#I stopped playing for a year and I come back to find this

[rambling-at-midnight]

When the Truth Comes Out

Request: Reader asks, "So, when are you going to ask me to marry you?" I hope I did your prompt justice!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: It’s been three and a half years since Jason asked you out, and he knows you’re the one. He knows every part of you, the good and bad, and loves it all. The problem is that you don’t know everything about him… and his secrets may ruin everything.

Word count: 3.5k

Jason’s never been one to window shop, but lately he’s been noticing the glint of jewelry.

You give him a weird look when he stumbles in the middle of the department store. It’s because a ring display caught him off guard like a punch to the gut, but he can’t explain that, so Jason waves off your concerned questioning.

You give him a weird look before turning back to the toy aisle. The two of you spent the morning bickering over what present to give Damian for Christmasukkah. You want to give him a keyboard to learn piano, but Jason’s sure that Damian would be happier receiving an art kit. He knows violin, which is a strings instrument, not whatever the piano is. Besides, the kid’s a brat. He’d want a full-size grand piano that originally belonged to Mozart or some shit and costs a hundred thousand dollars, which isn’t exactly pocket cash for the two of you.

And, sure, Jason’s got one of Bruce’s credit cards in his wallet—Bruce offered to give him one in Jason’s name, but it was the principle of using the stolen card, so Jason turned him down—but he’d be damned before he spoiled the kid any more than he already is.

He keeps his eyes firmly on you after that. It’s where they’re supposed to be, anyway.

You end up getting the keyboard after surreptitiously checking your bank account against your projected budget several times. It’s funny. After three years, you still think you can hide stuff like that from Jason. Probably because he pretends not to notice. He makes a mental note to stop by your landlord’s and see if the Red Hood can make any suggestions about lowering rent for your building.

As the two of you walk out of the store, a cold gust of wind tries to steal your breath away. You step closer to Jason, cold fingers twining with his, and he easily drapes an arm over your shoulders to keep you close. “Was that the last one?”

“I think so,” you reply, checking your list again. “The keyboard for Damian, massage gun for Dick, matching pajamas for Cass and Steph, Pokemon expansion pack for Duke, and the fuzzy socks for Tim.”

The socks are decorated with the words ‘I BREACHED CONTAINMENT’ in black stitching. Jason saw them in a tourist trap he saved from a D-list rogue and remembered how Tim looked like the bog monster after falling into the sewers the day before. They’ve been sitting in his closet since the end of August.

“I have too many siblings,” Jason sighs.

“Have you figured out what you’re giving Bruce?”

Jason bites his lip.

You say, “Ah. Well, you still have a couple days.”

Yeah. Jason has two. He’d been supposed to look out for anything to catch his eye in the store, but all he noticed was the stupid ring display.

He opens the car door for you, then shoves the keyboard in its box into the backseat and starts the engine. Jason drives home one-handed. The other holds yours loosely over the console. You’re checking your bank account again on your phone, frowning slightly, thumb brushing up and down Jason’s palm. He keeps an eye on you as he drives, playing idly by squeezing your fingers one by one until you have to try to hide a smile by looking out the window. 

He doesn’t let go of your third finger. Something nags at the back of his mind, like—

Jason realizes that he’s trying to find a ring, and his heart stops. The car jumps forward when he slams on the gas, and he drops your hand to put both of his on the wheel as he swerves around a minivan. You let out a startled yelp, hands flying out for something to grab onto. The stupid keyboard slides off the back seat and into the footwell.

Two cars lay on their horns when he nearly sideswipes them. Jason responds with an emphatic middle finger and cuts across three lanes to get away. The poor car doesn’t respond as well to his driving as his motorcycle does, and the engine whines as he leaves the other cars in the dust until he eases off.

As soon as the car reaches a relatively normal speed, you say, “Jay! What just happened?”

“Sorry,” is all he can say, keeping both arms stiff on the wheel. “Sorry, honey.”

“You okay?”

“‘M good. You good?”

“I’m okay, I was just…” You keep looking at him, and Jason’s skin prickles. Do you know? Can you tell?

Jason creaks like old wood, but he pulls back his right arm and puts his hand on the console, palm up. After a moment, you put your left overtop it. He can feel your pulse racing through the thin skin of your wrist.

He squeezes.

You squeeze back.

The day before Christmas, Jason still doesn’t know what to give Bruce. He’d hoped that baking would fix the block, but as he abuses the poor sopapilla dough, he’s no further to any answers.

You’re at the counter, offering moral support but not physical help. Jason’s a bit of a control freak in the kitchen when he’s anxious.

He’s not anxious. He’s not! It doesn’t matter if he gives Bruce something for Chrismukkah. Bruce doesn’t even celebrate Christmas. ‘Not trying to kill him’ is probably a good enough present.

Or the sopapillas. Sure, everyone’s bringing a dish, but no one said it couldn’t also be Jason’s present. But if he goes that route, then the pastries have to be perfect, and the last batch didn’t fluff up the way they did when Catherine made them.

“Jay,” you say after another five minutes of Jason punching dough that is already thoroughly kneaded.

“Yes, love?”

“I think the oil might be ready.”

Judging by the hiss and pops behind him, it is, and has been for several minutes.

Jason tries his best to follow his mother’s actions through his memory, but this batch doesn’t turn out right, either.

“Here,” he says wearily, placing the overflowing plate in front of you. “Let ‘em cool off.”

You wait as long as you can, fingers drumming on the counter as you watch tiny curls of steam drift up from the pile of pastries. Finally, you give in. “Oh my gosh,” you say around a mouthful that was a little too hot, judging by your wince. “Jay, these are amazing.”

“It’s not right, though,” he argues.

“Jay, I didn’t even think it was possible, but these are better than your last batch.”

He shakes his head stubbornly.

“Well, we’ll keep working on it,” you decide. “But really, if you bring these tomorrow, no one will complain. If they do…” You hold up a fist and shake it, mustering up (what you think is) a ferocious scowl.

Jason’s lips twitch. “What if Damian complains? Are you prepared to hit a child?”

“I can’t believe you would even ask me that,” you say. “I live in Gotham. I’ve been waiting for that moment my entire life.”

Despite himself, Jason laughs. He picks up one of the pastries from the dish and bites into it. They could have used more honey. Maybe that was the problem. But you’re right. These are good, and if they’re not, so what? It’s not like Bruce expects much from him anyway.

Jason’s chest squeezes.

Bruce should just be grateful that Jason is there at all.

Fuck.

It’s getting too hard to deny. Despite all his best efforts, Jason has to admit… maybe he does love his family.

It’s the first holiday season where he hasn’t been incandescent with rage toward one of them or another, and he’d underestimated just how nervous he would be. Despite everything that happened between them, he wants tomorrow to go well. The first night of Hanukkah is the same day as Christmas this year, which hasn’t happened for about twenty years. It’ll be Damian’s third Chrismukkah and the first where everyone is in attendance—Jason wasn’t on speaking terms with the family his first year, and Bruce was in the time stream and Tim was across the world last year.

“Hey, Jay.”

“Hmm.”

You swallow without making eye contact, and if he was paying even a little bit more attention, he would have known to prepare himself for what you said next.

“When are you gonna ask me to marry you?”

Jason is a selfish asshole. It’s a miracle that you haven’t figured that out yet after three years of dating him. He half-expects to come back to the apartment to find his stuff in bags. That’s the main reason he’s still out in the cold.

He’s in the middle of another drag when a teasing voice says from behind, “Ooh, must have been a rough day.”

Jason’s hand twitches for his gun, but he recognizes the voice. So he only rolls his eyes and says around the cigarette, “What do you want?”

“Your partner asked me to check up on you. Apparently you looked pretty freaked when you took off.”

Fuck. Jason groans. “How worried did they seem?”

“Ummm….”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, you kind of messed up.” Spoiler sits next to him, dangles her legs over the side of the roof, and lets them swing idly. “Or they messed up. I thought you quit smoking?”

He exhales a thick plume of smoke. “I did,” Jason says. Dying from smoke inhalation was bad once, but a habit is a habit.

“If it makes you feel any better, they seemed more concerned about you. Not, like, mad or anything.”

Well, that’s something.

“So what happened?”

Jason grunts. Maybe if he stares into the horizon long enough, Spoiler will give up. That was the technique Batman always used when Robin asked the tough questions like, ‘Why am I going home early so you can interrogate Catwoman on your own?’

It only worked sometimes.

Unfortunately, Spoiler seems immune.

Jason grunts and drops the butt of his cigarette. He itches for another, but you’ll already wrinkle up your nose at the smell of one. And, shit, what are you even going to think about him high-tailing it out after that question, leaving for hours, and coming back stinking of smoke?

“I’m a fucking idiot. And an asshole.”

Spoiler huffs. “Everyone already knows that, dumbass. They certainly do.”

“Thanks,” Jason says drily.

“Anytime!” she chirps.

Her heels beat against the side of the building.

She’s not leaving anytime soon, so Jason sighs and gives in. “They asked when I was planning on proposing.”

Spoiler gasps and jumps to her feet. “Oh my God!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my God!”

“Yep.”

“So you’re engaged?”

“What? No.”

“What?”

“They asked when I would propose. That wasn’t a proposal… I don’t think so. I mean, there wasn’t a ring,” Jason says helplessly.

Spoiler socks him in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Damn, but the girl can pack a punch. He rubs at the sore spot, scowling.

“You stupid idiot!”

“I know.”

“And you just ran away?”

Jason cringes and admits to his lap, “Yes.”

Spoiler hits him in the exact same spot on his shoulder.

“Goddamn it, stop that!”

“I’m going to kill you, Jason Peter Todd.”

“You could certainly try, Stephanie… Brown,” he shoots back.

“You don’t even know my middle name?”

“I don’t care about you.”

She lifts her fist again, but Jason twists out of the way before she can hit him a third time in the same shoulder. It’ll be bruised tomorrow.

“You don’t get it,” he says, balancing on the edge of the roof and feeling exceptionally unstable, even though he’s walked across ledges like this since he was twelve.

“What don’t I get? That you have an awesome partner waiting for you at home? One that wants to get married? One that—”

“One that has no idea who I am,” Jason hisses. He brandishes his helmet at the girl. “We’ve been together for three years. They have no idea that I’m the Red Hood. It made sense, at first; I can’t go around telling everyone I kiss what my identity is—”

“Right,” she scoffs sarcastically, “like you’re some kind of serial kisser, Todd. Half the city would know your identity if you did that.”

“Shut up,” Jason half-says, half-groans, and by some miracle, she does. “At first, obviously I couldn’t tell them. Then I wanted to keep waiting. I wanted to know that they were, you know, the one and everything.”

Spoiler fake-gags. Jason ignores her.

“And after that it was just too late. I waited too long. I can’t marry them unless they know about the mask, but who would agree to marry someone that’s been lying to them for three years? The entire time they’ve known me?”

“Huh,” says Spoiler.

‘Huh’ indeed.

“So I ran,” Jason says. “I don’t even know if I said anything. The next thing I knew, I was in the street with a pack of cigs and a lighter in my pocket. I came up here to smoke a couple before going back and ending things.”

“You—wait, ‘ending things?’” Spoiler’s head whips around, the white lenses of her domino widening. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t lie to them,” says Jason. “When I go back, I’ll tell them the truth. And they’ll break up with me for lying for years. I was just trying to put it off.”

The worst thing was, he wasn’t even trying to lie for most of it. You took his excuses easily, believed him about a boxing gym membership to explain away the bruises, and never uttered a complaint about the odd hours he worked. Every time he was late to a date or canceled, you understood. Every time he forgot something important, odds were that you’d forgotten, too, without him to remind you.

All things considered, Jason might have found the single least curious person in all of Gotham, if you hadn’t figured it out after three years. But he’d gotten so comfortable that he’d forgotten that it was a secret, really. It had all rushed back in when he heard your words like a smack to the face, and he’d panicked.

“You don’t know that,” Spoiler says softly.

“Could you forgive someone for something like this?”

She stays silent, and that’s answer enough.

Jason huffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out the pack of cigarettes and lighter, and considers them. Then he sighs and drops both on the ground. “Might as well get this over with.”

The cold Gotham air whips away the reek of smoke by the time he’s back at your apartment. Jason looks at the door like a condemned man looks at the gallows. He could sneak in through the window like he usually does, but he selfishly wants you to open the door for him. Show that he’s welcome now, even though he won’t be for long.

Seconds drag on like torturous minutes until he hears the familiar click of the lock. The door inches open with a screech.

Jason’s mouth goes dry at the sight of your wide eyes. “Hey, darling.”

Wordlessly, you open the door further and step aside to let him in.

Funny how a place he’s practically lived in can feel so unfamiliar. Jason shifts between feet as you re-lock your door.

The moment you turn around, he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

You say the same thing.

“What?” Jason asks.

“You don’t need to apologize,” you say.

“No, I was an ass,” he insists. “I shouldn’t have left.”

“I didn’t mean to push you. I just saw you looking at rings, and we’ve talked about it, but still, marriage is a big step, so I wanted to be prepared,” you ramble. “I mean, we said that we could get married, but we never discussed when, or when the proposal would be—”

“Honey!”

You fall silent.

“Just wait,” Jason begs. He can’t stand any more of your endless understanding. You’ve only ever understood him, no matter what, and he’s going to miss it so much. He’s going to miss you so much. “Wait one second.” He retreats to the bedroom and returns a moment later with something clutched behind his back. Your eyes dart to the awkward way he’s contorted his arm.

Your face goes blank when he pulls out the spare helmet he keeps below your bed. He’d only used a domino when out with Spoiler, but that wouldn’t do for the grand reveal.

“I’m the Red Hood,” he says in a rush, then braces for your judgment.

You don’t react except to say, “Jason.”

He doesn’t understand. You’re not scared of the killer in your apartment. You’re not furious at the man that’s lied to you for three years. Obviously you don’t understand what he’s saying. “Honey, I’m the Red Hood. The vigilante.”

“Jay—”

You’re still just standing with no reaction. Jason holds the mask up so you’re making eye contact with it.

You push it out of the way and cradle his face with both your hands. “Jason Peter Todd, look at me,” you command.

Jason holds your gaze. It’s the last time he’ll ever be so close to you, and he never wants to forget what your presence feels like.

“Jay, I’ve known basically the whole time.”

What.

Jason blinks.

“What?”

“I already knew.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying. I’m the—”

“Red Hood, yes, I know.” You muster up a tremulous smile. “And Bruce is Batman. Dick is Nightwing. Steph is Spoiler, Damian is Robin, Tim is—”

“Oh my God, you knew? How did you know?”

“Jason. My love. My darling. My honey bunchkin.” You give him a mildly scolding look. “I’m not an idiot.”

Jason’s ears heat. “And you’re not… mad?”

“That you’re the Red Hood?” You cock your head. “Of course not. I worry about you, of course. But you have to do it. I know that. Or am I mad that you tried to keep it a secret for three years?” You press your lips together to hide a growing smile. “No. I’m not mad about that either. You can’t exactly go around telling your secret identity to everyone you kiss. It’s just something I had to figure out on my own.”

“You knew,” Jason marvels. “You knew this whole time.”

“Most of the whole time,” you say. “But yes.”

“Oh my God.” Jason’s moving before he can stop himself, and he wraps you up in his arms and spins you around. “I thought you would hate me,” he confesses, still clutching you like his life depends on it. “When I finally told you.”

A soft hand runs through his hair. “Is that why you ran?” you ask softly.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, honey, I just—”

“I get it,” you interrupt.

“You were scared.”

A thought occurs to Jason with such clarity he nearly drops you. “Wait, so you were going to marry me even after you knew about the mask?”

“Of course,” you say. “I love you, Jay. Mask and all.”

“I don’t have a ring.”

“I don’t need one. Don’t you get it? I only need you.”

“I only need you, too.”

“Good.”

“Good,” Jason agrees, and he probably looks like a fool with his wide grin, but you can’t stop smiling either. He dips his head, and you rise up to press your lips to his, even though with both your grins you end up clicking teeth.

“Good,” you repeat.

“Good,” Jason says, just for good measure, and this time he makes sure the kiss is better. Lightning shoots up his spine and he pulls back to ask, “Wait, are we engaged now?”

“Um… yes?”

“That’s awesome.”

Your smile is so wide that your eyes nearly close. Jason’s pretty sure he looks the same as he sweeps you up and spins you around. You fit perfectly into his arms. He’s never going to let you go.

“My fianceé,” he says fondly. “I’m never going to get tired of saying that.”

“I’m marrying you,” you marvel, sweeping your thumb over his mouth. “I have the prettiest husband-to-be in the whole world.”

“I love you,” Jason confesses. “So much.”

“I love you, too.”

Seconds before your mouths meet for another kiss, Jason’s phone buzzes. On the off-chance it’s an important alert, he pulls it out, but it’s just Spoiler asking for an update.

Jason stows the device. “I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know how to make the sopapillas the right way.”

“Oh? And how’s that?”

It turns out that Jason’s right.

Making them with your help turns out to be what was missing the whole time.

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[sidneywasfound]

WHY NOT BOTH...? | Lando Norris x Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader 🎁

Pairings: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader,

Warnings; Lando being jelous because of Oscar and Reader,Reader being a brat,Smutt,Hair pulling/grabbing,threesome,Unprotected sex,Dirty talk,Oral (f recieving),Handjob,A scene inspired by the movie 'Challengers' hehe.

AUTHORS NOTE; MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS, I know it's Christmas Eve,but I'm gonna give you the christmas present now ♡

English is not My first lenguage this may have some mistakes hehe

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You and Oscar don't have any kind of Shyness when it comes to Public displays of...love?...You used to get Comfortable in his lap while he was sitting on the couch,both watching tiktoks in his phone. All this kind of affection really Made Lando upset about the situation between You and him,At first you were flirting with him, and now you're sitting on Oscar's lap?. It is the last year christmas party that Max organized, everyone was chatting,eating something from the snacks,dancing...but lando was watching you both,laughing together,talking...He knew that Oscar did it secretly, but every time he laughed he hid his face in your neck to pretend he was trying to hide his laugh, but he is clever and Lando knew it,he just wanted to find a stupid excuse to feel your neck and Vanilla scent on his face and lips.

Later,People started to celebrate, dancing and doing parties stuff. Almost all the lights in the huge house were off except for some party lights. Lando lost sight of them, since Yuki had invited him to the karaoke that was in the other room. After a while he saw them,Sitting on the big couch, She was on Oscar's lap kissing him Passionately,With one hand resting on Oscar's cheek and the other grabbing the hair from the back of his head,pulling him wildly towards her while their tongues moved in each other's mouths, Oscar stared to move his hand towards your inner thigh making you lower your kisses to his neck and play with the hem of his sweatshirt. Lando was freezing,watching You and Oscar like some kind of fetish, Fascinated with the movements of your tongue, wishing to be the one who is kissing you aka Oscar Fucking Piastri.

Lando decided that this was enough teasing for the night,and when You went to the kitchen for a beverage he approached You ."Hey,are you busy?" Lando said leaning on the kitchen countertop,You looked at him in surprise as you poured yourself some coke."Are you that desperate...?" You said,and god he was dying,It was a pretty common thing of you,You were never with someone just to be with someone, You emanated superiority and power making yourself seem unreachable,and that made Oscar and Lando die to be with you,looking like two chihuahas humping to your leg for attention. "i'm not desperate." Lando said trying to be tough. "And why were you spying on me while i'm kissing Oscar? Or maybe you were spying on Oscar ? Don't worry, I'm not judging!" She said mockingly,a thing that also put the two of them in a shy and submissive mood. "Of course not!,but i'm done of being with him one day and me the next, is this a joke to You?" Lando said grabbing your arm and making eye contact with you ."maybe...If You guys stop being such bitches to me, we could make an arrangement between us..." Lando looked at you confused, "just...Okay Lando, I'll wait for you in the room upstairs... let's finish this quickly..." She went up the stairs and lando stood in the middle of the kitchen surprised.

Lando decided to wait a little before going upstairs,He had to mentally prepare himself to fuck her so good that she would have to stay with him for the next few days. He sat on the couch,beside Oscar and Charles. Oscar looked at him sideways in confusion and started using his phone. Instead Charles decided to talk to him "are You okay mate? You look kinda weird and nervous" Charles said with sympathy and his thick accent. " Yeah mate,just a tough night,isn't?" Lando says joking "Yeah,sure" Oscar says unexpectedly with pride without taking his eyes off the phone. Now Lando really wanted to hit him, "sure,Yuki beat us all at karaoke, it seems that he has a hidden talent!" Charles says innocently "You two should compete sometime,To see who is the Best and toughest of you haha!" Charles said naively,while Oscar and Lando look at each other smirking with pride in their imaginary competition.

Finally Lando decided it was time to enter the room,She was lying on the bed with her clothes disheveled,She was barefoot, a strap of her top fell revealing a part of her bra,Her skirt was a little raised, revealing her panties between her legs,Her hair was messy,Her breathing was Messy,making her chest rise with each breath, and making her tits press against her tight top. "Fuck,You are going to kill me..." Lando said feeling the bulge in his pants grow. He approached her kissing her desperately "Wait Lando...stop..." She said as he kissed her neck "what's...wrong?...?" He said in between Kisses,"We have to wait for Oscar...",She said making lando stop abruptly,moving away from your neck to look at you. "W-wha-?",he was interrumped by the sound of the Wooden door opening."My God, You gorgeous...teasing me all the night wha-..." Oscar came through the door, paralyzed with the view of your legs wide Open and Lando between them."What is Lando doing here?!" He said upset. She pulled Lando off her and sat on the edge of the bed. The two, Dazed, without asking quickly went to sit beside her, leaving her in the middle.

"it's just...i love You guys so much!..and...I can't resist having just one of You..." She said with a fake pout."Well,You have to decide...You can't keep teasing us like this..." Oscar said,putting a hand on your thigh. She remained silent,She raised her head looking at Oscar and approached his face,Their breaths touched, she caressed his cheek lightly,He put a hand on her waist. She brought her lips closer and made them touch Oscar's,With their mouths half open,Slowly and slightly she began to put the tip of her tongue in his mouth,making him grab the back of her head to kiss her Passionately,Her tongue played his tongue, while he devoured her lips making obscene noises. Lando was dumbfounded,Looking at Oscar with jealousy while she lightly touched his inner thigh. She slowly separated from him while he looked at her enamorated with his mouth half open, leaving a thread of saliva between their lips.

Lando was silent ,thinking that he had already lost his chance until she turned to him. She came closer and started kissing him desperately, in a completely different way than how she kissed Oscar. Lando brought her closer to him, putting his tongue in her mouth and kissing her lips that let out soft moans. She started to put a hand under his shirt but stopped and separated from him, staying back in the middle. The two looked at each other waiting for her to decide, but she remained silent without saying anything.She looked at them flirtatiously smiling,"Why not both?".She began to take off her top, revealing her bra that they were wanting to see so bad. Without hesitating any longer, the two coordinated at the same time to kiss her neck on both sides,She moaned and grabbed both of their heads, lifting her head to give them space.

She started kissing desperately Oscar while unbuckling Lando's pants. From one moment to the next, Oscar appear between your legs lifting your skirt to kiss the Slim fabric of your underwear. You let out a moan that echoed on Lando's lips making him harder,You put your hand in his pants to take out his member stroking it. Oscar pulled down your underwear to give a lick to your cunt. You moaned lightly after this, moving your hand faster making Lando whimper too. Oscar started to move his tongue between your folds,Licking your clit and sticking his tongue as deep as he could. Lando lowered his hand to your cunt to start rubbing your clit,Leaving Oscar with less things to lick. You moaned as you kissed Lando with your hand squeezing and moving up and down his length. "I-im ah..." Lando couldn't finish his sentence when he felt his orgasm coming, leaving only a very pornographic moan. Staining his abdomen and a little of your hand. You grabbed Oscar's hair and pulled it, moaning as you felt your orgasm coming "ah Oscar!..." Luckily you didn't finish so you pushed him towards you, leaving him on top of you, making his member touch your crotch.

"Come on Lando...if you position yourself correctly I can suck you off..." You said while kissing Oscar but Lando was defeated on the side of the bed "Calm down guys, I already fucked her yesterday...I'm exhausted" Oscar laughed and you blushed when you heard that. "H-hey!,I just wanted to include you know..." Lando looked at her "Well next time we do this I'll fuck you." Oscar lined up and slowly entered you, letting out a moan from both of you. "Wait...again?,You're okay with that?" Lando looked at you pretending to stop and think,While Oscar began to thrust into You making You moan, And cling to his back "As long as I can enjoy watching you get fucked this good then I don't care." Lando said watching as Oscar rammed into you wildly,You just rolled your eyes."looks like The little slut's game went wrong" Lando said mocking You."She was trying to make us jealous and now she's like the obedient whore",Oscar said thrusting you faster.

You felt the wave of pleasure pass over you and you moaned as you felt Oscar finish inside you.The three of You lay on the bed face up, both of them lying on her tits, The music of the party was loud but isolated."Do you think this relationship will work?" She said, Lando and Oscar looked at each other. "If we continue like this, I hope it lasts forever" Oscar said laughing,You and Lando smiled, you were about to talk when you heard a familiar voice outside the door.

"Yes and I hope You guys clean the room and the sheets after this!"no other one but Max Verstappen shouted at them from outside his room.

"shit" The three of them said seeing all the clothes thrown all over the room.

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Tags: @that-one-little-soybean

[saphiccarma]

hi! It is totally oka if you aren’t comfortable doing this but…

Could you do an Agatha x reader after the Road? Agatha recovers her body and finds Reader. Agatha and Reader are finally choose to start a family and they try smut and their attempts bear fruits. Reader is pregnant and tells Agatha

- I missed you

Relationships - Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary - Agatha died. She was dead, but before that the two of you were planning to start a family, have a kid. And when Agatha gets her body back, the two of you make it happen

Warnings:smut obv, nipple play, kissing, enchanted strap (referred to as cock maybe once), pregnancy

A/N:This one was really fun to write! Thank you so much for sending it in. :)

You caught word that Agatha had died through Rio. The Green Witch was never your favorite person, but she wasn't your enemy either. You had known her for nearly as long as Agatha, both of them being close to you throughout all the years, and then when Nicholas happened, Rio drifted away. You made it clear then who your favorite was.

Even still, Rio and you kept in contact.

That's why you threw yourself into her arms, sobbing, when she told you what happened to Agatha. You pounded at her chest, fists attempting to hit her in the chest, but she just held you close. Her face pressed into your hair, and she sighed. You screamed and cried as tears streamed down your face.

And for the next few weeks, you were devastated. Before Agatha left for The Road, you had been planning to start a family since you had just broken her free from Wanda's spell. Magic would be able to make it possible. The two of you knew that. Being a mother was something you had always wanted, a warm feeling that glowed inside your chest whenever you thought about it. A mini-Agatha, or you, running around the house - whether it was a boy or a girl - their joyful screams echoing as you chased them around.

That warmth in your chest faded, almost completely, when Rio visited you. The instant you saw her, you knew what happened, and all hope for a family crashed down inside of you. It felt as if your heart shattered. You spent your time holed up in your room, a blanket wrapped around as you stared at old photos. Agatha was the first person who showed you kindness other than your parents. She taught you how to be a witch, how to control your powers and cast spells and survive. But now she was gone. Completely gone and you were lost without her.

Your fingers trembled around your phone as tears brimmed your eyes. Chewing on your lower lip, you swiped through the photo albums and tried to fight the tears that threatened to come down. There were dozens of photos. Ones of you and Agatha, smiling with bright eyes, and others just of Agatha. Some of them were of Senor Scratchy and Agatha, or just the bunny. He was still with you, downstairs.

You lived in a different house than the one Agatha lived in during her time under Wanda's spell. This house was cozier. It was filled with memories. Picture frames that hung the walls, small souvenirs decorating the shelves, and books that both of you loved. Everything reminded you of Agatha and it hurt to just look around, but that didn't stop you from wallowing in your misery while scrolling through photos.

A bitter laugh bubbled out of your throat at a particular one. It was Agatha, lying on the ground her hands folded across her chest and eyes shut, flowers braided into her hair. You had convinced her to do it for you, pretend to play dead, and she obliged begrudgingly, but there was a small smile on her face. How ironic. And now she really was dead.

A slight creak snapped you out of your thoughts, head snapping up and ears perking. There it was again. And again. Power charged between your fingertips, ready to fire a moment's notice, and you blinked tears away from your eyes. Agatha had a lot of enemies, and with her gone they might resort to harming you. When the door opened you prepared to lunge out of bed and strike, but you were not prepared to see your dead wife staring at you.

She looked elegant as always. Her fancy purple dress that flowed thickly all the way to the floor. Brown hair joined it, stopping just past her shoulders, and there was new light grey streaks through it. If anything, it made her hotter. Icy blue eyes, filled with a tender love you missed, met yours. Tears swelled in your eyes once more and you did a double take. There she stood in her full glory, a smirk settled onto her pink lips, eyes sparkling with triumph.

"You're- You are not real." you stammered and there was an undeniable tremble to your voice as your fingers shook. Fake Agatha sighed softly, shaking her head.

"You always were skeptical," she murmured, "But I assure you, I am very real." As if to prove her point, purple magic sparked at her fingertips and you gasped at the familiar sight. That was all the confirmation you needed to spring from the bed and scramble towards her. Agatha was the only one who had magic of that color. You launched yourself at her, and her arms wrapped around you, her chest rumbling slightly as she laughed softly.

Sobs racked your body as you mumbled, "You're alive." Over and over. And that spark in your chest blossomed once again. You felt lighter, the weight of her death not hanging over you. Relief flooded through your system, calm and cool in a way that soothed all your worries and made your chest tight as you held her tight, fists balling into her dress, and cried.

"Did you doubt me?" Agatha pressed a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering and leaving a patch of heat once she pulled away. She placed her hands on your hips, pushing you away once your cries slowly dwindled. Her eyes were dark as she stared down at you, "I missed you."

You leant up until your lips met hers in a tender kiss, one that had so much meaning. It started out soft at first. A symbol of reconnecting, a way to show how much you missed and loved her. But when her tongue swiped against your bottom lip and you let out a quiet whimper, it escalated into much more. Heat fueled the kiss, Agatha's lip dominating yours and her tongue swiping through your mouth. Her hands pushed you back until you stumbled and fell onto the bed. Not once did her mouth leave yours as you fell, her legs straddling your hips.

You were wearing nothing but one of her oversized T-shirts and a pair of panties, and already you could feel them getting wet. Agatha laughed against your mouth, pulling just an inch away, as her eyes met yours.

"I missed you," you whispered, hands falling onto her shoulders and tugging her back in for a kiss. Her chest pressed up against yours and you wrapped your arms around her neck. Open-mouthed kisses were placed from your mouth to your jaw, tender and slow. She took her time until your grip relinquished on you, and she moved down to your neck. You squirmed beneath her, hips wriggling as the wetness between your thighs pooled even more, and her lips sucked on your neck. She made sure to mark you, and you knew that silently, it was her way of claiming you. After her weeks away, she was making sure you knew that you were hers.

With a snap of her fingers, both of your clothes were gone, magicked into a pile on the floor. Her cold breasts pressed up against yours and you could feel your nipples harden once exposed to the cool air. She looked the exact same as before, but it was no less stunning to see her naked. The sharp outline of her collarbone and the soft curve of her breasts. Agatha trailed down to the spot right above your collarbone, her lips leaving a hot trail that was cooled by the air flowing through the window. Soft whimpers and moans were already escaping you. You could practically feel her smirk against your skin.

Her lips finally met your breasts, lips latching around one of your sensitive peaks. Your hips bucked when her tongue swiped over it. She suckled on your nipple, relishing in the way you tugged at her shoulders and whined beneath her, her tongue swirling in precise, lazy, circles. Eyes squeezed shut, you threw your head back, hands clawing at her shoulders.

Then Agatha pulled back, her eyes met yours, "Do you remember what we talked about before I left?" she murmured, her voice low and filled with a promise, "Do you still want to? Have a kid?" Her words sent a jolt through you and your eyes snapped open. It looked for a moment as if she wanted to take it back.

"Yes," you blurted, breathless, "Yes. So much."

That was all it took for Agatha's smirk to widen and for her to wiggle down your body, to place herself between your thighs. She snapped her fingers once more, and a harness and strap appeared around her waist, the strap a dark purple. Agatha had talked about it before, the prospect of an enchanted strap, able to impregnate you. You were left wide-eyed at the sight of it. You had down things like this before, but never an enchanted one. The very thought of sending a jolt of pleasurable nerves through you.

Her hands settled on your hips, "Tell me if you want to stop," she whispered. The tip of her strap nudged at your entrance and a little moan left you, "God, you're wet," she groaned, her grip on your skin tightening. You had little to no warning before she plunged into you. A broken mix of a whine and moan left you, your hands grasping into the sheets. This one felt better than any other one you had ever used. Agatha started out slow at first, letting you adjust the size of it, her hips moving slowly.

And when it seemed as if you were warmed up, your wetness slicking it up, she started pumping in and out faster, not caring to be gentle. Squeezing your eyes shut you didn't bother to contain the sounds coming from your throat, desperate and needy ones as you fisted the sheets.

"You feel so good around my cock," Agatha's head was thrown back as she fucked you, her fingers curling into your hips and nails digging into your skin. You could hardly focus on that. Just the pleasurable feel of her strap inside of you, sliding in and out and the little grooves hitting all the spots just right. The hot feeling of satisfaction coursing through you. That familiar tightness in your stomach was small when you first started, but now you couldn't ignore it.

You could tell Agatha was close to. Her movements lost any sort of coherence, just moving erratically, and her breathing grew labored. She was much better at controlling her sounds than you were, just a few small whimpers. Agatha knew you were close by the way your walls fluttered around her, thighs quivering with every thrust, and your moans and whines getting higher in pitch by every passing second.

"Aggie," you whined, "Please."

Her voice was a light gasp of breath, "Wait," and when you made a sound of frustration, her tone hardened, "Wait for me."

You struggled to control the orgasm that threaten to rip through you, and your heart beat so fast in your chest as the pressure in your stomach increased. You writhed beneath her, hardly able to stop yourself as Agatha brought herself to her high. It felt like an eternity before she finally spoke again.

"Go ahead," she ordered, "You can come."

That was all you needed to let go. Your orgasm crashed through you like a tidal wave, one filled with endorphins and pure pleasure, coming with Agatha's name. Everything felt lighter. She came right with you, her cum filling you from her strap. Her juices filled you up even as she pulled out slowly, hushing you when you whimpered softly. The strap disappeared and she flopped down next to you.

Her juices leaked out from your dripping cunt and Agatha's fingers reached down to push it back it, slowly holding it there. You loosened your grip on the sheets, curling your hands out of tight fists, and you opened your eyes. Turning to face Agatha, you smiled softly, still a bit breathless from one of the best orgasms ever.

"I missed you so much," you whispered, hand coming up to cup her face. A part of you still couldn't believe that this was real, that Agatha was actually here. She wasn't dead. She was alive. You didn't bother asking how she had even gotten her body back.

Agatha's fingers were warm inside you, "I missed you so much too. So, so much."

Her lips met yours in a soft, tender, kiss. One filled with love.

^____________^

Your hands trembled around the test, a bright pink plus sign staring up at you. Happy tears welled in your eyes as you forced a smile down. You were pregnant. It took one try and now you were pregnant. You were going to have a baby with Agatha.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in," you murmured quietly, your eyes trained on the stick in your hands. The door creaked open softly. It was only a moment before you felt Agatha's arm wrap around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder as she peeked over it.

"Baby," her voice was soft and you could just barely detect the slight tremble, "You're pregnant."

You swallowed thickly. You were excited, you really were. But you were also nervous. Pregnancy was a thing that could go wrong in so many ways, but it could also go right. It was a painful process, you knew that, and that scared you. But Agatha was right here with you, her lips kissing the spot beneath your ear. She spun you around so that you were facing her and you couldn't stop the small cry that left your lips as you buried your face into her neck.

She rocked you slowly, back and forth as one would do to a child, humming a low song. You wrapped your arms around her tightly, small sniffles leaving you as you quietly cried. It was an odd mix of happy tears and sad ones, both relieved and scared.

"We're having a baby," you laughed wetly into her neck, "I'm pregnant."

Agatha laughed into your hair, kissing you briefly, "We are."

That confirmed that you were crying out of joy. Tears happily streaming down your face. You were going to have a baby.

[notebooks-and-laptops]

So I'm playing Mass Effect for the first time, and coming out of Veilguard Mass Effect is so jarring in such a wonderful way.

I am right at the beginning of this game and I've already had two side quests which I doubt will add anything to the overarching, but which actually make you THINK about what is the right decision:

A man contacted me about his dead wife. The military won't give back her body so he can't give her a funeral. He asks for your help to get her back. Pretty simple? Except when you get to the military officer he tells you the reason she hasn't been given back is that her body is one of the only bodies they have killed by this specific new and scary weapon. They think they could potentially find ways to defend/cure what happens to you when this weapon is used, but to do so they'll need to be able to work with actual bodies that suffered this damage; and there are so few of them. If they don't find ways of stopping this weapons effects on human bodies it could end up risking thousands of lives. So what do you do? Do you go with the husbands wishes, so he can have closure? She never signed up for this kind of medical research post death! But then, if you push for the body back, what if that really DOES affect their ability to find a cure and protect humanity in the future? Is the trade off worth it?

A woman is refusing to get her baby screened for a genetic disease that killed her husband and has a high chance of killing her baby if the baby inherits it. But there's a 1/3000 chance the procedure could hurt the baby more. Her brother in law is desperate for the baby to get scanned because the disease could be easily cured in-utro if it is found, but not once the baby is born (I don't 100% think this is realistic but hey it's the future whatever). They want your advice on what to do. This is pretty simple, basically, philosophy 101 questioning but it's STILL like. A morality decision the game is asking you to help with

These are both pretty simple; they're good for world building but you could skip them entirely and still have a good game experience. But I wanted to highlight them both because this is EXACTLY what Veilguard was missing. These 'no objectively 100% correct' tiny side quest questions that force the player to think about the world; or allow for deep characterisations of your player character.

Idk man. Like. Bioware was doing this stuff right 15 years ago. It's a real shame that energy isn't still valued because it makes for a MUCH better experience imo

[runninriot]

Santa's Secret

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 23

prompt: hot chocolate | rated G | wc: 998 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve Harrington

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+bonus epilogue)

Eddie can’t wait to get out of the suit that’s been suffocating him for the past three hours. He’s still sweaty and his hair is a mess after wearing the wig and fake beard combo for so long but he feels better once he’s changed back into his regular clothes.

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, Eddie stops for a moment. He looked so different dressed as Santa, could’ve been fooled by his own reflection wearing that costume. There’s no way Steve actually realised it’s him. Maybe what Eddie thought he saw in Steve’s eyes wasn’t recognition, but confusion.

They haven’t seen each other in years and apart from that, it’s not like they’ve ever been… close. Sure, Steve probably knew of him – they’ve both been somewhat popular in high school, although for very different reasons. But still. It was silly of Eddie to think the smile he gave him was one of familiarity. More realistically, it was just a silent thanks for how he handled the little girl’s nervousness, brought a smile to her face by playing into her childlike wonder.

And that’s okay.

In the end, Eddie did have a great time pretending to be Santa for a while. He’ll never tell Wayne, though, unless he wants to hear his old man tell him ‘I told you so‘.

With his shift done, Eddie strolls around the still brimming main hall of the community centre, looking at a stand with wooden figurines where a beautifully carved dragon caught his eyes.

He’s so fascinated by it, that he doesn’t notice the person coming up to him, until a hand taps his shoulder lightly.

When he spins around, he finds Steve standing next to him.

   “So, what brings you back to this shithole?“ he asks through a laugh, casual, like it’s normal for the former King and King of Freaks to have a conversation.

   “I, uh,“ Eddie stammers, staring at Steve a little star struck and maybe a little more in love because there’s that smile again and it’s blinding like the fucking sun and this time, he doesn’t have the Santa suit to blame for the fucking heat spreading in his face.

    God, grow up Munson. You’re an adult. Behave like one.

   “I’m visiting my uncle.“

   “How is Wayne? I was a bit worried when I realised that-“ Steve leans closer to whisper in his ear and Eddie’s heart stops for a moment. “-Santa sent someone else to cover for him.“

There are a million thoughts running through Eddie’s mind – since when are Steve and Wayne on first name basis? So Steve did recognise him? And why’s it so fucking hot in here?

   “You were great, by the way. I’d have lost it at some of the parents. They can be worse than their spoiled little brats sometimes.“

Eddie chuckles nervously, shrugs his shoulders and waves a hand at Steve who moves back slowly but stays close, so close Eddie catches a hint of his cologne, mingling with the Christmassy smell of oranges, and cinnamon, and apple tea, and it makes him dizzy but not in a bad way.

“Robbie wouldn’t shut up about Santa,“ Steve winks at him, “said he’s the coolest, even cooler than the tooth fairy. And let me tell you, that’s a real compliment.“

They both laugh and it feels so light and freeing; Steve makes it seem so easy to fall into conversation with him.

   “She’s a sweet kid and she loves you a lot, I can tell.“

    Loves you so much she’s wasting her Christmas wish on your happiness, Eddie thinks fondly, biting his tongue not to accidentally spill their little secret.

   “Yeah, well. She doesn’t have much choice. She’s stuck with me, since her mother decided to-“

   “Dad!“ a voice calls from somewhere behind them and when they turn, they see Robbie running up at them.

   “Speaking of the Devil,“ Steve sighs amused before opening his arms to catch her.

   “Who’s your friend?“

   “This is Eddie. We’ve been to school together. He’s grandpa Wayne’s nephew.“

    Grandpa W-hat?

Eddie must be having a stroke. Or maybe something’s wrong with his hearing because… WHAT?

Steve must realise something when he notices Eddie’s confusion, because he suddenly blushes a deep shade of red and smiles awkwardly at him.

   “S-sorry, I thought you knew that, uh-“ Steve takes a deep breath before he continues, “Your uncle has been helping me out a lot when I moved back to Hawkins a few months ago. You know, uh, setting up the house and watching Robbie when I had to go to interviews and couldn’t find a babysitter. He, uh, he’s been a real help. Robbie’s obsessed with him. Aren’t you, baby?“

   “He’s awesome! And he makes the best hot chocolate in the world! With little marshmallows and sprinkles on top!“

Eddie feels like he’s been hit by a truck, feels betrayed by the man he’s been looking up to his whole life.

   Wayne Munson, you son of a potato farmer, are living a secret life where Steve’s daughter calls you grandpa?

    Oh, Eddie’s going to have a field day confronting him with that.

   “Right?! The best hot chocolate ever! I always have mine with whipped cream on top,“ Eddie answers equally enthusiastic, doesn’t even have to pretend despite his inner turmoil because that little girl’s smile is infectious.

While listening to Robbie’s happy babbling, Eddie watches Steve from the corner of his eyes. He still looks a bit like a kid caught stealing cookies, but slowly relaxes, and that’s good, but-

Wayne definitely has some explaining to do. His uncle has always been a fucking saint, can’t not offer his help when he feels like someone’s in need of it. But it being Steve of all people, really messes with Eddie in a weird way he can’t really explain.

He needs to know more.

   “How about we all go to Wayne’s together? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you. What do you say?“

[katsu2ji]

mha boys + their fav thing to do with you (or for you) during the holiday season

a/n: it's my favorite time of the year <3 merry christmas to those who celebrate!! posting this on christmas eve, i hope everyone has the best day <3 ily!

izuku: baking christmas cookies

izuku makes the BEST deserts. his mother taught him when he was young and although he was reluctant to learn at first ("mom, i’m sorry but learning how to make the perfect pie is not my biggest concern right now..."), it's now a skill he's come to appreciate—especially when you're involved. one of his favorite things to do with you, at any point in the year but especially during christmas, is baking cookies—or rather, he's do most of the baking while you're sitting on the countertop watching him do so. there's christmas jazz playing through the space as you both talk about your days, laughing and making a mess that neither of you are too worried about cleaning in the moment. he gives you the spoons to lick when he's finished with them, smiling when you nod your approval of the taste. while they're in the oven, you two dance in the low kitchen light; it's not graceful, by any means, but it's silly and stupid and makes you both feel as though you're the only ones in the world. this warm, love filled kitchen on a cold winter's night, just for the two of you.

katsuki: decorating with you

katsuki would never admit it, but he takes his christmas decorating very seriously. he insists that if you're going to decorate for the holidays, you might as well make it look nice. you ask him to take down the christmas decorations from storage and while he pretends to find the task annoying, he actually is looking forward to doing this with you. he loves seeing how excited you get when he plugs in the lights on the tree and watch as they light up the dark living room, or how much you love the small task of switching out the normal pillows on the couch for the winter themed ones. his favorite part about it all, however, is putting up the ornaments; together you've collected a few over the years, some more heartfelt while others are silly inside jokes between the two of you. he teases you when you put one in a spot he doesn't agree with ("why the fuck did you put it there, that's ugly." "katsuki, no it's not!" "yes the hell it is, move it over here.") and you know it's all lighthearted as you laugh at the faces he makes about your "questionable" placements. this is all such a temporary thing, he knows—the decorations will only be up for about a month and a half, if that. but it's special for him. a time where he can forget about the rest of the world; where he only has to focus on you and your terrible (but endearing) tree decorating skills.

shoto: christmas shopping

when you two go out shopping together, he takes note of anything that you point out and like. later, he comes back after a patrol shift; he tells you he's picking up dinner, and while that's not a total lie and he is going to bring home something, he also needed to make time to pick up your gifts. he has never felt as though he's very good with words, but gifts he can do. and he never stops at one, of course—he makes sure you have a lot. he fills the space under the tree with them, all addressed to you; just when you think there couldn't be any more, you come home to find another two of three presents has been added. he starts his gift shopping earlier in the year, getting things here and there when he can. by december 1st, he's gotten pretty much everything he's been looking for, and he asks fuyumi and his mom to help him wrap them nicely for you (wrapping gifts is unfortunately NOT his strong suit). he's even particular about the wrapping paper he uses, not caring that it's more expensive than others on the market or that it's going to be ripped; these are gifts for you, for christ's sake. he's going to make sure that everything is perfect—that you have the best christmas, every christmas.

eijiro: walking out in the snow

eijiro loves the snow, and he loves the holiday season even more. he loves how magical everything is this time of year, how carefree life feels. when the first snowfall comes one evening, he's making sure both your puffer jacket and his is zipped up all the way and that you're nice and toasty, before practically running outside. you two go for a walk through the city, admiring the way the snow blankets everything around you and makes the world seem softer, lighter. when a breeze comes by, he huddles impossibly closer to you, grabbing your hands and holding them in his coat pocket to warm you up. you two stop at the windows of decorated shops, watching the little toy trains and miniature christmas towns on display in the stores. he looks at your reflection in the window and grins, happy and content, even as the frigid air makes him feel as though he wants to sit in a furnace. he loves moments like these. it's a simple and mundane thing, taking a walk, but something about doing it with you, in an atmosphere that looks as though you've both stepped right into a christmas town in a fairytale, makes him wish for a white christmas every year.

hanta: watching christmas movies

before he met you, hanta had never made it a point to watch christmas movies, really. now, however, it's his favorite tradition. he looks forward to the evenings when the two of you change into your matching christmas-themed pajama pants, having bought them just for the occasion. you go into the kitchen to make hot chocolate while he scrolls through the movie selection, attempting to put on the corniest, dumbest, most cliche hallmark holiday movie he can find. the whole time you both are cuddled on the couch, leaning against each other as you watch the movie together, making fun of the bad acting, the overdone movie tropes, and every other menial detail. you laugh at all the jokes he makes, all the small things he notices and points out to you. the first movie ends, and before either of you can stop yourselves, you've both fallen asleep together on the couch halfway through the third. it's a quiet night, the only sounds being the quiet noise of the still-playing movie and the soft snores of the two of you. when he wakes up first, he doesn't make any effort to wake you immediately, instead opting to watch you sleep peacefully against him. "this is what the holidays are about" he thought, as cheesy as it sounds. he didn't need anything more; he wasn't sure it could be any better than this.

katsu2ji © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything of the sort with my work! i work very hard and you simply do not have my permission.

[carbonfiction]

A little suprise

Summary: After another cosy Christmas morning shared together, it’s time for the gifts. Little things thoughtfully bought, wrapped and passed over. This year however, theres something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

Master list. Words: 1.2k

Warnings: tw mentions of pregnancy/pregnancy announcement. (Chosen to tw this simply bc im aware of how tough it can be for those struggling with conception/fertility ect, especially this time time of year. i want you to know my heart is with you, your time will come🫶) Lumberjack Logan is a sweetheart, mostly just a nice lil finding-out-he’s-gonna-be-a-dad Logan fluff with a smiiiiige of swearing. Lo calls reader “momma”

The parasites in me yearned for origins dad Logan, so I had to write origins dad Logan. Or in other words, its Christmas and I desperately can’t stop thinking about that large man with a teeeeny tiny baby.. Tadaaaaaa <33 merry Christmas loves!

Christmas morning was always peaceful in the howlett household. It would begin with sleep laced kisses, limbs tangled together as you hold each other close. It's hours before either of you actually leave the bed, too warm and content with eachothers presence to even consider it.

But when you do the first place you go, after the bathroom of course, is to the kitchen. Logan begins breakfast- or nearer brunch by then. While you make sure the coffee machine is switched on and freshly brewing the hot liquid into your usual cups- a cheesy wedding present from a friend, mugs that read 'Mr' and 'Mrs'.

Then, once dinner is roasting slowly in the oven for later, come the gifts. All soundtracked by a movie playing in the background. Little things wrapped and passed over- for you comes a cosy pair of pajamas with matching socks that you'd pointed out a while back, along with a little hamper full of your favorite treats; a perfect mix of sweet and savory to snack on when the mood takes you; or when wrapped up tighter watching a movie.

While you gift him a fresh collection of cigars and workboots that offer a little extra comfort to those long days he spends at the yard on his feet.

But.. Theres also something else. Something you've meticulously managed to keep hidden for a little while now.

You steady yourself with an anxious exhale before you tap logan on the knee. "Theres one last one.." you say with a smile, quickly retreating to the bedroom and coming back to stand infront of him with a neatly wrapped box in hand.

Logans brow rises, a crease then wedging between them as he looks over the gift and its carefully tied bow. "Thought we agreed on a couple things each?" he murmers.

Hes right, you had agreed that, both having felt like each others company was all you really needed..

"Well, its a Surprise..” you trail, urging him to open it as nuterally as you could. Anxiety festering deep in your chest, part of you unsure just how this would go down.

Its silent as his fingers pluck and pull at the ribbon, deftly untieing it until its left in a pile besides him on the couch. Next is the lid, decorative tissue paper also following as his eyes rake over the unveiled contense.

"Sweetheart?.." logan questions in a whisper, fingers gently lifting out a pair of tiny booties and a matching flannel shirt; Both purposely mirroring items he owned. "what.. what’s all this?”

Logan feels his heart hammer in his chest, mouth going dry. are you telling him what he thinks you are?

“What’s it look like Logan?" you giggle softly, a hint of nerves in your eyes as you look down at him. You grasp an ultrasound photo and the positive test from the pocket of your sweats then, placing them in his hands over the little shirt.

You watch as his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, crease flying away from his brows as he takes in the words written on the test; illuminated by the soft glow of the tree lights. 'Positive'

“You-" he starts, words trembling dryly from his tongue. "you’re really pregnant?”

Tears begin to sting at your waterline as he looks up, your gazes meeting as you nod, bottom lip bitten tight between your teeth. "yeah, ‘m really pregnant.. gonna be a dad lo”

Sure, you'd had conversations in the past about this situation, had both agreed kids would be something you'd like to share one day, but you never actively began trying. Never fucked for the sake of conception. It had just.. happened.

A birthday celebration mixing with a slip up in taking your birth control- an accident you weren't sure you felt guilty for at this point, not with the look clouding over logans features.

Features soon shared by the little you or him growing inside you.

You wobble forward as Logans arms engulf your waist, pulling you toward him with the enthusiasm of a child receiving a toy they'd wanted forever.

Tears begin to stream down your cheeks, landing wetly on your fingers as they find home in the soft tufts of his hair.

“I’m gonna be a dad.." he murmers incredulous and full of wonder as his forehead presses into the fabric of your shirt. You dont know if hes talking to you or himself, but its just quiet enough for you to hear it through your now hiccuped sobs.

“Are you happy?” you sniffle, still slightly unsure. He feels you pull at his hair until his gaze meets you, chin resting gently on your ribs.

“shit sweetheart, yeah" he smiles and its bright on his face as he stands to hold you properly. Logans lips press against yours, the kiss filled with unspoken emotions as the addictive taste of him hits your tongue.

He holds you tightly at the waist for a few moments and its with trembling fingers he pulls back. His head dipping to look you in the eyes, touch twice as gentle when his hands come up from your sides to gently cup your cheeks. Calloused thumbs swiping at the tears that still fall "course I'm happy, are you?"

"Yeah. Yeah Im happy" you assure, teary eyes brightening. "beyond happy even"

A grin lights logans expression as he looks down, glittering as bright as the Christmas lights surrounding you.

"You know, I was.." he starts, clearing his throat as it crackles with emotion. "God i was just thinkin what a pretty momma you’ll make but.. you already are a momma huh.." one of his hands move again, deft fingers creeping under your shirt now until his large palm sits gently against the small swell of your stomach. Your heart skipping at the feel of the cool metal of his wedding band. "growing our kid in there..”

“Well, it’s technically sill early d-“ you go to say, but he cuts you off. “Your glowing already you know that sweetheart?"

His lips find yours again, fingers still cupping your jaw as his next words press against your mouth in a soft coo. "My beautiful girl.. Our baby's gorgeous momma"

Your arms wrap around his neck, swaying gently as love drunk grins adorn both your faces. The room filled with a new kind of excitement. A memory made you know both of you will remember forever. “i Love you Logan...” you affirm, hushed.

"Love you more sweetheart, like you wouldnt believe." he honeys back softly, stroking his thumb over your belly again "Giving me the damn world here"

Its silent then for a while after, appart from the crackle of the fire. Post dinner you both rest full, wrapped up in each others arms on the couch. you lying curled onto his chest.

Your fingers alternate drawing shapes and drumming on his left pectoral, wide grins still adorning your faces as you peek over at the test, photo, boots and flannel still sitting on the coffee table.

You hum softly then, breaking the silence with a simple whisper of his name. "Logan?"

He responds just as quiet, hand still not having left its new home on your tummy. "Yeah sweet girl?"

"Once i get huge.." you start with a teasing glint making logan cock a brow as he listens. "Im reserving the right to be carried around the house.."

That makes Logan chuckle, the louder rumble shaking beneath where you lay as you too break into a fit of giggles.

He shakes his head, lips kissing your hair softly as he speaks, still deeply amused. “Whatever you want momma, whatever you want."

Is this my best work? Fuck no, fluff is my kryptonite. But Was it a sweet thought? Yeaaa..

[gold-onthe-inside]

Christmas Request: Spencer catches wind that one of JJ’s kids (or his own kid) doesn’t believe in Santa, so he commits to growing out his beard, dying it white and dressing up as Santa to bring a lil holiday cheer to the kiddos - can be xOC

santa's little helper 🍬🎅

who? spencer reid (post prison) x bau!reader

summary: after finding out henry no longer believes in santa after he missed last christmas, spencer dedicates this year to bringing the magic of christmas back to his godson's life... with a little help from you, of course.

content warnings: fleeting reference to cat adams, a little kissing, spencer with a beard, ambiguous status of reader's relationship to spencer (could be a wife, fiance, girlfriend, up to you),

In the 12 years you've known Spencer, he's never been keen on growing facial hair, and it had never been something you'd thought twice about. And then Cat Adams had come into your lives and had been determined to ruin the happily ever after the two of had fought so hard to make. Spencer's prison sentence had rivalled only Emily's faked death in the pain it had caused you two, the only difference being that at least Spencer wasn't actually dead. The two of you were a month and a half away from the anniversary of his release, and he'd completely stopped shaving for that year, growing out his facial hair.

You hoped that if it was something serious, he'd have told you, or if not you, his mandated therapist. Besides, other than that, he was taking care of himself, eating well, had finally started sleeping better, you had nothing else to complain about. You'd brought the beard up a couple months ago, but his brow had furrowed in concern and his brown puppy dog eyes baring his heart to you when he asked if you didn't like it. "No, I do like it," you had insisted, which was true. You'd learned early on that Spencer could play around with his hairstyles and you found him no less attractive (just never ever grow out a mullet again, for the love of God).

You'd grown used to it, too, his scruff tickling you when he'd kiss you, which was practically every time he got the chance these days. It's your turn to host the Christmas Eve party and the two of you are going over the house with a fine tooth comb, armed to the teeth with cleaning supplies, and that's when you find the white hairspray, mid-way through your bathroom cleanse. Which would go well with the Santa suit tucked away in the back of his wardrobe. You knew Spencer had his silly moments - with his mismatched socks and magic tricks, and with the amount of times he's pulled stuff out of your ear just to make you smile couldn't be counted. But it felt out of character for him to spend the whole night you had planned (Secret Santa, dinner, and Christmas movies) with white hair and a beard.

He's using all the body strength he has in rigorously cleaning the kitchen floor, intent on making it so clean you could eat off of it, when you trudge downstairs, hairspray in hand. "Spence, is this yours?" you asked, skipping the last step, to the kitchen and he looked up, then froze at the sight of the hairspray.

"It's not what it looks like," he tried, sitting on his knees and you narrowed your eyes.

"It looks like you're planning to dress as Santa at some point," you said, leaning against the doorway, and you watched him stand up and pull off his gloves.

"Okay, yeah, maybe it is what it looks like," he said with a sigh, taking a seat on a bar stool. "Henry, uh, doesn't believe in Santa anymore, so JJ and I were planning to let him stay up tomorrow night and catch Santa in the act."

"Oh," you said, nodding at first, but then frowning a little. "I mean, what's wrong with Henry not believing in Santa? He's like, 9 years old. That happens."

"I know it's developmentally appropriate for him to be questioning these things," Spencer said, letting out another little sigh. "But that's not why he doesn't believe in Santa anymore."

Your frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, not quite meeting your gaze. "Last Christmas… he asked Santa for me to come home," he said quietly, almost ashamed. "And then when I wasn't there…"

"He stopped believing in Santa," you filled in the rest and he looked so sad. "Spence," you said softly, crossing over to hug him, setting the spray on the kitchen island. "It's not your fault."

"It is," he said, choking a little on his voice as he tucked himself into your arms.

"Honey, you were framed, it's not your fault," you insisted, rubbing his back.

"I just… I can't be the reason he doesn't believe in these things anymore," he mumbled into your shoulder.

"Okay, okay," you said, pulling away to look at him, your hands cupping his neck, thumbs stroking his bearded jaw. "Can I help?" His lips twitched into a smile at you.

"Well, um… Honestly, I think I'm gonna make a mess of the hairspray, and you did such a good job at Halloween with Jack's Cyberman costume--"

"I can do that," you murmured, kissing him gently, and his hands loosened to grasp your waist.

Now, here he sat in front of the mirror in the bathroom, watching you meticulously section and spray his hair, which was already damp from the shower.

"Did you know," he started, and you hummed in recognition that you were listening. "That Saint Nicholas was a real guy? He was Greek."

"The Greeks had saints?" you asked.

"Not really," he said, shaking his head as you sectioned out another piece of hair, coating it gently in white hairspray. "Not the kind you're thinking of, but Nicholas of Myra was real. Born in the third century. He apparently had a reputation for secret gift giving, like… leaving coins in people's shoes."

"Keep your head still," you chastised through a giggle.

"Sorry," he mumbled, tilting his chin up to keep still. "He died from natural causes in like, 340, which, for the time, was a good run. It was like… a hundred years later that he became a saint, but by then of course, all of the people who knew him personally were long gone."

"I hate when that happens," you murmured, shifting his chin so you could colour his beard next. "Appreciating people for what they've done after they've died."

"Well, he was very well respected during his life. The story goes that three separate couples were having financial trouble, and in those days, a daughter without a dowry would either never get married or would become a prostitute. So, according to the story, Saint Nick came in the middle of the night and climbed onto their roofs, and dropped three small pouches of gold down their chimneys."

"Honey, I'm gonna need you to be quiet or you're gonna taste hairspray," you said, colouring his jaw, just the hair around his lips left.

"Sorry," he said, his words muffled slightly, and you could see that he was trying desperately not to smile, his shoulders shaking. "I'm done," he said, and you were fairly sure the shake in his voice was from suppressed laughter.

You chuckle quietly, colouring the last of his beard. "All done, Mr Claus."

"How do I look?" he asked, getting out of the chair and taking a look in the mirror, his eyes going wide. "This looks incredible!"

"Yeah?" you asked, stepping away. Spencer had a habit of exaggerating your accomplishments, but you had done a pretty good job with his hair.

"You're a miracle worker," he said, turning to face you, and you could see his excitement. "Now, Santa needs to go get dressed." You chuckled, stepping out of the bathroom so he could get dressed, and sat by the foot of the bed, waiting.

When he reappeared ten minutes later wearing the Santa suit, the white hair and white beard you'd given him made him look like an old man, but there was a brightness in his eyes as he did a little twirl. "How do I look?" he asked, and in spite of how silly he looked, you couldn't help but find him handsome.

You laughed to yourself. "Perfectly in character. Though you could use a little belly."

"Are you saying I'm too thin?" he said, faking offence. He knew he was skinny but sometimes a little gentle ribbing was warranted.

"I'm just saying, Santa's supposed to be fat."

"I take good care of my cardiovascular health, thank you very much," he said, and he looked so ridiculous in the suit, with the white hair and beard, that you were unable to take the conversation seriously. "You know, the modern version of what Santa's supposed to look like was invented in the nineteenth century," he said, his hands on his hips, still very much in character. "Before then, Saint Nick was usually described as an older, slender man, and before that, he was more of a demonic black man. It's only in the fifties that the modern image of Santa was created."

"Okay, okay," you said, holding your hands up. "Skinny Santa it is." You checked your watch. "We should go before Henry actually falls asleep."

Spencer's expression went from Santa to slightly terrified very quickly. "Crap, is it time already?"

"Relax," you assured him, kissing his cheek before leading the way out. "It's just a little breaking and entering. You leave the gifts, you slip right back out."

"Just a little breaking and entering," he repeated dryly. "Why doesn't that make me feel better?"

You snickered quietly, grabbing your coat and car keys. "For someone who's supposed to be a hardened felon, you're so innocent."

He took offence to that. "Hey," he said, as you both started out of the house. "I was incarcerated for three months. I am very much street wise now."

You opened the passenger side door for him. "Streetwise? Really?"

He climbed into the passenger seat, sticking out his tongue at you as you shut the door.

"I know all about the street life," he said, as you got into the driver's side. "I know how they talk, I know what they do, I know..." His voice trailed off as you shot him a look. "Okay, so maybe everything I know about the street life comes from television."

You couldn't help another laugh as you started the car.

His lips curled into a smile when he saw your reaction, and he leaned across the middle of the car to kiss your cheek. He sat back in his seat and you began the short trip to JJ's house. "Alright, JJ said she's gonna leave the back door open," you said, going over the plan with the same gravity you used for unsub takedowns. "There's cookies and milk left on the kitchen counter. The tree's in the living room."

"Got it," Spencer said decidedly, nodding. "Cookies, milk, tree, simple."

You turned off the headlights as you approached the house, killing the engine across the street. Spencer got out of the car and jogged across the street, ducking around the side of the house. He found the back door like you'd said, and went inside, very much in undercover Santa mode. He went into the kitchen, making for the counter where the cookies and milk were, and that's when he heard it. Quiet footsteps coming down the stairs. Spencer panicked, trying to find a place to hide, but there really wasn't one. The cookies and milk were left in the middle of the counter, there weren't any cupboards or anything of the sort. He was stuck, with only the Christmas tree as a possible cover. There was nothing he could do but hope that whoever was coming downstairs didn't flip on the light as he dove behind the tree.

The footsteps stopped, and Spencer held his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as the Christmas tree needles dug into his skin. He could see a pair of little feet in front of him. They weren't JJ, which could only mean- "Mr Claus?" the little voice said, and he shut his eyes, praying to something, anything that he hadn't been caught by Henry.

After a long moment, he peeked out from behind the tree, only to find Henry staring right at him. "H-hi," Spencer stuttered. "I-I didn't realise you'd be awake."

Henry's eyes went wide. "I-It's really you." He had that childlike glee that came with finding out about the magic of Christmas, and while Spencer would usually give anything to have that look come back on Henry's face, this was a little inconvenient.

"Ah, I-I mean," Spencer fumbled over his words, trying to come up with a valid reason he would be in JJ's house at this moment, wearing a Santa suit and munching on cookies. "Um..."

"Where's your reindeer?" Henry asked, completely enthralled by Spencer, and he realised that he actually hadn't thought of a cover story to accompany the Santa suit.

"Oh, they're in the- they're in the sleigh," he said, and even he thought it sounded stupid when he said it out loud. "They're getting a rest while they can."

"The ride must be hard," Henry said, and Spencer was quietly impressed by that. He was just as smart as his parents, and he probably would have called him out on his lie if he'd given an excuse about a magic sleigh.

"It sure is," Spencer said, trying to keep his voice calm, and he hoped that the rest of the night wasn't going to be as awkward as this interaction had been so far. "Do you mind if I finish eating these? I only get so many breaks tonight." It was the sort of thing he could imagine a real Santa saying and Henry's eyes widened at that.

"Oh, of course," he said, stepping back. "I, uh, need to go to the bathroom." And then Henry was running upstairs. Once he was sure the kid had walked away, Spencer leaned against the wall, letting out a sigh and he silently hoped that you weren't watching him struggle. He finished off the last of the milk and the cookies, and, once he'd composed himself, he made his way to the living room and over to the Christmas tree. He dropped the bag of gifts under the tree, just as he was supposed to.

Meanwhile, Henry was upstairs, trying to get JJ to wake up. "Mom, Mom," he said, shaking his mother gently. "Wake up, Mom, you gotta see this."

JJ grumbled as she got up, Will shifting beside her, but still deep asleep. "What is it, Henry?"

"Santa is downstairs," he said in an excited whisper.

"He is?" JJ asked, rubbing her eyes and yawning a little, Henry pulling her out of bed with all his might.

"Yep. He's downstairs in the living room," he said, dragging her out of bed, and he wasn't kidding because his strength was remarkable. JJ let her son pull her down the stairs, neither of them seeing Santa sneak out the back door. He jogged across the street to the car, getting inside. You watched him in mild amusement as he shut the door, and he was slightly out of breath, which was a comical combination with the Santa suit.

"Mission accomplished?" you asked, a smile on your lips.

"I got caught," he breathed, his voice sounding slightly panicked, and your smile faded into concern as you realised he was serious. "But I think I covered it."

"Did he realise you weren't Santa?" you asked.

"I don't think so," he said, and he did seem a little unsure. "He didn't mention anything about it, and he seemed excited by me being there, but I honestly don't know. It's probably a fifty-fifty chance that he realized it was me."

Meanwhile, Henry had dragged his mom downstairs to an empty living room. "I swear he was here," Henry protested, and JJ was still half-asleep and only slightly confused. "I-I saw him."

"M sure you did, baby," JJ murmured. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"No, I did see him!" Henry said, looking around the living room. He ran into the kitchen. "And he was eating the cookies and the milk!"

"Well, he probably left, Henry," JJ reasoned, following him. "He's got a lot of kids to deliver to."

The wonder on Henry's face was replaced with disappointment, and JJ pulled the nine year-old into a hug. "I know it sucks, baby," she said. "But I'm sure Santa will have left you lots of gifts." Henry huffed, pouting, and JJ smiled down at his adorable expression. "Come on," she said, starting up the stairs. "Back to bed, kiddo."

Once they reached upstairs, Henry climbed into bed, and JJ tucked him in. He looked slightly upset, but JJ planted a kiss on his forehead. Even at nine-years-old, he still wanted to believe in Santa. "So, you believe in Santa again?" JJ asked.

"I told you," Henry said, his voice indignant, sounding very much like his father. "I saw him."

JJ couldn't help a smile, ruffling his hair. "I know."

He gave her a sleepy smile, and then yawned, snuggling down into bed. “Goodnight, mom,” he mumbled.

"Goodnight, baby," JJ murmured. She watched him for a moment, waiting for that slow rise and fall of his chest that meant he was breathing like only the asleep could, and once she was sure he was asleep, she tiptoed out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind her, thanking Spencer in her head.

[tealvenetianmask]

Is there stigma about mental illness in Hell?

Personal bit: I've had chronic depression and anxiety for my entire adult life, and I used to guard it as this big secret, but now I have friends and coworkers who are understanding and have their own issues. And I work in a helping profession where I see that dealing with this stuff is just really fucking common. But recently I've had a bit of culture shock hanging out with my family, and realizing that... oh wait, we still treat our mental health issues like deep dark secrets and refuse to talk about them and/or seek help. And that's the only acceptable way to act. Okay. Thanks guys.

Personal ramble aside, yes, mental health stigma is still an issue in America, 2024 (obviously). And thanks to Sinsmas, I'm convinced that it's an issue in Vivzie's Hell too, in a way that's pretty reflective of how real contemporary society treats it.

Stolas chooses not to tell Blitz about his happy pills. We find out as the episode progresses that he never told Via either.

And plenty of arguments could be made about Stolas just not wanting to burden the people he cares most for. Not wanting Via to worry about him. Not wanting Blitz to be put out financially by tracking down the pills. But I think there's a level of embarrassment here too, and here's why.

Stolas has spent his life being told to bottle up his emotions, and we have evidence of this. We've also seen him struggling to hide his emotions from Blitz before, turning his back in The Full Moon, and straining when forcing himself to stop crying in Apology Tour.

Is the cultural aversion to displays of emotion just an upper class thing in Hell? I think the answer is "sort of." There are ways in which a Goetia is expected to behave, and lower-class demons have more freedom.

BUT

It's not really that simple. We saw toxic masculinity coming from Millie's parents and from Crimson, and that kind of attitude sort of goes hand in hand with mental health stigma. We also saw Verosika say this-

Which shows a certain attitude toward seeking treatment . . .

And Blitz ALSO has a preoccupation with acting like he's fine and can handle things without help that seems very grounded in sort of a working class, "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" attitude. (Bye to all that by Ghostfuckers..)

This has all been a very long way of saying that yes, mental health stigma in Hell is significant and affects our characters.

So what role does discovering Stolas's pills play for Via?

She takes them as confirmation of her fear (one she already had a lot of evidence for, to be fair...) that Stolas stayed in a miserable marriage for 17 years just for her. And more- that she was "never enough" to make him happy.

And she's right but. She's oversimplifying it. She did make her dad happy. When someone's suffering, from abuse, from mental illness, from . . . literal society . . . one wonderful relationship is still not going to make their life a happy one.

Beyond Stolas's specific situation, people with great lives sometimes need happy pills. People's lives are multifaceted, and that's a lot for a young person to understand sometimes.

So if Octavia had grown up in a situation where people . . . idk, talked about mental health and didn't stigmatize emotions . . .?

Yeah, I think she'd react differently to the happy pills. But more importantly, the level of secrecy wouldn't be the same. Stolas would have been more open about his range of emotions and about needing pills, and in countless other ways this situation would have played out differently.

And now I'm tying myself in knots trying to imagine Goetia culture WITHOUT mental health stigma. I don't think it would exist in the same way at all. Quick, someone get an army of excellent mental health professionals and assign them to every single member of Hell's aristocracy.

[achilles-rage]

achilles-rage’s twelve days of christmas

day twelve: have yourself a merry little christmas (ft. evan buckley)

summary: spending christmas eve with your boyfriend, evan buckley.

word count: 1.6k

series masterlist

a/n: so sorry this is late, my grandparents just got here for christmas and i’ve been spending time with them!! and if i’m not online tomorrow, merry christmas!! i love and appreciate you guys so much, you have no idea!! enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

Despite all the disorder and chaos the holidays bring, Buck loves everything about it. He’s often stressed about finding the perfect gifts for his loved ones, but the pure, unfiltered joy it brings him to see his friends and family happy always makes him completely forget about the hunt to find said gifts.

Coming home from work on Christmas Eve this year, however, felt off. His heart felt warm as he left work; feeling the brisk December air, seeing the multicoloured lights, and watching those around him frantically searching for last minute gifts and turkey dinner ingredients. He was only pulled back to his own Christmas Eve when he got to his apartment, remembering that you’re working late tonight, and he won’t be able to spend the night with you.

His face lights up, however, when he opens the door to Christmas music playing, and you standing in the kitchen in an apron, rather than a dark, empty house.

“Merry Christmas Eve, baby.” you say in a sickly-sweet voice, looking up from your mixing bowl to give him a wide grin.

He drops his bag and crosses the apartment to give you a kiss, unable to say anything as he wraps his head around the fact that you’re right here. He could already see his night in his head; all of his friends were spending the nights with their own families, so he’d be sat on the couch, all alone, wishing you were beside him in your matching Christmas pajamas.

“I thought you had to work?” he says when he pulls back from the kiss, one hand finding its home on your hip. 

You drop the spatula in your hand and raise your shoulders, giving him a cheeky smile. 

“I may have wanted to surprise you. My boss told me I could go home early, so I figured I’d keep it a surprise. I thought we could-” you explain, but you’re cut off by his lips on yours again, his shirt most definitely getting covered in flour and sugar as he presses his body against yours.

His kiss is slow and passionate, and it makes your head spin as his cologne invades your every sense. You haphazardly raise your hands to his wrists in a desperate attempt to ground yourself as he holds your face in his hands, and the stubble that scratches along your chin and your cheeks makes you shiver.

“This is the best surprise ever.” he murmurs as he pulls back, looking down at you with a dazed smile. 

He then looks down at the cookie dough on the counter, and smirks as he dips a finger into the bowl and raises a glob of it to his lips. You roll your eyes with a soft laugh, then push him away and take the mixing bowl back into your arm to keep him away from it.

“Hey, stop that! These are for dinner tomorrow.” you tell him sternly, although the smile threatening to make its way onto your face betrays you. You’re going over to Athena and Bobby’s tomorrow for Christmas, and you desperately want to make sure you don’t run out of sweets.

“I don’t think anyone will mind if we’re one cookie short.” he tries to reason, taking a step forward. You step away again, a quiet giggle escaping your lips as he lunges at you and wraps his arms around your plush middle.

“What about 10 cookies short? I know you; you always eat them when they come out of the oven.” you argue, raising your shoulders to protect your neck as he drops his head and begins to press sloppy kisses to your neck, his stubble tickling your skin.

“Quality check.” he mumbles against your skin, and you laugh again, trying to squirm out of his grip.

“Buck, I’m serious.” you get out through breathless laughs, feeling your heart rate increase at the feeling of being wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms.

“And I’m in love with you.” he purrs, pressing one last kiss to your neck before pulling away reluctantly. He looks at the big smile and your face, and his chest swells with pride. He loves being able to make you a giggling and flustered mess with just a few kisses.

“And I love you. Now, please, can you get started on dinner while I finish these?” you ask him sweetly as the oven dings to signal it’s reached the right temperature.

“You’re no fun.” he teases, but complies, making his way to the fridge to pull out ingredients for dinner.

“Hey, I came home from work early for you. And, I bought more cocoa powder at the store so we can make homemade hot chocolate and drink it while we watch Christmas movies in our matching Christmas pajamas, which I also bought for us.” you argue in a teasing tone, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He beams over his shoulder at you, and he has to resist the urge to pull you into him again at the thought of spending Christmas Eve with you on the couch, wrapped in each other’s arms with no worries or stress.

“You’re the best.” he tells you with a wink, balancing the food in his arms before dropping it on the kitchen counter.

“Damn right, I am.” you tell him with a smirk.

You both continue to work around each other in the kitchen, falling into a comfortable silence as the soft hum of the Christmas music envelopes you. 

When the cookies are done and cooling on the counter, and your bellies are full from the dinner Buck had made, you go upstairs to change into your pajamas. While Buck’s consist of pajama pants and a t-shirt, yours are shorts with the same pattern, and a long sleeve shirt.

You sit on the counter as Buck makes the hot chocolate, swinging your legs absentmindedly as you talk about your days, and the plan for tomorrow. You sit close enough to the stove that Buck can keep a hand on you when he’s stirring the hot chocolate, at his insistence, of course, letting him run his fingers over the soft flesh of your thighs.

Every now and then, you pull him towards you, distracting him momentarily with a kiss as you wrap your legs around his waist. He melts into the kiss each time, the task at hand slipping his mind as he gets wrapped up in you, but he always pulls away before the hot chocolate burns, and you’re not sure how it hasn’t burnt already.

You bring your hot mugs to the couch once it’s ready, and curl up under lots of blankets, sides pressed together as you rest your head on his shoulder and he extends his arm behind you on the couch. 

“What movie should we watch?” Buck asks as he turns on the TV, beginning to scroll through movies.

“How about It’s a Wonderful Life?” you ask, eyes following the flipping of movie titles passing on screen.

“What?” he says, brows furrowing as he looks down at you. Your brows furrow as well, and you look up at him quizzically, eyes searching his face.

“You’ve never seen It’s a Wonderful Life?” you ask in disbelief, letting your jaw drop as he shakes his head.

“No? Was I supposed to?” You sit up straight, hot chocolate in hand threatening to spill over the edge of the mug as you stare at him, completely dumbfounded.

“It’s a classic, I used to watch it every year growing up. What kind of movies did you watch as a kid?” you ask, turning your body completely to face him. He shrugs sheepishly, then looks down at his lap, feeling a little embarrassed.

“We never really celebrated Christmas much. I mean, there were presents and stuff, but there were never any traditions or anything. My parents got even more upset and distant around holidays, which makes sense now, I guess. But at the time, I just didn’t really see the point in celebrating Christmas if all it did was make my parents sad.” Your eyes soften at his words, and you feel a pang in your chest as you picture a little baby Buck wondering why his house seems to be the only one not filled with joy and laughter.

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry.” you whisper, a frown on your face. You move your fingers up to his chin and force his face back up, ducking your head a little until his eyes are back on yours. “We should make some new traditions, give you a real, happy Christmas.”

“Like homemade hot chocolate?” he replies, a small smile coming back onto his face. It’s true, his Christmases were never great, but now, with you, he’s extremely excited about the holidays.

“Yeah, and Christmas movies in matching pajamas.” you reply with a smile, leaning in to kiss him softly.

He hums as he kisses you back, and when your hand comes up to rest on his cheek, he lets out a content sigh. This has got to be the best Christmas ever. He has everything he could ever wish for right here in front of him.

“Sounds perfect. As long as it’s with you.” he tells you sincerely when you both pull away. 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks at his words, and you bite your lip, as you stare into his eyes, entranced.

“Merry Christmas.” you whisper, then move to face the TV again, settling against him.

“Merry Christmas.” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before resting his head on top of yours and clicking play on the movie.

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[10yrratiolover]

some more Ratio headcanons since I can't make a more in depth post just yet!

I think he'd sleep with several pillows, he likes to think it's to help with proper positioning/skeletal & muscle support but he actually just likes having multiple

This one might make less sense since it's a liiittle protection-y but I think he'd prefer smaller rooms over bigger ones, bigger rooms feel more overwhelming since it feels like he sort of has to make use of all the space (idk how to explain it proper I just like being crushed in smaller spaces, I'm like the opposite of claustrophobic)

Big fan of birds I think, besides the owl motifs of his actual character

As a kid he didn't like playing with other kids that much since they 'didn't play right' and it would upset him when things went off his mental script

Used to be really insecure about his appearance as a kid/teen, he never really got over it he just stopped caring since he had bigger issues to deal with

He keeps and finds a use for every single gift he's gotten from one of his students, still uses a #1 Teacher mug he got like 7 years ago

He remembers all his students, regardless of if they ended up passing or failing, some of them come and visit him every once in a while to catch up

He's a plant mom and he takes great care of them

Has several things that are basically only used for one thing since he likes the routine of it (ex. he only drinks at certain type of tea out of this one specific mug, no other mug will do.)

Nobody can convince me he doesn't sleep naked, fancy/expensive pajamas be damned

Never thought hard enough about his sexuality since he had bigger issues, but I think he'd be asexual and either sex positive or neutral on the idea on actually having sex

I think he'd own a cat, she's named Vela after the constellation, she's absolutely spoiled to heaven and back

[blu3-ja3]

Hi so! Here's a bit of setup for my Cursed Gotham Story... Actually good father Bruce Wayne cause I say so.

So everything is normal for Bruce's backstory, has a happy childhood blah, blah, blah, until his parents are murdered. Travels the world young and becomes Batman once back from his travels, being trained by the league of assassins and Ra's Al Ghul. He becomes the vigilante at 16, developing a non-lethal style of fighting over the next 2 years before he goes to the circus. Dick's family is murder, Bruce at 18 adopts Dick who's 7. I like the idea that Bruce is still a little new to the vigilante stuff, like he's only recently given the mantle of Batman and befriended Commissioner Gordon.

Dick is definitely still murder vengeance Robin to start, like Dick is the most feral Robin and I will always stand by that. Kid is a menace to the goons of Gotham and is absolutely horrifying, more so than Batman himself. Like maniacal laughter while bouncing around performing amazing feats of acrobatics. Nothing to flashy but the kid has a lot of energy. Bruce forms the Justice League and keeps up play-boy himbo Brucie Wayne. Also I think Bruce homeschooled for a bit until Dick was like in his early tweens then Bruce realizing Dick has no friends and has him forms the Teen Titans.

So those two stumbled around as Batman and Robin for like 9 years, Dick's 16 and Bruce is 27 when Bruce adopts Jason who's 9. Dick and Bruce have a discussion about Dick passing on the mantle of Robin and him becoming his own vigilante. Grayson gets some time to decide and Bruce even tells him he doesn't have to give up the mantle or even keep being a vigilante. They compromise and come up with the Red Robin mantle while Dick decides on his path.

Jason is killed by Joker when he's 14, Bruce(32) nearly kills Joker but Superman stops him. This is part of the reason Gothamintes dislike Supes cause wtf do you mean you're stopping him??? Anyways Dick(21) stops vigilanting to grieve his little brother and asks Bruce to stop as well. Bruce continues being Batman not stopping for a moment. Bruce has a 'public' closed casket funeral for Jason after a few months of Robin's death, claiming he's been killed by illness hence the not showing for events as the Wayne's. Gotham is grieving cause they've lost Robin to the Joker and Jason Todd - Wayne to illness.

Timothy Drake at 7 (Tim is smart it's well established) finds Dick Greyson and begs him to stop Batman or help him because he's nearly killing people. Dick is dismissive so Tim goes to Bruce himself and tries to convince him after months of murderous Batman. Bruce gives Tim the mantle of Robin and still doesn't properly address his grief. Dick with the help of Tim and Alfred convince Bruce to stop for a bit. They all agree to the conditions that they'll step in and help Gotham in his absences as Batman. Barbra Gordon(20) becomes Batgirl to help Dick as Batman and Tim is still Robin.

Bruce leaves to travel, meets Talia outside of the LoA by chance, they have a small relationship then an argument causing them to break up. Bruce is back in Gotham after a few (5-6) months of travel. Dick becomes Nightwing after handing the mantle of Batman back over to Bruce. Tim is kidnapped at 9 and turned into Joker Junior, Bruce officially adopts Tim after the Drake's give up rights not wanting to deal with Tim's recovery. Barbra is paralyzed by The Joker and Jim Gordon learns about the Wayne's. Superman yet again stops Batman and Nightwing from offing Joker, Harley Quinn willingly goes through rehabilitation at Arkham after what happened to Tim.

Barbra at 22 becomes Oracle, Selena Kyle and Bruce Wayne start their relationship. Tim takes up the mantle of Robin at 13 after a lot of recovery. Stephanie Brown is Robin during Tim's recovery. Cassandra Cane(14) becomes Black Bat when Stephanie Brown(12) becomes Spoiler after Time becomes Robin again. Duke Thomas (13) becomes the Signal (Daytime Bat!)

Damien at 8 appears at Bruce Wayne's (40) with Talia is carrying a freshly revived Jason(22) whom she stumbled across while coming to Bruce for help. Talia explains to Bruce her father's plans to possess Damien's body. She also explains how a few months before she took her planned leave Jason kinda stubbled into the picture. Talia was nursing him back to health before Ra's just dumped him into the Lazarus pit. Now he needs to be cared for and Talia is in too much danger to help him.

Bruce takes in both boys, Damien and Jason are out for a few months as they both recover. Tim(15) is asked if he'd like to become Red Robin, while Damien becomes Robin. Tim agrees and goes on patrol with the rest of the bat family around Gotham. Jason is still recovering but helps Barbra with being the Oracle.

SO! This is my rough background for the Batfam for my Cursed Gotham story! Jason's story is the one that changed the most but there's a reason for that... I'm excited for this!

Everyone ages when we pick up in our story.

Bruce: 40

Dick: 29

Jason: 22

Tim: 15

Damien: 8

Stephanie: 14

Cassandra: 16

Duke: 15

Barbra: 38

Jim: 68

Alfred: 70

Cursed Gotham Masterpost

[btsgotjams27]

late nights | knj

summary: late nights with namjoon turn into a heated session when you’re in need of a stress-reliever.

✨ title: late nights (don't push your luck couple) ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: pwp, smut, co-workers, enemies to (maybe) lovers ✨ rating: R (MDNI!!) | ✨ word count: 2.9k ✨ warnings: cursing, fingering, oral (m. & f. receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected penetrative sex, (some) begging, use of pet names (baby, darling), both are playful in their words but ofc there are feelings ✨ author's note: after watching the rpwp docu, i haven't been able to stop thinking about this man 🫦 so here's a horny word vomit. excuse my writing because it's been a minute, so i apologize in advance if it's no good 🙃 i'm also tagging @kingofbodyrolls bc i promised i would when this came out <3 <3

[ SERIES MASTERLIST ] | previous ~ pitch fest

Late nights with Namjoon were becoming a regular affair—for work, not for play, at least for tonight.

The pair of you crunching numbers and proposing an improved business plan for next week’s investors meeting had your panties in a twist. The past year in publishing proved to be a lot harder than expected—you didn’t realize how tough this industry was without a big name behind you.

Your nose is scrunched and your eyes are focused as you’re furiously scanning the presentation for errors. Namjoon stares you down then covers your hands with his. “Your eyes are going to pop out of your head if you don’t slow down.”

“We have too much to lose. This presentation has to be perfect or else we’ll lose the company.” As you continue on, ensuring the slides are flawless, you can only feel Namjoon’s dragon eyes burning through you.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re gonna eat me.”

Namjoon chuckles and leans forward. “Because I do—want to eat you.”

You’re not gonna lie—your panties are twisted because of this presentation, but now they’re soaked too. You hate how easily you crumble under his words, but you won’t let him see just how easily you can come undone.

“I’m gonna kick you out of my place if you don’t stop,” you threaten, continuing to type away.

The wooden chair legs scraped against the hardwood floor as Namjoon stood up, his footsteps echoing behind you as he walked closer. “What exactly are you working on anyway?” he asks, leaning down so close you can smell the cologne that you love on him.

Clearing your throat, you reply with a gulp, “Just…the presentation.”

Honestly, you’ve spent too much time finding the perfect font, but does it really matter at this point? Investors won’t give you money because they liked your presentation looks, it’s about how much they’ll have in their pockets.

His presence overwhelms every hair on your body, and when his hands begin to massage your shoulders, you’re practically melting into a puddle. “You’re so tense.”

One hand continues to rub circles on your nape, causing you to groan. “Fuck…” you hiss when he reaches a knot. “Joon…” you whine.

He hums, then proceeds down your spine. The pads of his fingers wrap around your torso, dangerously close to the underside of your breasts. You’re already imagining him taking a handful and giving them a good squeeze.

Your eyes flutter shut as he continues. His thumbs pressing deeply into your back—you’re convinced he’ll leave marks just like how you do to him. It’s embarrassing when you see the red scratch marks peeking from under his dress shirt at work, however it does give you the satisfaction when he meets with an attractive author or investor and they just happen to see it as well. You’re petty and you know it.

The soft groans escaping your lips are undignified. But it goes to show just how much stress you’ve been under—you’re like a volcano bubbling, getting ready to burst and overflow, overtaking everything surrounding you, and Namjoon is the not-so-innocent bystander.

His lips barely touch the shell of your ear and he asks in a low whisper, “You okay?”

You’re not okay. You need more.

More of him. Touching you everywhere. Having you in any way that he wants. You’ll do anything no questions asked.

Your dignity—nonexistent.

Your morals, values—what the hell is that?

You need Kim Namjoon to fulfill every single fantasy you’ve had and it’s more than you like to admit.

And before you know it, your hands cover his, tugging them forward, encouraging him to do as he pleases, and he does so willingly. With ragged breaths, you relish in his touch, softly uttering his name under your breath.

Namjoon leans down from behind, kissing your shoulders and squeezing your breasts. A small whimper leaves your lips as his big, warm hand reaches down your top to the pert, pebbled nipple just aching for more of him.

You’re well aware of your actions when you chose to wear your dusty blue pajamas that match perfectly. The bow tie top is overly available for Namjoon to access. You noticed his eyes wandering throughout the night, and now you’re ready for him to strip you bare.

His plush lips leave trails of kisses down your neck, making you lean back into him. 

“Joon…” You’re embarrassed at how easily his name rolls off your tongue—maybe you’ve been practicing too much at night by yourself.

He hums before kissing your shoulders and pulling your top to feel the warmth of your skin beneath his mouth. When you turn around to look for his lips, they are drawn to each other like magnets and refuse to part. You stand, snaking your arms around his frame.

Namjoon breaks the kiss, causing you to groan. “I like you like this.”

“Like what?” you ask with an exasperated sigh.

“Whiny. Needy.” He smirks, knowing he has you wrapped around his finger, though you’d rather have something else wrapped around his finger at the moment.

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

He leans in, his lips ghost over yours, barely touching. He’s teasing, wanting you to beg for it, but you don’t give in. You swipe your tongue against his bottom lip, hoping he caves and gives you what you want. He smiles against your lips, his warm breath fanning you.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. You can feel the rumble of his words against your chest, sending a shiver down your spine. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging gently, urging him closer. He resists, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, a challenge he wants to win.

“Maybe,” you breathe, refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting how much you want this—him.

Namjoon chuckles. His hand slides up underneath your top, fingertips tracing your spine. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, lips brushing against your ear.

Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers dance along your skin. The heat of his body, the teasing touches, it’s all too much, making it hard to string along coherent words.

“You,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want you, Joon.”

His smile widens, triumphant yet tender. “Was that so hard?” he teases, but there’s a gentleness to his tone that makes your heart flutter.

Before you can respond, his lips crash against yours, passionate and demanding. The kiss is everything you’ve been craving—hot, deep, and overwhelming. Your fingers tighten in his hair as you pull him closer, eliminating any remaining space between your bodies.

His hand at your back presses you firmly into him, and you’re savoring the fact that his erection is throbbing against you. He wants you just as much as you want him.

When you finally break apart, both gasping for air, his forehead rests against yours.

“Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting to fuck you tonight?,” he utters, his voice rough with lust. His hands roam your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You arch into his touch, craving more.

“Cocky, are we?” you challenge, your hands sliding down to his throbbing cock, giving it a good squeeze. “Just because I want you doesn't mean I wanna fuck you. What if I just wanna cuddle?” you utter the worst lie known to man. Joon knows all your bullshit.

He growls low in his throat, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Yeah? Don't want me to fuck you, hm?”

In one fluid motion, he lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carries you toward the bedroom, his strong arms supporting you effortlessly. As he lowers you onto the soft sheets, his dragon eyes never leave yours, burning into you with an intensity.

Your hand toys with the end of the tie on your top, slowly undoing them, slipping the top off your shoulders, revealing your breasts. This isn’t your first time sleeping with Namjoon, but somehow you feel even more exposed. You’ve denied your feelings for so long, and you think you’re ready to bear it all. Maybe even give him a piece of your heart.

“Thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” He asks, voice proud as he cocks his head.

His eyes don’t wander down to your chest—not yet, they’re still fixated on you. He removes his sweatshirt, exposing his taut and toned body, and the black Calvin Klein briefs shouldn’t be affecting you, but they are. His gray sweats sit low on his waist, and you want nothing but to tear it off of him.

The outline of his erection is demanding attention from you—eyes, mouth, and hands ready to feast upon the dessert you skipped tonight. You’re greedy. You don’t want to share with anyone, but you won’t let him know just how urgently your mouth wants to be wrapped around his cock.

You reach out, fingers grazing the waistband of his sweats. His breath hitches as you slowly pull them down, revealing more of those tempting briefs. Your mouth waters at the sight of his impressive bulge straining against the fabric. “Joon, fuck me or leave,” you demand, voice thick with need.

He steps out of the sweats, kicking them aside before joining you on the bed. His weight dips the mattress as he hovers over you. He leans down, tugging your pajama pants off. His hand traces the curve of your waist, and his finger is hooked underneath your lace undies.

His fingers tease along the edge of your lace underwear, sending sparks of electricity through your body. You arch into his touch, silently begging for more. Namjoon’s eyes darken as he watches your reaction, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, voice husky with desire. “I love how your body reacts to me.”

Slowly, torturously, he peels the lace down your legs, his fingers igniting glowing particles along your soft skin. You lift your hips to help him, desperate to feel his skin against yours. As he tosses the underwear aside, his gaze roams over your now fully naked body, appreciation and hunger evident in his eyes.

“Fuck—you’re so beautiful,” he breathes, leaning down to kiss your collarbone. His lips trail lower down your chest. When he reaches your breast, he takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

You gasp, arching into him as pleasure courses through you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as he lavishes attention on your breasts. His hand slides down the expanse of your stomach, teasing along your inner thigh before finally touching where you need him most.

A moan escapes your lips as his fingers explore your wet folds. He groans against your skin, clearly pleased by how aroused you are for him.

“So wet for me already?” His thumb finds your clit, circling it slowly as he slides a finger inside you.

“Ah!” you gasp, hips bucking against his hand. The dual sensation of his fingers working you and his mouth on your breast is overwhelming.

Namjoon lifts his head, eyes dark with lust as he watches you writhe underneath his touch. He adds a second finger, curling them inside you as his thumb continues its maddening circles.

“That’s it, baby.”

Your body arches off the bed as pleasure builds within you. Namjoon’s skilled fingers work you closer and closer to the edge, but it’s not enough. You need more. You need him. Inside you.

“Joon,” you pant, tugging at his hair to get his attention. You no longer care about your pride. “Please, I need you inside me.”

He looks up, shaking his head. “Not yet, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “I want to taste you first.”

Before you can say anything, his mouth is on you, tongue laving through your folds. You cry out, hands fisting in the sheets as he devours you. You moan louder, uninhibited, as he brings you closer to the edge. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re begging for.

He seems to understand, and with a final, deep thrust of his fingers, he withdraws them, leaving you aching and empty.

Fucking Namjoon. Of course, he doesn’t finish the job.

There’s a devious smirk on his face. He knows what he’s doing.

He removes his briefs, his impressive length springing free. You reach for him, wrapping your hand around his length and giving him a few slow strokes.

Namjoon groans at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. You flick your tongue before kissing the tip of his cock. Your lips wrap around him, taking him deeper, savoring the weight of him on your tongue. His hands tangle in your hair as you bob your head, alternating between long, slow strokes and quick, teasing licks.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hips jerking slightly. “Your mouth feels so good, baby.”

You hum around him, the vibrations making him shudder. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding your movements as you continue to pleasure him. You can feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming more ragged.

Just as you think he might finish, your pace fastens.

“Baby, baby, baby…” Namjoon stutters.

You continue to bring him to the brink before he has to pull away, making you pop off.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he rasps, leaning down to kiss you.

You can still taste yourself on his tongue, and it only heightens your arousal. Your hands roam his broad back, feeling the muscles beneath your fingertips.

“Condom?” he asks against your lips.

“I’m on the pill,” you breathe. “I want to feel all of you.”

It’s risky, you know that, but Namjoon is a risk you’re willing to take.

He groans, his forehead resting against yours. “Are you sure?”

You nod, pulling him closer. “I trust you.”

His eyes soften at your words because he knows you don’t give away your trust so easily.

He leans down, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, pouring every ounce of his emotion into it. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and you arch your hips, begging him to hurry.

You both moan into the kiss, overwhelmed by the sensation when he finally pushes into you.

“Fuck—” he mutters. He pauses for a moment, his breaths slowing down. He knows he needs to pace himself or he won’t last long.

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. Namjoon groans, burying his face in your neck as he begins to move. His thrusts are slow at first letting you adjust to his size, but soon pick up pace as your bodies find their rhythm.

“Could do this forever if you let me” he pants against your skin, nipping at your pulse point.

“Shut up.”

“Don't deny it, darling,” he persists with his teasing.

“Joon—shush!” You pull him down, crashing your lips against his, then you throw your head back, lost in the pleasure of having him inside you. Your nails rake down his back as he hits a particularly sensitive spot, causing him to hiss and thrust harder.

“Right there—” you gasp, holding in the moan you want to let out.

“Let me hear you,” he rasps.

Namjoon lifts his head, his dark eyes locking with yours as he continues to buck into you. The room fills with the sound of your moans, and the slap of skin on skin as he picks up the pace.

“Faster,” you plead, digging your heels into his lower back.

He obliges, his hips snapping against yours with increased fervor. The change in angle causes him to hit that spot deep inside you, making you roll your eyes back. It’s as if you’re flying through space, seeing stars go by as he pounds into you.

You feel the familiar tension building in your core, your body tightening around him. Namjoon seems to sense your approaching climax, his movements becoming more focused and deliberate.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, his voice strained with his own impending release. “Come for me.”

The pleasure builds inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. Namjoon’s movements become more erratic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

“Joon,” you moan. “I’m so close…”

His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your sensitive bud and rubbing tight circles. The added stimulation pushes you over the edge, and you cry out his name as waves of pleasure crash over you.

Your walls clench around him, and Namjoon groans deeply, his rhythm faltering. With a few more thrusts, he buries himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he finds his own release.

For a moment, you lie there, panting and intertwined. Namjoon’s weight on top of you is comforting, grounding.

But the moment doesn’t last long.

There’s a loud smack.

“Ow!” Namjoon exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he rolls on the bed, laying next to you. “What was that for?”

“As if you don’t know!” You roll over, facing away from him.

He cuddles you from behind. “Is it because I didn’t let you finish?”

Your non-answer speaks volumes.

Namjoon chuckles, throwing himself back on the bed. “You said you wanted me inside you. I was only doing what you asked. Am I wrong?”

You turn to him. “I hate you…” you say, in a sing-song voice.

He pulls you on top of him. “Oh, it didn’t sound like you hated me earlier.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he threatens, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Gladly,” you quip before kissing him.

You’re beginning to wonder if these late nights should move back to the office, so you don’t always end up sleeping with him. Regardless, you’re sure Namjoon will push his luck.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 43

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,225ish

Summary: You, Logan, Charles, and Laura are on the run.

Warning(s): canon violence, injuries, illusions to sex, Logan is jealous of a child

Reminder:��I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Logan stopped at a gas station as soon as he believed he had put a safe distance between the group and the smelting plant. Logan got out of the driver’s seat and got into the back of the limo. He was relieved to see that you were sound asleep, still breathing. He reached to take you from Laura, who was still caring for you, but she held tight and growled.

“That’s my wife you have your paws on, kid,” Logan retorted. “I’ve got to get that bullet out of her before—“

“Laura already took the bullet out,” Charles responded.

“What? When?”

“While you were driving.”

“Still.” He reached over to try to grab you again. Laura shook her head as she kept you near. “Damn it, kid!”

“It’s okay, Laura. He’s going to take care of her. He takes good care of us.” 

Charles shot Logan a soft smile, knowing that Logan had truly done so much to take care of everyone. Laura slowly released her grip, allowing Logan to pull you into him. He could hear the beat of your heart, allowing him to relax a bit.

“Logan, we need to talk,” Charles said after a moment. “Maybe you could give Laura some change for the mechanical horse.”

“Fine.” Logan pressed a kiss to your head before gently laying you back down. “Come on, kid.” 

Laura glanced at Charles, who gave an encouraging smile and nod before she followed Logan out of the limo. Logan led her to the mechanical horse and inserted a few coins, allowing her to ride it. 

“Stay put,” he ordered before heading back to the limo. “Come on, sweetheart,” Logan whispered as he knelt beside you in the back of the limo. “Wake up.”

“Logan?” You rasped, blinking.

“I’m right here… you had me scared there for a moment.”

“What—What happened?” You glanced down to see that your wound was healed, leaving behind a scar.

“Laura took out the bullet when you fell asleep.”

“Where is she?” You groaned as you sat up.

“You need to lie back down.”

“Logan. I’m fine. Where’s Laura?”

“She’s on the mechanical horse outside,” Charles responded.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s not my biggest concern at the moment,” Logan muttered, eyes still scanning you for more injuries.

“She should be,” Charles said. “Did you get any information from the woman she was with?”

“I got the woman’s phone.” 

Logan pulled it out of his pocket, surprised it at stayed there after the fight. He opened it up to see a video already pulled up. You sat up, leaning into Logan.

“You need your glasses,” you told him.

“Shit,” Logan muttered as he reached into the front and grabbed his glasses. He slipped them over his nose and looked at you over them. “Better?”

“Much.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. Then Logan pressed play.

“My name is Gabriela Lopez,” the woman on the screen introduced. “I’m a nurse. And for ten years, I worked for Transigen Research in Mexico City. Transigen is owned by an American company. What I am about to show you is illegal in the U.S. and Canada. They told us we were part of a pharmaceutical study. But, of course, that was a lie. These children were born in Transigen. They were born here, and have never left. They have never seen the sun or the ocean, rain or snow or any of God’s creatures. They have no birth certificates. No names, besides the ones we have given them. They were raised in the bellies of Mexican girls. Girls no one can find anymore. Their fathers are semillas geneticas, special seeds in bottles. We do not dress them up for Halloween. We do not call them ‘baby’ or kiss boo-boos. Don’t think of them as children. Think of them as things with patents and copyrights. They thought we were too poor and stupid to understand. We’re poor, yes, but we are not stupid. This is business. They are making soldiers. Killers. These are babies of mutants—“

As the woman spoke, the video showed different clips from the facility. The children of different ages and mutations. The children being trained and fighting. It broke your heart to see all of this. Laura came up in the video a few times, breaking your heart even further. The phone died before the video finished. Logan tore off his glasses and looked at Laura.

“North Dakota,” Charles stated.

“Mmm?” Logan hummed.

“You took that woman’s money. You said you would take the child there.”

Logan kept his eyes on Laura, watching her grow angry as the machine stopped. “What is she?”

“She’s your daughter, Logan.”

“Alkali…” You whispered. “Alkali has your genetic code.”

Logan’s worried gaze met yours. “Not just mine,” he said. He went to the door and opened it.

“Logan,” Charles called.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t wanna hear about it anymore.”

“Logan.”

“Just stop!”

“I have to pee.”

Logan huffed before grabbing the wheelchair out of the trunk and helping Charles into it. You got out and leaned against the limo, watching everything unfold. Laura was growing angrier at the machine as it refused to move more. She let her claws out of one fist and went to slam it into the controls, but Logan caught her wrist. Logan finished another quarter from his pocket and held it up.

“Last ride,” he told her.

Logan placed the coin in the insert, causing the mechanical horse to begin moving again. Logan and Laura glared each other down for a moment.

“You’re welcome,” Logan said before limping away to help Charles.

You shook your head, already exhausted from just watching Laura and Logan interact. Pushing yourself off of the limo, you came over to Laura.

“When the ride’s over, you want to go in and get some snacks?” You asked her. 

Laura nodded. When the ride was done, Laura took your hand and you led her inside.

“You can get whatever you want,” you said. “Don’t worry about what Logan may tell you.”

You walked around with Laura as she grabbed chips and a drink. Looking out the windows, you realized that Logan wasn’t back yet.

“I’ll go grab some money,” you told Laura. “Stay put.”

You went back to the limo, only to hear Logan shout back at the store.

“Not okay!” He was holding Laura’s wrist, whose claws were out. He dragged her out of the store. “Come on. Get in the car.”

“What happened?” You asked.

“She just tried to kill the worker. You need to be watching her.” He pushed her in your direction.

“Logan—“

“Let’s just go.”

~~~

You stayed in the back with Laura and Charles as Logan drove. You kept your gaze out the window. Laura sighed as she sided eyed you. Slowly, she moved over to your side and pulled at your hand.

“What is it, Laura?” You asked, trying not to sound exhausted.

She held up her palm and wiggled her fingers around. 

“She wants you to make a flame,” Charles said with a smile.

You held up your palm and made a small flame. “This?” You questioned.

Laura smiled and nodded. She watched with awe as the flame flickered above your palm. You were watching her reaction, that you missed the soft smile Logan had as he watched you from the rearview mirror. Charles noticed that Laura’s backpack was open. He reached in, pulling out X-Men comics. He smiled as he noticed they were mostly about you.

“Laura,” he called, motioning to the comics, “are you a fan?” Her enthusiastic nod caused Charles to chuckle and you to melt. “Yeah? I am, too.”

“Charles,” you shook your head with a scoff, unable to stop the smile.

“Logan though,” Charles motioned to the man driving, “she’s her biggest fan.”

Laura shook her head, causing you to laugh. You closed your palm, extinguishing the flame. 

“Get some rest,” you urged. Laura immediately cuddled into your side. 

You couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her to keep her close. You glanced up towards Logan, meeting his softened gaze in the mirror.

“You all should get some sleep,” Logan muttered. “I’ll keep driving.”

“You sure?” You asked.

“Get some rest, sweetheart.”

~~~

Logan drove to Oklahoma City, where the night life was bustling. Laura woke up and moved from your side to the window, staring at all the bring lights.

“Is this where we’re hiding out?” Charles asked.

“We’re not hiding out,” Logan responded. “We’re gonna get a couple of hours’ sleep, clean up, get some new clothes, get a new ride and get outta here.”

Logan pulled the limo up to the front of a Hotel and Casino. He got a suite with two rooms, two bathrooms, and a living room with a couch in the middle. On the way to the elevator to head there, Laura stopped in front of a store window, looking at the clothes.

“Come on, let’s go,” Logan urged. “Hey Laura.”

“We need clothes,” Charles said.

You placed a hand on Logan’s arm, catching his attention. “I’ll deal with the clothes,” you told him. “Why don’t you get everyone else upstairs and settled in? I’ll be right there.”

Logan was heavily debating on telling you no. But he was exhausted and needed to give Charles his meds. “Fine.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out some cash. “Let me know if you need more.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

You went over to Laura, who was still by the windows. “Go with Logan. I’ll grab the clothes and be right up.”

Laura hesitancy matched Logan’s, which was both cute and annoying. She shook her head and grabbed your hand. You sighed and looked back at Charles and Logan.

“I guess she’s staying with me,” you told them. You could see that Logan didn’t like that plan. “We won’t be long.”

With huff, Logan gave a nod and you headed into the store.

~~~

Logan had already cleaned up Charles and put him in to bed when you and Laura arrived with the clothes. You set the bags on the coffee table as Logan stepped out of the other room, downing a small bottle of alcohol. 

“Kid will sleep on the couch,” Logan said. “We get the bed in here.”

You nodded, looking Logan up and down. “You should get cleaned up.”

“So should you… I can wait until the morning.” 

Suddenly, Laura was back at your side, grabbing your hand. She tugged at it before placing it palm up. You laughed.

“Do you want a flame?” You asked. She nodded. You lifted up your other had and formed small flames in both of your palms. 

Keeping her eyes on your flames, Laura side stepped over to Logan and tugged at his jacket. She pointed at your flames.

“Yeah,” he gave you a soft smile. “She’s cool, kid.” He took her head and guided her to sit down on the couch. “Now, stay here. Sleep.”

You let Laura take one last look at your flames before you extinguished them. Logan took the needed steps over to you and took your hands. With a groan, he pulled you up.

“Come on,” he muttered, guiding you to the bedroom.

You turned your head. “Good night, Laura.”

Logan shut the door between the two of you and Laura before guiding you back to the bathroom and shutting that door. He wrapped you up in his arms and held you close.

“I thought you were going to die,” he whispered, failing to hide the shake in his voice.

“I’m right here, Logan,” you replied quietly. 

He pulled away quickly as he began to cough, using the counter to hold himself up. You placed a warm hand on his back and began rubbing circles.

“You’re getting worse,” you mumbled.

“I’m—“ he coughed, “fine.” He wiped off his lips with his jacket as he turned back to face you. His hands found your hips and pulled you into him. 

“We should get some rest. We can clean up in the morning.”

The two of you took some of your clothes off before stepping back into the bedroom. Both of you immediately noticed Laura sitting in the bed, waiting for the two of you.

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head. “There’s a perfectly good couch out there. Go.”

“Logan,” you giggled, “the bed is big enough.”

“Are you serious?”

“I can sleep in the middle. If you can’t handle it, there’s a perfectly good couch out there.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, hating how you used his own words against him. He already knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight, but he had least wanted to hold you close as he failed to sleep. Besides, he was also done fighting with you. It was taking too much out of both of you.

“Fine,” he sighed before pointing at Laura, “but stay on your side of the bed.”

Laura moved to one side, allowing you to crawl into the middle. Logan went around to the other side. Laura went to cuddle into you, but Logan quickly pulled you back into him.

“My wife,” he growled, tightening his arms around you.

You could sense the growing tension between the two and you quickly placed an arm out towards Laura and on arm on top of Logan’s. “There’s enough of me to go around,” you told them. 

You weaved your fingers through Logan’s as Laura wrapped around your outstretched arm. You watched as she fell asleep. Logan kissed your head before he buried his head into your neck. For that brief moment, there was a sense of peace and family in that room, causing you to fall asleep with a small smile on your face.

~~~

Logan was up first. He took care of Charles, changing him, before laying out Laura’s clothes. He took your new clothes and his into the bathroom. As he came around to pick you up from the bed, he noticed Laura carefully watching him. She was still gripping your arm. Logan went to pulled you into him when Laura growled.

“Stop that!” Logan scolded as quietly as he could. “I’m just trying to take care of her. I’m not gonna hurt her… She’s my wife. I love her.”

Laura hesitated a moment before she let go of your arm. Logan pulled you up into his arms and carried you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with his foot. You moaned as you began to come to. Logan set you on the counter and held you up.

“Logan?” You rasped.

“Hey, princess,” he gave you a small smile before pecking your lips. 

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of my wife, like I should be.”

Logan pulled off your shirt, revealing the new scar from the bullet wound. Logan’s calloused hand gently ran over the scar before he bent down and kissed it. You closed your eyes, inhaling sharply at Logan’s tenderness. He trailed kisses up your neck to your ear before pulling away.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. “Gotta start the shower.”

You nodded, giving Logan the signal to move. He moved as quickly as he could to get the shower on and remove his clothes before helping you with the rest of yours. Logan wrapped his arms around you, but you pushed against his shoulders.

“You can’t go carrying me around like you used to,” you said, running a hand through Logan’s hair. “It hurts you too much.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he responded. “Let me carry you until I die.”

Logan firmly kissed you as he carried you over to the large hotel shower. He held you up against the tile wall.

“Logan,” you breathed. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispered against your lips. “Let me show you.”

~~~

After some shower sex, you and Logan lovingly washed each other before getting ready for the day. Logan kept coughing, causing you to help him get dressed. You were grabbing his shirt when he began coughing into a towel. He pulled it away to see specks of blood on it. He quickly tossed it away, not wanting to worry you further, before downing another small bottle of alcohol. 

“Here,” you said, holding up the shirt. 

“I can do it,” he grumbled.

“I know, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be getting help.” As carefully as you could, you helped Logan put his shirt on, his flannel, and then his jacket. “There.” You fixed the collar. “Ready to save the world.”

His hands slid around your waist, tugging you into him. “I don’t want to save the world anymore… I just want to save my world.”

The two of you shared a kiss before exiting the bathroom. 

“I’ll go check on Laura and Charles,” you said, noticing Logan eying Logan’s bag and the files spilling out. You reached down and grabbed his glasses from the table, sliding them onto his face. “Mmm,” you hummed, “handsome.” You gave him another kiss before heading to the other part of the hotel room. 

Logan sat down on the end of the bed and began flipping through the files. The files held information on the mutant children, including Laura. It also confirmed that Logan’s genetics were used to create Laura. He tossed the files aside and continued looking in Laura’s bag. There were X-Men comics, most of them were about you. He flipped through one, the ending page catching his eye. You were in a wedding dress while Logan was pictured in a tux. The two of you were kissing at your wedding. Logan’s heart clenched at the thought of making it official. Grabbing the comics, Logan marched into the room which Charles was laying on the bed watching a movie and you were helping Laura tie her shoes.

“You read these in your spare time?” Logan questioned Laura, holding up the comics. “Oh, yeah, Charles, Y/N, we got ourselves an X-Men fan. Or, an Ember fan more like it. You do know they’re all bullshit, right? Maybe a quarter of it happened, but not like this. In the real world, people die! And no self-promoting asshole in a fucking leotard can stop it!”

“Logan,” you scolded.

“This is ice cream for bed-wetters!”

“Logan,” Charles tried.

“That nurse has been feeding her some grade-A bullshit.”

“She’s allowed to believe in the good of what we did, Logan,” you said. “We did do a lot of good… and even the good times end.”

Logan scoffed.

“I don’t think Laura needs reminding of life’s impermanence,” Charles added. “Did you say something about finding us a new ride?”

Logan picked up the pill bottle on the dresser and held it up. “Two more pills in one hour.” He threw them at Laura, who caught them. “Give ‘em to him.” He grabbed your hand and dragged you into the other room.

“You need to be nicer to her,” you whispered, growing angry at him. “She is your daughter.”

“No, she’s not. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Don’t leave the room.” He yanked you closer, crashing his lips against yours. “I love you.”

Logan slipped out of the room, leaving you standing there. Your hand went up to your lips, fingers brushing against them as the taste of alcohol and blood lingered on them.

next chapter >

[hxlxnaaa]

can i pretty please have the extended version of what happens in zaynes exclusive tutorial……. asking for a friend……..

ⁱ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ….

𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥

★ synopsis: an extended version of zaynes exclusive tutorial 5-star ;)

★ character: zayne

★ cw: first person pov, quickie SMUT!!!!, a lot of the dialogue is just taken from the card

★ word count: 3.5k

★ a/n: i literally have not wrote smut since i was at least 13...i lowkey blacked out writing this so if it sucks i'm so sorry. it was good practice though so ty for the request!

Internally, I was dreading this. As a Deepspace Hunter, low-key yet high end, relaxed events were not something I was accustomed to. While it was a nice change from the chaotic atmosphere of my own work, I couldn’t help but worry I may embarrass myself.

When Zayne first invited me, I was a bit surprised he’d ask me of all people. I was sure the man was convinced I’d, at some point during the night, make a fool of him and myself. Though I was pleased he thought of me, and honored to be chosen, it put the stakes of the night higher.

I tried to make myself as fancy as possible, without overdoing it, because I was convinced these people would know I was trying too hard. I mean, they were all top med school alumnus who probably made more in a day than I made in a year.

Walking in with Zayne, the club lighting was low with soft jazz playing in the background. I scanned the perimeter, and observed the people around. Nearly everyone had brought a companion, and I smirked to myself. Mentioning I could tell why he brought me along, I gestured for him to lean down to my level.

“Did you feel left out because everyone else brought someone? Is that why?”

Zayne looked back at me, “Yes. It’s why I invited you.”

“Lame… I thought you’d make up an excuse and deny it.

Bantering with him for a second, one of his classmates approached us. The two make small talk with each other, when the man finally introduces himself as Steven to me, reaching out for a handshake. Before I can even respond, Zayne quickly grabs my hand instead.

“Let’s find a place to sit down and talk.”

-

Sitting at the bar with Zayne and his classmates, I get to finally turn off my brain and just listen. All of them go on and boast about him, Steven particularly going on about his pool skills. Zayne sits comfortably with the attention, and it’s safe to assume he’s well accustomed to being the center of it all; though it didn’t last when I quickly caught his eye, as he gave me a helpless look.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?” He whispered to me, an edge to his voice that was practically begging me to get him out and away from these people.

Zayne grabs his drink, assuming I was going to agree, and I stop him. He gives me a confused look as I turn my body to fully face him. Deciding to have some fun, the drinks I’ve had giving me some liquid courage-

“I haven’t seen Dr. Zayne play pool either… Is he really that good?” I smiled at him.

He pauses, lips forming into a tight line, “Ah, so you’re ganging up on me.”

I was pushing the right buttons.

While another classmate comes up to Zayne, doting all over him like the others, as he goes on about “hands on learning” with him.

I smirk inwardly, taking a sip out of my wine glass. Oh yeah, I thought to myself, I’m gonna use that one.

After the man leaves, Zayne playfully pinches my ear, “I could see you eavesdropping from a mile away, did you find anything interesting?”

I looked up at him through my eyelashes, “I heard…” Pretending to think for a second, I looked around the room, then back at him, “you’re incredibly considerate to your juniors and are highly respected by everyone, Dr. Zayne”

He sighs, looking away, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. “I guess you can be nice…” I tapped his shoulder.

Zayne raises an eyebrow, “You guess? Do I not treat you well?”

Shrugging, I shake my head and raise my hands, feigning innocence, “It’s hard to say…” I take another sip out of my glass. “You never did any ‘hands-on’ learning with me.” Sticking out my lower lip in a pout, “And everyone says it’s an honor to be taught by you, sir…”

Putting down my wine glass, I sigh, “I wonder when I’ll get to experience it…”

“It seems you truly do want to learn about surgeries.” Zayne retorts.

“Who says it has to be for work?”

He looks at me, almost startled.

“Follow me.”

-

On the club's second floor, the billiard hall is tucked away, secret, and empty.

Perfect.

Walking forward, I circle around one of the pool tables.

“Why are we playing pool all of a sudden?” Zayne asks from behind me.

I flip my hair and look at him over my shoulder, “Because I wanna learn from you of course. Dr. Steven was praising your pool skills, but you’ve never mentioned them before.” I pushed my back to the table, leaning back on my hands.

Zayne walks up to me, “He was drunk and just rambling.”

“Oh? He said you were really good…” Cocking my head to the side to look at him, he stared back at me with intent, “Like a professional.”

“Maybe because a surgeon has steady hands.”

“Then-” I stood up straight again, crossing my arms and smiling sweetly, “it’d be nice if I could get some tips from you.”

“While I can’t give any tips per se, we can play.” He looks at me and smiles back, “If you want.”

Picking out two cue sticks, handing me the shorter one, he walks to one of the tables in the corner, “Have you played before?”

“Once or twice. People say I have potential,” Zayne raises a brow at my confidence, “but I ‘can play’.”

“Are you gonna be strict with me, sir?” I playfully swing around the cue stick. Zayne crosses his arms, leaning into me, “Strict teachers make outstanding students.” He states, “Let’s start.”

Gesturing for me to go, I lean over the table, feeling his eyes boring into me. I hold my breath as I hit the ball, the only sound in the room the echoes of the balls scattering.

Zayne chuckles under his breath, and I look back at him, “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“You have more than enough strength. If you adjust your posture, you’ll see better results.”

“I need you to help me identify my weak spots via ‘hands-on learning’, sir.”

I watch as his facade begins to crumble a bit, before he quickly regains himself, “We’ll have to work on your posture then.”

Coming up next to me, I stand up straight as he leans down over the table, “Like this. Place your right foot back…” He strikes, graceful as ever. When I try, I look like a klutz.

Bent over the table, he comes up behind me. “Relax,” He whispers, “you’re too tense.” He places his hand on my back, and almost as a reflex to his touch, my waist immediately bends. “Now you’re too relaxed.” He clicks his tongue as I become jelly under his touch.

“Relax your left arm. Allow it to bend naturally.” His arm snakes up under mine, “Your head, right arm, and the cue stick should form a straight line.”

He places his hand softly on my cheek, shifting my head to the left, “How is it?”

“It,” I winced at the uncomfortable position, “hurts a little.”

I hear him smile, “That means it’s correct.”

Making a face, I try to give him my most pitiful look.

“You’re so harsh, sir.”

He grabs my chin, making me face the table again. The gesture makes me gasp.

“Don’t tilt your head.” Zayne remarks, “You messed up your posture again.”

“Is there an easier way? Like something I can do without much trouble?”

“Yes, but are you sure you want to do it?”

I groan, my body feeling stiff from holding this pose for so long, “Bring it on.”

I feel him shift from beside me, “Don’t move for now.”

Zayne comes up behind me, positioning himself where his chest is flush against my back. Reaching his arms around me, one of his hands comes up to grab mine. Lowering his head, I feel his breath on my neck as his lips settle next to my ear, “Your rhythm with the cue stick…isn’t quite there yet.” My eyelids flutter closed at his voice, “You need more hands-on training.”

He directs me carefully, “You should neither be too fast nor too hesitant.” His words sound distant as all I can focus on is the feeling of his body pressed against mine, as heat spreads in between my thighs.

My hand is enveloped in his, and the back and forth motion of the cue stick slows down, “Move the cue stick three or four times..” He instructs, everything about this feeling overwhelmingly provocative, “Stop at the point closest to the ball…”

“Did you get that?” He whispered, turning his head away from the pool table to face mine.

“Yeah…” Was all I could muster back.

Softly smirking, he turned back to follow my vision, “Keep your eyes on the ball, one…two…three…” I think I may actually combust if he keeps this up.

“Stop, and pull back the cue stick.”

He loosens his grip on me, “Snap out of it. Are you even listening to me?”

No, not really Zayne. I can really only focus on not grinding back into you right now.

“Ah yes,” I cough, “Pull back the stick…”

“Very good, just like that…” I bite back a whimper and the urge to rub my legs together at his praise, he knows good and well what he’s doing.

“Now…strike.”

I hit the ball, and when it goes in I snap out of whatever hypnotic haze I was in.

“It’s in!”

Zayne pulls back, and I stand up straight, placing my hands on my hips. “Did you see that? It was a great shot! I’m so cool…” Flipping my hair over my shoulder, I flash him a smile.

“I did.” He smiles warmly back, “You’re not a total beginner.”

“Maybe it’s because I practice shooting all the time. Or, it’s possible I’m a prodigy…” I started regaining my confidence after it had ever so slowly faltered on the pool table.

“Perhaps.” Zayne shrugs, “To be honest, all you need to be good at pool is…”

He leans over the edge of the table, looking over at me. My breath hitches at the sight.

“A steady hand, precision, and a calm attitude.” His eyes bore into mine, “Once you’ve locked into your target, don’t let go.”

I swallowed. Even though he was clearly talking about the ball, it felt oddly personal.

He has me play a bit more, teaching me as I go. I easily earn his praises and they ring like music in my ears.

“If a student does a good job,” I remind him, “shouldn’t they get a reward?”

He considers it for a second, “What do you want?”

Confidence bubbling up again inside of me, I sigh dramatically. “Well, it might be difficult to hit this next ball. Help me.”

“Is that all?” Zayne asks, clearly not convinced. Pausing before coming to help me, I give him a smug look, “What’s wrong Dr. Zayne? Are you scared?”

I was pushing my luck, and loving every second of it.

He frowned, “Provocation doesn’t work on me.”

“Then come here.” I nodded toward the pool table, giving him a sweet smile.

Zayne inches towards me, only moving slightly closer.

“Closer.” I demand, “Or else I can’t reach it.”

He gives me a confused look, “What exactly…”

I grab him by the collar, pushing him back onto the table. Zaynes cheeks turn pink as he stares up at me with a shocked expression. Lips slightly agape, I can see a million thoughts running behind his eyes. The dumbfounded look on his face makes me want to take him on the table right now.

“Look,” I pout, “the ball’s so far away. I think it’s time to use a cue rest.”

I tap the cue stick on each side of his head. Zayne narrows his eyes at me, “Using cue rests would be overkill.” He sits up, and I use the stick to slowly tug out his tie, “And this,” he glares, “is inappropriate.”

Though he feigns annoyance, the look in his eyes is a dead giveaway.

“But…” I pull the stick away leaning towards him, my breath dusting his ear, “I think you’re enjoying it…” He looks down and away at the table, clearly embarrassed, “I shouldn't have taught you so much” he mutters.

Running my fingers through his dark hair, I slowly tease my hand down his body, caressing his face, down to his chest, down to where I see where he’s aching for me to touch the most. I coo at him when I see the desperate look in his eyes, and quickly snap my hand away before I reach the bulge growing in his nice slacks.

Zaynes face is red hot as he sits up on the table enough that he’s eye level with me, “Who taught you to use your teacher as a cue rest…” he frowns.

“Well,” I place my hand on his chest over his heart, “this cue rests heartbeat is going to ruin my accuracy.” I tut.

“Is it my heartbeat affecting your accuracy, or yours?” His hand comes up to caress my cheek, “If you actually want to learn, I can show you another way…”

Zayne leans in, lips almost to mine before I grab his shoulder and push him back. He looks at me, wide eyed at the denial.

“Sir, this seems to be lacking professionalism.” Crossing my arms across my chest, his lips curve at my attempt to scold him.

“Weren’t you just using me as a cue rest?” He leans back in, “Talking about professionalism… is a bit too late.”

As he grabs me by my waist, I push him back onto the table again as a reply. The gesture only lasts a few seconds before Zayne smiles at me, quickly sitting up and using his hand around my waist to reverse us; flipping me onto my back and onto the table, he settled in between my legs. I squeak at the sudden change, as he now hovers over me, my head caged between his arms.

“Why don’t you let me show you…” Zayne pulls back, standing up straight. He grabs his cue stick, “Watch closely, I’m only going to do it once.”

Pushing his chest against mine, he goes for the ball right behind my head. His head hovers right above my face, and I lean up to place a kiss on his adams apple right as he strikes the ball. I have half a mind to bite into his neck, but he quickly stands back up as he watches the ball go in.

He looks down at me, and I’m sure I look utterly disheveled. From where he stood in between my thighs, my dress had ridden up high enough that every inch of my bottom half was almost on display for him to see. My hair was splayed out around me on the table, and my chest heaved with the breath I was so desperately trying to catch.

The sexual tension that had slowly built up throughout the night was now thick enough to cut with a knife. Smiling softly, Zayne tilts my chin up, caressing my jaw as his thumb slowly parted my lips, dipping it past my teeth and pressing it against my tongue. “Pretty little mouth…” he mutters, staring at the way his finger sits in between my lips. I look up at him through half-lidded eyes, sucking down on his thumb.

He frowns, “Always such a tease.” Zayne sighs, picking up my ankle, pressing a kiss to it. I craved his lips on mine, but I always enjoyed the shows he’d put on for me. He continued to kiss up my calf, closing his eyes as he felt my skin against his lips.

“Zayne.” I demanded, and he looked at me annoyed, as if I was interrupting something.

“Yes?”

“Kiss me…”

He leaned down, nose brushing against mine, but not meeting my lips. I pushed myself up, trying to connect us, but he pulled away at the last second. Frustrated and tired of his games, I grabbed Zayne by his tie, crashing my lips against his, pulling him down on top of me onto the table.

“Behave.” He groaned as I took his bottom lip in my teeth, tugging softly. Grabbing my wrists with his hand, he pinned them above my head. Zayne’s free hand roamed up my thigh, fingers dusting over the place I was praying for him to touch the most.

I squirmed under him as he toyed with the lace on my panties, never dipping his fingers past. His grip on my wrists tightened, lips leaving mine so our eyes could meet. Waves of lust crashed in his green eyes.

“What do you want?” His lips kissed down my neck and chest.

“You to touch me.” I whimpered.

He tsked, “Beg.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me. Or do I need to teach you how to do that too?” Zayne nipped at my collarbone, then kissed the skin.

“Please…”

“What was that?”

“Please, Zayne.” Everytime I said please, his fingers inched closer to the arousal pooling in between my thighs, “Zayne, please, please, fuck, please.”

I felt him smile against my skin, and he dipped a finger inside of me.

Clenching around him, I moaned at the satisfaction.

Zayne groaned, “God, you’re so wet. You’ve been eager all night…” Pumping in and out, I stifled my whimpers and moans against his shoulder. He let go of my wrists, and my hands flew to his collar, gripping for dear life as he added another finger.

Tracing his thumb on my clit, two fingers curling up inside of me, Zayne always knew just how to make me come undone. He could get off on this alone, watching me fall apart underneath him by just his hands. I was seeing stars, thinking nothing could get better than this.

Zayne pulled away, and I cried out at the emptiness. He stood there for a second, just taking all of me in, “You’re so beautiful.” He took off his tie, gently grabbing me by the back of my head and lifting it up so he could tie the fabric around my mouth as a makeshift gag.

“As much as I love to listen to you, I don’t want anybody else to hear. Is that all right?”

I nodded at him and he smiled, petting my cheek, “Good girl.”

Reaching forward, I palmed his hard on through his nice, business slacks. The idea of them being around his ankles as he takes me on this table was enough to almost make me cry from joy. Sighing at the friction, Zaynes eyes fluttered closed, and I worked my hand up and undid his belt. Getting too eager, he freed himself, and slid my panties down to where they loosely dangled off one of my heels.

“I wish I could take my time with you,” He pressed his tip against my opening, “but this will have to do.” Sinking all the way down to the hilt, I choked out a muffled scream, squeezing my eyes shut as the tie killed my lewd noises.

Zayne grabbed my chin, fingers digging into my skin, “Eyes open.” He demanded, pulling out, and slamming back in, “Keep looking.”

Already overwhelmed from the stimulation he provided earlier, tears welled up in my eyes from just how good all of it felt. The impossibly delicious way he could fill me up, lips dancing across my skin as he chased after his own pleasure. His hand gripping into my hips, most likely leaving bruises, as he drilled into me; kissing my palm before biting into the skin to muffle his own groans.

Zayne’s skin glistened with sweat, the top buttons of his shirt undone, his lips red and swollen from my aggressions. He railed into me like a maniac, like he was fucking starving. Gracefully, his hand found its way back in between my thighs, finding the bundle of pleasure that made me cry out. At the feeling I blinked out tears, my eyes burning from the mascara I was practically sobbing away. I was moments away from ruining this table beneath me, and Zayne knew that.

He grabbed my neck, almost as if for stability as he picked up his pace. Desperately rolling his hips against mine, I clenched down around him “Just.. like that, oh... God." He moaned. I lifted my hips up to meet his thrusts, trying to chase my own release and his. Zayne looked me in the eyes, squeezing the hand around my neck, “My girl. Mine.” He groaned.

With one last thrust and his praise, I was screaming behind the tie, shaking from my release beneath him. Digging my nails into his biceps, his hips stuttered, and with a moan he pulled out, finishing all over my nice dress.

Zayne nearly collapsed on top of me as we laid there for a while, just soaking in the aftermath. As he pulled away, I watched him cringe at the mess he had left on me. For some reason, I started laughing.

“What’s that for?” He questioned.

I continued to giggle, “I didn’t know you were that good at pool…”

“If we had more time, I’d show you more of my techniques…”

Slapping him on the shoulder, I sat up, and he swept me off the table and back onto my feet. Brushing my hair with his fingers, he attempted to wipe away the mascara stains on my cheeks. “I know the back way out of here,” He pressed a kiss to my temple.

(divider by cafekitsune)

[annawayne]

Hi Anna!! I hope this ask will make you smile! I wanted to know what you think the Ambassadors would get each other if they organized a Secret Santa gift giving for Christmas. Who would get who a present, and what?👀

Hi Stella! ❄️🎄

And oh, thank you a lot for asking, and I had so much fun with this, so I got carried away, and wrote... A bit too much...

So, without further ado, here it is!

Jean to Reiner: a knitting set

It all started one shopping day at the beginning of December when all of the Ambassadors went to buy some groceries. All of them had all the "to-buy" lists, so all of them, in pairs, went in different directions in the marketplace. It was packed with various things and so lively that Jean didn't even notice at first that Reiner disappeared: just after a few steps with no reply from him, Jean stopped and looked around, only to find the torrents of people chatting, running across the counters, between the clicks of boots against the cobblestone, covered with the first snow of the year, and no Reiner. After searching for him for a while, Jean noticed his blond friend staring at something behind the glass in the shop front. The grunt slipped past his lips, meshing with the warm breath, and Jean was ready to burst into Reiner for getting lost that easily, but when he reached the shop, he realized that Reiner was staring in all these hand-made goods: embroidery, knitting, crocheting, all of it. The same moment Reiner noticed Jean, he immediately jumped back and pretended he wasn't staring just a second ago with his mesmerizing gaze. Reiner never brought it up, but the next shopping day, it happened again. So when Jean pulled Reiner's name for Secret Santa, he knew what he would get him.

When Reiner opened his gift, he couldn't believe his eyes to see the shiny new knitting set, the smooth and pleasant threads against his calloused fingers that only knew how to pull a trigger. How could he even think about something like this when all he knew was destruction?

But Jean didn't judge him and just gave it to him.

The first thing Reiner did was the gloves for Jean. Then, all the Ambassador family start wearing the things Reiner knitted: Armin - a hat ("You have not to freeze your brain, you're our leader!"), Pieck - socks ("Your feet are always cold! Don't sleep without socks, you will get sick!"), Connie - a whole blanket because he often falls asleep on the couch, and all the blankets are too short for him, and Annie - a cardigan. As time passes, he starts taking an interest in making knitted toys, so he starts making a bunch and giving them to the orphanages, which becomes even more frequent after the Rumbling.

Pieck to Armin: a jigsaw puzzle

It was a great surprise for Pieck that Armin had never heard about the jigsaw puzzles when, one evening, they both were playing chess and just chatting in between.

"How come?" Pieck asked.

"We didn't have anything like this on Paradis," Armin shrugged, taking his next move on the board. "And even if we had, I doubt I would have it. I bet it costs a lot, and not like orphans can afford a lot".

Armin smiled, his lips tightly pressed and eyes focused on the chess board. Still, Pieck realized that despite the wrinkles on his forehead that started appearing a few months ago as their Ambassador duties took more and more time and energy and the bags under his eyes, despite the first few gray hairs amidst his golden locks, Armin doesn't lose this sheer desire to experience new things. Even back then, in this half-smile that he kept not too wide on purpose not to spill his enjoyment all over his face and not let it reach his heart, knowing too well that he wouldn't buy anything like this for himself because there was always "more important things," Pieck saw his pure interest, shining feebly inside his irises.

She made a great effort to find the biggest jigsaw puzzles she had ever seen. It was a hassle: to find the puzzle with the scenery she wanted was a true challenge, but Pieck is a woman who knows how to do things right. And she knows - it's always worth it. So when a few tears from Armin's eyes slipped down to the ocean scenery illustrated on the puzzle box in his hands after unpacking his gift, she had another proof that it was worth it.

Annie to Pieck: Set of candles, bath bombs, relax set

It's not a secret for Annie that despite Pieck's smiles and easy-going persona, she also "professionally" hides her tiredness and exhaustion. Her always sleepy eyes, slightly mischievous grin, and a bit disheveled gorgeous black hair could, maybe, make an impression that she looks like that, but Annie knows that, partially, it's true. Meanwhile, she also knows about Pieck's sleepless nights, nightmares, and always stiffened muscles that couldn't relax even for a second. "Pieck always knows everything, right?" Annie remembers how Zeke and all these Marleyan generals were saying it to the little girl with the black ponytail every day and how, despite everything, Pieck remained the one who never lost her head—always composed, rational. Always having the other's backs. But never caring too much about herself.

It's a strange concept for Annie, too - but with the difference that she never cared too much about others. At least, this is what she was forced to believe in. It's still a weird concept for Annie - "caring about others." Weird, both because it makes her all fuzzy and warm inside, and also so vulnerable and so on display, but as time goes on and she sees the happy smiles on the faces of the people she - Annie can admit - loves, the thought that, maybe, being vulnerable isn't that a bad thing, after all.

And yet, when Pieck tugs the red ribbons from her box, Annie feels nervous. What if she messed up? Is it so banal? What if-

"Oh, Annie..." She hears Pieck's voice and then feels her friend's arms circling her back, bringing her closer. "Thank you for caring about me", Pieck whispers.

Maybe the set of the aroma candles and the bath bombs looked silly to her, but when the next day Pieck didn't come to breakfast, and all of them found her happily asleep - for the first time in months - Annie thinks that, after all, caring about others is much more pleasant thing.

Connie to Annie: a book for sweets recipe and metronome

Everyone knows Annie loves sweets. The baker's owners greet her like she's their niece, and her slight smile when she speaks to the sales lady is no longer a surprise to anyone. Everyone knows Annie loves to eat sweets. But when Annie opens her gift and sees the "Baking Bible, the guide to the bakery around the world," her gaze finds Connie, her brow arched in silent question.

"What?" Connie laughs.

"I love eating sweets," Annie says, turning pages and observing the colorful illustrations of the pastries and desserts, "not baking them."

"You never tried," Connie grins, ignoring Annie's straightforwardness.

"There's a reason why I never tried."

"Well, now, you have a reason to try again."

"I... don't," Annie shakes her head, her voice losing a few confident tunes as her gaze finds the layered meringue cakes with hazelnuts coated with buttercream. She has never seen this one before, but it looks criminally delicious.

Connie grins wider, seeing Annie's interested stare, and he crosses his arms around his chest.

"But you didn't finish unpacking your gift."

With some tremendous effort, Annie doesn't want to admit that she tore her eyes from the meringue cake and focused on Connie.

"And you say you're not interested in baking," he snorts and then nods in the box direction.

Annie's gaze falls on her lap, where she sees another box decorated with a ribbon. With the tiny irritation of being caught like that, she tugged the ends of the blue ribbon, and when she opened her gift, she felt her breath caught in her throat.

"That's-"

"Yep, the metronome!" Connie declares, his hands on his hips, voice coated with the proud tune.

"That one is really expensive," Annie gulps, remembering seeing the prices.

"Ambassador job is also not easy," Connie smirked, and his grinning mouth smoothed into a caring smile. "Your piano playing is worth it, though."

Armin finds Annie sitting near her piano with a metronome this evening in their room. Her skin was fresh and slightly rosy from the bath, and her hair was still wet. Still, he couldn't bring himself to invade this serenity around her figure as her fingers hovered over the piano keys and gently pressed into the white and black rectangles, the soft music flowing into the room with the soothing hum, that bounced with the sound of the metronome. His shoulder finds the support in the door frame, and the gentle music that caresses his ears with the softest tune makes his eyelids heavy, threatening to close, but Armin keeps his eyes wide open because he knows that he's witnessing the miracle and the beauty of being alive. With her by his side, with her, learning to love and enjoy this life.

Armin to Jean: fancy pocket watch with chain and engraving

Of course, among all Ambassadors, Jean is the Ambassador: always classy, elegant, the tallest among the group, and the fanciest amongst the groups. He often talks to journalists and drags Armin to the professional photoshoots, helping him relax and being more at ease. "Chill, dude, you look nice," he would say to Armin and smile at another camera. "A lot of people find you attractive, so don't be afraid to show it with some confidence and pride."

Armin was always grateful to Jean because, otherwise, if he was alone during these endless hours of photoshoots, he would certainly go insane, not to mention that he would just spend all the night lying on Annie's lap. With Jean's help and support, Annie's cuddles and kisses are enough to calm his anxiety.

But Armin knows: Jean looks excellent, and he knows how to look great, so when he pulled Jean's name for Secret Santa, Armin immediately decided on the present - the pocket watch on the chain with JK initials. Armin isn't really well-versed in fashion, but thanks to his friend, he knows all the latest fashion tendencies (and he remembers well how Jean was talking eagerly about this accessory with Connie, on what Connie said, "You just want to impress Pieck, but you know, she's already dating you"). Armin took this mission seriously: thanks to his Ambassadors connections (and a bit of charm he devotedly learned from Jean Kirstein, "the charismatic young spirit in politics," like he was usually called in all the newspaper titles), he found the master who did the pocket watches with the personalized designs.

So when the time comes to open the present, and Jean's gaze is met with the silver pocket watch, with the engraving of his home back on Paradis and his initials, Jean does his best to hide his tears, but eventually, he gives up.

Starting that evening, he tells everyone what time it is, especially around Pieck, reminding her that "it was already 10 minutes without kisses".

Reiner to Connie: flower press kit and the kit for the picture-making

Buying presents for the funniest ones is always the most challenging thing. Especially when you're depressed like Reiner. What could he even buy for Connie, always joyful, with silly (but funny, alright, he can admit) jokes? But then, Reiner recalls that, despite his goofy side, Connie is a very careful and thoughtful person. He remembers how once he opened the book Connie borrowed him and found there the pressed autumn leaves, and when he returned them to Connie and asked what was it about, he said, "It's the first autumn in our new lives. I want to remember it. And plants remember all of the life around, too". So when he thinks about it, a lot of books Connie gave him have these pressed plants and flowers. So, his choice fell on the plant/flower press kit and the special picture-making kit. It still requires some glass frame and everything, but it's already something. Something to show that he also appreciates this idea.

Not so long after Christmas, their Ambassadors home starts to have new pictures on the walls - pressed plants and flowers, from the city they live, from the places they visit, from the places that won't ever be lived again. With time, it turned into collages, and every time Reiner passes by these pictures, he thinks that, maybe, even such fragile things like plants and flowers could leave much longer, and so he should, too.

--

Thank you everyone who read till the end this mammoth of the post, and thank you, Stella, once again for this wonderful ask, I enjoyed it a lot! 🩷

Happy holidays! ~🎄