slick, his pupils blown wide, his expression dark with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Told you," he murmured.

You could barely manage to lift your head, still dazed, your limbs uncooperative. "Told me what?" you managed, voice hoarse.

His smirk deepened, and he reached up, gripping your ankle. His thumb brushed over the strap of your heel, gaze flicking to where it still sat, perfectly in place on your foot.

"Told you I liked these."

Your cheeks burned, the heat rushing back to your face all at once.

Logan chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. He pushed himself up, his body unfolding as he moved over you, one arm bracing beside your head, his other hand gripping your hip. He was still fully dressed, still perfectly in control, while you lay there completely undone beneath him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse still racing. "You’re—"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed, turning your face away, but he caught your chin, gently tilting your gaze back to him.

"You okay?" His voice softened, rough edges smoothing just enough to make your heart squeeze.

You nodded, still catching your breath. Logan’s thumb traced along your jaw, his gaze lingering on your face for a long moment before he finally leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin.

You felt the heat of his breath, the scrape of his stubble, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The weight of him was solid, grounding, his presence steady and familiar.

Finally, Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly, his hands settling around your waist. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder, then muttered, “Should get you cleaned up, huh?”

You made a small noise in response, still too boneless to move.

Logan smirked. "Yeah, figured."

With an ease that shouldn’t have been possible, he lifted you up, settling you against his chest. His hands skimmed down your legs, his fingers lingering at the straps of your heels before slowly undoing them, slipping them off one at a time.

You let out a quiet sigh as the last one slid from your foot, the ache in your calves finally easing. Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss against your temple.

"Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart," he murmured. "Ain't done takin' care of you yet."

And with that, he stood, carrying you effortlessly toward the bathroom.

yeah... i might've gotten a bit carried away

[y3sterdaysproblem]

the catalyst - c.s.

this takes place prior to the two final screenshots in part ten

cw: (almost) cheating, suggestive implications, chris being an asshole

wc: 4k

part of the fwb!chris series

no doubt about it, you had to be drunk if you were going to this party.

normally you would pull up to parties with chris, have him pick you up or at least meet you there and wait outside until you showed up so you could walk in together, but now with him talking to this new girl (lia, you found out), you had to show up by yourself. it wasn’t a problem, you were pretty independent in your every day life, but something about showing up to a party by yourself felt embarrassing when it’s been so long since you’ve had to. despite your feelings, you didn’t want to appear too affected by chris’s new situation he had going on, so you were still going to go, just after pregaming a little harder than usual.

on the ride over there, you almost found yourself wanting to ask the driver to turn around and go back home, not wanting to stumble into somebody’s house an hour after everyone had already shown up and draw attention to yourself and your obvious loneliness. you talked yourself out of it, though, continuing on the short drive until you had pulled up to the typical hang out spot, thanking your driver and getting out.

the door was unlocked as usual, and you pushed it open and went inside as quietly as you could, doing your best to walk past people you didn’t really know to make your way to the kitchen to grab another drink. you were barely two seconds into pouring a mixer into a plastic cup when you feel somebody step up next to you, and you don’t have to tear your gaze away from what you’re doing to know who it is.

“when did you get here?” he questions, standing so close to you your arms are brushing together. you don’t answer him until your drink is made, bringing it up to your lips to take a sip. once it’s swallowed, you turn your body to face him, eyes landing on his that are already watching you. “a few minutes ago,” you answer. “why, were you waiting for me?”

chris rolls his eyes and reaches forward to grab your cup from your hand, bringing it up to his own lips for a taste. he hands it back to you, grimacing at the sweet flavor. “god, you make the worst drinks,” he scoffs. “and no, I wasn’t waiting for you, was just surprised that you came so late, that’s all.” you take the cup back and let your fingers brush over his at the transfer, body already thrumming from how close you were, the feeling of pure want intensified by the alcohol already in your system.

your eyes hide nothing, giving away just how badly you wanted chris in the moment. you thought you’d be able to keep it under control, but with him standing so close and looking so good, the scent of his cologne wafting through your nostrils and infiltrating your senses. maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to drink so much before coming. “chris,” you say in a soft tone, one that always makes him melt, but tonight he just shakes his head at you and reaches up to place both hands on either one of your shoulders. “not tonight. please behave yourself tonight. I have lia here and I really don’t want to mess this up. I promise i’ll make it up to you,” he begs, and he really sounds like he means it.

you always hated not getting what you wanted.

“but, chris,” you pout, dropping your head down a bit to give your eyes a wider appearance, bringing your hand up to rest on his chest. you’re about to speak again when he grabs your hand and pulls it away from him, pushing it back towards you. “i’m serious,” he says lowly. “not tonight.”

you groan and narrow your eyes at chris frustratedly, annoyed at his determination. “fine,” you agree. you take your hand that he pushed away from you and reach between your bodies, cupping chris’s dick through the black jeans he wore, keeping your eyes lock on his. “just know i’ll be thinking about you all night and wishing you would have your way with me.”

chris sucked in a sharp breath at your touch, knowing he should pull away but not having the willpower to. one of his hands leans against the counter for support, the other itching to grab you and pull you closer. you can feel him twitching under your hand, a hint of an erection forming as you groped him. he was about to give into your touch, about to pull you somewhere more private, but an unfamiliar voice pulled you both from the moment. your pulled your hand away from him and tucked it into the back pocket of your jeans that hugged your ass perfectly, other hand bringing your cup up to your lips.

“here you are!” a girl’s voice calls from the doorway of the kitchen, stepping up to chris’s side with a wide grin on her face, oblivious to the tension in the room. chris slings an arm around her waist loosely, now refusing to make eye contact with you, afraid this girl would see right through him if he looked at you. “here I am,” he says with a forced smile, turning his head to face her. she turns and looks up at him, naive adoration painted on her features. “is this the friend you were telling me about?”

he told her about me? you think to yourself, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “yeah,” chris says, clearing his throat as he turned back to look at you. “this is lia, the girl i’ve been seeing,” he introduces awkwardly and you tilt your head at her, smiling sweetly. “lia,” you hum, nodding your head. her hand comes out to greet you and all you can do is stare down at it, judging the way her acrylics were grown out and an ugly color. “i’m gonna go find your brother,” you tell chris, looking back up at him with a smirk, sending him a knowing wink before turning on your heel and heading towards the living room, hearing chris apologizing for your attitude quietly.

you did exactly as you promised, finding matt sitting on the floor with his back leaned up against the front of a couch and his legs crossed in front of him, laughing at something a friend had said. “hi, matt,” you greet sweetly, sitting directly next to him. his attention is grabbed by you immediately, lifting his arm to drape it around your shoulder as he smiled over at you. “hi, pretty girl,” he replied.

you made conversation with him for a few minutes before chris and lia came into the room, him looking uncomfortable and her looking happy as ever. she couldn’t even pick up on his emotions yet and he was so willing to drop everything for her. how could he be so infatuated with a girl that was so fucking dumb she couldn’t tell when she broke up a moment filled with sexual tension?

there isn’t much time to dwell on her lack of social awareness before somebody grabs your attention again, sitting across from you and matt. “okay, are we playing truth or dare or spin the bottle?” he asks drunkenly. chris audibly groans, lowering himself to the floor in a makeshift circle, lia sitting so close she should’ve just sat on top of him. “can we not do some childish shit, please?” he asks, tone laced with annoyance.

“what, scared you’re gonna have to kiss somebody, chris?” matt teases from next to you and you’re unable to contain the small giggle that leaves your lips. “or are you scared i’m gonna kiss your girl?”

matt’s arm squeezes around you when he says this and it takes you a moment to realize he’s not talking about the girl tucked into chris’s side, but rather about you. “i’m not scared of shit, asshole, I just don’t think we should be playing some fucking little kid games.” chris shoots back with a dramatic eye roll. “it’ll be fun!” lia says enthusiastically, wrapping both hands around chris’s bicep and shaking him lightly. he looks over at her and sends a tight lipped smile her way, his hand gently rubbing over her arm. “alright, whatever,” he concedes.

that’s how you all ended up playing truth or dare, spinning a bottle to decide who goes first. after a few rounds of stupid dares and pussy cop outs with people choosing truth, it’s matt’s turn to ask somebody a question. his attention turns to you, and a lazy smirk finds its way onto his lips. “truth or dare,” he asks you quietly and you can’t help but feel nervous at his tone. “dare,” you say instantly.

matt shifts a bit next to you before looking around the room, eyes landing on his brother for a moment before flitting back to you. “I dare you to make out with me for at least a minute,” he says after a few moments of thought. you’re a bit shocked at this, but quickly snap out of it and swing your leg over his lap, sitting atop his thighs happily. matt’s grinning up at you like a sick freak and you feel clued in on his intentions with the way he stares at you, so to bounce off of his energy, you turn your head to chris who’s staring at the two of you with dark, intense eyes, clearly not a fan of what was going on. “hey, chris?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head a bit. “can you start a timer, please?”

chris narrows his eyes at you, not liking the game you decided to play with him. he already wasn’t a big fan of your relationship with matt, but having to sit here and witness it himself was another level of fucked up. after he doesn’t answer, refusing to take his eyes off of you, the stupid, clueless girl next to him whips out her phone. “i’ll do it!” she says with a smile, holding up the timer. you roll your eyes and turn back to face matt, resting your forearms on his shoulders. “she’s so fucking stupid,” you whisper so only he can hear and he laughs at your comment before reaching up to rest his hand on the back of your head, pulling you down to meet his lips.

you’re instantly melting into the kiss, lips slotting together effortlessly, the taste of alcohol and juice on both of your tongues mingling. matt’s touch was so much gentler than chris’s, the way his hands slid up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and the way he took his time kissing you instead of rushing through it. between the way he felt holding you against him and the liquor running through your veins, you felt yourself getting carried away in the kiss, hips subtly grinding down on him as your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him close to you as you made out.

“minute’s up,” chris informs you both, but matt’s hands move down from your waist to your ass, fingers digging into the denim covering your skin, willing you even closer. “hello?” chris says again, louder this time, infuriated at the way you both seemed to get more into it. it’s not fully surprising when chris’s hand lands on your shoulder and roughly pulls you away from matt, almost ripping you off his lap. “enough,” he snaps, hand instinctively moving towards your jaw to turn your head to face him. your eyebrows immediately furrow together at his rough touch, hand pulling away from matt to shove into chris’s chest roughly. “back the fuck up, chris.”

he surprisingly listens, not wanting to cause an unnecessary scene in front of everybody, including lia, sitting back in his original position next to her. she seems slightly unnerved at his reaction, waiting a few moments before she places her hand back on his arm. “are you okay?” lia questions in her soft voice and chris doesn’t even glance her way, eyes locked on you as you climb off of matt’s lap and settle next to him again. “he’s fine, he’s just a little possessive,” matt snarks, his arm coming back around your shoulder. “a little?” you scoff, eyes trailing over chris’s tense frame. “hey, matt, when do you think we should tell chris that I lied about hooking up with you to make him jealous?”

you wish you had a camera to record the way chris’s expression dropped, the way his jaw visibly tensed from his teeth clenching together, the way his chest expanded from the breath he pulled in. “what does she mean?” lia questions from next to chris, turning her body towards him. “nothing,” he immediately answers. “it’s my turn!” you say enthusiastically, clapping your hands together and letting them fall in your lap. “lia, truth or dare?” you ask her, sending a smile her way. she’s shifting uncomfortably at your words, turning her attention to you apprehensively. “um…” her eyes flit to chris’s face for a moment, but they look back at you when she realizes he’s still staring at you. “dare,” she finally answers, sitting up straighter. you can tell that she only picks dare to impress chris, but he’s focused on anything but her right now.

you hum and tap your index finger on your chin a few times as you think of what to say. “I dare you… to go through chris’s phone!” is what you land on, and chris immediately moves to stand up, brushing lia off of his arm. “can I talk to you?” he directs towards you, not waiting for an answer before he grabs you by your arm and lifts you off the ground, dragging you towards a bedroom down the hall. “you’re hurting me,” you tell him bluntly, trying to pull away, but he just tightens his fingers around you as he shoves you into a room and slams the door shut behind you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he sneers, finally releasing you. you huff and try to fix your clothes, glaring at the fuming man in front of you. “what are you talking about?” you ask him, raising your eyebrows at him. “i’m not doing this little back and forth. stop fucking with her. I mean it, dude, i’m not playing. don’t drag her into your mean girl bullshit. she’s too nice for you and your bitchy behavior.”

you scoff at his words, unable to believe he’s trying to defend this girl from you. “she’s fine,” you drawl, waving a hand at him dismissively. “god, chris, you’re so hot when you’re mad.” you take a small step closer to him, trying to close the distance between you two. “don’t,” he says sternly, bringing his hands up to stop you. you take another step closer, bringing your hands up to rest on his outstretched arms, dragging them up until they were placed on his shoulders. “don’t what?” you ask him, peering up at him through your lash extensions, eyes boring into him shamelessly. “don’t be slutty right now, i’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

you laugh and step even further until your chests are pressed together, bringing your arms up to wrap around him. you rested your chin on his sternum and gazed up at him, smiling at the way he stared across the room behind you, refusing to look down at you in fear of giving in. despite his unwillingness to look at you, his arms come up and wrap around your shoulders, a loud sigh escaping his nostrils. “look at me,” you say softly, squeezing your arms around him gently. you can feel his heart pounding from where you rested against him and you knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in.

when chris finally looked down and met your eyes, you felt the energy in the room shift. his expression softened as he inspected your face and the way that you looked back at him, like you were patiently waiting for him to crack and give you attention. “you’re incredibly rude,” is the first thing he says after locking eyes with you and you can’t help but grin at his statement. “you like how rude I am,” you retort.

chris rolls his eyes and looks past you for a moment before refocusing his gaze on you. “I tolerate how rude you are to me, not to girls I like. it’s not cute, it’s just pissing me off.” his tone is quiet, but you can tell he’s serious with the way he speaks. “i’m sorry,” you say honestly, pouring your bottom lip out subtly. “can I kiss it better?” he laughs at this and tightens his arms around your shoulders, shaking his head. “no, i’m not rewarding your awful behavior. go kiss matt about it,” he tells you, then pauses. “were you serious about what you said? that you lied about sleeping with him?”

you suck in a sharp breath at his words, feeling cornered despite you admitting exactly that only a few minutes prior. “I do think he’s hot,” you start. “but that was the first time we’ve ever kissed. he thinks you’re kind of an asshole when it comes to women so he wanted to see how mad you could get if we both made you believe we were fucking.”

chris purses his lips and nods, almost like he’s impressed by your scheme. “too bad you’re not important enough to make me jealous,” he teases and it makes you crack a smile. “sure, that’s why you ripped me off of him like that.”

“I was just playing by the rules,” chris defends, refusing to be pegged as the jealous type. “can you please just stop being weird and rude? i’m not asking for a lot.” you sigh and press your forehead into his chest for a couple of beats before looking back up at him, nodding your head. “yeah, alright,” you concede. “if you kiss me all nasty right now.”

“oh my god,” chris groans, but he couldn’t fight the closeness between you two any longer, bringing his hand up to the back of your head and leaning down to press his lips against yours roughly, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you made contact. your hands around him gripped at the back of his shirt to hold him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine slipping out of your nose. the kiss only lasted maybe thirty seconds before he pulled away and stared down at you, soaking in your wide eyes and needy pout. “enough. let’s go.”

you nod and let go of him, but not before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on the skin of his neck, pulling away to smile up at him. “i’m right behind you,” you tell him and he steps away from you, not so subtly waistbanding his dick before opening the bedroom door and stepping out, making his way back into the living room.

you both take your respective places back next to lia and matt, looking as inconspicuous as you could after a slightly heated make-out that left you both craving more. matt sent you a knowing smirk, pulling you back into his side once you settled back down, and lia just smiled at chris, completely missing the way he used the collar of his shirt to wipe off his lips from where your lip gloss was smeared along them.

what she didn’t miss, noticing it only seconds later, was the tinged lip print pressed perfectly against his neck, right above his collarbone where you could reach. she stared at it for what seemed like forever, and your heart dropped when you saw what she saw. “fuck,” you breathe out, catching matt’s attention. he’s not even able to question you when he sees lia scooting away from chris, a hurt expression painted on her face.

“what is that?” she asks, voice strained as it comes out. chris is clueless, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “what is what?” he asks her, annoyance lacing his tone. lia only reaches up and touches his neck, dragging her finger through the sticky gloss on his skin before holding it up for him to see. you can tell he feels the same stomach-sinking dread when he notices what he’s being shown, mouth opening to speak, then closing again when he can’t think of a way to defend himself.

you’re scooting away from matt nervously, feeling like you were about to throw up, not because you were worried about this girl’s feelings, but because you were terrified of chris’s reaction. he practically begged you to behave, and you fucked up with a stupid fucking kiss. “oh my god,” you choke out, standing up from the floor. chris’s attention is drawn to you at your movement, pushing himself off the floor as well. “you are so fucking stupid,” he spits, pointing a finger at you accusingly. “I ask you to back the fuck off for one night! you can never fucking listen!”

you flinch at his words, taking a few steps back until you slam into the wall behind you, eyes welling with tears as he nears closer. “it was an accident,” you mumble, using the back of your hand to wipe the remaining lip gloss off of your lips haphazardly, even though it didn’t matter anymore. “you are such a fucking whore. always have to ruin everything, don’t you?” he’s in your face now, glaring down at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. “you kissed me, too, this isn’t my fault!” you yell back, voice pinched as you start to get worked up, heart pounding in your chest. “you don’t get to blame all your fuck ups on me!”

“chris,” matt warns from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder cautiously, which chris instantly brushes off, eyes locked on you. “i’m sorry that nobody wants you, i’m sorry nobody wants to deal with how fucking exhausting you are, but that doesn’t mean you can go around and fuck with me and my life.” chris doesn’t even bat an eye at the tear that slips down your cheek or the way your lip wobbles, only rolling his eyes before turning around and walking back towards lia, helping her up off the floor.

you can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you watch him leave, unable to hear matt as he speaks to you, only focusing on chris as he guides his girlfriend-not-girlfriend out of the house, presumably to explain and try to put back the pieces of what little relationship they had. the second he’s out of your line of sight, you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, turning to look at matt. “can you take me home?” you ask him, and he instantly nods, guiding you towards the door.

the ride home is silent, and you feel like you’re on autopilot when you walk into your apartment and kick off your shoes, only letting yourself process what had happened when you were wrapped up in your blankets twenty minutes later. you tried calling chris, and all of your calls were instantly sent to voicemail.

that’s when you texted him, feeling a new sense of rage at his accusations through the messages he sent, deciding that this wasn’t all your fault and you weren’t the only bad guy here. chris made his bed, too, and you would make sure he suffered as he laid in it.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbratt333 @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @colorthecosmos444

[golden-bubblebee]

OH MY GOD this is such a big gripe for me!! I love my baba lots, but he has this idea that

1. Animation = boring and for kids

2. Animation = it is all the same

And I'm like!! No!! I even pooled anime into it just to get my point across, comparing the storyarc of Death Note and I think Prince of Egypt. Bc there is no comparison!!! They're two wholly different movies!!

And I agree, some animation does look more 'childish' (read: more rounded out 3d animation, like rise of the guardians) and some movies are better at finding that balance between 'adult jokes and themes vs child jokes and themes'. Emperor's new groove is a film that I think is very good at it. Personally, I think frozen less so. So guess what! I'm not rewatching frozen! It wasn’t my jam! But not because of the animation. Frozen has beautiful animation! Those don't go hand in hand!

Guess what, some of my favourite movies are from 1969 and 1993. On modern tellies, they are grainy blurry films. This doesn't stop my love for them!

I tried arguing this with him again when he was watching Love Death Robots on Netflix, an adult animation series in which every episode is its own shortfilm, and they're all animated differently.

I said 'okay what abt LDR then. You like watching that. That's also animation!' To which he replied 'no but LDR is different'

Maaaan. The difference is ofcourse that LDR is not a family film. There is nothing about that animation that's meant for kids. Well guess what, neither are Death Note and Naoki Urasawas monster! Those are animations, and they are big and scary!

Plus, I do also think that automatically assuming animation is only for kids, because it is animation is just plain wrong.

I tried using Big Hero 6 as an example. 'It's a film about a guy who loses is brother in a horrible fire. It follows his story of falling into a depression because of it, and slowly crawling back out when he goes on a journey to find the cause of his brothers death, and avenge him'

Does that sound like 'kids only' to you???

He then shrugged and said 'animation just isn't my thing'. Which, I do think, to an extend, is fair. Sure, you prefer irl people films. I can’t really say anything because I personally am not a big fan of live action films.

But there is one difference that gripes me:

Animation always looks different. Look me in the eye and tell me that Atlantis and tangled are the same style. I dare you.

Ofcourse there is stylistic overlap (Atlantis, Treasure island, prince of Egypt - Moana, frozen, tangled) but the messaging and themes of each film is different. Treasure island is a darker film, with pirates and tech and futuristic objects. Prince of egypt is oranges and reds, nature and architecture and a vast expanse of nothingess. To me that's like saying 'Oh I didn't watch Into the Wild, because it has real people in it. I watched the Matrix, and that had real people, and that wasn’t really my thing.'

It's not an argument I will win with him soon, mostly because he is so strongly convinced that kids movies ≠ family movies (if it's for kids, I can't enjoy it! Even if they deal with heavy topics like bad familial bonds, mourning and depression, having your dreams crushed, losing all hope, and so on) and that animation = animation, even though there are strong stylistic differences in it.

Maybe next time I should tell him that news media and social media are the same thing and that I don't go into newsmedia bc I get all my info from social media instead. Watch him get an anheurism right there in front of me.

animation being treated like a genre instead of a medium is something that actually makes me go insane. beauty and the beast is a romance. the emperor's new groove is a buddy comedy. big hero 6 is a superhero movie. moana is an adventure film. the lion king is a drama. treasure planet is sci-fi. if i was talking to someone who hadn't seen these movies before, and they weren't specifically interested in animation as a medium, then i wouldn't necessarily assume they'd enjoy all of these. and that's just disney movies! try telling an anime fan that fruits basket and fullmetal alchemist are the same genre and see how they react!

[multific]

Of Dog Tags and Love Letters

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon Riley never says “I love you” out loud. Instead, he writes letters, letters you were never meant to find.

Simon wasn’t the kind of man who said “I love you” easily.

He showed it instead.

He showed it in the way he pulled you close at night, in the way his hand always rested on the small of your back in public, in the way he made sure you always walked on the safer inside of the sidewalk.

His love wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was steady, always there.

Still, you wanted to hear it.

Just once.

Just once you wanted to hear him say it.

Simon had been gone on a mission for a few weeks.

You missed him, missed the way the house felt different when he was home.

Tonight, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

That’s what led you to the room, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with his dog tags.

That’s when you found them.

A small metal box, tucked away beneath an old shirt. You were trying to find a shirt which still smelled like him.

Inside the box, there were letters.

Dozens of them, all folded neatly, your name written on each one.

Your stomach flipped as you picked one up, your fingers shaking slightly as you unfolded the paper.

The handwriting was rough and rushed.

But it was undeniably his.

If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

Your breathing stopped, but you kept reading.

I don’t say things the way I should. Never have. But you should know… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the reason I want to come back in one piece. If I don’t... just know that I love you. Always have, always will.

Your chest ached as you grabbed another letter.

It was the same.

So was the next.

You looked at the dates. Every letter is written before a mission.

Every single one, carrying the words he never said to your face.

I love you.

All of them, filled with meaning and care. All of them are written from the heart.

You pressed them to your chest, blinking back tears.

Three days later, he was home.

The second he walked through the door, you didn’t wait. You crashed into him, arms wrapped tight around his middle.

He let out a small grunt of surprise. “What’s all this then?”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He huffed a quiet laugh, arms circling around you. “Good to see you too, Love.”

You pulled back, searching his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Simon’s body tensed. “Tell you what?”

You lifted your chin. “About the letters.”

His whole body went still.

“…You found them.” His voice was quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah. And I had to find out from some scraps of paper that you truly love me?”

His jaw flexed like he was bracing for something. “I didn’t think I’d ever—” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not easy for me.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy,” you shot back, stepping closer to him. “Do you think this is easy for me? Waiting? Wondering if you’ll come home?” Your voice cracked. “Wondering if I’ll ever get to tell you—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard.

Simon’s eyes softened. “Tell me what?”

You exhaled. “That I love you too, you idiot.”

His breath hitched.

Then, before you could say anything else, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. His touch was warm, and grounding.

“Say it again,” he whispered, begged.

A smile tugged at your lips. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I love you.”

His eyes closed, and he let out a slow breath like he was letting himself believe it. When he spoke again, his voice was deep, barely above a whisper.

“I love you too.”

And this time, he didn’t need a letter to say it.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[crowsofdarkness]

Beach day with some of the Avengers turns into a little private time with Bucky.

18+ CW's below the cut(public sex, p in v, Bucky not being able to wait for you any longer)

The sun beat down on my bare back, covered by the thin material of my swimsuit; a cute olive green one. I adjusted my position from my stomach to lay on my back, needing to tan my front side. Things have been slow with the Avengers so some of us decided to spend it at the lake. All of us had been working extremely hard the last week so a day outside relaxing in the sun, I was eager to get there.

“Did you reapply sunscreen?” 

Raising my sunglasses, I raised myself on my elbows as I lay on the blanket in the sand to look over at Steve who was holding up a bottle of sunscreen. 

“Depends, are you asking to reapply for me?” I teased with a sly smile. 

He snorted before tossing me the bottle, me catching it mid air. My casual flirty banter was what I was known for. It was all in good fun and made things comfortable for me to be in a group of guys, most of them either Gods or super soldiers; as weird as that sounded. Everyone here made me feel welcomed when I first started six months ago which I was grateful for. They were all great friends of mine and the flirting was all harmless. 

Well, all were harmless but for one. 

As I rubbed the sunscreen into my red skin thanks to the tanning, I peered through my sunglasses over towards Bucky who was resting in the water on a raft, water droplets falling off his vibranium arm. I nibbled on my bottom lip when I noticed Bucky was already watching me rub the sunscreen into the skin above my breasts. 

Things between us were different from the rest. 

It was always stolen glances, lingering touches, and the occasional finding ourselves stuck in an enclosed space together. But that’s all it ever was, much to my dismay. It was pretty evident I had feelings for Bucky but was too shy with him to take it a step further mostly because it wasn’t clear what he wanted. 

Sure he would let his eyes burn as he drank me in or would playfully smirk at me when I was walking around the Avengers tower. But he’d never come out right and say anything. 

Noticing he was still watching me, I decided to test the waters with my plan and spread the sunscreen lower in the valley of my breasts. I slowly worked it into the skin while peeling away the fabric of my swimsuit slightly to press the sunscreen into the skin there. I wasn’t showing my full breasts but due to the angle where Bucky was floating in the water, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind he got a little peek. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and slowly began rising out of the water to walk up the sand towards me. Swallowing thickly, I glanced at him as he blocked the sun's rays with his large form. 

“Do you need me to get your back?” His voice was strained, almost as if he was trying to hold himself back. 

Phase one of my plan? Check. 

I took a deep breath to gather my courage, pushing away my nerves, and shook the bottle at him. “Do you mind?” 

Our fingers brushed when he took the bottle from me and I felt a spark surge through me when he motioned for me to lay back on my stomach. He sat on the back of my knees, both of his locking me in place on either side of me. The water dripped from his soaked shorts onto my skin, making me shiver. The water had been freezing when we first arrived a few hours ago and I refused to dip my toes in it. 

“Sorry,” Bucky chuckled when he noticed me shivering underneath him. 

But it wasn’t only for the water but because of how he felt on top of me when he worked in the sunscreen on my back, working out the tense muscles as he went. I had to bite back a moan not only because of his fingers dragging down my back but because it truly felt euphoric as he massaged my back. Especially with his vibranium fingers.

“Is this okay?” He wondered, moving his hands lower. 

My swimsuit was a one piece but a lower exposed back and the bottom pulled up between my ass cheeks, almost like a thong. 

“Just as long as you cover all of me. I don’t need a handprint being tanned into my ass because you missed it,” I teased while looking over my shoulder at him. 

Bucky’s eyes met mine and darted his tongue out to wet his lips when I mentioned my ass. His fingers ghosted over it, a teasing gleam in his eyes now. I froze under his touch, not because he was about to touch my ass, but the fact he could possibly see the wet spot between my legs. Teasing him and then having his hand all over me had worked me up and I couldn’t help the way my body reacted. 

The rest of the group had parted from the beach and were all swimming in the water, meaning they couldn't hear us. Or see what we were doing unless they were close by. To them, it seemed like Bucky was innocently applying sunscreen to my back for me. But to us, he was dragging a finger down my spine and over the swell of my ass. 

He leaned his tall body over my back so he could breath against the crook of my neck. “Green is your color, doll.” 

My heart lurched into my throat when his pet name for me lingered into my skin. The first time he uttered it to me was earlier in the week when we arrived at the first venue for the tour and we both found ourselves alone in the kitchen of the Avengers tower and I was on top of the counter, trying to reach something in a high cabinet, to which Bucky was there to grab it from me when I was struggling slightly. 

“Careful, doll. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” 

I blinked at him. “Doll?” 

Bucky’s face twitched when he realized what he had said. “Sorry, it just slipped out. If you don’t like it or are uncomfortable, I understand.” 

“No!” I was quick to wave him off. “I-I like it.”

A wide smirk spread to his face, causing the skin next to his eyes to crinkle. “Good, because it stays. doll.”

A soft breeze brushed over my skin even with Bucky’s body heat wrapping around me as he still hovered. 

“I remember you mentioning you love the color green,” I admitted while removing my sunglasses so I could look up into those dark eyes. 

He hummed while brushing away a strand of hair from my face, applying sunscreen to me long forgotten as he laid his body next to mine. I let my eyes trace the muscles across his skin and tried so hard not to trace it with my tongue. 

“Can I be honest with you?” He asked while letting his inner battles win and traced his vibranium finger over my shoulder, tracing the patterns the freckles made. 

Even though the nerves ate away at me for what he was about to divulge, I did my best to nod. 

“The second I saw you step into the common area wearing this swimsuit I knew I wanted to fuck you in it,” Bucky leaned forward to whisper in my ear. 

A moan fell from my lips as I kept my gaze from meeting his, not wanting him to know how bad I wanted that. 

His knuckle lifted my chin, giving me no choice but to look at him. “Can I?” 

Something about him being so sweet with his question made my insides warm, even though I was freaking out. 

“Won’t this make things weird for us?” I asked. 

“I don’t see how,” Bucky’s hand was now resting low on my hip. “Something tells me you want it just as much as me.” 

Now I could help the teasing smirk as I rested up on an elbow so I could bring my lips closer to his. 

“I think you’re wrong.”

“The wet spot between your legs tells me I’m right, doll,” he faintly brushed his lips over mine before tapping my hip. “Face the water.” 

My eyes widened. “Wait, we’re doing it here?” 

“I can’t wait until we get back to the bus, Y/N. I’ve been forcing myself to not want you but I can’t do that anymore. I need to feel you,” Bucky admitted before helping me turn to face the water while he laid behind me. 

My entire body was set ablaze knowing that he felt the same way I had. Months of flirting and dancing around each other led to this moment; us fucking on the beach while the rest of our friends could possibly see if they looked close enough. I made this known to Bucky, who reached for another blanket we’d brought and laid it over our bodies to cover our lower halves. The sun was setting, bringing a slight chill along with it so it wasn’t odd. To everyone else, it seemed like we were taking a nap together.  

Bucky’s fingers palmed my ass causing him to groan in the back of my head. 

“I’m sorry if I ruin your swimsuit,” he apologized while pulling it to the side so he could have full access to my pussy. 

“You’ll just have to buy me a new one,” I said. 

A soft kiss to my head. “I’ll buy you whatever you want, doll. If you let me.” 

He pulled out his cock from his shorts and brushed the head along my folds, causing my eyes to roll back as my forehead fell to the blanket. 

“Are you on anything?” Bucky asked. 

I nodded while pressing my ass against him. “Please no teasing. I’ve been wanting this for a long time, Bucky.” 

He said nothing, simply pressing himself fully inside of me causing us both to moan. At first his pace was slow, wanting to feel all of me as I clamped around his cock. I did my best not to move much, not wanting to give way to the others what we were doing underneath the blanket. Since Bucky’s one arm was supporting my head now and the other gripping my hip, I held the bottom of my swim suit to the side so he could fuck into me. His cock was thick, filling me up completely and I desperately wanted to see how it looked. 

Another time. 

“Bucky,” I moaned. “It’s so good.” 

His breathing was warm against my ear. “You feel just like I imagined, doll. I’m not going to last long.” 

I pressed a kiss to the gold streaks of his vibranium arm. “Neither am I.” 

Both of us moved slowly together, enjoying the sensual moment together as the sun set bathed us both in a glow of orange and purples. Bucky left kisses along my neck as he pulled his cock nearly out right before filling me up again; over and over until I was able to finally let euphoria win as I gave into him. I bit the inside of my to muffle my yell when my orgasm hit, body writing against him. 

“You did so good, doll. Such a good girl for me,” Bucky’s snaps of his hips were becoming more fast paced as he chased his own release. 

Movement caught my attention and I noticed that the rest of the group were starting to leave the water, walking up to us, and Bucky grumbled under his breath. 

“When we get back to the compound, I’m not letting you leave my room. I want you all for myself.” 

I rested the back of my head against his chest. “You have me, Bucky. Now cum for me. Fill me up.” 

He made a low noise in the back of his throat as his cock swelled inside of me moments before he spilled all of him inside of me, coating my walls. Just in time because Steve stopped in front of our blanket and looked down at us. 

“Are you guys done doing whatever it is you’re doing or can we eat now?” 

Bucky flipped him off and pulled me closer to his chest by wrapping his arm around me. “Fuck off, Steve.”

He made no move to remove his cock from inside of me as we allowed ourselves to fall into a small nap while the others started prepping everything for our fire barbeque. 

[cinnamqnx]

virtually yours ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

pairing. seishiro nagi x f!reader

summary. you’re not a usually a gamer girl, occasionally playing the sims or roblox, so imagine your surprise when a clip of you & your best friend goes viral for talking shit to who you imagined was a 12 year old kid, but actually a popular streamer with a territorial fan base and of all place, on dress to impress.

warnings. basically just crack & fluff, nagi is a lil toxic at the start, swearing

05 | pink tulips

[y/n] joined the game

you joined bachira’s minecraft game, despite seeing he was playing with 3 other people because, y’know, why not? it looked to be a basic survival world with you spawning in the middle of a forest.

[seiro] who invited this little troublemaker?

[baabaabachira] mee :3

[baabaabachira] is it ok if she joins us ?

[seiro] fine but don’t go near my house

[y/n] wasn’t planning to?

[Football526] hi y/n

[y/n] hi who is football526

[baabaabachira] isagi!!

[y/n] why is he called that..

[Football526] i made it when i was 12 :/

[baabaabachira] y/n i’ll come find u and show u my house ok? :]

[y/n] okiii

you had finally managed to make it to where the boys had built their houses and had their base set up, a nether portal, a fairly large farm and cave where they clearly had been mining. bachira had even let you make your own room in his house! how cute is he?

you left his cutely decorated house to get more materials for your room, with nagi’s minecraft character waiting for you right outside.

[seiro] hello

[y/n] um hi

[seiro] i give u this

he flicks through his inventory, holding a pink tulip, giving it you before crouching a few times and running away. how strange?

bachira quickly comes running out his house after seeing the chat pop up on his screen.

[baabaabachira] wat did he give u?

[y/n] tulip

you type in the chat, the tulip still in your hand.

[baabaabachira] GASP a PINK tulip!!!

[baabaabachira] that’s so cute hehe :3

[r.reo] what am i reading rn?

[baabaabachira] shhhh

[Football526] i’m so confused

[baabaabachira] i think… LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!

an hour or so later

[y/n] left the game

[baabaabachira] left the game

[Football526] left the game

[r.reo] ok what was that about

[r.reo] why did u give her a flower anyway

[seiro] idk i think she’s pretty

[r.reo] are u fr

[r.reo] u caused all that drama just to say u thought she was pretty this whole time

[seiro] i got nervous :/

[r.reo] ur such a nightmare

[seiro] :p

navigation. virtually yours

next chapter. 06

author’s note: pretty short chapter, wasn’t sure how to write for minecraft tbh 😭 also the taglist is now closed! i unfortunately can’t add anymore people :(

taglist: @nensi @yuiearyi @mi2ukiss @pookalicious-hq @shumeow-h @solaqes @jellychannie @kermitbbg69 @pctterheadd @mizuwki @simpingmyassoff @karasu4life @crispynutella @stwberri @lilwx @suksatoru @rwura @ibyobi @renchai @nuhahani @digitaltrippers @natsukicookies @meekydeeks @ursafehaven @tamimemo @yukari1k @chaoslibra @mochiii-sama @cookielovesbook-akie @ningninjas @wallflowerdowned @hannimissesherbackbone @dinnersyummy @appalost @mbyy00 @asteraslvrr @kaz-0e @kascar-chronicle @arwawawa2 @rwbie @haruhi269 @lovessen @kaiserlvr @azharyy @hwaassaa @mikaru0 @sobbangchan @thenightsflower @chuurinnie @appl3-0rchard (closed)

[d-z20]

Extra Credit part 2 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: So the sex with your student's guardian turned out to be more than a one-time-thing and after not responding to a text from Agatha, she finds you before school the next day deciding to take matters into her own hands... no matter who could find you

-OR-

She fucks you in a supply closet before school starts

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, Agatha's a MILF, semi-publicish sex, almost getting caught, smidge of praise, fingering (R recv)

Words: 1.6k

A/N: Just a quick little something before the weekend starts :) There is use of Mx as an honorific which it's pronounced 'mix' or 'mux' depending on ya accent

AO3 | Part 1 | Masterlist

The thing about secret flings is that they demand discretion. And the thing about Agatha Harkness is that she doesn’t give a damn about discretion.

Which is exactly why you find yourself pinned against the supply closet door, barely holding in a gasp as her lips press insistently against your throat.

“Agatha,” you hiss, hands gripping her shoulders, half to push her away, half to keep yourself standing. “We are in a school.”

“And?” she murmurs against your skin, her voice dripping with amusement. “You think this is the first time an inappropriate affair has taken place in these hallowed halls?”

You groan, pressing a hand against her chest to create some distance—only for her to grab your wrist and pin it beside your head. “You’re terrible.”

“You like that about me.”

You wish she were wrong. You wish you could push her away; ignore the fire curling in your stomach. But every time she touches you or teases you, you're undone all over again—helpless against the force of her.

It started as a mistake. Well, maybe not a mistake—mistakes implied regret, and you weren’t sure you regretted anything that had happened that night in her kitchen. What had begun as a harmless parent-teacher conference had escalated into something far more salacious the moment she cornered you against your desk, her dark eyes glinting with challenge. And since then, Agatha had made it her personal mission to find new and exciting ways to make you weak in the knees—especially in situations where it was wildly inappropriate.

Like now, for instance.

Twenty minutes earlier, you had barely managed to slip into your classroom before she appeared behind you, her hands already on your waist, her lips at your ear.

“You left me waiting this morning,” she murmured, her voice low and syrupy, though laced with feigned offence. “That’s terribly rude of you, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched, but before you could even begin to question what she meant, she was already moving, her fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles against your hips.

“W-waiting?” You echoed, cursing yourself for how easily she could make you stumble over something as simple as a word.

Agatha hummed, her breath warm against the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Mhm. I sent you a message last night, darling.” Her tone was light, teasing—but the pressure of her hands suggested she wasn’t above making you pay for your oversight. “Something deliciously sinful, if I do say so myself.”

Your stomach dropped. Oh god. You had seen the text.

It had popped up sometime around midnight, and you’d stupidly glanced at the preview—just enough to make out a few wickedly suggestive words that left you blushing in the dark. But instead of responding, you’d panicked, tossed your phone aside, and buried your face in your pillow, hoping sleep would erase the heat pooling in your stomach.

Apparently, Agatha had noticed your silence.

“I figured you’d wake up eager to... respond,” she went on, one hand drifting just beneath the hem of your top, her fingers skimming the bare skin of your stomach. “And yet, I had to drink my morning coffee alone.” She sighed dramatically, as if the slight were truly unforgivable. “No text. No call. Not even an apology.”

You swallowed hard. “I—I was busy!”

She chuckled, finally pulling back just enough for you to turn and face her. Her expression was unreadable at first, but her dark eyes glittered with amusement. “Were you?” she mused, tilting her head as though considering your excuse. “Or were you just being a tease?”

“I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she interrupted, shaking her head with mock disappointment. “You know what happens to naughty little things who ignore me, don’t you?”

The words sent a shiver straight down your spine. You opened your mouth to protest—whether to deny, to plead, or to offer some pathetic excuse, you weren’t sure—but Agatha was already on the move.

And before you could so much as protest, she had manoeuvred you into the nearest supply closet and shut the door behind her. So here you are in this very compromising situation with her lips on your neck and her hands on your waist.

“Agatha,” you try again, your voice more breathless than stern. “I have students coming in twenty minutes.”

Her smirk deepens, fingers trailing down to the waistband of your pants, her touch featherlight. "Well, I suppose I’ll have to be quick.”

You shiver, your head falling back against the door as she leans in, her lips brushing against your jaw. “You are insatiable.”

She hums in agreement, her mouth trailing lower, and her hand dipping into your pants.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat as her fingers push past the fabric, trailing slow, agonising circles over fevered skin. Your muscles tense, a quiet tremor rolling through you, anticipation warring with restraint. She moves with infuriating ease, fingers slipping between your thighs like she already knows exactly how to unravel you. And maybe she does, considering the way your breath stutters, your knees threatening to give way beneath you.

“You’re already this wet for me?” She berates, her voice thick with amusement, her fingers making light work of you. “How very inappropriate, Mx. Y/L/N.”

You bite your lip, your hands clutching at her coat in some desperate attempt to keep yourself upright as her fingers work you open, dragging pleasure from you with infuriating precision. Your mind is struggling—grasping at some semblance of rational thought, but all you can focus on is her touch, the way her fingers curl inside you, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

Somewhere in the fog of your pleasure, a fleeting thought breaks through. “D-don’t you have to be somewhere?” You manage, your voice barely above a whimper. “Work or—oh, fuck—something?”

Agatha chuckles against your skin, her breath hot against your throat. “You’re adorable when you try to be responsible,” she murmurs.

Before you can retort—before you can even think—someone speaks from the hallway.

“Mx. Y/L/N?”

The doorknob rattles—once, then again. Every muscle in your body locks, breath frozen in your throat. Agatha, the menace, merely smirks, fingers still moving, as if daring you to crack under the pressure.

It’s one of your colleagues; their voice muffled through the door but far too close for comfort. Agatha, to her credit, barely seems perturbed. If anything, she looks entertained, her head tilting as she watches you with sharp amusement.

You slap a hand over her mouth before she can make this any worse. However, her fingers keep moving, pumping in and out of you, slow and deliberate, forcing you to bite back the pathetic whimper that threatens to escape.

“I—yes?” You call out, praying your voice sounds normal.

“Do you have any extra curriculum outlines for the staff meeting? Principal Carter needs a few more copies.”

Staff meeting. Right. The one you’re currently missing because you’re too busy being manhandled by an absurdly attractive single mom.

“Uh, yeah! Just—just give me a second, I’ll bring them right out!”

There’s a pause. You can practically hear your colleague frowning. “Are you okay in there?”

Agatha takes the opportunity to gently pry your hand from her mouth, bringing it to her lips and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. “You’re doing so well,” she praises, her voice dripping with dark amusement. “But I think you can be a little quieter, don’t you?”

You glare at her, but it’s a feeble effort considering the way your entire body is trembling, pleasure tightening in your core with every agonising stroke of her fingers.

“Yes! Just—just organising some things!” you reply, forcing out a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound as wrecked as you feel.

A beat of silence. Then, mercifully, footsteps retreat down the hall.

You exhale in relief, your body sagging against Agatha’s. She, of course, is grinning like the devil himself.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you mutter, only to be cut off by a moan when she thrusts her fingers particularly deeply, the pleasure sharp and devastating.

She tilts her head, her free hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “Am I?”

“You almost got me fired!”

She chuckles, her fingers still coaxing you toward the inevitable. “Sweetheart, if you think that’s enough to get you fired, you clearly underestimate how much your principal hates paperwork.”

The words barely register because, in that moment, your orgasm crests—high and all-consuming—your body shuddering against her as waves of bliss flood through you.

She holds you through it, her touch never leaving, fingers easing you down gently as you gasp into her shoulder, your legs still trembling.

You sigh, already resigning yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to sprint to the staff meeting and pretend like you hadn’t just been ruined against a shelf full of printer paper.

Agatha leans in one last time, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before finally, mercifully, stepping back. “I suppose I’ll let you get back to work,” she says, far too smug for your liking.

You smooth your hands down your clothes, clearing your throat. “You are impossible.”

She winks. “And you love it.”

You don’t dignify that with an answer—mostly because she’s right. Again.

As she slips out of the closet and disappears down the hallway, you let out a slow breath, shaking your head.

This woman is going to be the death of you.

-----

it seems I write getting fucked in a supply closet quite frequently 😂 don't ask me how she went to the school without raising suspicions from Billy because I don't know, if I did I would've written it 😭😂

-----

taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 @sweetmidnights @6ange19 @jujuu23 @juls-stark