#I wonder if they had a Jean in the mix | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mssalo · 4 months ago

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fixation

You have an oral fixation, and Joel is more than happy to keep your mouth busy.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, oral fixation (f!reader), oral (male receiving), finger-sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, established relationship, consensual dynamic, playful possessiveness, casual intimacy, semi-public setting, reader can’t keep her mouth off of Joel’s cock (I get it) 6k.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It had been about 11 months since you and Joel started seeing each other, and every day with him felt like a quiet discovery, learning things about each other that made each moment feel richer.

But there was something you hadn’t quite figured out how to bring up yet—a part of you that you weren’t sure how he’d respond to. Yet, in his presence, the need always seemed to flare up, subtle but persistent, tugging at you like a habit you couldn’t quite ignore.

One evening, you were curled up together on his couch, the night warm and quiet, and you’d been a little fidgety, your mind distracted, wondering if he’d picked up on your subtle hints.

His hand rested easily on your thigh, his thumb tracing soft, absent-minded circles over your jeans, grounding you in the moment.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle, breaking the comfortable silence as he glanced over at you, his eyes soft but observant.

“You’ve been a little… antsy tonight.” He tilted his head, watching you carefully with that warm, reassuring smile of his. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks heating up as you avoided his gaze, feeling that familiar warmth creeping in, making you both nervous and a little thrilled.

His hand squeezed your thigh just slightly, his fingers gentle, urging you to look up.

“Baby,” he said, his voice a mix of patience and curiosity, “you know you can tell me anything, right? If there’s somethin’ you want, or… need?”

He trailed off, his gaze lingering on your mouth, a knowing smile beginning to form.

You swallowed, feeling the warmth in your face intensify as his words sank in, and finally, you gave him a small nod, glancing up at him shyly.

Your lips parted slightly, but the words felt stuck, tangled up in the way he was looking at you, his gaze warm and inviting.

A quiet laugh slipped past his lips as he brushed a thumb over your bottom lip, his voice dropping to that rough, soft tone that always seemed to send a shiver through you.

“Got a feeling I know what’s been on your mind,” he murmured, his hand moving up to cradle your cheek as he leaned in closer.

“You got a little fixation, don’t ya?” he whispered, his tone playful but warm, his eyes glinting with quiet confidence.

Your heart raced, and you gave a small, embarrassed nod, your gaze dropping to his chest as you felt the words tumble out in a near whisper.

“I… I just like having… something to keep me busy,” you admitted, your voice soft, almost shy.

Still brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, his eyes sparking with that familiar glint.

“Need somethin’ to keep that pretty mouth busy, huh?” he murmured, his voice soft and rough as his thumb lingered, his hand steady on your face.

“Should’ve known,” he said with a grin, his gaze dropping down to your mouth. “Come here.”

His hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer with a gentle yet confident touch.

As you leaned in, you saw the soft amusement in his eyes, the way his expression held a subtle, reassuring warmth.

You parted your lips, shy but eager, letting his thumb slip between them, and he watched, his gaze intense but filled with that easy confidence that always seemed to make you feel safe with him.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured, his thumb brushing against your tongue as he watched, clearly enjoying your reaction.

"Didn’t need to be shy about it… any time you need this, you just come to me, alright?"

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips as his thumb brushed your lower lip, his other hand steady on your waist.

It felt like a quiet promise, a comfortable acceptance that brought you even closer, and you felt your lingering hesitation melting away as he held you there, happy to give you exactly what you’d been craving.

“I don’t mind one bit,” he whispered, his thumb still in your mouth, feeling your soft, tentative sucking as he gently pulled you closer.

Joel’s eyes softened, his voice was low, roughened with curiosity and a touch of arousement as he asked, “Is this what’s been on your mind, babygirl? Just my fingers?”

His question lingered in the air, his tone hinting at more as he kept his gaze steady on yours, letting the words sink in.

He watched the way your cheeks flushed deeper, and he let out a quiet chuckle, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as he murmured, “Or was it somethin’ else you were thinkin’ about?”

Your heart raced, his hint unmistakable, but there was something about the warmth in his gaze and the steady grip of his hand that put you completely at ease.

The words felt caught in your throat, but Joel waited, letting his thumb slip out of your mouth, his hand settling under your chin to lift your gaze to meet his. “I can make sure you get exactly what you need… all you have to do is ask.”

He leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your head.

His voice softened, a quiet encouragement. “Whatever you want, I’m here, sweet bug.”

Joel’s thumb brushed over your lip again, encouraging as he kept his gaze steady, patient, letting you find the words.

Your cheeks warmed, but the way he was looking at you—reassuring, warm, without a hint of judgment—made it easier to open up.

“I just… feel calmer when I’m, you know, sucking on something,” you began, your voice quiet, a little shy.

“Something solid. It’s like… I like the weight of it in my mouth.” You paused, catching your breath, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and relief as you finally said it out loud. “I don’t know why, but it’s… comforting.”

Joel listened closely, nodding as his thumb traced a gentle line along your jaw. His smile softened, and he murmured, “I figured, pretty one… I could see it.”

He tilted his head, watching you with a look of gentle understanding that helped ease the lingering embarrassment. “Were you embarrassed to tell me?”

You hesitated, giving him a small, shy nod. He chuckled softly, a low, comforting sound that settled any lingering nerves.

“Can’t say I haven’t noticed,” he murmured, his voice low and a little rough, as he looked down at you. “The way you linger, like you can’t let go of my cock once you’ve got your mouth on it… like you’re not quite done with me.”

Your cheeks flushed, and quiet laughs slipped out of the both of you.

He tilted your chin up, his gaze softening, still playful but carrying a deeper warmth. “You like the weight of it, hm?” he asked gently, a thumb tracing the corner of your mouth. “Feels good for you, yeah?”

You gave a small, shy nod, meeting his gaze as your pulse quickened.

He leaned closer, his tone a gentle murmur as he continued, “Darlin’, anytime you need that—anytime you want me, you come to me. I’ll be more than happy to help you calm down.”

With that, he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, his hand still cradling your face, his words sinking in as he held you there, his touch reassuring, making it clear he was there for you, always.

· · ───𖥸

It had become a quiet ritual between you and Joel ever since that night—one where he was more than happy to help you find comfort whenever you needed it.

At first, it was just his fingers. When you’d feel the day’s tension creeping up, he’d let you settle close, slipping his fingers between your lips as he watched you, warm and intent.

The gentle weight, the grounding feel of his hand against your jaw as he let you draw his fingers in, helped you feel calm in a way that words couldn’t quite reach.

Joel noticed it too, the way you’d relax under his touch, how you’d quietly seek him out and never let go until you were completely at ease.

Tonight, though, you found yourself wanting more. It had been a long and hard day, one that left you feeling edgy, and his fingers alone weren’t enough.

As you walked into the living room, you found him on the couch, relaxed with his arm draped across the back, his other hand resting on his thigh.

The sight of him there, so grounded and steady, instantly soothed something in you.

He noticed you right away, his gaze softening as you approached, catching the fidgeting in your hands.

“Hello there, pretty girl,” he greeted, his voice warm, with that touch of curiosity he always had when he knew you needed him. “Need anything?”

You didn’t say anything, instead sinking to your knees in front of him, your gaze falling to his lap before meeting his eyes again.

Joel’s brow lifted slightly, his expression soft but knowing, his lips curling into a small smile as he reached down, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“Had a rough day, huh?” he murmured, his tone low, patient as his hand moved to cradle your jaw.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, holding you there gently, his eyes darkening with quiet understanding.

“Is this what you’ve been needing?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble, letting his fingers linger at your lips, already familiar with the comfort it brought you.

But you shook your head slightly, looking up at him with that same shy glance, your gaze flickering down as you hesitated, unsure how to ask for what you really needed.

Joel’s gaze held steady, his thumb brushing over your lip as he read your expression, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Or maybe… you want a little more than that?”

You felt your cheeks flush, but the look in his eyes made the words come easier. You glanced up, giving him a small nod as your hands settled on his knees, silently asking for permission, for more.

Joel’s thumb brushed over your lip, and he chuckled softly, his gaze dropping to meet yours. “Is that what you’ve been needing?” he murmured, his voice low, rich with amusement. “My cock… to make you calm?”

The words sent a thrill through you, and he watched as you nodded, barely able to meet his gaze, your cheeks warm. ”Yes... please,“ you whispered quietly.

Joel tilted his head slightly, his hand guiding your chin so you couldn’t look away.

“No need to be shy with me, darlin’,” he continued, his voice a quiet, steady invitation. “If that’s what you need, I’ll give it to you. Always.”

Joel leaned back slightly, the soft lighting casting shadows across his strong features, highlighting the rugged lines of his face and the warm, steady gleam in his dark eyes.

He watched you closely, his gaze never faltering as you settled in closer, his broad chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths, grounding you with his steady presence.

A subtle smile played at the corner of his mouth as his hand settled over yours, guiding you with a gentle but firm touch.

His fingers brushed your jaw, coaxing you to look up at him as he murmured, “Go ahead, sweetheart… take what you need.”

Your fingers brushed over the outline of his cock, feeling him hardening beneath your touch, his quiet, restrained breaths signaling his anticipation.

His gaze darkened, his eyes holding a mix of warmth and intensity as he watched you, his lips parting slightly as you felt his cock pulse beneath your hand.

“Just like that,” he whispered, his voice deep, a touch of approval in his tone as his other hand cupped the back of your neck, his thumb brushing soft, grounding circles there.

His touch, his steady gaze, everything about him filled you with a quiet confidence as he murmured, “You’re doin’ perfect, darlin’… don’t stop.”

His voice, low and calming, was a quiet invitation, full of the easy confidence that you found so comforting.

“Go on, pretty girl,” he murmured, his eyes holding yours.

You tugged his jeans down just enough, freeing him from the fabric, and your breath hitched as you took him in.

His cock was thick and slightly curved, already hard and flushed with arousal, the tip a deep, needy pink that glistened faintly, inviting. Dark, neatly kept curls surrounded his base, a subtle, masculine scent rising from him, earthy and undeniably him.

His hand moved at the back of your neck, thumb grazing lightly against your skin, steadying you as you leaned in.

His voice, low and gravelly, sent a shiver through you as he murmured, “My sweet girl... Lookin’ so good with your mouth just inches from me. Can see you want it… don’t hold back.”

His words dripped with quiet command, tinged with that deep warmth that made you feel secure yet set your nerves alight with anticipation.

You opened your mouth, your tongue trailing along the underside of his length, savoring the salty-sweet taste of him.

The heat, the weight of his cock, filled you with a heady calm, grounding you in the sensation. Joel’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your neck, his other hand resting on his thigh, fingers curling as he watched you take him inch by inch.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, his voice dark and warm, his eyes half-lidded as he watched you.

“Look at you, takin’ all of me like that, slow and easy. Your lips… they look so damn good wrapped around me, sweet one.” His tone was full of approval, deep and rich, letting you know how much he was enjoying this, letting you settle into the moment.

You began to move your mouth over him, letting your tongue swirl around the sensitive head, savoring every ridge and vein.

The faint sheen of your saliva coated him, catching the light, and his cock looked even more inviting, glistening and hard, throbbing slightly in response to your touch.

Joel let out a low, pleased hum, his hand stroking your cheek, encouraging you as you took him deeper.

“God, baby, good job,” he murmured, his tone thick with admiration. “So sweet and focused… like you were made for this.”

His fingers trailed through your hair, gentle but firm, guiding you without any hint of impatience. “Gettin’ every inch, nice and slow… takin’ your time just like I like.”

Your mouth tightened around him, feeling his cock twitch as you took him deeper, letting the weight of him press down on your tongue, grounding you, calming you in a way that nothing else could.

His scent, his warmth, his quiet, filthy praise—everything about this moment soothed you, made you feel safe, yet utterly alive.

“You love how it feels, yeah, baby?” Joel’s voice was a low rasp, and his words spurred you on, made you feel bolder. “The weight of me, how thick I am in that pretty mouth of yours. Tellin’ you, sweetheart… there’s nothin’ I like more than watchin’ you get lost right here.”

You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat through his cock, and it made you shiver.

His hand moved from your hair to your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over the corner of your mouth as he watched you, eyes dark, lips parted in quiet approval.

He tilted his head, studying you with that intense, appreciative gaze that always made you feel seen, adored.

“You keep that mouth workin’ as long as you need, baby,” he murmured, a faint, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Long as you want, it’s all yours. Just… fuck, yeah, just like that.”

The praise made you feel a rush of warmth, and you took him deeper, letting him feel your eagerness, your need.

His cock pulsed against your tongue, and you savored the feel of him as his fingers stayed steady at your neck, grounding you with his warmth and strength.

“Feelin’ better already?” he asked, his voice gentle, his tone rough with desire.

His hand traced down your jaw, thumb pressing lightly at your lip, pulling it down so he could see himself disappear into your mouth. “Look at that, darlin’... look at you, takin’ me so well. Such a good girl, lettin’ me calm you down just like this.”

You hummed softly around him, the vibration making his fingers tighten slightly on the back of your neck.

His breathing grew deeper, more ragged, but he kept his touch soft, steady, letting you take the lead, letting you have what you needed. “That’s it, baby… don’t rush, just keep me right there. Slow and steady,” he whispered, his voice low and dark, every word soothing yet making your pulse quicken.

His hand stayed firm as he leaned back slightly, allowing you to settle comfortably as you continued to savor him, tasting, exploring, letting his words and his touch fill you with warmth and calm.

Every brush of his thumb, every murmur of approval, grounded you deeper, letting you lose yourself completely in him, in the simple, comforting weight of him on your tongue, a connection that was yours and his alone.

You relaxed deeper, each slow movement of your mouth deliberate, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his thick, flushed cock filling you, grounding you.

Joel’s hand stayed steady at the back of your neck, fingers pressing just enough to let you know he was there, a solid presence holding you close.

“Babygirl, look at you,” he murmured, his voice a husky rasp that made your pulse quicken, each filthy word dripping with pride.

“My perfect little thing, workin’ so hard… always giving it your all. Just needed somethin’ to fill that pretty mouth, didn’t ya?”

His fingers tangled in your hair, a gentle but possessive touch that sent a thrill through you. “That’s what I’m here for, baby. You look so damn good like this, takin’ me slow.”

Your cheeks flushed, feeling yourself sink into his words, every filthy murmur making you crave more, making you want to show him just how much you needed this.

You let your tongue swirl around the head of his cock, tasting him, savoring the salty heat, feeling him twitch under your attention.

He let out a low groan, his other hand moving to cradle your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he watched you, dark eyes heavy with desire.

“God, baby, you’re too good at this,” he muttered, voice dipping lower, dripping with arousal.

“So focused, takin’ me so good, like you were made for it. Seein’ those lips stretchin’ around me, so damn eager. Look at you… got me hard as a rock, and you’re takin’ your time, just workin’ every inch.”

His hips shifted, barely a nudge forward, just enough to let you feel his need, but he held back, letting you control the pace.

“Bet you’d stay right here all night if possible,” he chuckled, the sound rich and dirty. “You’d just keep suckin’, hm? Letting that pretty mouth of yours get all messy for me.”

You felt his cock pulse, a heavy, throbbing weight on your tongue as he watched you, his breathing roughening as he sank further into the sensation.

His grip on your neck tightened just slightly, his control slipping as he saw how lost you were, how you kept at it with such gentle, focused attention.

“Love how you’re suckin’ my cock for me, baby… so fuckin’ devoted. Just lettin’ me fill that mouth, takin’ me all the way. It’s like you can’t get enough, huh? Just keepin’ me right there, like you’d never let go.”

His breathing grew heavier, more ragged, and he bit his lip, feeling his own need taking over as he tried to hold back, not wanting to pull you from the calm, submissive state you’d found.

But with each slow, wet stroke of your mouth, each deliberate pull of your lips around him, he felt himself teetering closer to the edge, and a quiet, breathless laugh escaped him as he leaned down, his hand cradling your face.

“Baby, I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice thick with both regret and need, “but you’re too damn good… I can’t hold back any longer. I’m gonna cum.”

His thumb pressed against your cheek, feeling the fullness of his cock in your mouth as he whispered, “Hate to take this from you, but I want you to swallow every drop, every bit of me… you’ve earned it, good job.”

He let out a deep, guttural groan as he came, his cock twitching in slow, heavy pulses against your tongue, spilling into your mouth as he held you close, his grip tightening just enough to anchor you, keep you steady as he filled you.

His other hand brushed over your cheek, thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, watching with dark, hooded eyes as you swallowed everything he gave, his voice dropping to a low, possessive murmur.

“God, look at you, darlin’… swallowin’ every fuckin’ drop like the good girl you are. So perfect, so fuckin’ perfect. Just lettin’ me use that sweet mouth, keepin’ me close.” His thumb lingered at your lips, his voice warm, affectionate as he whispered, “You’re exactly where you belong, sweetheart… right here, with me.”

He stayed there, holding you, his voice softening as he praised you, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your cheek, grounding you as you both came down, feeling safe, cherished, and completely at peace in the warmth of his touch.

As you eased back, Joel’s hand remained at the back of your neck, his thumb brushing gentle, soothing circles, and he looked down, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he took in the calm, relaxed look on your face.

You were utterly at peace, your eyes heavy-lidded, a faint, satisfied smile on your lips as you looked up at him, the tension you’d been carrying all day melting away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice rich with warmth and pride, his hand steady as he helped you rise.

“My perfect girl, you did so well,” he whispered, pulling you up to settle you against his chest, cradling you close as his hands drifted to rub soft circles on your back.

He could feel how completely at ease you were, the deep calm radiating off you as you leaned into him, feeling safe, cherished, like you’d found exactly what you needed.

You let out a quiet, sleepy murmur, snuggling into his warmth, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of gratitude, the words barely audible as you let yourself sink into his embrace.

Joel’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle as he held you, one hand moving up to brush through your hair, his fingers gentle, comforting.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

“So calm now… my sweet girl, lettin’ herself relax.” He could see the sleepiness in your eyes, the way your breathing had slowed, your body completely soft in his arms.

He tucked you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand never stopping its gentle, grounding strokes along your back.

“You can rest now, baby,” he whispered, his tone full of care as he continued to hold you, letting you know he was right there. “You’re safe with me… just close those eyes. I’ve got you.”

You melted further against him, your body fully relaxed, your breathing deep and even, your face tucked against his neck, perfectly content and utterly calm in his embrace.

He felt you drift closer to sleep, your soft breaths warm against his skin, and he tightened his hold, letting you find that final bit of peace, held close and cherished in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

· · ───𖥸

Over time, it became second nature, a quiet ritual between you and Joel.

The comfort you found in each other had only deepened, making those moments when you had him in your mouth feel easy, almost instinctual.

There were mornings when he'd sit on the edge of the bed, tousled hair and a sleepy smirk, and you’d settle between his thighs, taking him slowly as the sun crept through the blinds, warming the room as he murmured sleepy praise, his hand steady in your hair.

Or lazy afternoons, when you'd both wind down on the couch, and he'd reach over, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder, just to let you know he was there, that he understood what you needed.

Sometimes, even in the middle of the night, he'd feel you shift closer, your warm breath against his skin, and he’d know exactly what you needed without a single word exchanged.

He’d guide you under the sheets, his voice a low, sleepy rumble as he whispered, “Go on, darlin’, take what you need,” his tone gentle, reassuring as he let you lose yourself, knowing how much it helped you relax, how much you needed him in those quiet hours.

And then, there were moments just like now—calm and casual, like you were simply sharing another part of your day together.

Joel stood at the stove, his back turned slightly as he tended to a simmering pan, cooking up something simple for dinner before a friend came over.

His shoulders were broad and relaxed, his stance easy, completely at home in his space.

You were on your knees - his hard cock in your mouth, your lips wrapped around him, taking him slowly, almost like an afterthought, as if this were as natural as holding his hand or sharing a quiet drink together.

The kitchen filled with familiar sounds—the soft sizzle of the pan, the clink of the spatula, Joel’s steady breaths mingling with yours.

His free hand occasionally drifted to your hair, brushing over it with gentle fingers, not guiding but simply acknowledging you there.

Every now and then, his hand would graze over your cheek, tracing a soft line along your jaw as he continued to stir the food, keeping his focus on both you and the task in front of him with that calm confidence that made you feel secure.

He glanced down at you with a smirk, his eyes warm with that casual affection, the amusement clear on his face as he took in the sight of you.

“Look at you, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and playful.

“Can’t keep away, even while I’m tryin’ to get dinner on the stove.” He chuckled, running a thumb along your jawline, his tone casual and amused. “But hell, can’t say I mind one bit.”

His hand returned to the pan, stirring with a practiced ease, completely unfazed as you continued to take him deeper, your lips sliding over his length with a slow, familiar rhythm that felt grounding, comforting.

You could feel his cock twitch in your mouth, but his breath remained steady, his voice calm as he casually carried on.

He kept stirring the pan, flipping the food, but you noticed how his fingers tightened on the spatula, his calm demeanor wavering ever so slightly as his eyes lingered on you a moment longer.

His hand drifted back to your hair, gripping a little firmer this time, letting his thumb brush over your cheek as he took in the sight of you, your cheeks hollowing as you pulled him in deeper.

“That’s it… good girl,” he whispered, his voice dipping lower, rougher.

“Always so eager to get me in that pretty mouth of yours, no matter what we’re doin’. you just can’t get enough.”

He chuckled, shaking his head in admiration as he went back to the stove, still casual, as if it were perfectly natural for you to be on your knees, sucking him off while he cooked.

You felt your own excitement building, a warmth settling over you as his words sank in, his easy praise making you feel cherished and bold.

As Joel continued cooking, your pace grew a little faster, your mouth working over him with that same familiar, comforting rhythm, but now you could feel his cock twitching, thick and heavy against your tongue.

He glanced down with a small smirk, clearly enjoying the way you seemed to lose yourself, the casual intimacy of it making him feel grounded, completely at ease.

Just then, the doorbell rang, echoing through the quiet kitchen.

Joel paused, casting a quick glance at the door before looking down at you with that calm, teasing expression, his fingers stroking through your hair.

“Well, guess Paul’s here,” he murmured, his voice low and amused, as if the idea of his friend arriving right now only added to his pleasure. “Mind hurryin’ it up, darlin’?”

You looked up at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, feeling a surge of need as his gaze held steady on yours.

The doorbell rang again, and you gripped his thighs tighter, pressing in, whispering in a low, urgent tone, “Please, baby… fuck my mouth. I need you to cum. right now.”

A low groan escaped him, his amusement giving way to a darker need as he held your head in place, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“Well, since you’re askin’ so nice, baby,” he murmured, his tone dropping, filled with pride and pleasure as he looked down at you. “Guess I can’t keep you waiting, can I?”

With a steady hand, he guided your head, his hips beginning to rock gently, then harder, each slow thrust filling your mouth with a deep, satisfying pressure that made you feel grounded, completely in tune with him.

His hips rocked forward, his hand guiding your head to take him as deep as possible, his voice breaking into low, filthy groans.

“That’s it… just like that. God, you’re a perfect little thing… lettin’ me use you, lettin’ me fill that pretty mouth like you’re starvin’ for it.”

His breaths grew more ragged, his cock pulsing with each movement as he picked up the pace, letting himself go, his fingers digging into your hair as he held you steady.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his voice thick with need, his thrusts becoming faster, deeper. “You want my cum, don’t you, sweetheart? Just need to feel me fillin’ that pretty mouth of yours.”

You hummed in response, the vibration making him gasp, his cock throbbing. Joel’s breaths grew heavy, his control slipping, and you could feel him getting closer, his words now a strained murmur.

“Almost there, sweetheart… just a bit more. Need you to swallow every bit for me.”

With one final thrust, he let go, his cock pulsing as he spilled into your mouth, warm and thick, his groans deep and satisfied as he watched you take everything he gave.

His thumb brushed over your jaw as you swallowed, his gaze filled with a mix of pride and possessiveness. “That’s my good girl,” he whispered, his voice rough as he held you close.

Just as you both caught your breath, the doorbell rang again. Joel smirked, helping you up and wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb before pulling you into a quick, reassuring kiss.

He glanced at the door, chuckling. “Better let Paul in. Don’t want him thinkin’ we forgot about him.”

He straightened up, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips as he went back to the stove, leaving you flushed, fulfilled, and feeling like you were exactly where you needed to be.

You straightened up, catching your reflection in the hallway mirror and smoothing your hair, feeling both satisfied and a little flushed.

You opened the door to see Paul standing there

“Hey, Paul,” you greeted, trying to keep your tone light and casual, though you could feel Joel’s gaze burning into you from behind, clearly amused.

Paul stepped inside, glancing between the two of you with a smile. “Took you both long enough—I almost left again.”

Joel strolled over, leaning casually with that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Well,” he drawled, his eyes glinting as they met yours, “guess I finished up just in time.”

Your cheeks flushed as Joel’s smirk lingered, a private joke hanging thick in the air, while Paul remained blissfully oblivious.

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

I really liked this…. a bit too much. 🫎

Just a little reminder that your comments, and reposts with reactions, mean the world to me. They’re the only “thank you” I get for these stories, and truly the reason I stay motivated to keep writing and sharing.

Knowing you’re enjoying the journey and hearing your thoughts keeps this all alive.

So please, keep those comments and reposts coming—they’re what make it all worth it. Thank you so much for being here and for all your support!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️😭😭😭‼️‼️

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fawnhart · 1 month ago

Text

bambi taking over drew’s apartment ! ˚ ᡣ𐭩. 𖥔 ๋࣭

You walk into Drew’s apartment, and something’s different. It’s warmer, more...you. The white walls that once felt so sterile now feel like they’re holding something��like they’re waiting to tell a story.

Drew’s standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, his eyes flicking over to you with that smile you can never quite resist. You glance around, taking it all in.

“I see you’ve been busy,” you say, a grin tugging at your glossy lips as your eyes land on the new shoe shelf. Your shoes are neatly arranged in cubbies. High heels, white Mary janes, those sparkly flats you can never find in your own closet at home. “when did you do this?”

He shrugs, trying to act casual, but you catch the way his eyes light up when he watches you react. “I figured you needed space for your stuff. You know... the stuff that’s been taking over my man cave.”

You laugh, turning your attention to the vanity in the corner of the room. “You really went all out.”

“I told you I’d build you one,” he says, crossing his arms, clearly proud of himself. “Had to make sure it was big enough for all that makeup you insist on carrying around”

You roll your eyes playfully, walking over to the vanity. It’s exactly what you wanted—romantic, wooden, with a row of little fairy lights around the mirror. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection, and for a second, it feels like you’re in your own little world in his home. “It’s perfect, baby,” you say softly, fingers tracing the edge of the mirror. “Thank you.”

He walks over, standing behind you and looking at the vanity too. “It’s nothing. You’ve got a lot of stuff to keep around, might as well put it somewhere”

“No more shoving my shoes into the closet?” You gave him a fake pout

He smirks. “Yeah, pretty much. You know I’m terrible at organizing.” He says rolling his eyes

“That you are” you tease, but it’s clear there’s no real tension between you. It’s light. Comfortable. You look over at his side of the closet now, which has been slowly claimed by your clothes, a section devoted to mini skirts, low waisted jeans, and designer tops you begged him to buy you last summer. You grin, pleased with your progress.

“You’ve basically moved in, Bambi” he says grabbing your hips

You laugh and grab a mini skirt from the closet, holding it up to your body and changing into it. “you’re not complaining.” You turn back to him, feeling the soft buzz in your chest.

He watches you with a small, amused smile. “I can’t even remember what the apartment looked like before you started leaving your stuff everywhere.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you tease, but you can’t help feeling a little proud. “But, seriously, do you like it?”

Drew looks around, running a hand through his messy hair. The walls are covered in posters now—your movie posters, photos of the two of you, a framed quote you found on some random blog that you liked . It’s chaotic in the best way. “Yeah..I didn’t expect pink pots and pans in the kitchen,” he says, giving you a sideways glance suddenly getting “serious”

You grin, hopping over to the stove where your pink heart-shaped pots now sit, taking up space next to his old, practical, and ugly ones. “What? You said you wanted to cook, and now you can really impress your friends with your new kitchen aesthetic”

He laughs, there’s a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You’re turning my apartment into... well, whatever this is.” He waves a hand at the room, gesturing to the mix of colors and stickers, you scattered all over the place. “You know, my friends are gonna ask me about those.”

“So?” you say with a grin, as you jump on his kitchen counter. “Let them wonder.”

“not too eager to get on their good side?.”

“Never!” you say, kicking his growing bulge with your foot. “But I think they’ll get used to it eventually.”

“doubt it” he replies with a head shake, you reach out to pull him in by his belt loops. He settles in between your legs and finds the familiar curve of your hips, a place that’s beginning to feel like home —atleast for him. “But it’s alright, pretty girl. I like it this way.”

“I’m glad you like it,” you say, tipping your head forward to meet his forehead. There’s a softness in the way he looks at you, like everything in the apartment

You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, something that feels so natural now. “you’ve got me now, and I’ve got you” You lean in, pressing a kiss to his lips “right?”

“Yeah, I do” he says softly, his arms tightening around you and chasing your lips again

Even if Drew’s and your friends don’t totally get it, it doesn’t matter. He’s yours, you made sure that was evident. Your little evidence loud and clear in his apartment

#works!⟡��*:･ﾟ #bambi!reader✦ •ִ ᜔.#drew starkey #aesthetic #drew starkey imagine #rafe #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey x reader #blurb #drew starkey blurb

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luminiamore · 14 days ago

Text

my love, mine all mine.

eren yeager x black female reader (bestfriend)

warnings: oral sex, fluffyness, jealous eren, soft sex, eren is kinda a nerd, creampies and a tight grip super soaker

enjoy and happy late valentine’s day!! :))

You were buried in your textbooks at your campus library, the various pages spread out before you. Psychology. An interesting major if you say so yourself. You thought it’d be simple enough: learning about how the human mind works and what makes people tick. It was fascinating, really.

And yet here you were, hunched over on the slightly uncomfortable chair, trying your hardest to remember exactly what your professor meant by “cognitive dissonance” and how it related to human behavior. You could feel your mind starting to wander as you tried to read through this particularly dense section.

Your focus was absolute, trying to absorb as much as you could for your upcoming midterm. The world outside this small corner you had found didn’t exist—just you and your thoughts. The peace and quiet here were comforting. It was rare that you could study without distractions and were determined to take full advantage of it.

You sighed and momentarily leaned back in your chair, the quiet hum of the library your only companion. The chair creaked slightly as you stretched, glancing out the window. Students were scattered everywhere, likely heading to their next class. The soft light from the afternoon sun cast a gentle glow through the glass, and you found a certain beauty in it.

You’re about to head back to your studies when something interrupts you. Someone, actually.

A shadow loomed over your desk, casting a slight imbalance in your peaceful space. A little startled, you looked up to see a tall figure standing beside you. You didn’t need to look too hard to recognize him—Eren—your best friend since grade school.

You blinked, a bit caught off guard. He wore a white wife beater that clung to his frame a little too tight. His jeans looked worn, with traces of dirt hinting at a long work day. A mechanic’s job was never exactly pristine, you guessed. He must’ve just gotten off his shift.

“You studying?” his voice smooth like it always was when he was trying to get your attention.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes softly. “What does it look like?” You gestured to the open textbooks and scattered notes with a slight flush. You mentally, thank God, it wasn’t visible. “Psych is kicking my ass. I’m starting to wonder why I thought this would be easy.”

He leaned against the edge of your table, his arms crossed. His recent gym visits have been seriously paying off, and it’s impossible not to notice. You look away from him and face your laptop, determined not to let him catch you staring. “Maybe you thought you could magically understand the human psyche,” he’s teasing you like he always does.

You shot him a half-smile, unable to resist his charm. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought,” sarcasm dripping from your voice. “But I’m pretty sure I’m about to fail the midterm at this rate.”

He stifles a snicker. “Nah, you’re too smart for that.” He pushed himself off the table, walked around to the chair next to you, and sat down casually. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

You tried not to let his proximity distract you, but it was hard. Downright impossible. His scent—a mix of motor oil, the fresh air from his work, and something else uniquely him—was all around you now. It was distracting. Stubborn that you are, you brush it off. Doesn’t mean anything. You shifted in your seat, pretending to focus on the words on the screen. Focus.

“So, what exactly is giving you the most trouble?” his gaze never leaving you.

You exhaled deeply, closing your textbook with a slight thud. “Theories of personality,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. “I just can’t wrap my head around it. Freud and Jung… are so complicated. Like, how are we supposed to remember all this?”

He gives you an uncommitted hum and starts explaining it to you. Eren had this ability to make anything he said sound convincing, even if it was complete bullshit. You suppose it’s his confidence.

He was close. Too close.

He leaned in when describing Freud, his arm brushing against yours as he pointed at your notes. The warmth of his bare skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you forced yourself to focus on the words he was saying and not the way his voice sounded when he spoke so close to your ear.

His eyes stayed on you even as you stared down at your notes. They were sharp as if he were studying you more than the material before you. He tilted his head slightly, watching the way your lips parted in thought, the way your fingers tapped absently against the notebook as you processed what he had just explained.

He always thought you were beyond beautiful.

“You just need to simplify it,” he interrupts his own thoughts from going further.

He never hesitated to break the invisible barriers most people respected. You had never minded before. At least, you told yourself you didn’t.

When he finally finished his explanation, you blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard by how easily he made it all make sense. For a second, you forgot how smart he was.

“Okay, that helps,” you murmured, scribbling down his words before they slipped from your mind. You could still feel his gaze on you, but you kept your focus trained on the paper in front of you, trying to ignore how your fingers suddenly felt clumsier holding the pen. “I forget you have an almost 4.0.”

Eren leaned back, stretching lazily, the movement drawing your attention to the way his muscles flexed beneath his shirt. What is wrong with you today? He simply shrugged, “I’m just that good.”

That twinkle in his eyes—that mischievous glint he always had after saying something cocky—made your stomach flip in a way that annoyed you. You were used to it, used to him, but lately, it felt different. Lately, you were noticing too much.

His voice softened just a little as he added, “But, seriously, you’re gonna ace this thing. I believe in you.”

You forced yourself to roll your eyes, but the small, grateful smile you gave him betrayed you.

“Thanks, Ren,” you said quietly, tapping your pen against your notebook, something you picked up as a nervous habit. You cleared your throat, needing to shake the feeling away. “I trust you or whatever.”

“Good,” he replied instantly, watching you a beat longer than necessary. “But if you fail, I’ll take the blame.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Sure. I’ll blame the nigga who cheated his way through high school but somehow knows more about psychology than I do.”

His smirk widened, and instead of arguing, he gave you a wide smile, looking way too pleased with himself.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᡣ𐭩

The library had started to empty out after a few hours, the quiet hum of students packing up their things filling the space around you. You sighed, stretching your arms over your head as you finally closed your textbook. “I think that’s enough psych for one night,” you muttered, rubbing your eyes.

Eren, who had been scrolling through his phone while waiting for you to finish, pushed off the table with a lazy grin. “Took you long enough.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue, stuffing your belongings into the LV monochrome bag Eren had gotten you for your birthday last year. He sees it as a way of staking his claim on you. He fell into step beside you effortlessly as you walked out of the library, the cool evening air from the hallway AC brushing against your skin.

“You actually gonna remember any of that next week?” he asked, nudging your shoulder.

You huffed. “I’d like to think so.”

He snorted, shaking his head, but before he could get another jab in, a voice called out your name from just ahead.

You both turned in unison.

A guy. From your psych class—tall, almost matching Eren’s height, though not quite—was making his way toward you. His curls were neat, framing his face in a way that made him look effortlessly put together. His skin was fair, and his smile was easy and friendly.

He was dressed in a fitted long-sleeve shirt, the fabric clinging just enough to suggest he worked out but not in a way that screamed it. The sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, revealing forearms that were toned. It was paired with gray sweats. He was cute.

His hands were shoved into his pockets, his stride unhurried as he approached, like he had all the time in the world. His gaze flickered between you and Eren briefly before settling on you, his smile widening just a touch as he finally spoke.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, but I just wanted to catch you before you left.”

You blinked in surprise, vaguely recognizing him in lectures from a few rows ahead of you. He was one of those students who always had the answer, constantly engaged in class discussions. A teacher’s pet almost. You never really talked outside of the occasional group work.

Your best friend shifted beside you. His arms remained loosely crossed over his chest, but there was a new stiffness in his stance, as if he was suddenly more aware of his own posture. His weight shifted slightly from one foot to the other, his jaw ticking just the slightest bit. You didn’t think much of it at first—Eren was always fidgeting in some way.

You tilted your head slightly, blinking up at the guy. “Oh—what’s up?”

He hesitated just a second as if gathering the nerve, before rubbing the back of his neck with a small, almost sheepish smile. “I, uh… I’ve seen you in class a lot, and, well… I was wondering if you’d wanna grab coffee sometime? Maybe this Saturday?”

There was a beat of silence.

Your brain took longer than usual to process what he said. It wasn’t like people never asked you out, but something about this moment—maybe the unexpectedness of it, maybe the presence of Eren beside you—had you hesitating.

Your best friend, however, didn’t hesitate at all.

You felt the way his jaw tightened, just a tiny twitch, but you noticed it because you always notice things about him. His stance changed, going from casually relaxed to something more grounded, like he was unconsciously bracing himself. Learning Psychology does pay off in some cases.

His voice, when it came, was firm.

“Sorry, we have plans that day. Don’t we, (꣑ৎ)?”

Your eyes flickered toward Eren, surprise flashing across your face, but he didn’t look at you. His gaze remained locked on the guy in front of you, his expression is unreadable. His green eyes, usually lazy and half-lidded with amusement, were hardened now in a way that sent a clear message. She’s unavailable.

It seems the guy wasn’t so easily deterred. He hesitated only for a second before his strained smile returned, a little tighter than before. “Oh. Sunday, then?”

His voice was lighter, forcedly casual—like he was only picking up on the tension in the air.

You barely had time to open your mouth, to form even the beginning of a response, before Eren spoke for you. Again. Are you just invisible?

“No can do,” his tone leaving no room for argument. “She has a midterm coming up that she needs to study for.” His head tilted slightly, almost like he was appraising the guy in front of him, before adding, “Speaking of, you should be catching up on that too, right?”

The question wasn’t really a question, that much you knew.

The guy stood there, blinking, an almost shocked look on his face, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to say. His mouth opened slightly before closing again, and for the first time since approaching you, he seemed genuinely unsure of himself.

Eren, more than satisfied with that reaction, barely gave him another second to recover before turning toward you. “We’ll be leaving now,” he said simply.

And just like that, he placed a hand against the small of your back, steering you down the hallway without so much as another glance at the guy he had just dismissed. You walked in silence, your mind racing, but you held your tongue, deciding to wait until you reached your dorm room before you interrogated him on whatever the hell just happened.

The soft click of your shoes echoed in the otherwise quiet hallway. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that Eren had done more than step in to save you from a potentially awkward situation. The way he responded, the way he shut it all down before you even had a chance to speak—it wasn’t the usual playful teasing that he was known for.

As you reached the door to your dorm, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You turned to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Okay, what the fuck was that?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Eren didn’t even flinch. His posture was relaxed as if he already knew you were going to challenge him, as if he was waiting for it. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke. “What are you talking about?”

You raised an eyebrow, the frustration in you bubbling to the surface. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. You practically scared him off and answered for me like I couldn’t say no myself.”

Eren pushed himself off the doorframe right then, he didn’t wait for you to catch up—he just walked into your room, leaving the door hanging open. “I just did what needed to be done,” he shrugged.

His back was still to you, and you couldn’t entirely ignore the way his long, dark hair—extensions, you’d noticed before—swung just below his shoulders as he moved. He always looks so pretty with his hair down.

You followed him inside, refusing to let go of the subject.

“What needed to be done? Are you serious? Eren, you shut the guy down before he could even finish his sentence. I barely had a chance to say anything.” You stopped in the doorway, trying to keep your voice steady before you slammed the door shut.

Eren turned to face you, a grin slowly spreading across his face, like he found it all amusing. His eyes got slightly hooded as he eyed you up and down. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, and all he could think about was.. How could he let anyone else have you?

“Why are you upset? He was making you uncomfortable. It’s my job to step in when that happens.” His gaze flickered over to your face once more, almost like he was daring you to argue.

Before you could respond, he adds, “Unless… you wanted to go out with him?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief, dropping you bag on the nearby desk before turning back to face him, “I wouldn’t even know, cause once again, you didn’t even give me a chance to respond!”

He groaned, the sound almost exaggerated. His eyes rolled dramatically, like he was irked that you weren’t just agreeing with him. “Oh please, girl. He wasn’t even taller than me. He looks scrawny as fuck. He looks like a pussy. You deserve someone better than that.” He practically waved the whole thing off with a flick of his hand.

You stared at him for a moment, caught off guard by the bluntness of his words.

“And what? That someone is you?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you instantly regretted how it sounded—like you were baiting him.

Eren stepped closer to where you were standing, closing the space between you. His body was warm, his scent—it was clouding you as he looked down at you. There was a beat of silence.

His response comes out slow, “Could be,”

Your breath hitches, almost caught in your throat. You mind can’t understand what is happening, it never can when Eren is this close to you. His eyes are dark, more intense than they’d been a moment ago. Your pulse quickens, and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking down at his lips for a split second before snapping your gaze back up to his eyes. With the way your mouth opens and closes repeated, it was clear you didn’t know what to say.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Eren’s voice was barely a whisper now, his breath warm against your lips, his hand tentatively grasping your waist.

“Nothing,” you manage to whisper, your voice coming out shaky, unsure if you even believe your own words.

Eren’s lips twitch upward at your lie, you’re so cute sometimes. You’re fucking gorgeous all the time. His grip gets slightly tighter when he feels you don’t push away. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into his touch, from leaning into how the heat in your chest turns into something that pools low in your stomach.

“You’re lying,” he murmurs, voice rougher now. His thumb traces mindlessly circles on your skin, and you find yourself losing all self-control.

Your heart is racing, but it’s not from fear. Far from it. It’s from the way he’s making you feel alive in a way that only he could do. You can feel the uncomfortable stickiness pooling underneath your skirt.

His other hand moves up, cupping your chin gently but firmly, tilting your face upward to meet his gaze. There’s no mistaking the way his eyes flicker down to your lips again, and there’s a certain hunger in them.

His voice carries that commanding tone you’ve always known too well. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his thumb gently grazing your bottom lip, making you inhale sharply. “Lemme help you get the words out. That okay?”

And when he does lean in, it’s not like anything you ever felt before. His lips brush against yours gently at first, being the tease that he is. Then, without warning, he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming up to slide into your neatly done butterfly locs, gripping it just enough to tilt your head back slightly.

You’re desperate, and your best friend knows it—the way your fingers clutch at the thin fabric of his shirt, practically begging. He pulls away just long enough to yank it over his head. The string of spit still barely connecting you makes something dark flicker in his eyes, his restraint snapping completely. The next kiss he goes in for is more forceful.

You try to push eren back, just a little, but he barely budges—barely even lets you catch your breath. The taste of him is overwhelming, as you manage to get the words out between shallow breaths. “Ren, Are you—Are you sure about this?”

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.” He moves fast, tugging the strings of your white top, pushing it down until it slips from your shoulders, falling to the floor. His lips stay on yours, the sweet taste of your strawberry lip gloss making him crave more. He feels like he might cum, just from kissing you—embarrassing as that is.

You’re the one more concerned, your voice faltering, “But what—Ah! I don’t want to ruin our friend…ship.”

His lips wander further down. Pressing feather-light kisses to the crook of your shoulders before he moves back up to where your sweet spot is. He doesn’t hesitate to harshly grip your beautiful breasts, pulling at both of your brown nipples the best he can while his mouth and brain are preoccupied. The moan you let out is sinful, staggering, really, as you find your brain getting more hazy with each move he makes.

You think he hasn’t heard you when he doesn’t answer right away. Eren gently pushes you back, guiding you to the chair by your desk. He makes you sit with a firm hand and then drops to his knees in front of you, his gaze intense as he speaks again, “You really wanna stay just friends after this?”

He sucks at the skin of your soft thighs as his hands work to slip your boots off. Your eyes widen when he unbuttons your shorts, prompting you to slightly lift up to make it easier for him to slide it off of you. Before you can answer his previous questions, he’s interrupting you, “No bra or panties? Were you expecting this to happen (꣑ৎ)?”

You release a pathetic whimper when he moves closer to your sopping core, taking a deep inhale like he’s trying to commit your scent to his memory forever. You shake your head at his accusation, but it’s clear he doesn’t believe you when he takes two of his thick fingers to spread you open, revealing your tiny clit barely hidden behind its hood.

“You’re making a mess, baby. You need my help to clean it up?”

He needs to shut up. His words, his voice, do nothing but make you wetter. Eren slowly starts rubbing your clit, barely applying enough pressure to give you the stimulate you need and it’s starting to get you frustrated. “Answer Ren, baby. Do you need my help?”

You let out a cute squeal when he blows on your mound, and you’re too depraved to do anything but listen. “Yes! Yes, please help me!”

And nothing if not devoted to you, he listens. Eren places a wet, open-mouth kiss on your twitching pearl. He’s slow with his movements, savoring the honey-like taste of you that’s just pouring into his awaiting mouth. He moves his tongue in slow circles, up and down, drinking the juice coming from your slit.

You’re struggling to breathe, the pressure that’s building up all too quickly is too overwhelming. He’s not just eating you out. Eren is making love to your sweet pussy. It’s breaking you apart.

His ministrations on your dripping sap continue for a minute before he gets impatient and slips one long finger inside of you. And God, you’re tight. Gripping onto his finger so firmly, it’s almost like you never want him to leave. He begins pushing them in and out slowly.

You breathe out, “Eren! Oh my- Goddd.”

The squelches your pussy was singing become louder and more obscene. Your best friend considers that as his starting point to add another finger that is equally big and long. They both curl up to reach your G-spot instantly. The minute he found it, he just didn’t let up. Despite his slow pace, he continues to abuse your sensitive area. You’re gonna cum.

“Are you gonna cum? All over my ‘pretty’ face?” He’s throwing your own words right back at you. You were never shy about telling Eren how good he looked, and maybe that’s exactly how you ended up here.

You’re quick to nod, unable to keep silent as broken moans escape from your mouth, “M’gonna c-cum! Right there- Oh!”

How quickly your release hits you is unexpected. You gush. Streams of squirt land all over Eren’s fingers, and his face even lands on his hair, leaving it a bit damp. He gazes in astonishment as your eyes roll in the back of your head during your dramatic convulsions, and he groans into your essence. He looks down to look at the mess you made and— Oh. You creamed, too.

Fuck. He loves it. He loves that he’s the only one who can make you do that. He loves you. He also realizes that he needs to be inside you. Now.

The movements he makes, from removing you from the chair to your single bed, are hazy. You’re not sure how you got there; your brain is still trying to process the most intense, body-curling orgasm you’ve ever had in your life. But you’re quick to feel something wide and heavy pressing at your still-gushing entrance.

“M’gonna put it in now, kay?” Eren figures giving you a warning is the least he could do before rearranging your guts and mushing your insides.

You beg him to fuck you already by whining and grinding on his leaking tip. After laughing at the sight, he leans in to give you a deep kiss. You’re gasping and mewling in his mouth as you finally feel him push in.

He’s gasping in your mouth. Feeling his mind starting to scramble at the feeling of suffocating cunt. God, you’re perfect. “Is it- Is it in yet?”

He snickers. God, you’re just so cute. “No, baby. Not even halfway.”

You’re whimpering, hiccuping as small tears start to pool in your lower lash line. You’re clenching around him so tightly, and the more he pushes in, he is trying his best not to cum so quickly. He decides to plunge the rest of his eight inches in one go. Fuck you’re so loud, sputtering and wailing at the feeling of being so.. Full. You’re so full.

“Move- Move, please. Oh my-”

You don’t have to tell him twice. He steadily drags his cock away from your cervix, pulling out all the way before he pushes back inside again, hard. He repeats this. Once, twice, thrice more, and God, you “Can’t take it-it.”

He shushes your whines, kissing the tears falling down your cheeks, reaffirming you, “Of course you can, baby. I’ll even help you, yeah?”

His attentiveness is entirely too much. You’re babbling when his hand reaches in between you both to rub your swollen clit in rapid circles. A complete contrast to his way of fucking you.

The pressure in your lower abdomen is building at such a fast speed. Every harsh thrust against your cervix is painful like he’s trying to prove a point. But it feels oh so good.

“You feel so fucking good. I want you to cum, baby. Make a mess, just like you did on my face. Can you do that for me?”

You’re nodding and spluttering incoherently about how you can, how you will. You’d do anything for him. Both of your holes are releasing the most beautiful sounds. Eren presses a messy kiss onto your plump lips without waiting for you to respond, causing drool to escape from both of you. The sheets below you are feelable because of your wetness.

With a few more strokes, your body convulses once more. This time, your best friend has an up-close view of how beautiful you look in your most vulnerable state. Your orgasm gets even stronger when you feel Eren whimper against your lips and his own release, caused by the feeling of your spraying all over him.

His thrusts don’t change its pace as he stuffs you full of his seed. Your eyes look dazed, your makeup slightly ruined, and your lip combo nowhere to be found. He still can’t help but think you look just as gorgeous. He places one final peck on your lips before he speaks once more,

“I’m taking you out on a date this Saturday.”

Guess he wasn’t kidding when he said you two had plans that day.

🏷️: @keraawrites

#eren yeager smut #eren jeager #eren jeager x reader #eren x you #aot eren #eren smut #eren #eren aot #eren x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren yeager x black reader #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager x reader smut #eren yeager fluff #eren yeager x black reader smut #aot smut #aot fluff

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baby-yongbok · 1 month ago

Note

sub x sub smut is all i can think ab tbh!

like subby you and chan omg 😵‍💫

Good For You - Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✧ Content warning - Unprotected sex, creampie, anal toys, established relationship [MDNI] ✧ WC - 1.1k ✧ a/n: I think that sub x sub is interesting and that Chan fit this really well. My second choice would've probably been Han or Felix. Maybe even Hyunjin. Even thought Chan fit it well this was a bit of a challenge. I hope I did it justice! Thanks for the request! (*^_^*) ✧ Masterlist ✧

Most couples wear matching hoodies or sneakers. They’d buy bracelets with similar color schemes but you and Chan had a different idea.

“Baby..” He whimpers while the butt plug you bought vibrates inside of him. You found a cute couples set, pretty and pink with a cute heart shaped jewel on the flared end.

“Channie..” You whine, fighting with his jeans to free him. “Hol’ still please.. Need..”

He squirms against the mattress beneath him, the plug working wonders against his prostate and making his cock leak sticky strings that you lick up hastily. Your own plug is going at full speed, pushing you closer to the release that Chan has been trying to tease all night.

Your boyfriend pulls you up from your spot between his knees with a huff, “No.. no no wanna suck your cock..” You protest and Chan cuts you off with a sloppy kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Please just let me fuck you, need to fuck you, baby. I’ll be your good boy if you’ll be my good girl, please.” He pulls you into his lap and your hips buck at the contact. Your heads fall back, your breathing stutters as you paw at each other's bodies greedily.

“I’m your good girl.” You moan, bucking your hips over him. Your pants found their way to the floor as soon as you two got home and your panties went somewhere with them.

“Fuck, I can’t … you’re gonna make me cum..” His sentence breaks somewhere in the middle. His voice falters like his self control while you rub your slick bare cunt over his pulsing length. You grind over the head, rolling your hips in circles that makes you clench around the buzzing plug with a pathetic curse.

“I’ll be so good, Channie, please..” His grip on your hips tightens, his eyes shut tight and his hurried breathing betrays him, getting caught in his chest when the head of his cock catches on your entrance.

“Baby, let me fuck you, please please please.” Chan’s glassy eyes struggle to focus when he opens them to plead with you. “Ride me or - or I’ll ride you, please, anything..”

His pleas mix with yours while you beg for the same exact thing. “Yes, yes, please..” You grind up and his cock slips inside. You share a fucked out keen and Chan’s fingers dig into your hips while yours press into his shoulders.

“Fuck, move.. I need you to move or I’m gonna bust just like this, please..” Chan looks and sounds like he could cry. The plug pressing against his sweet spot is nearly painful with pleasure and when you move, bouncing over him just how he likes it, the plug fucks into him and his eyes roll back.

You’re no better, filled in both holes and seconds away from bursting at the seams. You can feel Chan’s thick cock rub up against the plug, you can feel the way he twitches with each wave of vibration that surges through you and you can feel your clit throb with pleasure from your impending climax.

“Don’t stop, Don’t stop, you’re such a good - good girl f’ me..” His words are choked and the air is crowded with whimpers but his are significantly louder, overpowering your breathy whines with heady grunts and pathetic groans that only fuel the fire burning hot in your core.

He meets you with a thrust each time you bounce over him, his rhythm falters and he bucks up. You swear that you can feel him in your stomach. You fall forward and he holds you tight, squeezing you and fucking up into you faster to chase his own high.

“Channie, baby, feels so.. good. Please don’t cum yet, please don’t stop yet..” He whines, his hips stuttering again.

“Need to cum, baby, need to..” His words are nearly incoherent when he speaks through clenched teeth. “Wanna make you feel good, wanna be your good boy but.. But..”

You clench around him and the both of you fall apart. Your orgasm dangles in front of your face, your clit pulses from the traveling vibrations of the plug and your boyfriend's intense climax only makes it worse.

Chan melts beneath you, squeezing you to his chest and panting like he’s been underwater for ages. His cock twitches and pulses while he fucks you through his high. His movements are fast and choppy while he’s rambling in your ear.

“M’ sorry, sorry - fuck, s-so tight… so good, please cum.. I’ll make you cum, I’ll be your good boy.” His arm wraps around your waist and his hand cradles the back of your head while he moves you over him like a doll. A glorified flesh light designed just for him.

“Yes, yes, yes, thank you. Look at me, please.. Wanna see you, baby.” He tries to pull back, tries to look you in the eye but the overstimulation of this messy cocktail has his glassy eyes hiding behind his lids.

“Too much..” He bucks up harder and you’re seeing white. Everything seems to vanish as the pleasure seeps in and takes over. You scream, tears rolling down your cheeks as you chant a chorus of “thank you’s” to him. While you’re falling apart on top of him, Chan is being milked dry.

He groans, it falls into a pathetic whine like he’s crying for you while his sensitive cock twitches inside of your swollen walls yet again. Your full cunt makes room for the new load by pushing your limits, making you leak around the base of his cock.

“F-fuck, too much.” He whimpers while you ride out your high with fat tears streaming down your cheeks. You feel the overstimulation too. You feel the vibrating and pulsing and leaking. “Senstive, my dick is fucking… shit… baby, baby, get off..”

He lifts you and you whimper. His cock falls forward, his cum leaks from your stretched hole. His dick is red, swollen and pulsing and pretty. You straddle his thighs, watching his cock jump while leaking over the toned and taut muscle of his stomach.

Your plugs are still going at high speed and he clenches around it. “I’m gonna k-keep fucking cumming if you don’t turn that off…” He doesn’t sound as opposed to it as he tries to seem. You look up at him with big eyes, blinking at him with an insatiable urge to empty him.

“I’ll be your good girl if you’ll be my good boy..” Your voice is soft yet strained from the earlier screaming and Chan curses. He squirms, looking down at you with eyes just as shiny as yours. Just as needy as yours.

“I’m your good boy.”

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tteotlma · 5 months ago

Text

Unspoken

to everyone he's the indestructible wolverine, to you he's just logan —

Bf!Logan/Reader (3.5kw)

a/n: I’m kinda over smut rn.. It requires too much thinking rn and I just want some love so…

tw: mild sexual content, suggestive themes, alcohol consumption, mild language, domestic fluff

---

Everyone wonders how exactly you managed to bring the bad boy home to mom. Okay, not exactly, but close enough. When you started showing up around Logan, everyone was thrown for a loop.

"This is Y/n," he would introduce you for the first time at a group outing. He unknowingly blocked you from his table of teammates, so you put a hand on his arm to move him over.

Smiling brightly at the group, you introduced yourself as his girlfriend. Scott and Jean were stunned, while Ororo just smiled. She moved, took out a seat beside her, and patted it. You'd look at Logan, and he'd give a curt nod before saying he was going to get you both a drink.

As he left, he placed a small hand on your back, and you smiled at him before he walked away. Settling beside Ororo, you made yourself comfortable.

"Alright, alright, now tell us the truth," Scott huffed, stuffing his face with the complimentary peanuts in the middle of the table.

"I'm sorry?" Your eyebrows squeezed together, making Scott chuckle.

"So you're really his girlfriend?" he asked, while Jean gave you a careful eye.

"It appears that way, doesn't it?" You turned away just in time to grab your drink from Logan, taking a sip before looking back at Scott.

Logan had told you a lot about Scott and their complicated relationship - a sort of "I have to like you because we're family" kind of thing. You'd never held any resentment towards Scott, but you were aware that sometimes it could seem like he thought less of Logan.

Scott didn't say anything further, instead continuing to munch on peanuts and occasionally cracking jokes, flashing you his award-winning smile. The group settled into casual chit-chat, with Logan's body pressed beside yours despite sitting in separate chairs.

His arm slung around the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally brushing against your arm - a subtle reminder that despite all the people in the bar, you could freely focus on whatever, knowing he had you.

As the night wore on, stories and laughs were shared, the alcohol doing a good job of loosening everyone up, especially you and Logan. You were still at a point in your relationship where everything felt fresh to the outside, so the idea of PDA was still nerve-wracking. Granted, you and Logan had touched each other a lot, but that was always behind closed doors. In public, Logan preferred to be more of a guard dog, always standing over you wherever you went.

It never bothered you. In fact, you relished the fact that Logan never left your line of sight; he made you feel protected and special. He never pushed your comfort level, and vice versa. You were acutely aware of Logan's character flaws, and mixed with the fact that it had been years since you'd dated anyone, it was nice not having to force the physicality between you two - it came naturally when it wanted.

Like right now, the comforting atmosphere and lightheartedness had you leaning into Logan's warmth. Your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck, and his arm slipped off the back of the chair to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in. His hand lightly tickled your side as you absentmindedly ran your nails up his denim-clad thigh, the repetitive motion and feel of the micro-grooves beneath your fingers keeping you grounded.

You tried paying attention to the conversation, but each time Logan laughed, your whole body would shake along with his, and the deep rumble of his laughter would erupt from his chest - a sound you wished you could melt into.

"So why are you with Logan?" Jean asked, her cheeks flushed as she stared between you and Logan, watching the way his fingers played with the fabric of your shirt.

You ripped yourself away from thoughts of your boyfriend and tried to focus on the question at hand. "I'm sorry?" you said, having heard the question but unsure how to answer.

"Why Logan?"

You shifted in your seat to stare at the beefy man beside you. He looked down at you, a small smirk on his lips.

"Why Logan..." you repeated, pondering how to put into words the way this man made you feel.

How do you even put into words the way this man makes you feel? As mentioned before you hadn’t dated in what felt like forever but with Logan everything fell into place.

Everyone at the table probably assumes that Logan would be the most dismissive lover ever, a taker not really a giver but oh boy were they wrong.

To you, it felt like you were the center of his universe.

Whenever Logan would spend the night, you’d always wake up to an empty bed. At first Logan would run out of your place as soon as the sun would hit but one morning when you thought you were alone you slipped into one of Logan’s shirts you had lying around and when you pad to the kitchen you find the giant man surrounded by a rush aroma of coffee. And it’s been like that ever since.

Whenever Logan stays over he’s always up before you. The smell of coffee wafting throughout the apartment coaxing you out of bed. Once in the kitchen there’d be Logan in all his morning glory, shirtless with sweats that hung dangerously low on his hips, pouring the hot liquid into your favorite mug knowing you’d never say no to it.

He doesn't ask how you take it, he’s never had to. He just places the mug softly in front of you as you sit on a stool and watches you take a sip with a small smile.

Placing the mug down, you return the smile, and like clockwork Logan rounds the counter, turns your chair, and places himself between your legs. Your hands find their place at his side as he holds your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss on your lips. These quiet morning moments are just one of the many things you cherish about your life with Logan.

But it's not just the gentle moments that make your relationship special. Logan's protective nature extends to all aspects of your life together, including the more practical ones.

There have been a few times you've come home thinking someone's broken in. Loud clanging could be heard as soon as you walked in. You grabbed an umbrella from beside the door and stalked quietly toward the sound. When you finally turned the corner down the hallway, you noticed the bathroom light was on. With the umbrella held tightly, you stepped closer to the bathroom. There you found Logan tinkering under the sink, the clanking sound coming from the metal against the pipes. He was muttering to himself, brows furrowed in concentration, his muscles constricting beneath his dark blue shirt.

“My handyman.” You tease, discarding the umbrella and leaning against the door frame watching him work.

Without looking back at you he says “Someone’s gotta do it, darlin’.” You let out a small laugh, before walking away to get him a glass of water. When you come back he’s finishing up.

He wipes his hands with a towel, and takes the glass from your hand.

“My hero.” You say, finding your spot against the doorframe, smiling up at him, eyes filled with adornment for the man in front of you. He just pulls you in close and kisses your forehead.

“Can’t have you dealin’ with this kind of thing.” He says.

“Oh but sir,” You feign innocence, a small smirk growing on your lips. “I don’t get paid until Friday,” You hook a finger in his belt loop giving it a tug. “However, shall I repay you?” You cock your head to the side, and Logan quirks an eyebrow before playing along.

“Didn’tya know? I take other forms of payment.” His voice is low as he grabs your hips guiding you backwards. You laugh as he quickly shuffles backwards into your room.

The both of you stumble onto the bed, and Logan’s weight presses against you just enough to make you feel deliciously suffocated. His eyes are filled with mischief as he hovers over you, hands resting on either side of your head.

“Oh my, what form of payment were you thinking of?” You ask, voice playful but becomes breathless as he leans in to nose at your neck, lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of your neck.

He chuckles slowly, “I think y’already know sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything he catches your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, making it clear how he plans to collect.

His weight grounds you, as the teasing is forgotten, replaced with a slow electric pull of desire. Logan’s hand skims all over your body, gentle but firm, reminding you that you’re his in every way that counts.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Now, ‘bout that payment.. Don’t think that was enough, princess.”

You bite your lip, giving him a coy smile as your fingers slide down his chest. “Well, I’d hate to leave a debt unpaid, Sir.”

Logan leans down to brush his lips against yours, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Then you better make it worth while, buttercup. I don’t do all this hard work for nothin’.” He teases.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down. “Oh don’t worry. I always leave a generous tip.”

With a grin, Logan kisses you again, deeper than before. His hands continue their exploration as the playful banter gives way to something more intense, and heated. And just like that, all thoughts are replaced with only the two of you tangled up in each other, lost in the moment.

While these passionate encounters are exhilarating, they're not the only moments you treasure with Logan. In fact, your favorite kind of moments are often much quieter, born from the shared fatigue of long days and the comfort you find in each other's presence.

Your favorite kind of moments would have to be the days Logan comes over after a long day, the kind that left both of you feeling drained by the time the moon came over the horizon.

You’d flop onto the sofa as soon as you’d get home, letting the tension ease away from your muscles when five minutes later Logan opens the door, which you left unlocked for him.

Without saying a word he flops beside you, causing your body to follow the cave of the cushions and melt into his side. You wrap your arms around his neck and he snakes his arm around your waist, heavy hand resting on your hip squeezing lightly.

“Hi Baby.” You whisper, caressing his face. He looks down at you with hooded eyes and gives you a small smile.

“Hi,” he murmurs, leaning down to give you a soft, lazy kiss before pulling back and resting his head against the back of the sofa.

You hum contentedly, your arms tightening around him for a moment, the tenderness between you growing. Logan shifts beneath you, his large hands easily grabbing your legs, guiding them to rest over his lap. With a bit of maneuvering, he ends up leaning on his elbow, his arm still wrapped protectively around your waist, while you’re stretched out across the sofa, your legs draped over his, your bodies intertwined in the most comforting way.

He’s partially laying down now, with you tucked securely against him, and the gentle weight of his arm across you feels grounding, the two of you perfectly melted into one another.

“How was your day?” you ask softly, fingers gently caressing the back of his neck. Logan doesn’t respond right away— he instead lets out a low huff and buries his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

“Awe, the poor kitty.” You tease, patting his head lightly. Logan grunts, but the hint of a smile plays on his lips as his grip tightens around your waist.

“Yeah, yeah.” he mumbles, clearly too tired to give much of a response. You smile, allowing yourself to soak in the warmth of him, but after a moment, the thought of washing the day away crossed your mind.

You run your fingers through his hair one last time before sighing. “I should go shower,” you say, gently pulling away from him. Logan lets out a gruff dissatisfied grumble as you move to sit up, his arm still draped around you.

“Stay here,” he mumbles, a hint of a pout in his voice as he watches you sit up.

You chuckle softly, stretching as you stand and walk toward the bathroom. “You could always come with me…” you say casually, your back still to him as you head down the hallway.

Logan’s eyes follow you, and he huffs, pushing himself off the couch. “You know I’m not saying no to that.”

Before long, you’re both under the warm spray of the shower, the day’s exhaustion melting away. Logan stands still, eyes half-closed, letting the water run down his body. His skin glistens under the spray, rivulets tracing the lines of his body. You breathe in the steamy air, heavy with the scent of soap and Logan's own earthy musk.

Squeezing shampoo into your palm, its crisp herbal aroma cuts through the steam. Your fingers slide through Logan's hair, now slick and dark as ink. He leans into your touch, a low rumble of pleasure vibrating in his chest. His normally guarded expression softens, the furrows in his brow smoothing as your fingertips work small circles against his scalp.

Logan leans into your touch, his broad shoulders loosening as your fingers work their magic. The taut muscles beneath his skin gradually unwind, melting under the warmth of the water and the gentle pressure of your hands. You can feel the subtle shift in his posture as he surrenders to the soothing sensation, his breath deepening and slowing in response to your careful attention.

The steam swirls around you both, creating an intimate cocoon that seems to exist outside of time. You take your time, savoring the quiet vulnerability of the moment, your fingers moving with deliberate care through his hair.

"Mmm," Logan murmurs, his voice husky and low. "S'nice."

His eyes flutter open, meeting yours through the misty air. The look he gives you is unguarded, full of a tenderness that makes your breath catch. You continue your gentle massage, feeling the last remnants of tension melt away beneath your touch.

You guide him under the spray, watching as the water sluices away the soap, leaving his hair gleaming. Your hands trail down to his shoulders, feeling the solid warmth of him. The shower continues for a few more minutes, the rhythmic pattern of water creating a soothing backdrop.

Logan steps out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist. He grabs your plush robe from the hook and helps you slip it on. The soft fabric feels warm and comforting against your skin, still flushed from the hot shower.

Logan's hands linger for a moment on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Cozy?" he asks, his voice soft. You nod, enjoying the simple comfort of the moment.

As you make your way to the bedroom, Logan settles on the edge of the bed while you rummage through the dresser. You pull out one of Logan's well-worn t-shirts and a pair of his boxers, slipping them on. The familiar scent of him envelops you, a comforting mixture of cedar, a hint of motor oil, and something uniquely Logan.

Despite countless cycles through the washing machine, his scent clings stubbornly to the fabric. It's as if it's woven into the very threads, resistant to detergent and hot water alike. You breathe in deeply, savoring the aroma that's quintessentially him - a scent that speaks of strength, of safety, of home.

The shirt hangs loosely on your frame, soft from years of wear. As you pull it over your head, you're wrapped in an invisible embrace, Logan's presence tangible even in this simple piece of clothing.

Turning around, you catch Logan absent-mindedly rubbing the towel over his head. You can't help but smile at the sight. "Here, let me help," you say, fetching the hair dryer from the bathroom.

You plug it in and step between Logan's legs, gently taking the towel from his hands. The dryer hums to life, and you run your fingers through his hair as you work, watching it become soft and fluffy under your ministrations.

"Look at you, all fluffy," you tease gently, running your hand through his hair.

Logan's eyes crinkle with amusement. In one swift motion, he pulls you close, guiding you to sit across his lap. "You're one to talk," he rumbles, nuzzling into your neck.

You laugh softly, your fingers still playing with his hair. It's so soft now, and you can't resist running your hands through it again and again. Logan lets out a contented sound, almost like a purr, leaning into your touch.

Gradually, you both shift to lie on the bed, limbs tangled comfortably. Logan's arms are wrapped around you, holding you close like you're the most precious thing in the world. You continue to stroke his hair, feeling the last bits of tension leave his body.

The room is quiet now, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing. As sleep begins to tug at the edges of your consciousness, you feel utterly safe and loved in Logan's embrace. His breathing deepens, and you know he's drifting off too.

Few moments out of thousands flash through your mind as you sit at the bar, Jean's question hanging in the air. "Why Logan?" The memories of tender mornings, playful banter, quiet evenings, and the feeling of absolute safety in his arms all blend together, forming your answer.

You look up at Logan, who's watching you with a mix of curiosity and affection. The warm glow of the bar lights catches the amber flecks in his eyes, making them seem to smolder. You can feel the solid warmth of his body pressed against yours, his familiar scent - a mixture of leather, pine, and something uniquely him - wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You turn back to Jean with a soft smile, the taste of your drink still lingering on your lips.

"It's hard to put into words," you begin, your voice warm with emotion. The words catch in your throat as a flood of memories washes over you - Logan's rare, genuine laugh that always makes your heart skip a beat; the feeling of absolute safety in his strong arms; the tender moments in the quiet of the morning when he thinks you're still asleep. You open your mouth, ready to pour out your heart, but then you catch yourself. The intimacy of those moments feels too precious to share in the bustling, noisy bar.

Instead, you simply say, "Let's just say, when you know, you know."

The conversation moves on, but you can feel Logan's eyes on you, sense his curiosity. As you both leave the bar later, the cool night air a refreshing contrast to the warmth inside, Logan gently tugs your hand, pulling you close.

"What were you really gonna say back there, darlin'?" he asks, his voice a low rumble that sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. His breath, warm and smelling faintly of whiskey, ghosts over your cheek.

You look up at him, taking in the strong line of his jaw, the softness in his usually stern eyes. For a moment, you consider telling him everything - how he makes you feel, why you love him. But something holds you back. Maybe it's the lingering effects of the alcohol, or the magic of the nighttime city around you, but instead, you stretch up on your toes and press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I'll tell you someday," you murmur against his mouth, feeling his lips curve into a smile. "But for now, why don't we head back to my place."

Logan's arm wraps around your waist as you walk to his truck, and you lean into him, savoring the moment. The unspoken words hang between you, a promise for the future, as sweet and intoxicating as the night air.

---

a/n: quick! somebody call a dentist -- i think my teeth are rotting,,

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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

Note

hi hi! I love your writing and was wondering about what you’d think everyone’s reaction to a drunk us. Maybe we went drinking together and were a lightweight or something (idk 🥲) anyways thank youuuuu!!!

X-Men x Drunk!Reader (Part.1)

How they deal with their drunk s/o (Part.1)

A night out with your partner quickly turns wild as your tipsy self unleashes a little chaos around.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Bobby Drake, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Emma Frost, Raven Darkhölme & Laura Kinney

I was extremely inspired by this prompt, thank you <3

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- Logan is absolutely used to handling chaos, but nothing quite prepares him for the brand of trouble you unleash when tipsy. When you’re several drinks in and decide it’s a good idea to start a spontaneous dance battle with some random patrons, Logan just sighs and crosses his arms, watching with a mix of amusement and exasperation. He’s tempted to pull you away but can’t deny how much he’s enjoying the show.

- He’s mostly unfazed when you start taking your "battle" a bit too far, challenging one particularly large guy to a dance-off. Logan leans against the bar with a smirk, ready to step in if things get out of hand. He figures you can handle yourself, but if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s already prepared to make his presence known.

- When you stumble over to him, grinning like you’ve just won a gold medal, he can't help but chuckle, pulling you close and whispering, “You’re a handful, y’know that?” But it’s clear he’s enjoying this different side of you, especially when you insist on dragging him onto the dance floor despite his protests. Logan grumbles but lets you lead, his usual stoicism softening just for you.

- It’s when you try to order “a round for everyone” on his tab that Logan decides enough is enough. He firmly wraps an arm around your waist and steers you away from the bar, muttering about how he’s “not made of money” as you laugh and lean into him. He’s torn between scolding you and letting out a laugh of his own.

- On the walk home, you ramble about the night, sharing exaggerated stories and embellishments that make Logan roll his eyes but secretly cherish every word. Despite his gruff exterior, he listens to every detail, finding the way you see the world endlessly entertaining and a perfect counterbalance to his own guarded nature.

- By the time you’re back, Logan’s more than happy to tuck you in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. You’re finally starting to settle, mumbling something about how much fun you had with him. He just smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, though you can hear the affection in his voice. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- Remy absolutely thrives on chaos, and he’s more than ready to encourage it the moment he sees you’ve had a few drinks. When you suddenly decide it’s a great idea to “borrow” someone’s hat and start spinning it around like a magician, Remy’s right there, egging you on with a wicked grin and suggesting even wilder antics. “Go on, chérie, show ‘em what you got.”

- He’s delighted when you turn to him with that mischievous sparkle in your eye, pulling him into your impromptu show. You two quickly become the center of attention as he plays along, letting you use his trench coat for added flair while he flourishes a deck of cards with his signature charm, drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd.

- When you start loudly declaring that Remy’s “the best-looking man in the room,” he just smirks and pulls you close, whispering, “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know, ma belle.” You can tell he’s absolutely eating up every bit of attention, and he makes sure to dip you dramatically on the dance floor, laughing along with you.

- Things escalate when you decide to start a card game with some nearby strangers, with Remy’s deck, of course. You might be a little hazy on the rules, but he’s having too much fun watching you bluff your way through. The two of you make a formidable (if slightly unorthodox) team, charming everyone at the table with your combined wit and unpredictability.

- Remy makes sure to keep you steady when you start wobbling a bit, an arm always draped around your shoulders as he guides you from one bit of chaos to the next. He’s vigilant without being obvious, letting you have your fun while ensuring no one gets too handsy or tries to take advantage of your state.

- When the night winds down, he insists on carrying you back if you’re stumbling, laughing when you protest that you can walk just fine. Once home, he lays you on the bed with exaggerated gentleness, grinning down at you with that signature smirk of his. “Ma belle, you certainly know how t’ keep things interestin’,” he whispers before placing a soft kiss on your hand. For Remy, nights like this with you are what make life exciting.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- Kurt is simultaneously amused and a bit alarmed when he realizes you’re tipsy. He’s not used to you being so bold, so when you start loudly complimenting him and declaring him “the handsomest guy in the room,” his cheeks turn a dark shade of blue. He tries to calm you down, but you’re too busy grabbing his hand and dragging him toward the dance floor.

- At first, Kurt’s hesitant to join you, worried that his appearance might draw stares. But you’re so unbothered and so full of joy that he can’t help but relax, letting you lead him. His movements are clumsy but endearing, and he laughs along with you, his tail swishing in rhythm as he finally lets go of his worries, at least for tonight.

- When you start insisting on “showing everyone his bamf trick,” Kurt chuckles nervously, trying to talk you out of it. But you’re persistent, so he finally gives in, teleporting the two of you across the room in a puff of smoke. Your delighted laughter is infectious, and he starts teleporting you both to random spots around the club, filling the room with giggles and gasps from onlookers.

- Eventually, you try to climb up on a table to make an “important announcement,” and Kurt quickly teleports you back down before you can get too carried away. He’s laughing as he steadies you, but there’s a hint of worry in his eyes. “Mein liebe, maybe we should stick to safer activities, ja?” he teases, holding your hands firmly in his.

- As the night goes on, Kurt never strays far from your side. He’s a mixture of amused, charmed, and just a little bit flustered by your antics, but he’s also keenly aware of the attention you’re drawing. When anyone tries to get a little too close, he’ll bamf in between you and them, a protective look on his face as he politely but firmly keeps them at bay.

- Once you’re back home, he’s the sweetest caretaker, making sure you’re comfortable and tucking you in with a gentle smile. He holds your hand as you drift off, murmuring softly in German about how lucky he is to have someone as vibrant and fearless as you in his life. Even in your chaotic moments, Kurt’s love for you only grows stronger.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- Scott is a bit hesitant when he notices you’ve had a few too many drinks, but he’s dedicated to making sure you’re safe and enjoying yourself. When you start insisting on trying to wear his visor and “see the world through his eyes,” he’s both flustered and exasperated, gently guiding your hands away with a laugh. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want that,” he says, trying to keep a straight face as you pout.

- You surprise him by dragging him onto the dance floor, and Scott, ever the responsible one, initially tries to decline. But seeing you so excited and insistent, he finally gives in. He might be awkward at first, but he quickly adjusts to your rhythm, even pulling you close and twirling you in an attempt to match your enthusiasm.

- When you declare loudly to a few nearby patrons that Scott Summers is “the best and most handsome leader,” he can’t help but blush. He’s clearly flattered and a bit embarrassed by the attention, but he just nods, smiling shyly, as you shower him with compliments. He feels oddly proud of your open affection, even if he’s a little overwhelmed by it.

- Scott keeps a close eye on you throughout the night, gently steering you away from any potential trouble or prying eyes. When someone bumps into you, causing you to stumble, he’s right there to steady you, one hand firmly on your waist. He’s the picture of a protective boyfriend, subtly keeping others at bay while still letting you enjoy yourself.

- When you start to get a little too loud and insist on “making a toast to the greatest mutant leader ever,” Scott decides it’s probably time to get you home. He chuckles softly, catching your hand and guiding you out of the club, all the while listening to your increasingly dramatic proclamations of love and admiration. He’s touched by it all, even if he won’t admit it.

- Back home, Scott helps you settle in, making sure you’re comfortable and well-hydrated. He sits by your side, holding your hand as you drowsily tell him how much you love him. Scott just smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I love you too, even when you’re a handful,” he murmurs, content to stay by your side until you fall asleep.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- Jean is equal parts entertained and concerned when she realizes you’re tipsy. She’s usually the responsible one, but she can’t help but laugh when you start slurring your words and calling her your “favorite telepathic goddess.” Jean blushes, clearly flattered by your adoration, and gently shushes you, though she’s clearly enjoying every second of it.

- When you start dancing wildly, Jean initially tries to calm you down, worried about drawing attention. But seeing the joy in your eyes, she eventually lets her guard down and joins you, holding your hands and spinning you around as you laugh. She’s surprisingly graceful and a fantastic dancer, easily matching your energy and guiding you through the moves.

- At one point, you insist that you and Jean “show off your telepathic connection” to the crowd. Jean laughs, gently steering you away from the idea. Instead, she subtly uses her powers to make sure you don’t stumble, mentally guiding you to stay upright and steady. Her subtle help goes unnoticed by you, but she’s just relieved to see you having fun.

- Jean finds herself laughing even more when you start a friendly debate with a nearby stranger about the “genius” of her red hair. She can’t believe how fiercely you’re defending her beauty, even as you insist it’s a “scientific fact” that she’s the most gorgeous woman in the room. Jean’s cheeks flush, and she wraps an arm around your waist, whispering, “You’re adorable, you know that?”

- When you start to get tired, Jean’s the perfect caretaker, gently guiding you out of the bustling club. She makes sure you’re cozy, even grabbing her own jacket to drape over your shoulders. She keeps a hand on you the entire way home, reassuring you and quietly laughing at your sleepy, affectionate murmurs.

- Once back, Jean gets you settled on the couch, brushing stray hair out of your face with the softest smile. You reach for her hand, mumbling something about how lucky you are to have her. She blushes, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispers, more to herself than to you, as she sits by your side until you drift off.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- Ororo is incredibly amused when she realizes you’re tipsy; she’s rarely seen this side of you, and she finds it adorable. When you start calling her your “queen of the skies” and insisting she “make it rain just for fun,” she laughs and gently pats your cheek, reminding you that some powers are best kept for emergencies.

- You grab her hand and pull her onto the dance floor, much to her surprise. Ororo might be a graceful and poised leader, but she has a playful side too. She lets you lead, laughing as you spin her around, her silver hair flowing around her as she dances with surprising ease. It’s a rare sight, and you can tell she’s having fun, loosening up just for you.

- When you start loudly telling everyone nearby that “Ororo is the most powerful woman in the world,” she tries to shush you, laughing softly. She’s both flattered and slightly embarrassed by the attention, but she allows you to bask in her presence. She’ll gently tease you for your enthusiasm, a fond look in her eyes as she watches you defend her honor.

- Ororo’s always watching out for you, subtly guiding you away from any potential trouble. If you start to stumble or look a little too wobbly, she’s right there to steady you, her hand on your shoulder and a calm smile on her face. She finds a certain joy in taking care of you, grateful for this softer side of your relationship.

- At one point, you try to “command the winds” like her, playfully imitating her powers. Ororo laughs, incredibly entertained by your antics. She doesn’t mind the teasing, and she even indulges you by summoning a soft breeze that ruffles your hair, making you gasp in delight. “See? The winds listen to you too,” she jokes with a wink.

- When you’re finally ready to head home, Ororo makes sure you’re comfortable, holding your hand and gently brushing your cheek as you murmur about how amazing she is. She chuckles softly, telling you stories of her adventures to help you relax. Once home, she tucks you in with a gentle kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Sleep well, my love,” as she watches over you, content and deeply in love.

Anna Marie aka. Rogue

- Rogue is equal parts amused and nervous as she watches you go from a few drinks to a bit too tipsy. You start telling her she’s “the prettiest southern belle ever,” and she can’t help but blush and laugh, giving you a playful shove. But there’s a touch of worry in her eyes—she’s protective and feels a need to make sure you’re okay.

- When you try to dance with her, Rogue hesitates, but your enthusiasm is contagious. She ends up joining you, making sure to keep her gloved hands carefully in place. She’s gentle but full of energy, matching your moves while constantly keeping an eye on you to make sure you don’t trip over your own feet. Her laughter is light and warm, and she looks almost carefree.

- You start raving about how amazing Rogue is, telling random people nearby how she’s “a hero who can’t even touch people, but still manages to save the world.” She gets a bit flustered and shy, trying to hush you with a soft “sugar, that’s enough,” but the pride in her eyes is unmistakable. No one’s ever praised her like that before, and it means a lot.

- When someone accidentally bumps into you, and you look about ready to start a tipsy argument, Rogue steps in with a charming Southern drawl and defuses the situation. She’s got a sweet, calming presence when she wants to, and she manages to steer you away with ease, laughing about it afterward while holding your arm gently.

- Rogue knows when you’re reaching your limit and insists on taking you home, using a soft but firm tone to make sure you listen. She doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and seeing you a bit out of it brings out her nurturing side. “Alright, sugar, let’s get ya back before you do somethin’ we’ll both regret,” she says, guiding you with a patient smile.

- Once home, she sits with you, listening as you tell her how much you love her and appreciate her strength. Rogue’s heart swells with emotion, and she gently brushes a gloved hand along your cheek. “You’re somethin’ special, darlin’,” she murmurs, her voice warm and full of affection, staying with you until you’re sound asleep.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- Erik is a bit bemused but mostly wary when he notices you’re getting tipsy. He’s used to maintaining control in every situation, and your loosened inhibitions make him a bit nervous. But when you start complimenting his intelligence and calling him “the smartest, most powerful man in the room,” he lets a rare smile slip, finding your praise amusing.

- You start dragging him around, pointing at various metallic objects in the bar and insisting he show off his powers. He rolls his eyes at first, but he eventually indulges you by making a few small metallic items hover, just to see the joy on your face. Erik isn’t one to perform tricks, but he finds himself unable to say no to you.

- When you loudly declare that “Magneto is the future of mutantkind,” he tries to quiet you, but he’s clearly flattered by your support. He’s a man who’s used to admiration but doesn’t often receive it so openly. There’s a softness in his eyes as he places a firm hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat with a chuckle.

- Erik stays close to you, watching with an amused smile as you stumble through conversations and rant about how incredible he is. He’s fiercely protective, stepping in if anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s calm, composed, and carries an air of authority that subtly warns others not to mess with you.

- At one point, you try to mimic his deep, imposing voice, quoting some of his more famous speeches. He’s visibly amused, and even a bit impressed at how well you remember his words. Erik finds your respect for his ideals endearing, and he places a gentle hand on your back, chuckling as he listens to your tipsy impression.

- When it’s time to leave, he’s entirely in control, guiding you out with a strong arm around your shoulders. Once home, Erik sits with you, listening as you share your adoration for him. He’s not the most openly affectionate man, but he reaches out, gently squeezing your hand as he says, “Your loyalty is a rare gift, and I don’t take it lightly.” He stays by your side, quietly protective, until you’re resting peacefully.

Charles Xavier aka. Professor X

- Charles is endlessly patient as you start to get a little tipsy, a gentle smile on his face as you go from poised to adorably unfiltered. When you begin praising his brilliance and calling him “the kindest genius in the world,” he chuckles, incredibly touched. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teases, his eyes warm with affection.

- You insist that he shows off his powers, and Charles tries to decline, but your insistence eventually makes him give in. He subtly uses his telepathy to give you an image of your favorite place, a soothing mental picture that instantly makes you smile. He finds joy in seeing you happy, and he uses his powers in the gentlest, most comforting way.

- Charles is protective and attentive, ensuring you’re comfortable and not getting yourself into any trouble. When you loudly declare your love for him in front of others, he’s both embarrassed and deeply moved, his cheeks flushing slightly. “You’re quite the charmer tonight,” he whispers, his voice filled with warmth as he gently holds your hand.

- When someone tries to join your conversation, and you’re too tipsy to notice their intentions, Charles politely but firmly steps in, his calm authority enough to send them on their way. He might be gentle, but he can be firm when needed, and he’s especially vigilant when it comes to keeping you safe.

- You start telling Charles that he’s the greatest leader mutantkind could ever ask for, and he’s genuinely humbled, listening with a fond smile as you praise his wisdom and kindness. He doesn’t always let himself accept such compliments, but coming from you, they mean the world to him, and he quietly thanks you with a soft, appreciative kiss on your hand.

- When it’s time to leave, he makes sure you’re steady, guiding you with gentle hands and a reassuring presence. Back home, he helps you get comfortable, listening as you continue to express your admiration for him. Charles smiles, stroking your hand and murmuring, “I’m grateful for your support more than you know.” He stays by your side, his calm and comforting presence grounding you until you drift off to sleep.

Bobby Drake aka. Iceman

- Bobby finds your drunken antics both hilarious and endearing. As the night progresses, you start comparing him to a “walking snow cone” and insisting that he make ice sculptures for you on demand. Bobby, always up for a bit of fun, humors you by creating little ice animals in the palm of his hand, laughing as your eyes light up in delight.

- When you slip on an ice patch he accidentally created, Bobby quickly catches you, apologizing profusely while chuckling. You start calling him your “snow prince” and playfully berate him for “making the world slippery.” He just grins, his hold on you steady, clearly enjoying your tipsy declarations and the way you cling to him.

- You insist on taking selfies with him, urging him to freeze up cute little props for the photos. Bobby goes all out, conjuring up ice hats, snowflake glasses, and even a tiny ice crown for you. By the end, your phone is full of adorable photos of the two of you laughing and posing together.

- When you go off on a tangent, telling the bartender and anyone nearby how incredible Bobby is, he gets a bit bashful but loves every second. Bobby has always loved being the center of attention, but hearing you proudly gush about him has him smiling like a fool. He playfully nudges you, saying, “Keep it coming, babe; I don’t hear this enough!”

- When you get a bit too warm in the crowded room, Bobby uses his powers to create a gentle, cool breeze just for you. You giggle and thank him, calling him your “personal A/C,” and he chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and playfully cooling you down whenever you request it.

- By the end of the night, Bobby is happily holding you up, guiding you home with an arm around your shoulders. He listens as you continue to talk about how wonderful he is, and he just grins, giving you a quick, frosty kiss on the forehead. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” he says, staying with you until you’re safely tucked in and fast asleep.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- Wanda is amused by how talkative and unfiltered you get when you’re drunk. She’s often quiet and reserved herself, so seeing you let loose makes her smile. You start rambling about how “beautiful and powerful” she is, and she blushes, trying to brush it off, but your sincerity warms her heart.

- When you ask her to use her powers to make things “magical,” Wanda gently warns you, not wanting to attract too much attention. But when she sees the hopeful look in your eyes, she can’t resist. With a subtle flick of her fingers, she makes tiny red sparks dance in the air around you, creating a little “magic show” that leaves you giggling with joy.

- At one point, you try to mimic her iconic hand gestures, waving your hands around dramatically as if casting a spell. Wanda laughs softly, guiding your hands in the proper motions. “Like this, darling,” she murmurs, her fingers intertwined with yours as she playfully shows you her “magic moves.”

- When someone bumps into you a bit too roughly, Wanda steps forward, a protective fire in her eyes. Though she doesn’t escalate the situation, there’s a warning in her gaze that makes the person quickly apologize. She holds you close, whispering, “You’re safe with me,” her voice soothing and reassuring.

- As the night goes on, you keep insisting that Wanda is “the most powerful and amazing person ever,” and she laughs, flattered by your drunken praise. “You might be a little biased,” she teases, but there’s a soft blush on her cheeks, and you can tell she’s deeply touched by your admiration.

- When it’s time to go home, Wanda wraps an arm around you, using a bit of her magic to guide you gently so you don’t stumble. Once you’re home, she stays with you, listening as you continue to talk about how much you adore her. She strokes your hair and whispers, “You mean the world to me too,” staying by your side until you drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Pietro Maximoff aka. Quicksilver

- Pietro finds your drunken state absolutely hilarious, especially when you start trying to mimic his super-speed by running around. He quickly catches you each time, his laughter filling the air as he playfully warns you that “You’re not quite fast enough, babe!”

- You start challenging him to races, even though you know he’ll win. Pietro humors you, letting you “win” a couple of times, but eventually, he zips past you with a playful smirk. “Better luck next time!” he teases, only to scoop you up and spin you around when you pout about losing.

- When you get tired, Pietro is immediately by your side, lifting you into his arms without a second thought. You giggle and tell him he’s “better than a rollercoaster,” and he laughs, racing around just to hear your delighted squeals. He loves seeing you happy and will do anything to keep you smiling.

- When someone looks at you a bit too long for Pietro’s liking, he’s instantly protective, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and making it very clear that you’re his. He glares at the person until they look away, then turns back to you with a soft smile, his fingers brushing your cheek affectionately.

- You start bragging to strangers about Pietro’s speed, telling them he’s “the fastest guy in the world,” and Pietro just laughs, loving how proud you are of him. “Keep it up, and I’ll have to show off even more,” he says, giving you a cheeky wink as he zips around the room, just to impress you.

- By the end of the night, he’s carrying you home, his arms strong and steady around you as he runs. You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck, and he smiles, whispering, “I’ve got you, always.” Once you’re home, Pietro stays by your side, listening as you drift off, mumbling about how much you love him. He kisses your forehead, whispering, “Love you too, my slowpoke.”

Emma Frost aka. The White Queen

- Emma finds your drunken state absolutely fascinating, especially when you become more playful and bold. Normally calm and reserved, you start teasing her about her “icy” demeanor, and she’s amused, a rare smirk on her face as she listens to you try to “crack” her tough exterior. She’s secretly charmed by your confidence.

- When you dramatically declare that she’s “the most beautiful woman in the world,” Emma rolls her eyes with a soft laugh but secretly enjoys every word. She’s used to compliments, but something about hearing them from you, even in your tipsy state, makes her feel genuinely adored. She’ll brush a hand over your cheek, murmuring, “Careful with those compliments, darling—you’re liable to spoil me.”

- As the night progresses, you start showing off for her, attempting overly elaborate gestures and winking clumsily. Emma finds your efforts hilarious but still looks at you with genuine affection. Her fingers brush yours, and she lets herself be a bit softer with you, impressed by your uninhibited side.

- When someone gives you a bit too much attention, Emma is instantly protective. She’ll stand close to you, radiating that commanding aura, and make it clear that you’re taken. She’ll give you a subtle nod, as if to say, “Don’t worry—I’ve got you,” and her calm confidence reassures you instantly.

- You get a little bolder as the night goes on, playfully daring her to dance or try something “un-Emma-like.” Amused and intrigued, she might indulge you, swaying slightly to the music or even placing your hand in hers for a private moment. She’ll laugh, saying, “You’re lucky I’m in a generous mood tonight,” though you can tell she’s enjoying herself.

- When it’s time to leave, Emma makes sure you’re steady, her arm around your waist as she guides you to the car. She’ll whisper little reassurances, telling you how much she appreciates this rare, open side of you. Once home, she’ll help you settle in, her voice soft and reassuring, reminding you that she’s there for you completely.

Raven Darkhölme aka. Mystique

- Mystique is both amused and intrigued by your drunken state. Normally guarded, you become surprisingly talkative, telling her all sorts of stories. She listens with a raised eyebrow, smirking at your candidness. “So, this is what I miss when you’re sober?” she’ll tease, clearly enjoying this rare glimpse into your unfiltered thoughts.

- You keep reaching out to touch her, fascinated by her blue skin and how it shifts under your fingers. Mystique finds this endearing, gently teasing you but allowing you to trace her features. She’s rarely this vulnerable, but your innocent curiosity brings out a softer side, and she even leans into your touch.

- When you start rambling about how “amazing” and “mysterious” she is, Mystique just chuckles, a rare, genuine smile crossing her face. Normally, she brushes off praise, but hearing it from you makes her feel appreciated in a way she’s not used to. She might even mutter, “Careful, or I’ll start believing you.”

- As the night goes on, you get into a bit of mischief together, with Mystique indulging your chaotic ideas. She’ll shift into different forms to amuse you, and you giggle every time she surprises you with a new face. Her laughter is warm and genuine, her guard completely down as she shares these fun moments with you.

- If anyone even looks at you the wrong way, Mystique’s protective instincts kick in. She’ll throw a deadly glare their way, making it very clear that you’re off-limits. Her fierce loyalty to you is both comforting and thrilling, and you find yourself feeling safe and cherished in her presence.

- When it’s time to go, she keeps an arm around you, guiding you back with quiet reassurances. She murmurs little words of comfort, her voice softer than usual, and even hums a low melody to keep you calm. Once home, she stays by your side, brushing your hair back and promising, “I’m here, always.”

Laura Kinney aka. X-23 / Wolverine

- Laura is a bit confused by your drunken antics, as she’s not exactly used to seeing you so uninhibited. She watches with curiosity and maybe a little amusement as you sway around, stumbling slightly. Laura finds herself oddly charmed by this side of you, even if she’s unsure how to respond at first.

- You keep reaching out to hold her hand or touch her arm, and though Laura is usually reserved, she lets you. Your affection surprises her, but she’s not one to pull away, especially with you. When you look up at her with that tipsy grin, she can’t help the tiny smile that breaks through her usual stoic expression.

- When you start playfully teasing her, calling her “your fierce protector” and joking about her serious demeanor, Laura is both amused and a bit flustered. She’s never had someone look at her like you do, with so much warmth and admiration, and your words mean more to her than she’ll let on.

- As the night goes on, Laura gets a bit protective. If you start wandering or leaning too close to others, she’ll gently pull you back, her grip steady but careful. “Stay close,” she’ll murmur, her voice soft but firm, a little blush on her cheeks as she realizes just how much she likes keeping you safe.

- You keep talking about how “amazing” she is, going on and on about her strength, courage, and loyalty. Laura is taken aback, not used to hearing such open admiration, but she listens quietly, her heart swelling with pride. She doesn’t say much, but her hand stays in yours, squeezing gently whenever you look her way.

- By the end of the night, she’s helping you home, a quiet but steady presence by your side. Laura makes sure you’re comfortable, brushing hair from your face as you drift off. Before leaving, she murmurs, “I’ll always keep you safe,” her voice barely a whisper. She stays nearby, her protective instincts on high, ensuring you’re well cared for as you sleep.

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aajjks · 3 months ago

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FUCK! (VI)

synopsis. You hated your roommate but he had the biggest crush on you, fuck.

pairing: fboy!jk x fem!reader

genre: f2l, e2l, roommates au, fboy au (wow so many cliches), comedy au, mature themes, bad language, sex jokes.

disclaimer. this is purely fictional and this doesn’t represent bts’ jungkook irl. mature themes 18+ content ahead. mdni. ps. this jungkook thinks w his dick 👍

warnings jüngkøøk béïng döwn bàd (lïké réällÿ bäd), méntïøns øf tïts (béçäûsé øf çøûrsé), flüstéréd yn, bût shé’ll névér ädmït ït, jeøñ ‘nø filtér’ jüngkøøk, çhäøtïc énérgÿ évérÿwhéré, ünëxpëçtéd søft mømënts (døñ’t lét ït føøl yöü), jungkøøk béïng øbsësséd wïth yn ïñ thät drëss, brëädstïçk äbüsë, yn mïght bé çätçhïñg fëëlïñgs?? (üh øh), éxçéssïvé üsë øf thë wørd ‘bäbé’

note. OMG I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL ENJOY THIS. I AM SUPER SORRY FOR THE DELAY. PLEASE ENJOY OUR FUCKBOY.

series masterlist

You thought you’d feel normal again after giving Jungkook a chance,

Maybe even smug about the way he’d screamed like an idiot after you said yes. But, no. The man-child has been unbearable since this morning.

“Yn… what do you think about sunsets? Romantic, right?”

You glance up from your laptop, watching Jungkook hover in the doorway to the living room, hands clasped behind his back like he’s about to pitch a PowerPoint presentation about sunsets.

“Uh… yeah?” You squint. “Why?”

He grins. “Just gathering intel.”

“Intel for what?”

You are pretty sure he’s about to do something really stupid like always.

“Oh, nothing.” His smile turns suspiciously smug. “You’ll see. Just dress cute tomorrow night.”

You stare blankly at him for a second before turning back to your work. “Right. That’s not concerning at all.”

First of all, you don’t trust him for shit.

Jungkook doesn’t respond, but you can feel him still watching you. His energy practically radiates off him. You ignore him for as long as you can, but after a full two minutes, you can’t take it anymore.

“Do you mind?” you snap, not looking up.

Can he get out already?

“I can’t help it,” Jungkook whines. “You’re so hot when you’re focused. Look at you typing away like a boss. Ugh.”

You throw a pen at him, and he dodges, laughing as he runs back into the living room.

You can’t lie, his compliments make you feel a lot more hotter, and yes, you are kind of hot.

•••

Later that evening, you catch him in the kitchen, leaning over the counter with his phone in one hand and a protein bar in the other. He’s muttering to himself like a man with a mission.

“No, no, too cliché. Flowers are boring. Chocolate? Nah, she doesn’t like sweet stuff… But what if she secretly does?”

It’s official he’s fucking crazy.

You cannot believe that he’s actually talking to himself, but you kind of find it cute, he’s adorable, but you won’t say that to his face.

“Talking to yourself again?” you ask, grabbing a glass of water.

Jungkook jumps, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Uh—no. Totally not planning anything.”

Your brow lifts. “You’re literally the worst liar I’ve ever met.” A smile threatens to break.

He pouts. “It’s called mystery, yn. Look it up.”

“Sure, Jeon. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

As you head back to your room, you hear him mutter under his breath. “Mystery, huh? Yeah, I should add that to the date.”

•••

The next day, you’re already regretting giving him a chance. He’s been texting you all day with a mix of cryptic hints and straight-up nonsense.

And to be honest, he cannot type for shit.

Jk: do u like candles??? like…romantic ones

You: ?? sure i guess

Jk: got it

Jk: r u allergic to flowers??? asking for a friend

You: no. why.

Jk: just wondering. no reason. :)

Jk: YN CAN U WEAR THAT BLACK DRESS U LOOK SO GOOD IN PLS

You: ??????

Jk: or anything really. ur always hot. i love u btw.

This stupid fuck makes you smile so much.

By the time you get home, you’re exhausted. not from work, but from Jungkook’s constant existence. He’s waiting for you in the living room, dressed in a button-up shirt and black jeans, looking way too good for someone whose personality is 80% chaos and 20% football obsession.

“Why are you dressed like that?” you ask, dropping your bag on the floor.

Jungkook beams. “We’re going out! Duh. It’s date night, baby.”

“Date night?” you repeat, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. “I didn’t agree to that.”

“Yes, you did.” He crosses his arms. “Yesterday. When you said I could take you out. Ring a bell?”

It is sometimes fun to play dumb in front of him, you just like to test his patience a little bit.

“I didn’t think you’d plan it this fast.”

“What can I say? I’m efficient.” oh you know just how efficient he can be.

You sigh. “Fine. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Take your time, babe.” He grins, leaning against the doorframe as you walk past him. “Wear something sexy!”

What a shameless pervert but you will wear something nice nonetheless.

•••

Twenty-five minutes later, you’re sitting across from Jungkook at a rooftop restaurant. The view is gorgeous, the atmosphere is romantic, and Jungkook looks absolutely smug about the whole thing.

You’re honestly impressed, but seeing that smug smile on his face makes you want to strangle him, but damn, he outdid himself.

When it comes to Jeon Jungkook? You don’t really like to have high expectations of anything from him.

But he’s truly proved you wrong. Especially for a guy who doesn’t really do romance.

“So?” he says, resting his chin on his hand. “Am I killing it, or what?”

You roll your eyes. “You’ve done fine so far.”

“Fine?” He gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’ll have you know this is the best date anyone has ever planned in the history of dates.”

You’re gonna gag at his exaggeration.

“Relax, Jeon. You’re doing fine,” you tease, hiding your smile behind your glass of water.

Jungkook watches you for a moment, his usual cocky expression softening. “You’re really pretty, yn.”

“Trust me, Jeon. I know that.”

A sarcastic laugh leaves you at his awe struck expression. “You’re just saying that because I agreed to go out with you.”

“No, I mean it.” He leans forward, his gaze serious now. “You’re gorgeous. And smart. And funny. And I’m honestly losing my mind trying to figure out how I got this lucky.”

Your stomach flips, and for once, you don’t have a snarky comeback.

But of course, Jungkook can’t let the moment last.

“And your tits look amazing in that dress,” he adds with a wink.

You throw a breadstick at him, and he catches it, laughing so hard the entire restaurant turns to stare.

He’s never going to change and maybe a small part of your hopes that maybe he won’t ever change

•••

Back at the house, Jungkook walks you to your door like the gentleman he absolutely is not.

“So?” he asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Was I good enough for a second date?”

You smirk. “Maybe. If you promise not to mention my tits again.”

“No promises,” he says with a grin.

“Yn don’t be stupid. I’m just appreciating God’s masterpiece and you cannot stop me from doing that.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling as you shut the door in his face.

“Goodnight, yn!” Jungkook yells through the door. “I love you!”

You groan, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

You hope that tomorrow morning he will be normal, but.. most importantly you hope that your heart will behave normally.

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk smut

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cheriladycl01 · 4 months ago

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Kinktober 19/10/2024 Franco Colapinto - Panty Kink

Plot: Franco is absolutely obsessed with any and all of your underwear…

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, panty sniffing, panty licking, panty stealing, anything and all things panties, eating out, dry hump etc

Since you and Franco started dating it was a sweet and unproblematic relationship. But you couldn’t help but notice some … stranger things the longer you guys were together.

The first time he’d ever stayed over, he just slept in the bed with you after you guys ate loads of junk food and snacks.

A week after he left when you were doing a load of washing you noticed that some of your underwear, specifically your panties and lace ones at that had gone missing.

“Franco baby?” You asked over the phone when you decided to call him to see if he’d accidentally added them to the rucksack he’d brought his clothes in.

“Hi baby, argh god I miss you” you groans happily into the phone and you can’t help the butterflies that rise in your stomach.

“I miss you too. I was just wondering if you accidentally took any of my underwear with you when you left. I know I stripped off and left some at the edge of my wash basket because it was kind of full, but I can’t find them” you say and you hear a little shuffling as if he had gone to his bag to double check.

Little did you know, he had in fact taken them. Right out your dirty laundry basket before using them as he gave himself a hand job using the lace material against his dick for that added sensation.

But of course he wouldn’t admit that.

“Erm let me check the wash coz they aren’t in my bag” he says and he was just making up time to make it all seem more plausible. He had in fact chucked them in the wash after he’d come all over them and wanted them clean for his next time. However now that you were on to them he’d have to give them back.

“Thank you. They’re the only pair that go with the dress I’m supposed to wear this weekend” you tell him.

“Oh yeah they’re here in the washing machine with my stuff from that night” he says and they were mixed in with his washing, now your panties smell like him.

He couldn’t tell what he preferred, your sent on them from wearing them all day and being a little musky from your natural aroma that was driving him crazy and he couldn’t wait to get his first taste. Or his sent on them, making an item of yours smell so much like him which also made his brain a little haywire.

“Thanks baby, you wanna come over tonight?” You ask hoping that he would considering you felt like you hadn’t seen him in ages.

After that, it was a while before anything else bizarre happened. Until you guys were first having sex, he was obsessed with your panties, he’d dragged them down your legs with his teeth and pocketed them in his jeans before he went down on you like a starved man.

You didn’t think anything off it, if anything you found it kind of hot.

And after that, whenever you guys when to races together he’d always dip his hands into your jeans or skirt, whatever you were wearing and running his fingers up and down the hand of the thongs you were wearing that rested nicely on your curved hips.

It wasn’t until you caught him in the act. It was a race weekend and he’d just been promoted from F2 to F1 in a Williams seat. You were insanely proud of him and took the last few days of your working week to travel to Italy with him when you heard.

You’d gone out for dinner with the other wags, Lily becoming your older sister role model in the paddock. Of course neither you nor Franco were media trained so you had been caught on camera being rather chaotic together, and everyone already seemed to adore you.

However when you come back to the hotel room, earlier than the others who were going out clubbing instead and you didn’t really feel like going you decided to go back.

What you didn’t expect was as you got to the hotel room door to open it to here a sort of whimper. You went in as to you from the outside it sounded like he could have been in pain.

As you walked in you saw a sight you never expected.

It was your boyfriend with your sexy pink underwear wrapped in his hand around his dick that was rubbing up and down his shaft releasing moans from deep in the back of his throat.

“Franco?” You asked shocked he hasn’t heard you open the door. His hand dropped and he looked at you in shock before grabbing a pillow to cover himself up.

“Baby! What are you doing back your early” he gulps out looking at you with wide eyes. Full of lust and need.

“All the girls were going clubbing, I didn’t want to go- are you using my underwear?” You ask looking at him shocked and confused. In seconds he’s up and coming up to you, tears building in his eyes as he puts both his hands on your cheeks.

Worry was all that you could see in his eyes now.

“I-I’m so sorry I should have told you but” and ends up rambling about your panties and his kink for anything to do with the provocative underwear, even if it wasn’t provocative he still loved it.

“Baby baby baby, shush it’s okay” you chuckle not bothered about the fact he was using your stuff to help him get off.

“W-what? You just came back to find me using your stuff to get off. Aren’t you mad?” He asks, sniffing a little bit.

“No, you’re my boyfriend. I think it’s sweet you like my panties. But you really couldn’t wait for me to come back? Or were you too embarrassed to ask for my panties” you ask, and he looks down.

“I-“ he starts but you pull him into a kiss, shushing him immediately.

“How about this. I’m here to help now, and you can do whatever you want with the panties I’m in now?” You grin, hoping he wouldn’t feel as embarrassed and open up to you.

“Thank you mi amor” he says before lifting you up and putting you on the bed. He doesn’t waste anytime hitching your dress up. His head immediately dived in between your legs, his nose hitting your clothed clit as he inhales a breath of you.

“Franco” you moan looking down in confusion to see what he’s doing.

“Smell so good. Could just stay here forever” he groans as he kicked a strip up your panties nudging his nose in a little more making a moan come from you.

“Baby…” you moan, your hand coming down into his hair gripping him in closer. He pulls the panties just to the side. Wanting to keep them there as his tongue dove into your deep and wet cavern. His groan vibrated around you making you gasp and your eyes squint shut at the feeling.

Franco had a thing for eating you out. All of your previous relationships, didn’t really do that but my god Franco wasn’t scared to have his chin dripping with your juices by then end.

His nose hit the perfect spot making your hips buck up as that feeling inside you released right into his awaiting mouth.

“Oh my god, so fucking good” you moan as he pulls your panties back across. They were gray and him seeing that little wet spot now building on them made him sit at the edge of the bed. He kept his boxers on and pulled you off the bed so you were stood in front of me.

“Want you on me” he points to his dick making a tent in his boxers and you immediately know he wants you to ride him with your panties on. Both you being clothed and just having that friction.

You turn yourself around so your facing away from him before you balance against his lowered lap, perfect height for your to run your clothed pussy against his restrained dick.

“Fuck baby, that’s it” he says, his hands on your hips snapping the edging of your panties against your hips making you moan out. You swivel your hips a little quicker making him thrust up into you trying to get as much out of it as he can.

“Oh fuck baby I’m gonna cum, gonna cum” he moans his thrusts becoming wild as his dick as the roughness of both sets of underwear rubbing against him. Before he knows it, his white strings of cum are being forced out of his own gray boxers and staining the back of your own panties as you keep moving to reach your own high, which isn’t too much longer after him.

“Fuck that was so good” you say gripping his thighs as you slow down. You turn round to see him, a fucked out expression on his face.

“This… this is why you tell me your kinks” you laugh at him, before getting up to get cleaning supplies from the bathroom. The last thing he sees is the wet spots on your panties from his own cum and your own sweet release.

While your in the bathroom he hears some movement and russling and before he knows it a gray fabric is launched at him.

In his hands was your damp underwear.

And at the moment seeing you grinning, watching him to see his reaction and he knew at that moment you were the one for him.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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ariestrxsh · 2 months ago

Text

sub!pizzaboy!chris x boss!reader

🍕 content warning: smut, praise, jealousy, masturbation, oral (f! & m!receiving), edging, begging, unprotected sex, light choking

🍕 summary: you can't help but get a little jealous when you find out your favorite employee, chris, has been sharing his meat with everyone, but you

Pizza Guy

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 |

"That delivery should have only taken twenty minutes. Why did it take you an hour and a half?" You inquired, peering up from the nightly paperwork at Chris, who had just walked through the front door of the otherwise empty pizza shop.

He could immediately feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

Chris was your best employee when he wanted to be, but he was constantly pushing the boundaries with you and taking advantage of how much you let him get away with. You could never fire him, though, and he knew that.

He had too many redeeming qualities. He was always covering shifts, bringing in good reviews, and working without complaining. He was also extremely polite and had a lot of respect for authority, always calling you ma'am and asking what you needed from him.

Chris' only downfall was that he couldn't help but mix business and pleasure - always getting high on the job and entertaining the women who were metaphorically lined up for him in between deliveries and sometimes on deliveries.

He always had a good excuse, though. And when he didn't have an excuse, he'd turn on the charm. He saw the way you looked at him, your hungry gaze that would linger for a few seconds too long, and he recognized the need in your voice, every word coated with lust. He knew that in your eyes, he could do no wrong. He had you wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't above using that to his benefit.

"Chris. Where the hell have you been?" You repeated, interrogating him. "Sorry, ma'am.." he apologized, forcing a pout. "I got pulled over," which wasn't technically a lie. "Oh, Chris. You poor thing," you responded, your tone immediately changing as you walked over to him, giving the sweet boy a hug.

"Did you get a ticket?" You wondered, cradling his flushed face. "No, ma'am. Almost. I think the police officer has a little bit of a crush on me," Chris said, his blue eyes flickering back up at yours as he tried to hold back a smirk. Can't blame her, you thought, studying his handsome features as his seemingly innocent smile stared back at you.

You detected a scent on Chris, one you could recognize anywhere and one you'd already addressed with him. "Chris. Are you stoned right now?" You glared at him, looking at the redness in the whites of his eyes, dropping your hand from his face. "What?! No!" He objected defensively, avoiding eye contact.

"There's no way you just got pulled over. If a cop looked at you for longer than two seconds, you'd be in the back of the cop car in cuffs right now. I bet you were at your dealer's house," you accused him, crossing your arms over your chest.

"I'm not lying, ma'am. She did put me in cuffs," Chris responded, his cock stirring in his jeans as he recounted the events that took place earlier in the night. "You mean to tell me, you went from being cuffed to walking away without even getting a ticket?" You shot him a skeptical look.

He showed you his wrists, pointing out the red marks left behind from the metal that dug into them under the weight of himself and the cop while she riding him. "Don't worry about how I got off, ma'am. All's that matters is that I did," Chris responded, his gaze locked on yours.

You bit down on your lip, imagining Chris in restraints, offering to do anything to keep a clean driving record. You knew it was wrong. After all, he was your subordinate, but that was another reason you could never fire him.

He was so hot, and he knew it. He had this way of looking at you and talking to you when he knew he was about to get into trouble that immediately made you melt. You couldn't stay mad at him. Not even if you wanted to.

"Chris, you gotta be careful. I don't care you if you smoke weed, but you can't keep doing it on the job! You could have gotten yourself into big trouble tonight!" You jabbed your finger into his chest, giving him a serious look.

The truth was, you'd bail him out of jail if you could, but as much as you wanted to protect Chris from the consequences of his actions, you could only do so much when it came to the law. "I'm only hard on you because I care about you," you whispered, caressing his cheek.

"I know, but it makes me feel so good. Don't you like things that make you feel good, ma'am?" Chris asked, a bit of seduction seeping into his tone. You stood in silence for a moment, studying his pretty blue eyes and his pouty lips as he looked you up and down. You avoided his question.

"You know, Chris. I read a really interesting review someone left a while back about you while you were gone," you smirked, sauntering back over to your desk and pulling up the review on the computer. "Was it a good one?" He wondered, his facial features softening as he hoped you were about to start praising him.

"I don't know, you tell me. 'Their driver, Chris, has the best Italian sausage in town. He always goes the extra mile to please the customer,'" you read it word-for-word. "What could she have meant by that, huh?" You wondered with a bit of jealousy lingering on the tip of your tongue.

"I think she just really liked my meat, ma'am. I mean, the shop's meat," he corrected himself, giving you another sultry smile. "Is it the shop's meat? Because I certainly haven't been getting any," you remarked, glancing down at the outline of his half-hard cock in his jeans.

"Oh, ma'am. It would be so wrong," Chris purred, secretly enticed by the moral complexity of the idea of sleeping with his boss. His eyes dropped to your figure as his imagination took over, picturing how certain parts of your body would jiggle while riding him.

"Makes it even hotter, doesn't it? How wrong it is? What do I have to do to get a taste of your meat, huh?" You asked, getting up from your desk and slowly making your way towards him again. "All's you have to do is ask, ma'am," Chris responded with allure in his tone, taking a step closer to you.

"Well, I finished everything while you were getting pulled over," you smirked. "Why don't you come home with me, sweetie? It's the least you could do. I'll take really good care of you," you flirtatiously responded, leaning in and kissing his neck. You took both his hands and placed them on your waist.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. Please take me home with you. Take good care of me," he whimpered as he tilted his head to the side to give you better access, immediately giving into your advances.

Your lips were so soft, and Chris couldn't get enough of the way they felt on the sensitive nerve endings on his neck, sending blood rushing to the tip of his cock as a few luscious moans escaped.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" You cooed, running your fingers along the bulge in his pants as your kisses grew slower, deeper, and more passionate. "Yes, ma'am," Chris mewled, grinding against your palm.

"Down, boy," you said, smiling and petting his package through his jeans as you retreated from kissing his neck. He nearly sobbed when you pulled away. "Oh, ma'am. You're so cruel. Getting me all riled up when we still have a long drive ahead of us," he whispered, already feeling lightheaded from the way you handled him.

"You were cruel first. Leaving me here all alone while you entertain other women. Don't you know how bad I need you here with me, Chris?" You wondered, your words drenched in envy as you delicately ran your hand across his chest.

Of course, you meant it in a professional sense, needing him at the store to help you close up, but you also meant it in a much more primal sense, and he did know. He'd known for a while now, but Chris wasn't the type to make the first move. He'd been waiting for you to finally say it. He nodded.

"Show me how bad you need me," he seductively whispered, tempting you. "Let's lock up, shall we?" You said, taking Chris by the hand, leading him towards the front door, and shutting off all the lights on your way out.

The two of you stepped out into the dark, chilly night, the breeze biting at your nose and stinging your lungs as you inhaled. You slipped the key into the lock, turning it until it clicked, and you tugged on the freezing cold handle for good measure.

Chris followed you to your nice, shiny, black SUV and climbed into your passenger seat. You started the ignition, your engine roaring as it turned over. You turned on the heat, placing your palm in front of the fan, waiting for the air to warm up.

Chris was still rock hard, his eager cock straining against the denim fabric he wore and his mind swirling with the possibilities of what you were going to do with him once the two of you made it back to your place.

"So, what really happened with that cop?" You deviously wondered, glaring at him before looking back at the road you started down. Chris blushed. "She handcuffed me and put me in the back of her car. Then whatever you think happened is probably what happened next," Chris smugly suggested.

You bit your lip, letting your imagination run wild. "And the customer, Chris? You naughty boy," you clicked your tongue at him, shaking your head. His head fell lazily against the headrest as he peered over at you with a submissive expression.

"Ma'am. I promise I'm a good boy. I don't have a naughty bone in my body," Chris lustfully responded, his cock beginning to twitch in his pants as his eyes danced over your lips, imagining how they'd feel wrapped around him. "Well, maybe one," he quietly admitted, shifting around, trying to adjust his aching erection.

"Take it out for me, Chris," you demanded. "Right now?" He asked, an upward inflection in his voice as his brows flew up. "Yes. Show me that pretty cock that the girls can't get enough of, hmm?" You hissed, placing your hand on his thigh and making it jump again. "Yes, ma'am," he nodded, unclasping his belt, undoing his button, and lowering his zipper.

Your eyes shifted between the road and his dick, favoring one more than the other as he started to pull it out. Your eyes widened and your jaw fell slightly open at the sight. "You like what you see, ma'am?"

You couldn't find the words to describe just how much you did, so you settled for a subtle nod. Its size was intimidating and intriguing all at the same time. He went to wrap his long fingers around his veiny shaft, but you swatted his hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah. I didn't say you could play with it," you teased him. He gave you a pout, his brows turning up in a look of anguish. "But I need it," Chris whined.

"I thought you said you were a good boy, hmm? Don't good boys listen and do what they're told?" You purred, playing upon Chris' praise kink and his need for your approval. He hesitantly nodded. "Then behave, Chris." You lightly patted his thigh again, driving him mad with your touch. "Yes, ma'am," he mumbled.

"Why don't we play a game? And if you're a good boy and play the game correctly, then I'll let you touch with it," You suggested, running your tongue along the inside of your teeth. "What kind of game?" Chris wondered, eager to let his hands wander below his waist.

"The kind of game where you tell me what happened with that customer who left that review while you stroke yourself, but you have to do exactly as I say. And you better listen and tell me exactly what happened or else you're in big trouble," you told him.

"But ma'am, I'm gonna get in trouble with you anyway," Chris quietly pouted, worried you were going to fire him for lying about his slashed tires that night.

"Oh, Chris. You could never be in trouble with me as long as you tell the truth," you cooed, softly running the back of your hand along his cheek. "You promise?" He timidly asked. "I promise," you replied, and you meant it.

"Go ahead, Chris. Start touching it," you voiced, giving him permission. His hand moved towards his cock, firmly gripping it, and he let out a relieved sigh as he started slowly stroking.

"So, tell me, Chris. Who instigated the interaction? You or her?" You interrogated him, glancing between the road and his swollen head, a wet patch forming on the front of your panties. "She did, ma'am," Chris told you.

"Did you go inside her house?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "I know I'm not supposed to, but.." Chris started to say. "But what? Answer me, Chris."

"Yes, ma'am. I did go into her house," Chris whimpered, his gaze meeting yours. "How'd she get you to stay, hmm?" You purred, watching Chris' facial features soften as he relaxed into his pleasure.

"She made me a cup of hot cocoa and started kissing my neck. She told me to call you and give you an excuse as to why I couldn't come back to work. Told me she'd make it worth it," Chris admitted, looking nervously at you with his blue eyes.

You gasped. "You naughty boy," you narrowed your gaze at him, a little annoyed that he had faked an excuse to get out of work but a little turned on by the fact that he'd done it to get his dick wet. "She made me call you while she was sucking me off," Chris replied, a smirk forming in the corner of his pink lips.

"You called me while she sucked you off?" You repeated what he just told you to make sure you heard him correctly. You squeezed your thighs together as you pictured him on the phone with you while he had his cock in another woman's mouth. "Mhmm," Chris nodded, pumping his length faster as it quivered against his palm.

"Slow down, Chris. You're gonna have to make yourself last a long time, so don't get too carried away," you smirked at him, thinking about how long you were gonna make him wait to finish. He took a deep breath and slowed the pace. "That's very naughty of you, sweetie," you responded in a voice just above a whisper.

The rest of the drive to your destination, you teased Chris, trying to extract information from him about his most recent sexual encounters, and he spilled the details to you relunctantly. Despite his hesitancy, his cock gave him away, jerking at every word you spoke that jogged his memory.

"Did she ride you, Chris?" You provocatively asked, and you watched it twitch again, listening closely as a soft whine passed through his lips. "I think she did.." you answered your own question, giving him a playful smile.

"You like it when the girl's in charge, don't you? You love to be bossed around in bed," you insinuated, and you watched Chris blush and nod in response as he ran the tip of his thumb through his precum, spreading it around on his sensitive head.

The banter between you and Chris was enticing to say the least, and the whole time you were soaking wet, buzzing with excitement about what Chris would be like in bed and how good his pretty dick would feel lodged inside of you while you bounce up and down on it.

You saw how close he was getting as you turned onto your street, and before he could finish, you stopped him. "Be a good boy, Chris. Put it away for a second. His eyes were filled with hurt and desperation, but he nodded and did as he was told.

Once you pulled into your garage, you turned to Chris, gently grabbing onto his hair and pulling his face just a few inches from yours as you locked your hungry gaze onto his.

"Look. Normally, I'd invite you in, give you something to drink, offer you something to eat, show you around. I don't have the fucking patience for that right now, Chris. What we're gonna do is go straight to my room, and you're gonna be a good boy for me and let me use you however I want for as long as I want. Got it?" You demanded.

Chris obediently nodded, his face conveying desire. You took Chris' hand, leading him in through your warm and cozy house that smelled like apple cinammon. You guided him up your stairs and into your bedroom.

You pulled him into a passionate kiss, your mouth crashing into his as the sexual tension between the two of you built to an all-time high. His pretty moans vibrated against your lips as you reached under his shirt, your fingertips brushing against his hip bones as you hooked them onto the hem of the material.

You pulled away long enough to pull his uniform off over his head, and you quickly dropped to your knees. Chris looked down at you, wetting his lips as he silently begged you with his eyes to do what he thought you were going to do. You unbuttoned his jeans, slid the zipper down, and pulled down his pants and his underwear.

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as if you were getting ready to please his cock, but you couldn't let him finish without a little more teasing. Instead, you retreated, standing to your feet as a look of disappointment seeped into Chris' expression.

It was just as hard for you as it was for him. You'd imagined this scenario a hundred times, and you couldn't wait to hear the pretty sounds he'd make while you suck on it, but the fact that you'd been waiting so long for it, made you want to savor every moment, every kiss, every touch..

You gently pushed him back onto your bed, and his eyes danced over you while he propped himself up on his elbows as you shed off your own layers, letting them fall to your feet. You climbed on top of him, pulling him into another passionate kiss as the two of you rolled around on your silky soft sheets.

"Be a good boy for me, Chris. Let me sit on your pretty face," you demanded from him, but it didn't take much persuasion. "Oh, yes, ma'am. You don't have to tell me twice," Chris eagerly replied as you gently pushed him down, guiding him to lie flat on his back.

You straddled his face, placing your knees on either side of his head and lowering your pussy onto his mouth. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you as close to him as possible as his tongue explored your folds, flickering back and forth over your sensitive clit.

You entangled your fingers in his messy hair, and you gently tugged on it, causing him to moan against you while his eyes rolled back in his head. The vibration that passed through his lips reverberated against your vulva, pleasure rushing through you.

You gently rocked your hips back and forth, riding Chris' face and grinding against his silky, wet tongue. You peered down into his gorgeous blue eyes as you combed through his brown locks. "You're such a good boy, Chris," you whispered, enjoying the feeling of his lips as he wrapped them around your bundle of nerves and started tenderly sucking on it.

"Yes, sweetheart. Just like that," you encouraged him. He nuzzled into your heat, relishing in the lovely sounds that left your lips and the way you rutted against his face, all testaments to how good he was making you feel. He could eat you for hours.

He reached up and grabbed your breasts, gently rolling your nipples between the pads of his fingers. He moaned against your clit a few more times as he delicately sucked on it, rapidly flicking his tongue against it. You felt pressure building in your lower stomach as you tightened the grip of your thighs around Chris' head.

"Good boy," you whimpered again, your body beginning to shiver as your pleasure reached a crescendo. His cock twitched at your praises, and his hands moved to your waist, stabilizing you as he admired the way you looked from this angle.

He took your clit between his lips and gently tugged on it until you were coming undone. You threw your head back and started fervently grinding against his face, losing yourself in your orgasm as you released onto his tongue.

He lapped up every last bit of your wetness, savoring the sweetness that filled his senses. Once you were completely satisfied, he removed his mouth from your pussy. "Did I do a good job, ma'am?" Chris asked, his big, blue eyes staring back at yours with his chin covered in your juices.

"Oh, sweetheart. You always do. You were perfect. Such a good boy," you purred breathlessly as you ruffled his hair once more, starting to lift yourself off of him. "Get comfortable, sweetie. Let me take care of you," you cooed.

"Yes, please," he politely answered, nestling among your mess of pillows and propping himself up against your headboard. He loved it when you took charge. He kept his eyes locked on yours as you placed yourself between his legs.

He'd been hard for the past hour, desperate for you to take it into your mouth, but you were still savoring every moment, and he secretly adored all the teasing. You drew a line from the base of his dick all the way up his length with your soft tongue, and it twitched in response.

You gently kissed his tip, slurping up the shiny, clear fluid that was slowly leaking out as you slowly stroked his dick. He let out a soft, pleasured sound as your tongue made contact with all his sensitive nerve endings, and you started delicately flicking it across his swollen, pink head.

"How's that?" You asked in a soft voice. "So good," he whined as you started combining the two techniques, sucking on it while your tongue got to work, fluttering around in the best-feeling places. Pretty noises poured from his lips as you took him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down slowly on his length and learning every vein with your tongue.

He smiled down at you and tenderly placed his hand on the back of your head, silently asking you to take more of him. You listened by sliding your lips all the way down his shaft until he was hitting the back of your throat. He gasped as you took it all so effortlessly. "How'd you learn to do that, ma'am?" He whimpered, peering down at you wide-eyed and breathing heavily as you chuckled, humming around the base.

You sped up your movements, sloppily drooling and making a mess all over his cock. "Please let me cum. Please," Chris moaned, his luscious voice spilling into the air. Despite how politely he asked, you took him out of your mouth long enough to give him a smirk and shake your head no.

"Please, please, please," his jagged breaths becoming whiny and needy. You ignored his begging and continued your pace, bringing him dangerously close to the edge before withdrawing all stimulation. He let out a few strangled moans as his cock twitched some more, begging to be sucked on again.

You loved how responsive he was and how his body language reacted to every subtle touch. You wrapped your lips around him again, and a stream of lustful noises flowed from him. You looked into his blue eyes that were silently pleading with you. You could see how desperate he was, which made you want to edge him even more.

"Please," he whispered again as if you didn't hear him the first half a dozen times he asked for you to let him finish. "You're going to have to be a good boy and wait," you teased him, removing your mouth again and shifting around on the bed. He responded with a subtle nod.

You began to straddle him, guiding his rod towards your entrance, and you let out a delighted hum as you lowered yourself down onto him. Chris' head gently fell back and tapped the headboard as you squelched around him.

"Oh, Chris. You're so big," you moaned. "So I've been told," Chris chuckled. He couldn't help how much that compliment stroked his ego. You started to ride him, your breasts bouncing in his face as he latched onto your nipples, tenderly sucking on each one. His hands wandered towards your ass, and he squeezed your soft flesh, whimpering against your chest.

"Good boy," you praised him as you ran your fingers through his hair, massaging his head. You leaned down and started sucking on a sensitive place on his neck, and he whined into your ear as he tried to hold on while you were actively working against him. "Please let me cum," he asked again patiently and politely with desire in his expression.

"Not yet, pretty boy," you cooed into the crook of his neck as you continued lightly sucking on it. Whimpers escaped his mouth as you picked up the pace, your strides becoming faster and rougher. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, but he tried to hold on to please you.

He was always able to hold the different perspectives of you in his mind, both the professional view he had of you and the sexual desire he felt toward you. He couldn't help but delight in the way the two versions of you merged in front of him. He'd always loved how bossy you were, but the way you were ordering him around in bed gave your bossy nature a whole new meaning to him, and he adored it.

He loved the way you bounced on him, your moans becoming louder and more urgent. He could feel you clenching around his cock, which made it even harder for him to fend off his long-awaited orgasm.

"Please, please, please," he begged some more, losing his composure. "Please let me cum, ma'am," he sweetly requested, his dick already beginning to throb inside of you. He wasn't exactly asking for your permission but more or less warning you that he couldn't hold off anymore.

"Yeah? You wanna cum?" You asked, peering into his bedroom eyes and examining his flushed, pink cheeks and the way he kept licking his lips. "More than anything, ma'am," he whimpered, his eyelids growing heavy and his mouth falling open.

"Only because you've been such a good boy," you commented, caressing his jawline with your thumb and moving your hand to his throat. You gripped his neck, lightly choking him which sent him over the edge.

A few strangled moans passed through his lips as his eyes rolled back and his head gently thumped against the headboard again. His climax hit him like a freight train, barreling through him and sending a jolt of pleasure through his whole body.

He shot his load up into you as you finished onto him, the room filling with both of your satisfied sounds. You involuntarily dug your nails into the flesh of his neck, intensifying how good it felt for him. You slumped forward, pulling him into a warm embrace as you throbbed around him.

"Chris, I've been wanting to do that forever," you breathlessly whispered into his ear. "Maybe I should make you jealous more often, huh? It really seems to get your attention," Chris smugly remarked, smirking at you. "Oh, sweetie. You don't have to try to get my attention. You just always have it."

taglist: @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @slutforsturniolosss @sturniolosweets @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @luvhsien @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00 @sweetlikesug4rvenom @m11rx @sturniolocharms @mickelodeon-2003 @sigmarizzler1 @chrislova @stellarsturns @lelesturniolo @sturniolodoll @ilovemattsturn @blahbel668 @fratboychrisera

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #sub chris sturniolo

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rafesslxt · 10 months ago

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HII<33 i love ur work and i was wondering if you could write one where matt sees u with another guy and gets really really jealous and it ends with mattheo like really hard core fucking the reader like bend over and stuff? (can u tell i’m ovulating?)

[sorry for the late answer but I’m cleaning my drafts and requests right now and since I have so many I‘m gonna keep them a little shorter, hope u still like it 🫶🏻]

+ i already had something similar in my drafts so i mixed it

jealous jealous jealous you | mattheo riddle

summary: mattheo wants to make you jealous but you‘re way ahead of him

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, spanking, doggystyle, jealousy from reader and mattheo, different house reader

words: 1,2k

Mattheo thought he had the best plan ever. He knew you liked him, he saw the looks you gave him when you thought he wasn‘t noticing. The way he could always get under your skin with his annoying comments, your cheeks heating up when he whispered them into your ear, his hot breath hitting your skin.

But he was just as stubborn as you. So of course he wouldn‘t just admit he liked you. He wanted to make you say it so he had a plan.

Tonight it was a party where all the houses gathered together to celebrate. You knew Mattheo would be there ao of course you wore the shortest and tightest dress you owned with cute little heels on your feet. When you entered the party, it didn‘t took long for you to find Mattheo, dancing with Pansy. But what they both didn‘t knew was, you knew that Pansy liked your best friend Jane so it was obviously what kind of game he played.

But two can play that game. It didn‘t take long for you to find someone to dance. There was that boy Colin from your house that eyed you up and down so you took your chance. He pulled you towards him while dancing, your hips moving to the music and your ass brushing his jeans when you turned your back to him while dancing. You stood perfect, exactly in sight for Mattheo who looked at you over Pansy‘s shoulder.

You smiled at him provoking, leaning forwards and shaking your ass in front of Colin. That‘s it. That was all it took for Mattheo to let go of Pansy and storming towards you. Without a single word he grabbed you by your arm and pulled you away from the party.

"Let go of me Mattheo!" you groaned, but he didn‘t answer and didn‘t stop walking either. He took you up to the astronomy tower, pushing you against the railing so you where squeezed between it and his body.

"I‘m so fucking done with your games." he whipers angrily into your ear while he places his hands on your hips. "Don‘t know what you mean." you answer him with a cheeky smirk. He scoffs, turning you around with one swift motion, pushing your upper body over the railing.

"Mattheo!" you gasp loudly as your hands hold themselves at the metal beneath you. "I‘m gonna teach you a lesson now baby. It‘s called 'nobody‘s allowed to touch you besides me' understand?" be asks while slowly pushing the little fabric of your dress over your ass. You hear him groan behind you, his hands instantly on your skin.

Suddenly a sharp sting goes through you, making you gasp again in shock. You look over your shoulder and see Mattheo already smiling at you, them his hand coming down again on your cheek, leaving a mark. You bite down on your bottom lip trying to hide the moans that wanted to leave your mouth.

But soon he hits harder and you feel the wetness between your legs. "I said: Do you understand?" he repeats himself with such a sharp hit on your ass this time that a short scream left your mouth.

You feel him pulling your panties down and also hear him groan at the sight of your wet pussy. "Fuck I should have done that way earlier. Who could have known that our perfect little princess is that desperate huh?" His fingers wander over your wetness, teasing your clit in a circling motion.

Whimpers leave your mouth, wanting nothing more tham to feel him inside of you. "Please.." you start begging and wiggling your hips against him. "What was that princess? Couldn‘t quite hear you." he says in a mocking tone, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. "Please fuck me, need you, please." little whines leave your mouth which make his cock harder every second.

He pushes two fingers inside you, making you moan desperately. He leans forwards until his mouth is next to your ear again and whispers "I‘m goimg to fuck you so hard that you won‘t even remember anything from today but my cock inside your wet little pussy."

His fingers pumping and his thumb teasing your clit made you lose your mind, making you a brainless mess. "Shit look at you already so stupid just from my fingers. What‘s gonna happen when I fuck you with my cock?" he says in a devilish tone.

"Mattheo Please.." you beg again. "Need you inside me." You hear him fumbling with his belt, opening his pants and pushing them down with his boxershorts. He rubs his cock against your ass and chuckles. "Feel this princess?" You bite your lip and nod.

He breathes out, excited to already feel you. "I‘ve waited so long to do this.." Slowly he drags his tip through your wet folds, grunting at the feeling. Then he pushes in, inch for inch, biting his lip too.

"Oh fuck you‘re so tight baby. Just waited for me to pound that pussy." he moans as he feels your walls clench around him, sucking him in. Your eyes roll back and your hands tighten around the railing.

His hands grab your hips even tigther, fucking you from behind. One of his hands goes around your body finding your clit to bring you even closer to your high. His other hand finds your throat and squeezes it, smiling when he hears your moan and your walls around him tightening.

"It feels so good Matty.." you mumble, your eyes already closed with parted lips. His fingers against your clit worked even faster, making you tremble in front of him. "Oh baby I know, and guess what?" he leans forwards again whispering into your ear. "I‘m gonna be the only one who touches you. Never ever will anothet man touch you. You‘re mine princess. And I am your‘s." His touch got a little softer around your throat as he says this. "I- I‘m yours Mattheo." you moan, feeling your heart swelling in your chest.

"That‘s my good girl hm, now come for me on my cock." Your eyes squeeze shut as his hips thrust harder and faster, his fingers still working on your clit until you see stars.

You grab his arm behind you squeezing it as you come around him with a lout and broken moan. "Oh fuck.." Mattheo smiles down on you and groans as he feels your walls spasm. "Come inside me." you mumble quietly but loud enough for him to hear.

"You sure baby?" he asks again, biting his lip when he feels his climax nearing. You nod your head, feeling powerless after your orgasm. With a final thrust he stops inside you and comes inside you and let‘s out a short and quite whimper, groaning afterwards to conceal it. But you heard anyways and smile already ready to tease him.

When you both calm down again, all sweaty and a little shaky, he pulls you off the railing against his body, kissing you for the first time. "Should have done that way earlier too.." You laugh lighty and look up into his eyes. "You have all the time now to do so.." "hmm i hope so." he answers, leaning down to kiss you again with all the love he had in him.

thank you for reading 🫶🏻

taglist: @sofa-couch26 @justarandomcanadiantransdude @helendeath @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username

xoxo sarah <3

#slytherin boys #slytherin imagine #slytherin smut #harry potter imagine #sub mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle blurb #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut

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nottswitch · 5 months ago

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hiiii, congrats on hitting 1k🎉🎉🎉 could you do prompt 106 and 68 with either mattheo riddle or theodore nott?? could you also make it fluff and smut !!

thanks, babe, ily 💘 i assume that you accidentally sent the same request, just with a character specified :) i decided to go with matty for this one.

68. "we just kissed." 106. "…this is awkward."

warnings: 18+ mdni, fingering, cursing

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list ; prompts (closed)

"fuck- ahhhh, mattheo, just like that!"

mattheo growled, feeling his cock throb in his jeans at the sound of his name on your lips, moaned in such a needy, beautiful voice. he pressed you firmer against the stone wall and curled his two fingers inside of you, pressing on a spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head. your lips parted in a silent scream, air coming out in short breaths as your best friend kept pumping his fingers in and out of you.

"you like my fingers, princess?" mattheo nearly hissed into your ear, the feeling of your nails digging into his shoulders being too good for him to stop his hips from jerking forward. you felt the hardness of his length pressed against the back of your thigh, your leg wrapped around his waist, and you swallowed at the thought of his potential size.

you didn’t want to admit it, but recently you’d been thinking about what mattheo was hiding underneath his pants a bit too much. you and your best friend had an agreement – if you felt especially horny but wasn’t in the mood for a stranger, he would graciously help you out. however, this arrangement only included his hands or mouth – a boundary placed by you, since you were, well, best friends. lately, however, you’ve been wondering a lot about his cock, and if it was all that the rumors made it out to be. and just in general, you started noticing that mattheo was actually a pretty attractive guy, with his messy curls, his deep brown eyes…

the addition of a third finger snatched you out of your thoughts, making you press your cheek against mattheo’s and moan louder into his ear, the sound ringing through the corridor and mixing with the music from the party barely reaching your ears. mattheo had to deeply breathe in and out to save himself from making a mess in his jeans right then and there – your moans were just too damn addictive.

"gonna cum," you whispered hoarsely, your hand unconsciously moving up from his shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck. mattheo gritted his teeth, increasing his pace, but not being able to stop his hips from bucking forward again – the need for friction was too strong.

"cum for me, baby girl. cum all over my fingers," he breathed against your cheek, and it was everything that you needed to finally let go. "matty…" you whined, your legs shaking around his waist as you slumped against him, pressed between the stone wall and his equally hard but very warm body.

the sound of his nickname in that whiny, perfect voice of yours did it for him. in a second, his lips were on yours, passionately moving and sucking and biting- your eyes widened at the sudden gesture, but you didn’t protest. of course, all boundaries went out of the window in an instant, but who could think about those when his lips were so… so?

when you finally managed to gather enough willpower to pull away, you were panting and grinning like an idiot, your wide, lovesick smile an exact match to that of mattheo’s.

"…this is awkward," you said, feeling your cheeks flushing slightly at the sight of mattheo’s wet, slightly swollen and very inviting lips. "we just kissed."

mattheo chuckled in response. "i mean, my fingers were deep inside your guts just a minute ago. i think we’re way past the awkward stage, princess."

you laughed in response and playfully swatted his chest. maybe he was right, after all. the kiss felt more intimate, for some reason, but you guessed that that was a conversation for another time.

"there’s something else that can be deep inside my guts right now…"

#— witch’s works ☾#— prompts ☾#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x fem!reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle drabble #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fic #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys imagine #slytherin boys fanfiction #slytherin boys fanfic #slytherin boys fic

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pandapetals · 2 months ago

Text

Healing

Something shifts in you after Jean and Scott have their baby making you wonder if you and Logan should have kids.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - established relationship (y'all married), no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair, trying for a baby, angst, mentions of miscarriage, mentions of blood, triggering topics, self-loathing, healing

a/n: been sitting on this one for a while. Not going to lie this fucking hurt to write. I cried so much. I have never been through this but i know a few people who have and i can’t even imagine the pain and strength they have.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Jean beamed, her face glowing with a soft pride, as she held her baby boy close. His tiny hands curled around the fabric of her shirt, his chubby face peaceful as he dozed off in her arms. Over the past few months, you’d watched him grow from a fragile newborn, all soft whimpers and sleepy eyes, into a curious, squirming infant. It seemed like only yesterday he was swaddled and still, but now here he was, wide-eyed and alert to the world.

Scott stood beside Jean, his posture softer than usual, his typically intense gaze almost watery as he watched her gently rock their son. He looked at them both like they were the center of his universe. A quiet awe in his expression that made something tighten in your chest.

"He’s so precious," you said quietly, unable to tear your eyes away from the little family in front of you. The warmth between them radiated out, a kind of contentment that was hard to describe but impossible to miss.

Jean glanced up at you with a knowing smile, one that made you feel as though she could read you like an open book. "He is, isn’t he?" she said, her eyes sparkling. Then, almost without thinking, she added, "Makes you wanna have one, I bet?"

The words hung in the air for a second too long, and you felt your breath catch, an awkward chuckle slipping out before you could stop it. "Oh, kids aren’t really my thing," you blurted, your voice a little too quick, a little too high. "I mean, I love kids—who doesn’t—but, me... well..."

You trailed off as both Jean and Scott turned toward you, exchanging a quick, subtle glance. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and mild confusion, like they hadn’t expected that answer, like maybe they were wondering why someone like you—someone married to Logan, no less—would feel that way.

The truth was, you’d never really discussed it. Not in depth. Sure, it had come up in passing a few times, but it was one of those conversations that lingered at the edges of your relationship, something neither of you had pushed too hard to figure out. Logan, with all his complications and dark past, never really seemed the type to want a family. And you? You weren’t sure if you did, either. It was easier not to think about it, to enjoy the life you had now—the two of you, perfectly in sync, no added weight of expectation.

But something had shifted recently. Maybe it was watching Jean and Scott, the way they orbited around their son like he was their entire world. Or maybe it was something deeper you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel until now.

"Do you want to hold him?" Scott asked, his voice gentle, trying to break the tension he had sensed creeping in.

You shook your head quickly, hands coming up in protest. "No, it’s fine, really—"

Before you could finish the thought, Jean was already moving, carefully transferring her sleeping son into your arms. You froze for a moment, a rush of panic flooding through you as the small, warm weight of the baby settled against your chest.

"There you go," Jean said softly, stepping back with a smile.

For a heartbeat, you felt a strange rush of anxiety—what if he started crying? What if you held him wrong? As the baby squirmed lightly against you, something softened inside. His small face scrunched up for a moment, but he didn’t stir, and before you knew it, the panic eased into something warmer, something you weren’t sure you were ready to name yet.

"You’re a natural," Jean whispered, her smile widening as she watched you gently cradle her son.

You glanced down at the tiny face, his soft breathing rising and falling steadily, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. There was something so... peaceful about it. The weight of him in your arms, the delicate rise and fall of his chest. It was calming in a way you hadn’t expected. Your mind drifted, just for a second, imagining what it would be like to have a child of your own, one that looked up at you with Logan’s piercing eyes, with his stubbornness and strength.

The thought caught you off guard, making your chest tighten. You had always been so certain that kids weren’t part of the plan, or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Now with this small life cradled in your arms, you weren’t so sure.

Logan’s low, familiar voice broke through your thoughts. "There you are," he muttered, stepping into the room. His eyes softened immediately when he saw you holding the baby, though he tried to hide it behind his usual gruff expression. "Didn’t know I was married to a babysitter now."

You smirked, though your heart was racing a little. "Jean practically forced me."

Logan grunted in response, but there was a subtle shift in his expression as he watched you. His eyes lingered on the baby for a moment longer than usual, and you could see something flicker there. He stepped closer, his hand gently resting on your lower back, warm and reassuring.

"Doesn’t look like you mind too much," he said, his voice softer than usual, his eyes meeting yours.

You shrugged, feeling the baby shift slightly in your arms. "It’s... nice," you admitted quietly, surprising even yourself with the truth of it. "Holding him, I mean."

Logan didn’t say anything right away, but you could feel him studying you, the way he always did when he was thinking something over. Finally, he nodded toward the baby, his voice low. "You look good like that."

You blinked, caught off guard. "Like what?"

His eyes dropped to the baby in your arms before meeting yours again. "Holdin’ him," Logan said quietly, his voice rough but filled with something more. "You look... happy."

You smiled, but there was a knot forming in your chest now, a new kind of weight pressing down. You couldn’t shake the image from your mind—Logan, holding a baby of your own, the two of you together as parents. It wasn’t something you had let yourself picture before, but now that it was there, you couldn’t unsee it.

Later that day, as you watched Logan outside, talking to Jubilee with that soft, fatherly look he sometimes wore, it hit you again. The way he was with her, with Rogue or the younger kids at the mansion—it was so natural, so instinctive. He had this way of guiding them, protecting them, even if he’d never admit it out loud.

You started to wonder if maybe Logan would make an incredible father. As much as you tried to deny it, the thought made your heart ache.

When Logan caught you watching him, he smirked as his eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What’re you lookin’ at?"

You shook your head, smiling softly. "Just you."

Logan came closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, his usual smirk softening. "Yeah?" he murmured. "What’s that look for?"

You hesitated, biting your lip. "Just... thinking."

"‘Bout what?"

You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his, and for the first time in a while, you didn’t brush the thought aside. "Logan," you started softly, your voice unsure but steady, "have you ever thought about... having kids?"

Logan’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the question. He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowing as he considered your words. Then, after what felt like forever, he sighed softly, pulling you a little closer. "I dunno," he admitted quietly, his voice rough. "Never thought I’d be good at it. But... maybe." His gaze met yours, something unspoken lingering between you. "What about you?"

You swallowed, your heart pounding. "I think... maybe I’m starting to."

Logan didn’t say anything, but his hand slipped into yours, his calloused fingers curling around yours. He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, his silence saying more than words could at that moment.

𓂃

In the days that followed, you couldn’t shake the thought from your mind. It was as if a switch had flipped inside you, and now you were noticing every little thing Logan did—the way he spoke softly to one of his students who was struggling, the way he offered a stern but patient lecture to one of the kids running down the hallway, his voice rough with that familiar gruffness but still carrying a warmth that hinted at something deeper. Every time, your heart tightened, as though it was trying to tell you something you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

The idea of having kids had never seemed urgent. It was like a vague notion floating somewhere in the distance, something other people did after getting married. For you and Logan, it hadn’t felt like a natural progression. You liked your life the way it was—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other. Lazy evenings spent tangled up on the couch, quiet mornings with coffee and teasing banter, spontaneous trips to the city where you wandered hand-in-hand without any real plan.

Now, with every small act of kindness, you saw Logan show, you couldn’t help but imagine him as a father…and it scared you.

The thought of having a child felt like a seismic shift—one that would change the landscape of everything you loved. It wasn’t just about the sleepless nights or the endless responsibilities. It was deeper than that. You worried that the closeness you shared with Logan, the way your lives intertwined so effortlessly, would somehow slip away. That all the little moments you cherished would be replaced by the constant demands of a tiny person who needed everything from you, leaving little room for the quiet intimacy you had now.

Most of all, you worried that your love for each other would get... lost. That Logan, with all his quiet strength and unspoken fears, would pull away when faced with the weight of fatherhood.

It was late one evening, the two of you curled up in bed, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand. Logan was lying on his back, one arm behind his head, the other draped over you, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your shoulder. You were nestled against his side, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, but your thoughts were racing.

You hesitated before speaking, your voice barely above a whisper. "Logan," you began, your tone uncertain. "Can I ask you something?"

He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with those piercing hazel eyes, his expression softening as he nodded. "Always," he said quietly.

You swallowed, trying to find the right words. "Do you ever... do you ever feel like we might lose what we have if things change?"

Logan’s brow furrowed slightly, a hint of concern in his eyes. "What do you mean, darlin'?" His voice was low like he was afraid to push too hard.

You took a deep breath, your fingers absently tracing the outline of his chest. "I mean, if we had a kid," you whispered, the words feeling strange on your tongue. "If we became parents… I’m worried that we’d lose... us. The way things are now."

Logan was silent for a moment, his hand stilling on your shoulder as he considered your words. "You think a kid would take that away?" he asked, his voice gruff but gentle.

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I just—everything would be different. We wouldn’t have these quiet nights or our spontaneous trips. We’d have to give up a lot." You paused, feeling the weight of your confession settle between you. "I’m scared that I won’t have as much time for you. Or that… you’d pull away."

Logan’s gaze softened, a deep sigh escaping him as he pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your shoulders. "I get it," he murmured. "I’m not gonna lie, I’ve thought about that too." He hesitated, his eyes drifting to the ceiling for a moment before returning to yours. "Hell, I’m scared of a lot of things when it comes to havin’ a kid. What if I’m no good at it? What if I… pass on the worst parts of me? All the anger, the darkness?"

You reached up, your hand cupping his jaw as you turned his face toward you. "You wouldn’t," you said firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering certainty. "You’re more than that, Logan. So much more."

He looked at you, his expression raw. "I try to be," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "But there’s a lotta things I can’t control. And I don’t know if I’d be any good at raisin’ a kid. I’ve spent most of my life tryin’ to protect people by keepin’ ‘em at arm’s length. How do I protect someone I can’t keep away from everything bad in the world?"

His words sank into you, and you could see the fear in his eyes, the way his past haunted him in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn’t just about fatherhood—it was about feeling worthy of it. Of deserving that kind of joy.

"You protect me," you whispered, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. "Every day. And you do it without keeping me at a distance. You let me in, Logan. That’s not easy, but you did it. You do it. And if you can do that, then I think you’d make a great father."

Logan’s eyes searched yours, his breath hitching slightly as your words settled in. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there like he was drawing strength from the contact. "I’m not sure I deserve you sayin’ that," he murmured against your skin. "But it means more than you know."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your hand slipping down to rest over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your touch. "I’m scared too," you confessed. "I’m scared of everything changing, and of not being able to handle it. But I’m also scared of… what if we don’t even try? What if we let fear decide for us?"

Logan’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles as he held your hand. "If we do this," he said, his voice low and steady, "we do it together. No matter what. It won’t always be easy, but…" He hesitated, his voice breaking just slightly. "I’d rather face that with you than spend the rest of my life wonderin' if we shoulda tried."

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and suddenly, the idea didn’t seem as overwhelming as it had before. It was still scary, yes, but knowing that Logan was just as unsure, just as scared, made it feel more... real.

You pressed a kiss to his lips, letting it linger, your fingers curling into his hair as you drew him closer. "So… we're gonna try for a baby?" you whispered, the words slipping out softly.

Logan’s arms tightened around you like he was anchoring himself to the moment. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours with a mix of uncertainty and quiet determination. There was a heartbeat of silence before he nodded. "Yeah," he murmured, the sound almost lost in the space between you. Then, with more conviction, he added, "Yeah, why the hell not." His lips curved into a small, genuine smile.

𓂃

Trying for a baby had started out exciting—a new chapter to explore with Logan. You’d always had an active and passionate sex life, and the thought of intentionally building a family together made your heart swell.

It wasn’t the act of trying that was hard—it was the waiting, the endless cycle of hope and disappointment. You had been so sure, so confident at the start. But now, after months of trying and nothing to show for it, doubt had begun to creep in like a shadow you couldn’t shake.

Standing by the window in the quiet library, you stared out at the sprawling gardens, but your gaze was unfocused. Your mind was too busy unraveling itself. Why hadn’t it happened yet? Was it you? Was something wrong with you?

Your thoughts drifted back to the last four years of marriage with Logan. You couldn’t help but wonder why you hadn’t gotten pregnant sooner, even by accident. Not once had there been a scare, not even a close call. The questions swirled in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. Was it my body? Did I do something wrong? Am I broken?

“Hey.” Logan’s familiar voice broke through the haze. You hadn’t even heard him enter the room.

You felt the warmth of his arm as he wrapped it around your shoulders, his touch gentle, steady. “What’s wrong, darlin’?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern.

You stiffened slightly, shrugging his arm off and taking a small step away. “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” you whispered, your gaze still fixed on the window.

Logan hesitated. He wasn’t the type to push when you didn’t want to talk, but this—this distance, the way you’d been pulling away lately—was starting to worry him. He could see the weight you were carrying, the exhaustion etched into your face, even though you tried to hide it behind small smiles and quick deflections.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice almost a plea, “you don’t have to talk to me if you’re not ready. But… you gotta talk to someone. You can’t carry this by yourself.”

His words broke something loose in you, and you bit your lip hard to keep it from trembling. A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. “I just don’t understand,” you finally said, your voice cracking. “I thought I’d be pregnant by now. I thought it’d be easy… but it’s not, and I can’t stop feeling like—”

“Like what?” Logan pressed gently, stepping closer but keeping his distance enough to not crowd you.

“Like a failure,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt heavy leaving your mouth, as if speaking them made them more real.

Logan’s expression softened instantly, his brow furrowing with a mix of concern and heartache. “Darlin’,” he said quietly, closing the gap between you and gently cupping your face in his hands. He tilted your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze.

“You listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “You’re not a failure. Not even close. Don’t you dare think that.”

“But, Logan,” you choked out, your tears now spilling freely. “What if it’s me? What if there’s something wrong with me? You deserve someone who—”

“Stop,” he interrupted firmly. His thumbs brushed the tears from your cheeks, his hazel eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t put all this blame on you. We don’t know why it hasn’t happened yet, but it sure as hell isn’t because you’re not enough. You’re everything to me.”

Your knees felt weak at the raw sincerity in his voice, and you leaned into his touch, letting his warmth hold you together. “I just… I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

Logan pulled you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around you in a way that made you feel shielded from the weight of the world. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured into your hair. “Together. However long it takes, whatever we have to do—we’ll figure it out. But I need you to promise me somethin’, okay?”

“What?” you asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

“Promise me you’ll stop beatin’ yourself up over this. You’re not weak, darlin’. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known. And if this doesn’t happen the way we planned, it doesn’t change a damn thing about how much I love you.”

His words wrapped around your heart like a warm blanket, soothing the ache that had been gnawing at you for weeks. You tilted your head back to look at him, your hands resting on his chest. “You always know what to say,” you whispered, a faint, watery smile tugging at your lips.

He gave you a small, lopsided grin, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Guess I’ve got a good reason to.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of hope reignite in your chest. “You know, sometimes I wonder if this is harder on you than you let on,” you said softly.

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before he looked back at you. “It’s hard,” he admitted. “But not because of me. It’s hard seein’ you like this. You’ve always been the one who makes things feel right, and I hate seein’ you doubt yourself.”

Your heart swelled at his honesty, and you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his knuckles. “I love you so much, Logan. No matter what happens, I’m just glad I have you by my side.”

His hazel eyes softened, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you more, darlin’. We’re in this together, okay?”

You nodded, letting the warmth of his embrace settle over you like a safety net. The quiet hum of the library wrapped around you both, cocooning the moment in a kind of stillness you hadn’t felt in weeks.

𓂃

It was a few weeks later, and life had settled back into its usual rhythm—teaching classes, grading papers, and the occasional chaos that came with living in a mansion full of mutants. But something was… different. At first, you didn’t think much of it. Everyone felt off sometimes, right?

The fatigue came first. You yawned at least five times during one of your lectures, earning amused glances from your students. “Long night, Professor?” one of them teased, and you waved it off with a laugh, though you were secretly confused. You’d gone to bed early the night before, and yet you still felt like you could curl up under your desk and sleep for hours.

Then, there was lunch. Your usual favorite—whatever Logan had grilled up the night before—suddenly turned your stomach. The smell alone had you rushing out of the dining hall, your hand clamped over your mouth as you tried to breathe through the nausea. Jean had given you a concerned look, but you waved her off, blaming it on some "bad leftovers."

By the third day of these strange symptoms, you couldn’t ignore them anymore. Your mind began to piece things together— the fatigue, the nausea, the way your favorite coffee suddenly tasted too bitter to drink. A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but you tried to push it down. Don’t get ahead of yourself, you told yourself. It could be anything.

Still, the thought wouldn’t leave you alone. That night, after Logan had gone to bed, you slipped out of your shared room and quietly headed to the mansion’s lab. You grabbed a pregnancy test, your hands trembling slightly as you tucked it under your arm and snuck back to the bathroom.

What if it’s negative again? What if this hope I’ve been holding onto is just… nothing?

But then, something shifted. A small voice in the back of your mind reminded you of Logan’s words. We’re in this together.

Finally, you took a deep breath and glanced down at the test. Your heart stopped.

Two lines.

Tears welled in your eyes, your hand flying to your mouth as a soft, disbelieving laugh escaped you. Positive. You were pregnant.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the test as joy bloomed in your chest, spreading through you like sunlight breaking through clouds. The months of waiting, of disappointment, of wondering if it would ever happen—all of it melted away in that instant.

You couldn’t wait to tell Logan. He deserved to know right away. But you wanted it to be special, something he’d never forget.

The next morning, you woke up earlier than usual, your excitement too much to keep contained. While Logan was still asleep, you snuck into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for supplies. If there was one thing Logan loved as much as you, it was breakfast—specifically pancakes.

You whipped up a batch, taking extra care to shape them into letters. The smell of warm batter filled the air, and you couldn’t help but smile as you arranged the pancakes on a large plate, spelling out: You’re going to be a dad.

By the time Logan wandered into the kitchen, his hair sticking up in every direction and his usual gruff morning expression on full display, you were practically bouncing on your toes.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he headed for the coffee maker.

“Morning,” you chirped, barely containing your excitement.

He turned, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. “What’s got you so chipper this early?”

You gestured to the table, where the plate of pancakes sat waiting. “I made you breakfast.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious as he stepped closer. But the moment his eyes landed on the pancakes, his entire body stilled.

His gaze moved slowly over the words, his expression unreadable at first. Then, his eyes shot up to meet yours, wide and filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope. “Darlin’… are you serious?”

You nodded, tears brimming in your eyes as you whispered, “Logan, we’re going to have a baby.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, he let out a shaky breath, a hand running through his hair as he took a step toward you. “You mean it? You’re… we’re…”

You smiled, nodding again as tears slipped down your cheeks. “Yes. It’s real.”

Logan’s arms were around you in an instant, pulling you tightly against his chest. You felt his body tremble slightly as he held you, his face buried in your neck. “I don’t even know what to say,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Just… be here with me. That’s all I need.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hazel eyes shining with a rare vulnerability. “I never thought I’d get to have this,” he said softly. “A family. You’ve given me more than I ever thought I deserved.”

You cupped his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears that had slipped from his eyes. “You deserve everything, Logan. And I can’t wait to do this with you.”

A soft, genuine smile curved his lips as he leaned down, capturing yours in a kiss. His hand cradled your cheek, his touch warm. When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead lightly against yours.

Logan’s gaze flickered downward, his expression softening even more as his roughened hand moved to rest on your stomach. His palm was warm against you, and for a moment, he seemed almost in awe, his thumb brushing gently over the fabric of your shirt.

A chuckle rumbled through him, deep and affectionate. “Things are about to get a whole lot more interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying both wonder and a touch of that familiar, teasing tone.

Your lips curved into a smile as you rested your hand over his, fingers threading together as your eyes followed his gaze to where your hands now lay. “Yeah,” you whispered, the word carrying a quiet awe of your own. “They really are.”

The world outside the kitchen faded away as you both stood there, the enormity of what was to come settling in. Logan’s thumb idly traced circles over the back of your hand, his expression a mix of pride, love, and something almost boyish—like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“You know,” he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet yours, hazel and filled with an emotion so raw it made your breath catch, “I’m not sure how we’re gonna do this, but… I can’t wait to figure it out with you.”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you held his gaze, your hand squeezing his. “We’ll figure it out,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly but full of certainty. “Together. Like we always do.”

Unable to resist, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, your arms slipping around his waist. He held you close, his hand still protectively resting on your stomach as the other wrapped firmly around your back.

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” you murmured into his chest.

Logan let out a low, soft laugh, his chin brushing the top of your head as he pressed a kiss there. “I’ll try, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice heavy with emotion. “But with you beside me… I think I might just figure it out.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes again, a tear slipping free but your smile unwavering. “You already have,” you said softly, your fingers gently brushing along his jaw.

𓂃

Everything was going great—or, well, as great as could be expected when you were juggling teaching, mutant chaos, and the excitement of being newly pregnant. You’d gone to the doctor for a check-up, double-checking everything was on track, and Logan had been, well… different.

Attentive wasn’t even the right word for it. Logan had turned into an overprotective force of nature. He refused to let you lift anything heavier than a book, shot you a look of warning anytime you so much as bent down, and always seemed to be hovering nearby like he thought the baby might need saving from a falling bookshelf or something.

Not that you minded. In fact, you found it… sweet. Especially when his rough hands would slide under your shirt at the end of the day, his palms brushing over your barely-there bump as if he could somehow connect with the life growing inside you. The way he looked at you—at both of you—made your heart feel like it might burst.

But of course, Logan's changed behavior didn’t go unnoticed.

You and Logan stood outside on the mansion’s back patio, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The fresh air wrapped around you like a soft blanket, and you leaned back into his chest as his hands gently rested on your stomach, his thumbs absentmindedly brushing little circles there.

“I like that it’s just between us,” Logan murmured into your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it as his arms tightened around you.

You hummed in agreement, resting your hands over his. “Me too, but… we can’t hide it forever, you know.”

Logan chuckled low and warm, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Pretty sure Chuck already knows,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “And Jean. She’s probably just sittin’ on it, waitin’ for you to spill.”

You tilted your head back to glance at him, a knowing grin on your face. “Oh, she’s definitely sitting on it. Jean loves a good secret almost as much as she loves saying, ‘I told you so.’”

He grunted in agreement, lowering his head to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck. “If you wanna tell everyone, darlin’, just say the word. I’ll follow your lead.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as his lips trailed down your neck in a way that made you forget about anything other than the warmth of his embrace. “Should we do something special? Oh! What if—”

“Is there any place you two won’t get freaky in?”

The voice startled you both, and Logan quickly yanked your shirt back down as you peeked over his shoulder to see Scott and Ororo walking toward you. Ororo had a toolbox in hand, presumably for the greenhouse, and Scott, as usual, was looking far too amused for his own good.

You burst into laughter, unable to help yourself. “We were just—”

“Just about two seconds from Logan ripping your clothes off,” Scott interrupted with a smirk.

Logan shot him a glare, his arms still loosely wrapped around you. “I was not,” he growled, though the faintest hint of pink dusted his cheeks.

You grinned, turning in Logan’s hold to face them. “We were enjoying the fresh air, Summers. You should try it sometime. Might do wonders for your sunny personality.”

Scott rolled his eyes, but his expression grew suspicious as he glanced between you and Logan. “Something’s… different.”

“Yeah,” Ororo chimed in, narrowing her eyes at Logan. “He’s not acting like himself. He didn’t even make a sarcastic remark about Scott interrupting his make-out session.”

Logan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if to will away their nonsense. “I’m right here, you know.”

Ororo gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “No witty remark again? What in the world is happening? Is Logan… soft now?”

Scott snorted, crossing his arms. “What’s next? Is Logan volunteering to help with art class? Baking cookies for the kids?”

You bit back a laugh, looking up at Logan with mock seriousness. “You have been oddly chipper lately. You’re not sneakin’ cookies out of the kitchen again, are you?”

Logan shot you a look, though the faintest twitch of a smirk betrayed him. “Real funny, sweetheart.”

“Actually,” Ororo interjected, her eyes narrowing in playful suspicion, “maybe it’s not the cookies. Maybe you’re the reason Logan’s gone all soft and smiley.”

Scott’s eyebrows shot up, his lips curving into a sly grin. “Ohhhh, I think ‘Ro’s onto something. Spill it, you two. What are you hiding?”

Logan sighed, running a hand down his face as he grumbled, “Can’t a guy just be happy without you nosy lot diggin’ into it?”

Ororo and Scott exchanged knowing looks, but before they could press further, you took pity on Logan and looped your arms around his waist. “Honestly, I think Logan’s just been spending too much time with you two,” you teased. “It’s rubbing off on him. Maybe we should keep our distance, huh?”

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. Whatever’s going on, I’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Logan muttered, shooting Scott a glare as he led you back toward the mansion.

Once you were out of earshot, you rose up on your toes, your voice dropping to a playful whisper. “Well, that went… better than expected. Look at you, handling things so maturely.”

Logan glanced down at you, his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, sweetheart,” he drawled, his tone low and teasing. “I’ve still got plenty of gruff left in me.”

“Oh, I know,” you quipped, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you leaned into him. “But maybe you should save a little of that charm to keep them from growing even more suspicious. You’re practically glowing, Logan.”

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound rumbling in his chest as his fingers brushed absentmindedly over your stomach. “So, let me get this straight—you’re tellin’ me to be grumpy? Never thought I’d hear you say that.”

You grinned, nudging him with your elbow. “Hey, mister, I love you and all your grumpiness. You can’t just go soft on me because we’re having a baby.”

His lips twitched, but he wasn’t listening anymore. His gaze had shifted, fixating on your stomach with a quiet intensity, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you—and the life you were carrying. His fingers stilled, brushing softly over the fabric of your shirt as if he could feel the baby beneath it.

“Logan,” you said, trying to stifle a smile as you reached up to cup his jaw. You tilted his face back up toward yours, catching his hazel eyes. “Eyes up here, tough guy.”

He blinked, snapping out of his daze, though his lips curved into a sheepish smirk. “Can’t help it,” he muttered, his voice softer now. “Kinda hard to believe, ya know? That it’s… really happening.”

Your heart squeezed, and you ran your thumb gently along the scruff of his jaw. “It’s happening,” you murmured, your voice tender. “And you’re already doing so much. You’re gonna be the best dad, Logan. I know it.”

His hand slipped up from your stomach to rest against your hip, grounding himself in your touch. “Dunno about the best,” he said, his voice low and raw, “but I’m sure as hell gonna try. For you. For them.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you leaned up, brushing your lips softly against his. “You’ve got nothing to prove, you know,” you whispered against his mouth. “You’re already everything we need.”

Logan didn’t say anything for a moment, just let his forehead rest against yours as he closed his eyes. His hand found its way back to your stomach, resting there protectively. “You make this gruff old guy believe in things he never thought he’d have,” he finally murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

“Good,” you replied with a small smile, threading your fingers through his. “Because we’re not going anywhere, Logan. You’ve got us—gruffness and all.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple before wrapping his arm around you and guiding you back toward the mansion. “Guess I better start practicing my grumpy dad voice, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, leaning into him as the warmth of his presence surrounded you. “You’ve got a reputation to maintain, after all.”

𓂃

A few days later, you stood in front of your class, pacing slowly as you explained the finer points of literary symbolism. Your voice was steady, your gestures fluid, but the dull ache in your lower back that had been nagging you all morning suddenly sharpened, sending a jolt of pain through your abdomen.

You froze mid-sentence, your breath hitching, one hand instinctively moving to your stomach.

“Mrs. Howlett?” a girl in the front row asked hesitantly, her wide eyes filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

You forced a smile, straightening up despite the discomfort clawing its way through you. “I’m fine,” you replied, your voice gentle but strained. “Just… give me a moment.”

The room felt too warm, the air heavy, and the students’ curious gazes only amplified your unease. You gripped the edge of your desk to steady yourself, taking a slow breath.

“Claire,” you said, turning to the girl who had spoken up, your tone soft but firm. “Can you keep an eye on the class for a few minutes? I’ll be right back.”

She nodded quickly, her concern etched into her features, and you grabbed your bag, clutching it tightly as you made your way to the door.

The hallway felt endless as you walked, the sharp pain twisting in your abdomen with every step. You tried to focus on your breathing, on the soft click of your shoes against the tiled floor, but panic was starting to creep into your mind.

By the time you reached the bathroom, your hands were trembling. You pushed the door open, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh glow as you stumbled toward the sink. The pain was intensifying, and a sense of dread settled heavily in your chest.

The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you echoed in the silence, but you barely heard it over the pounding in your ears. Something was wrong—very wrong. Your hands trembled as you stumbled into a stall, the sharp pain in your abdomen making it hard to catch your breath.

You fumbled with the clasp of your bag, searching desperately for aspirin, though deep down, you knew no pill was going to fix this. Then you felt it—a warm, wet sensation and your heart plummeted.

“No, no, no…” you whispered, your voice cracking as you yanked open the bathroom stall door and hurried to the sink.

With shaky hands, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to calm your racing thoughts. But when you glanced down and saw the crimson staining your pants, the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Panic clawed at your chest, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “Please, no… please…” Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled back, your legs giving out beneath you. You crumpled to the bathroom floor, clutching your stomach as sobs wracked your body.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

In the hallway, Logan was walking back to his classroom after helping a student with a project. He’d been in a surprisingly light mood—until he heard it. The sound of your sobbing carried faintly down the corridor, and his entire body tensed.

He broke into a sprint, following the sound to the bathroom door.

“Darlin’, you in there?” His voice was urgent. The sound of his voice only made you cry harder. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, couldn’t find the strength to tell him what was happening.

Logan didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed open the bathroom door, and the sight before him made his heart stop.

You were curled up on the floor, your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as you sobbed uncontrollably. The crimson streaks on the tiles told him everything he needed to know.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, his voice breaking as he rushed to your side. He dropped to his knees beside you, his hands hovering over you like he wasn’t sure where to touch without hurting you further.

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face filled with anguish. “Logan… I think—I think we lost—”

Your words dissolved into a fresh wave of sobs, and Logan’s chest ached with the weight of your pain. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, holding you as if he could shield you from the cruel reality of what was happening.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m here, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

You clung to him, your fists gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Logan’s hand found its way to your hair, stroking it gently as he rocked you back and forth.

“It’s not your fault,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Do you hear me? It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

“I… I wanted this so badly,” you choked out between sobs, your face buried in his chest. “I wanted this for us, Logan. And now it’s… it’s gone.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He hated how powerless he felt—how he couldn’t fix this for you, couldn’t take away your pain.

He gently scooped you up into his arms, cradling you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “Let’s get you outta here.”

You buried your face against his neck, your tears soaking into his shirt as he carried you down the hallway. Logan’s usual gruffness was gone, replaced by a quiet, tender resolve to be whatever you needed him to be at this moment.

When he reached your shared room, he gently laid you down on the bed, pulling the blanket over you. He sat down beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles.

Your words were barely a whisper, fragile and heavy. “I’d gotten used to the idea of us… us being parents.” The tremble in your voice made Logan’s chest tighten, and he couldn’t stop the pained expression that flickered across his face.

He leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours, his hands cradling your face. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. “We… we just have to find a way to keep going.”

You gave a small, broken nod, tears slipping down your cheeks as your fingers reached out, trembling slightly, to cup his cheek. “I just… I wish I could fix this, Logan. I wish I could do something to make it better.”

Logan’s jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over your cheek, wiping away a tear. “There’s nothin’ to fix, darlin’,” he said quietly, though his own voice cracked at the end. “This ain’t on you. It never was.”

But you shook your head, your voice breaking into a sob. “It feels like it is. What if—what if my body just… can’t? What if this is because of me?”

The words spilled out, laden with guilt you couldn’t seem to shake. Logan’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He hated seeing you like this—so vulnerable, so broken, carrying the weight of something that wasn’t yours to carry.

“Stop,” he said firmly, though his tone was still soft, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you’d look at him. His hazel eyes, glassy with his unshed tears, locked onto yours. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

You shook your head again, unable to stop the wave of tears that came. “But what if it’s me, Logan? What if I can’t—”

“Enough,” he cut in, his voice barely above a whisper, but the rawness of it stopped you in your tracks. “It’s not your fault. You hear me? This… this is just somethin’ that happened. And it hurts like hell, but it doesn’t mean you failed.”

His words cracked something inside of you, and you turned away, burying your face into the pillow as another sob wracked your body. Logan didn’t pull away. He stayed close, his hand rubbing slow, steady circles on your back, his presence grounding you even as your world felt like it was crumbling.

After a moment, Logan’s voice broke the heavy silence, softer now, as if he was speaking to himself as much as to you. “Darlin’, we’re not givin’ up. We’ve faced worse. We’ll get through this, too. But you gotta stop thinkin’ this is somethin’ you did.”

Your muffled voice came from the pillow, shaky and raw. “But I wanted it so badly, Logan. I already—I already pictured everything. The nursery, the little shoes… us holding—now it’s been ripped away from us.”

Logan’s chest ached at your words, and he let out a shaky breath, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “I know,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I wanted it too. I already saw you as a mom, sweetheart. I still do. I always will.”

You turned your head slightly, your tear-streaked face meeting his gaze. His honesty—his vulnerability—broke through the wall of guilt you’d been building. “You still…?”

“Always,” he said firmly, his thumb brushing away another tear. “I’m not gonna let this define us. We’re more than this pain. And I know it feels impossible right now, but we’ll figure it out. We always do.”

A shaky sob escaped you as you reached for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Logan pulled you close, holding you tightly against him, his hand tangling in your hair as he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

“You’re not alone in this,” he murmured, his voice a quiet promise. “We’re in this together, no matter what. You and me.”

You allowed yourself to lean fully into him, your tears soaking into his shirt as he held you. His arms were strong and steady, and the way he cradled you made you feel, just for a moment, like maybe things could be okay again.

“I love you,” you whispered into his chest, the words muffled but heavy with meaning.

“I love you too, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice rough with emotion as he rested his chin on top of your head. “More than anything. Don’t forget that.”

𓂃

Life was supposed to keep moving, but for you and Logan, it felt like time had stopped. The days blurred into weeks, and while the mansion hummed with the usual chaos of students and X-Men missions, you both drifted through it like ghosts.

The weight of the miscarriage hung heavy between you, unspoken but ever-present. You couldn’t bear to talk about it, not yet. Not to anyone except Logan, and even then, words often failed. Nights were the only solace, the quiet hours where he held you tightly in his arms as you sobbed until exhaustion finally overtook you. In those moments, he didn’t say much—what was there to say even as his own grief simmered just beneath the surface.

Logan hated feeling helpless, but this was something he couldn’t fight, couldn’t fix. He saw the pain in your eyes every time you avoided his gaze, the way you masked your tears with a smile that never quite reached your face. And it scared him. His mind spiraled into dark places late at night when he couldn’t sleep. What if this broke you? What if it broke your marriage? What if you left him because he couldn’t give you what you wanted?

The others started to notice. It wasn’t just that you both were quieter than usual—it was the way Logan didn’t bite back as much during arguments or how your laughter, which used to light up any room, had grown rare.

“You two seem pretty... off lately,” Scott had commented to Logan one morning in the kitchen.

Logan barely glanced at him, too tired to muster a sarcastic reply. “We’re fine,” he muttered, his tone gruff but unconvincing.

Scott frowned, crossing his arms. “Fine? You’ve barely said three words to anyone all week, and she’s not much better. Is something going on?”

Logan clenched his jaw, his hand tightening around the coffee mug he was holding. “Drop it, Summers,” he growled before walking out, heading upstairs to check on you.

But Scott didn’t drop it.

It was a Friday night, and the team had gathered in the living room for what was supposed to be a relaxing evening. Someone had put on a movie, but the dialogue barely registered as you sat curled up on the couch next to Logan. His arm was draped around your shoulders, protective as always, but you could feel the tension in his body. You weren’t much better, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket you had pulled over your lap.

“Alright,” Scott said, breaking the lull in conversation. “I can’t be the only one who’s noticed something’s off with these two.”

You froze, your fingers tightening on the blanket as all eyes turned toward you and Logan.

“Scott,” Jean warned, her tone cautious.

“What?” Scott pressed, looking around the room for support. “They’ve been acting strange for weeks now. Don’t tell me none of you have noticed.”

You forced a smile, trying to deflect. “We’re fine, Scott. Just busy, that’s all.”

Scott wasn’t convinced. “Busy? Come on. You guys are like the most annoying, lovey-dovey couple in this place. Now you’re quiet and avoiding everyone? Something’s up.”

“Scott, maybe—” Ororo started, but Scott cut her off.

“No, I’m serious. If something’s wrong, we can help, but we can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”

Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating off him. He leaned forward, his jaw clenched, his voice dangerously low. “I said drop it, Summers.”

“Why? What’s the big deal? We’re just trying to—”

Before he could finish, Logan shot to his feet, his voice breaking as he shouted, “Because we lost our baby, alright?”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Logan’s chest heaved, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he stood there, raw and vulnerable in a way none of them had ever seen.

You stared up at him, your heart breaking all over again as you saw the tears streaming down his face, the anguish he’d been holding back finally spilling over. Logan, the man who never cried, was now sobbing in front of everyone, his shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—to pull himself together.

“Logan…” you whispered, rising to your feet and reaching for him.

He shook his head, his voice cracking. “I—I couldn’t protect the baby. I couldn’t do anything. It’s my fault, sweetheart. I let you down.”

“Stop,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around him despite the way he tried to pull back. “Logan, stop. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

He collapsed into your embrace, his head resting against your shoulder as he clung to you, his sobs muffled against your skin. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, his voice broken.

Tears streamed down your face as you held him, your fingers tangling in his hair as you whispered, “You didn’t let me down. You could never let me down.”

The others sat in stunned silence, their initial shock giving way to quiet understanding. Jean wiped at her tears, her hand resting on Scott’s arm to keep him from saying anything more.

“It’s going to be okay,” you murmured into Logan’s ear, your voice trembling under the weight of your uncertainty. The words felt hollow, like trying to patch a dam with a handful of sand, but you needed him to hear them, to believe them.

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hazel eyes brimming with unspoken pain. His rough edges, the walls he so carefully built, seemed to crumble in that moment. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and raw, each word a struggle.

“You don’t have to know,” you whispered, your fingertips brushing a tear from his cheek, the small gesture grounding both of you.

For a moment, he just stared at you, like he was searching for something—hope, strength, maybe even forgiveness. Then, with a shaky exhale, he let himself lean into you, his weight resting against your shoulder as though surrendering to the vulnerability he so often avoided.

You guided him back to the couch, easing him down with gentle hands. Logan found your hand gripping it firmly, almost desperate, as if letting go would make the pain worse. You stayed by his side while the rest of the team sat in stunned silence. Their usual chatter and banter were gone, replaced by an unspoken understanding that this was something fragile that required care.

Jean broke the stillness, her voice soft but resolute. “Why don’t we give them some space?”

One by one, the others stood, their footsteps hesitant as they left the room. Scott lingered near the doorway, his expression conflicted. He seemed rooted to the spot, torn between leaving and staying.

“I’m sorry,” Scott finally said, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt. He took a step closer, his gaze darting between you and Logan. “I didn’t mean to push earlier. I didn’t know…”

Logan lifted his head slightly, his jaw tight, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was palpable, but there was no anger in his gaze—just a quiet exhaustion.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I was out of line,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize… I just thought something was off, and I pushed when I shouldn’t have.”

Jean stepped into the room, placing a steadying hand on Scott’s arm. She looked at both of you, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Scott didn’t mean to make things worse,” she said gently. “We’ve… we’ve been where you are.”

You blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Jean hesitated, her fingers tightening on Scott’s arm as if drawing strength from him. “Before we had Nathan, we… we lost a baby.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight of her confession filled the room.

You felt your chest tighten before glancing at Logan, who looked just as surprised as you. Scott’s usual stoic demeanor was gone, replaced by a raw vulnerability that you had never seen before.

Scott cleared his throat, his gaze fixed on the floor. “We didn’t tell anyone. Not even the Professor. It was early… and we thought we could handle it on our own.” He let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides. “But it was hard. Harder than we ever expected.”

Jean nodded, her eyes glistening as she looked at you. “We blamed ourselves. Blamed each other. But eventually, we realized… it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just… it happens.”

You blinked, the tears welling in your eyes threatening to spill over again. “I didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Scott let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “No one did. I thought if I buried it deep enough, it wouldn’t hurt as much. But seeing you two...” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, trying to steady himself. “I’m sorry for pushing earlier. I didn’t mean to make things worse.”

Jean stepped closer, her hand reaching out to yours. “It’s going to take time,” she said softly. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. If you ever need to talk… we’re here.”

Her words, simple but heartfelt, broke through the wall of grief that had been suffocating you. You nodded, a small, grateful smile breaking through your tears. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Scott extended a hand to Logan, who hesitated for a moment before shaking it. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the beginning of an unspoken understanding, a bridge between two men who had rarely seen eye to eye.

As they left the room, you turned to Logan, your hand squeezing his. “That… helped. A little.”

Logan nodded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Guess even Scott has his moments.”

You managed a weak laugh, leaning into him as he pulled you close. For the first time in weeks, the weight on your chest felt slightly lighter even if you knew this was only the beginning of trying to find a new normal.

𓂃

Months had passed since the miscarriage, and while life had begun to find its rhythm again, the pain lingered like an uninvited guest. The grief wasn’t as sharp as it had been in the beginning, but it still loomed over you and Logan, casting a shadow on your once-effortless connection. You both knew it wasn’t your fault, but knowing and feeling weren’t always the same.

Logan, always the protector, had become even more so in the aftermath. His hand rarely left yours, as if letting go for even a moment might cause something else to slip away. He hovered constantly—not in a stifling way, but in a way that spoke volumes about his fear and guilt. While you appreciated his care, you could see that he was holding something back, burying his pain in the only way he knew how.

It wasn’t until one late night, when you reached out for him in bed and found his side cold and empty, that you realized just how much he was struggling. Pulling on a robe, you wandered the quiet halls of the mansion, searching for him. It didn’t take long; you heard the familiar snikt of his claws in the training room.

Peeking inside, your heart broke at the sight of him. Logan stood shirtless in the dim light, sweat dripping from his forehead as he lunged at the sparring dummy. His movements were wild, full of rage and frustration. His claws tore through the dummy with brutal efficiency, slashing and stabbing until it was shredded to pieces. When the dummy finally collapsed in a heap, Logan dropped to his knees, his claws retracting with a metallic hiss. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps.

You stayed in the doorway for a moment, debating whether to give him space or step in. But as you saw his shoulders slump, the weight of his grief almost palpable, you couldn’t hold back.

“Logan,” you called softly, stepping into the room.

His head whipped around, his eyes wild for a second before softening when he saw you. He wiped a hand across his face as if trying to compose himself. “What’re you doin’ up, sweetheart?” he asked gruffly, his voice low and strained.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, walking closer until you stood in front of him. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Just needed to… work some things out.”

You knelt in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You can’t keep doing this, Logan. Pushing it all down, burying it in anger. It’s not going to help.”

His eyes flickered back to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. “I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t… I can’t stop thinkin’ about it. I don’t know how to make it right.”

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “You don’t have to make it right,” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “We can’t fix this. We just have to accept it and move on.”

His eyes filled with tears, and he shook his head, his hands coming up to cover yours. “I just wanted to protect you. To give you… everything,” he said, his voice cracking. “And I couldn’t even do that.”

“You did,” you insisted, your thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “Logan, you were there for me every step of the way. You held me when I thought I wasn’t worthy of it. You loved me through it. That’s everything. But you have to let yourself grieve too. You can’t keep punishing yourself like this.”

He looked up at you, his hazel eyes searching yours as if trying to find some kind of answer. Finally, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You felt his chest heave as a sob escaped him, and it broke your heart all over again. You stroked his hair, whispering soothing words as he finally let himself feel the weight of his grief.

After a while, when his breathing steadied, you pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Logan,” you began gently, “we need to get out of here. Just for a little while. Go somewhere quiet, just the two of us. We need time to heal.”

He hesitated, his brows furrowing. “You think runnin’ away’s gonna fix it?”

“It’s not running away,” you said firmly. “It’s giving ourselves a chance to breathe. To remember who we are together. We’ve been so caught up in the pain… we need to find our way back to each other.”

He considered your words for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said quietly. “Where do you wanna go?”

You smiled faintly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “Somewhere peaceful. Maybe the cabin up north? Just us. No distractions, no one else.”

Logan exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Yeah,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “I think that’s exactly what we need.”

You leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips feeling a flicker of hope. It wouldn’t be easy, but you knew that as long as you had each other, you could find a way forward.

𓂃

The secluded cabin was tucked away in a quiet corner of nowhere, surrounded by towering trees that swayed softly in the breeze. The air smelled of pine and earth, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of birds. It was peaceful, untouched, and exactly what you and Logan needed to find each other again.

The calm of the place had worked its magic over the past week. The tension that had weighed heavy on your shoulders began to ease, and you could see the same was true for Logan. His usual gruffness was quieter here, softened by the stillness of the forest and the warmth of the cabin.

As you laced up your hiking boots near the fireplace, you glanced out the window at the sun filtering through the trees. “I’m gonna walk the trail,” you announced casually, straightening up and brushing your hands against your jeans.

Logan’s voice rumbled behind you as he walked into the small living room. “Do you want to go alone?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as a small, warm smile played on his lips.

You turned to face him, quirking an eyebrow as you stepped closer. “Depends… are you gonna be good company, tough guy?”

That earned you the smallest huff of laughter, his smirk tugging wider. “There she is,” he murmured, his tone warm and teasing as he reached out to pull you into his arms. His lips brushed against the bridge of your nose, lingering for just a moment before he tilted his forehead against yours. “I missed those little remarks,” he admitted quietly.

You chuckled, your hands sliding up to rest on his chest. “And here I thought they annoyed you,” you teased, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eyes.

Logan rolled his eyes, though the grin that spread across his face betrayed him. “Darlin’, I’d be lost without ‘em,” he said, his voice softer now. His hazel eyes searched yours for a moment, and his hand came up to gently cup your cheek. “I love you,” he added, the words quiet but weighty, as if they held the sum of everything he couldn’t quite say.

You felt a warmth spread through your chest, and you leaned into his touch, brushing your thumb over the back of his hand. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words spilling out like a promise. Then you grinned, breaking the moment with a playful nudge to his side. “Now hurry up, or I’m leaving you behind.”

Logan smirked, dropping his hand to give your hip a playful squeeze. “Don’t get cocky. Let me grab my boots.” He turned toward the door, muttering something about you always keeping him on his toes, but there was no bite to his words—just affection.

A few minutes later, the two of you were walking side by side down the dirt trail, surrounded by the serene beauty of the forest. The sunlight trickled through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the ground. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots and the faint trickle of a nearby stream.

For a while, neither of you spoke, content to simply exist in the quiet of nature and each other’s presence. Logan reached out to take your hand, his fingers wrapping securely around yours. You glanced up at him, catching the way the golden light softened his rugged features. He looked more at ease than he had in months, and it made your heart ache.

“You know,” you began, a teasing lilt in your voice, “I didn’t peg you for the hand-holding type.”

Logan glanced down at you, one brow arching. “Don’t start,” he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

“What? I think it’s cute.” You swung his hand slightly, earning a quiet groan.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” he muttered, but the smirk tugging at his lips gave him away.

You laughed, leaning into his side as you walked. “Admit it—you like it.”

He let out a low chuckle, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Maybe I do,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Can’t say I mind when it’s with you.”

Your chest swelled at the admission, and you stopped walking for a moment, turning to face him. “Thank you,” you said, your voice earnest.

Logan frowned slightly, confused. “For what?”

“For bringing me here,” you explained, gesturing to the forest around you. “For… letting me have this time with you. I needed it.”

His expression softened, and he reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I needed it too,” he admitted, his voice low. “I didn’t know how much until now.”

You smiled, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “You know, this whole reconnecting thing looks good on you, Logan.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you teased, slipping your arms around his waist. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up, old man.”

Logan let out a bark of laughter, his hand sliding to rest on your lower back. “You’re gonna regret that, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice full of playful challenge.

“Promises, promises,” you shot back with a grin, taking off down the trail as Logan chased after you, the sound of your laughter carrying through the trees.

Eventually, Logan caught up to you, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waist as he pulled you to a stop. Your laughter echoed through the trees, a sound that seemed to brighten the peaceful forest around you. “I was so sure I was gonna win,” you teased, still catching your breath as you squirmed halfheartedly in his grip.

Logan let out a low chuckle, the rumble of it vibrating through you. “Guess I’m not as old as you think I am,” he shot back, his smirk smug as he held you against his chest.

“Oh, you’re definitely old,” you teased, leaning back into him. “I mean, just look at your white—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, gorgeous,” Logan warned, cutting you off with a playful growl, though the amusement in his voice betrayed him.

You turned in his arms, grinning as your fingers reached up to play with the strands of his hair. “You know I love you,” you said softly, letting the teasing drop for a moment. “Pretty sure if I met you… say ten years from now, I’d still fall for you. Still, marry you.”

Logan’s expression softened, his hazel eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I don’t doubt that,” he murmured. “But for the record, darlin’, I’m glad it didn’t take ten years.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his neck. “Me too,” you whispered. The peaceful silence of the forest wrapped around you both, and for a moment, everything felt still, like the world had paused just for the two of you.

Logan’s hands settled on your hips. “You’ve been thinkin’ about the future a lot lately, haven’t you?” he asked, his voice quiet but full of understanding.

You hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted. “I mean, with everything that’s happened… I guess I just wonder what’s next for us. Like, are we supposed to keep trying? Or are we supposed to let it go?”

Logan’s jaw tightened slightly, his gaze dropping to where his hand rested on your waist. After a moment, he sighed and looked back up at you, his eyes steady and sure. “I think… maybe we don’t need to push so hard. If it happens, it happens,” he said, his voice low but resolute. “But what we’ve got right now? It’s enough for me. You’re enough for me.”

His words hit you like a warm wave, washing away the doubt and guilt that had lingered for weeks. “Logan…” you began, but your voice caught, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. You swallowed hard and managed a smile. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “I don’t need anything else, sweetheart. Just you. The rest? That’s just… bonus.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh, leaning your forehead against his. “You always know just what to say, don’t you?”

He smirked, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “That’s my job, isn’t it?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Well, for what it’s worth, I feel the same way. I don’t want us to lose ourselves trying to force something that’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

Logan’s arms tightened around you. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t want to miss a single second of us, just the way we are.”

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