#I'm gonna try to have the rest of this up on ao3 in like a week maybe I'm trying not to pressure myself

[lexicals]

Contextless Flirting Has Won The Day It Seems

(I will in fact give some context: it's a cloud recesses era body swap fic)

I've very nearly finished this in its entirety I think but for now here is the snippet as promised :))

-

"Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian complained, "Where are you dragging me to now? I haven't even done anything!"

Today, he added mentally. Well - since daybreak.

Lan Wangji did not spare him a glance. "Cultivation," he answered, his meaning quite clear: I will not neglect your core, and you will not be neglecting mine.

Wei Wuxian hung his head. This was so entirely unnecessary. He'd been able to feel as soon as he woke up that Lan Wangji's core was plenty strong - probably stronger than his! - and it would definitely, definitely not suffer from a week or two of slacking. But the Lan were creatures of habit to a fault; he should have expected that Lan Wangji would not suffer to let his body miss a single day's meditation.

To his surprise, Lan Wangji dragged him all the way to the Lan's cold spring. Then, perhaps even more confusingly, he did not undress or enter the water, instead sitting down on a rock near its edge and gesturing for Wei Wuxian to do the same. Not feeling in the mood for an argument, he did, only casting a slightly sour glance over to where Lan Wangji had already closed his eyes and begun to ignore him. It was an odd picture, Wei Wuxian thought - he doubted his face had ever looked so tranquil in his life.

Even if the sun was warm and the breeze refreshing, Wei Wuxian only managed a quarter of an hour before he could take no more and let himself slowly tip onto his back with a thud. When that earned him no response, he began to roll back and forth over the ground.

"Lan Zhan," he drawled, already covering his fresh grey robes with dirt and grass stains. "Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan!"

"Cultivation is performed in silence," Lan Wangji told him.

"You don't have to worry about my core, you know. Jiang Cheng will tell you, I've never bothered to meditate this much before now, and it's perfectly fine. You can feel it's strong, right?"

Lan Wangji fixed him with an odd look. Mostly, it was the usual cold judgement, but there was the tinest sprinkling of something else in there, too faint to identify any which way. "It could be stronger," he said. "If you applied yourself."

"I do apply myself," Wei Wuxian told him, feeling unusually defensive. "I just do it differently to you."

"Drinking alcohol and playing tricks is not application."

"Sure it is. My tricks exercise my mind, and drinking exercises my palate. Fun is also good for the spirit, you know."

Lan Wangji only closed his eyes again with a scathingly doubtful, "Mn."

Wei Wuxian huffed, picking a few blades of grass from his hair. Sitting in the sun had left him slightly sweaty, and he eyed the icy water of the cold spring contemplatively before hopping up onto Lan Wangji's rock and bending down towards him.

"Lan Zhan. Enough. Come swimming with me. Lan Zhan. Lan Zhan. Lan--"

He realised, abruptly, that he was being let away with a much higher level of annoyance than usual. At first, he'd thought it was an allowance due to their situation, but thinking on it further, either the depths of Lan Wangji's patience had tripled since the day before, or...

"Lan Zhan," he said again, squatting cautiously next to where he was still in his lotus pose, rigid and still as a jade figurine, "How come you haven't silenced me yet? Have you finally realised I'm entertaining after all?"

There was a barely perceptible twitch at the end of one of Lan Wangji's eyebrows. Wei Wuxian began to grin.

"Or... could it be that... the Lan silencing spell does not currently recognise Lan-er-gongzi as himself, and so..."

Slowly, Lan Wangji opened his eyes to fix him with a hard look. Wei Wuxian leaned back on his heels. "Ah, was I right?" he asked innocently. "I had hoped Lan-gongzi was just enjoying the conversation, but if I'm being an annoyance..."

"You are always an annoyance," Lan Wangji said, and closed his eyes again. Wei Wuxian took no offense at all, the corners of his mouth curling ever-higher, and he slouched fully onto the ground before reaching over and plucking a stem of tall, flowering grass from near the water's edge, twirling it between his fingers.

"Lan Zhan, do you like anyone?" he asked, watching his face carefully. He was rewarded with a very quickly suppressed flinch, and smiled slyly as he continued to wave the grass in his hand. "Ah, probably not, of course. Lan-er-gongzi is far too busy with his studies for such frivolities, right? Besides, your clan keeps men and women so separated, when would you have ever even spoken to a girl? Even if you wanted to."

Lan Wangji continued to steadfastly ignore him, but the furrow between his eyebrows was growing steadily deeper.

"Of course, if Lan-gongzi did have someone he liked, then all he would have to do right now is ask Wei-gege to go and flirt with her for him, if he was too inexperienced to do it himself," Wei Wuxian continued, tapping the fluffy end of the grass lightly against the end of Lan Wangji's nose. "Lan Zhan is very handsome, and I am very good at flirting. I got that loquat for you, remember? Even though you didn't want it." He trailed the grass down Lan Wangji's face, over his mouth down to his jaw, tickling underneath his chin. "So all you have to do is tell me who it is, and--"

Lan Wangji's eyes opened.

"Wei Ying," he said warningly. Just his name, no more. But Wei Wuxian felt his body go frigid, and then hot. His heart raced inside his chest like a prey animal. Even in someone else's voice, Lan Wangji's tone carried the same frost-burn chill, but this wasn't the hard, immovable glacier wall that he usually presented, no - this was the sound of rare winter days in Yungmeng when the lakes and rivers froze over, when you placed your foot onto a surface that looked solid only to feel before you heard the crack of it threatening to give way beneath you. The sound of the final, unmistakable warning it would give you, and if you didn't heed it, then all the more fool you were when it seized you and dragged you under into the current.

For once in his life, Wei Wuxian heeded. He backed off.

[savage-rhi]

🫂

[fake-bleach]

ROAD TRIP STOP | LOGAN HOWLETT x READER

taking a small road trip with old man logan where you’re halfway to where you need to be, and you're bored out of your mind. unluckily for you, your boyfriend won't possibly give into your antics.

or, logan fucks you in a gas station bathroom <3

word count: 3.3k

WARNINGS/DISCLAIMERS: (18+ only!) fem!reader, porn w/ slight plot lol, piv, unprotected sex, this shit is roughhh, degrading, filthyyy dirty talk, use of pet names, slight choking, coming inside/creampie, manhandling? i guess?, logan refers to himself as "your old man" bc i'm insane, anddd happy ending bc we all know how much i love those! :D

a/n: there aren't nearly enough fics abt old man logan & i need him Badly.

+ logan pictures from @divinesols incredible moodboard <3

ao3 link! | my masterlist

you’re 4 hours into your road trip, and logan, well, being the man he is, hasn’t let you drive a single second.

he tells you that you can just sit there n’ look pretty and that’s good enough for him. but, he’s getting tired, and the nearest hotel isn’t for another 50 miles.

you notice his eyes getting heavier, his body slouching more, his grip on the steering wheel loosening. so, you do what you do best. why not have some harmless fun with your old boyfriend?

your hands subtly inch over to his thighs, fingers trailing the clothed skin just above his knee, and he flinches surprisingly, glancing at you for a moment with that tired face of his.

“what are y’doing? huh?” he asks, with a quirk in his eyebrow and his voice rasping more than usual from his fatigue; it only makes it all the more arousing for you.

you grin, your head turned to look up at him with a sly expression. “just waking you up a bit. you’re practically falling asleep here.”

your fingers move upwards now, slowly but surely, and right before you can reach the spot just below his bulge, he sighs out, gripping your hand to lightly push it off of him.

“not here. got another hour left til’ we’re at the hotel. then, we can rest up, baby.”

you pout, looking at him eagerly. “are you even gonna make it there, lo?” you tease, “your eyes are getting heavier, you’re tired.. why don’t you just let me drive?” you attempt, but you’re knocked down the second you try.

he huffs, shaking his head. “don’t you try that shit. you know what m’gonna say to that.”

you groan at that, rolling your eyes fussily as your head turns to look up at the roof of the car. “you’re insufferable,” you sigh out, jokingly, of course. but, you were with logan long enough to know just how stubborn he could be. that he could almost always be.

which means, you knew exactly how to get what you wanted, in more ways than one. 

let’s just say this way was more fun, anyway.

you let out an exasperated breath before turning back to face him, your eyes lighting up just slightly before you open up your mouth.

“guess i just gotta..” you trail off, hands now on your body with your fingertips grazing the skin on your chest; roaming around the loose shirt you had on. “..entertain myself for the next hour then..”

logan turns his head to you now, eyes fixing on your hand just long enough to catch you slip it underneath your bra, cupping one of your tits. you let out a low moan as you look into his eyes, fingers rolling the nipple there, and he scoffs.

it’s a sound that has your heart racing immediately.

“you’ve been a good girl so far, sweetheart. would hate for you to switch up when we’re almost fuckin’ there.” he warns you, turning his head back to the road, having seen enough. “don’t you start now. gonna make you regret it.”

a pang of arousal hits you just like that, pussy involuntarily clenching around nothing as he threatens you; a threat that you definitely need to see for yourself.

you merely pout at him again, but his words aren’t enough to stop you. not when you’re just getting started.

your hand leaves your breast, slowly inching down your stomach, then to the waistband of your shorts, all with your eyes still locked on him. you bite your lip as your hand breaches underneath the material, testing the waters before your fingers reach the hem of your panties.

fingertips aching to dip into the wet heat, you anticipate your own touch as your hands lower, but an immediate grasp at your wrist stops you completely, eliciting a gasp from your throat.

mouth falling open in shock, you turn to look at the man responsible with that gruff look on his face, and that snarl from him gives you more than enough of a warning.

you clear your throat, letting out a noise of frustration towards your boyfriend as he all but tosses your hand away carelessly.

“knock. it. off. don’t make me say it again.”

logan nearly growls at you, moving in closer to get right in your face; he isn’t playing around, and you know it.

but, god, does it only encourage you more.

it isn’t until logan’s focus is completely back on the road that you test the waters again; your fingers finally inserting themselves into your soft, warm folds, wet and waiting so impatiently.

it makes you moan, a hushed sound that you try your hardest to bite back from releasing, but you’re evidently unsuccessful.

so, before you know it, the truck is swerving, causing you to pull yourself back to hold onto the sides of the car, anywhere that you could grab onto. the wheels squeal loudly as the high pitch penetrates your ears, and logan makes a harsh u-turn without a second to waste.

“lo! what the fuck!” you exclaim loudly, wild eyes reaching for his own, but it’s no use. he’s dead set in front of him, shaking his head furiously as the white of his knuckles present itself from holding onto the wheel so tightly.

he’s had enough of your shit.

his eyes never leave the road in front of him once, never returning to you. no matter how much you talk or try to get him to respond, he doesn’t budge.

instead, for the next 5 minutes, silence fills the space between you as your eyes shut from your frustration. it’s all you really can do at this point.

but, it’s only when the high screech of the wheels halting and the gear being put into park has your eyes opening again, eyes latching onto the bright lights in front of you.

a gas station, and the convenience store’s white luminescent glass reflecting on logan’s face. he’s out the driver’s side as soon as you can look at him, and before you can process it, he’s dragging you out of the truck, slamming the door shut as he does so.

you scramble against him, fists almost pushing their hardest into his chest as you whine loudly, increasingly dazed and confused.

“logan, what the fuck are you doing?! let go of me!”

you fight against him harder, but there’s nothing stopping him. not now.

he lets out an exasperated breath, his heavy footsteps embedding themselves into the loud gravel beneath them as he drags you along.

“don’t play that shit with me. actin’ like you don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” he practically yells at you in a hushed voice, “you know what the fuck you’re doing.”

“walk.” he orders you instantly, and you don’t hesitate to obey. not when his voice gets like that.

most of all, because it makes your heart pound—pounding in your chest because he’s right. you know what you’re doing.. but, you can’t say you regret it. no, not one bit.

and if he’s gonna make you regret it, you might as well go all out. right?

his grip on your arm is tight as you walk side by side with him, leading you into the gas station with the door open for you. you can’t even acknowledge the cashier from how quick logan swifts the two of you past them; straight towards the bathroom, and it makes you gulp. 

it’s too late for anyone to be around, too late for anyone to care, and you know that. but, the thought exhilarates you anyway.

he shoves the door open with a hushed whisper—one that’s almost incoherent as it escapes his lips. “you wanna act like a fucking brat?” he shuts the door hurriedly, shoving your body against the sink, “i’m gonna treat you like a fucking brat.”

you yelp at the sudden movement, his fingers digging themselves into your skin as you cry out at the feeling. it’s rough and brutal and it burns, but it’s so fucking good.

“lo.. lo, please,” you whine as your eyes shut tightly, the overwhelming sensation of his hands on you and his hot breath hitting your skin being too much to handle.

your body is flush against the sink as you attempt to squirm, to try to get him to do something, anything.

that cruel laugh of his fills your ears—quiet yet booming in your head as it sends chills throughout your entire body, eyes flashing open to look at him in the mirror in front of you. “please? please?” logan mocks you, “do y’even know what you’re asking for, baby? nah.. you don’t.”

“you just want..” logan trails off, his hands mindlessly reaching for your shorts, “to get fucked.. like the whore you are.”

without a single warning, he yanks them down along with your panties, and your whines are impossible to stop when the cool air hits your bare skin. when his filthy words are the only thing you can think about.

“can’t keep these pretty hands to yourself, you gotta rile me up to do it for you?” you hear the clank of his belt unbuckling, the zipper of his jeans sliding down, “gotta piss me off every goddamn time you get so fucking needy? i mean,” he laughs harder now, “not that i really blame you..”

logan pauses, and his eyes that were once staring directly at you now shift to look straight ahead, latching onto your mirrored reflection instead. as if he was looking right into you now. “pretty girl like you.. would be a shame to let this cunt go to waste. so, i’ll do you a favor..”

your jaw falls open in complete shock as your face contorts, as the tip of his cock breaches your tight hole, making your eyes roll back instantaneously with a sob from your lips.

“i’ll use her real good. for what she’s made for, yeah?”

your hands grip the sink in front of you as tightly as possible, body trembling as logan groans into your ear, his hands on your body never loosening.

instead, his grip only tightens as his hips become flush against your ass, his entire cock piercing you to the hilt with a satisfied moan.

“that was easier this time, wasn’t it? gettin’ used to me now. just needed to..” logan takes a moment to pull himself out of you, the tip resting against your entrance as he groans. he slams himself back inside of you so hard that your body fails you, your hands landing on the mirror to hold yourself up, bent over.

“break her in real fucking good.”

your body shakes against him as you cry out at his intrusion, stammering out a string of noises as your walls involuntarily clench around him over and over again. it’s almost as if you’re rapidly adapting to him; the way he stretches you out so much that it hurts in the best way possible. you’re pulsing around him, increasingly growing wetter by the second as your eyes water from the intense sensation.

your words slur with a few whines of what seem to be logan’s name as your hands move back to the sink, attempting to push yourself back up against him, but he stops you. grabbing one of your hands, he places it right against the mirror again, holding it still as he grinds himself into you. it makes you breathe out rapidly, body bent over the sink completely now.

“keep em’ right there. right fucking there. you don’t get to do that. y’don’t get to make any choices here.” he grunts in your ear, his thick beard grazing along your jaw as his eyes flicker from your face back to the mirror. he notices the way you’re trembling, eyes filled with those pretty tears of yours, and it makes him smile—a chuckle leaving him shamelessly.

he takes a moment to admire you, whispering out, “what i’m gonna do to you, baby..” and it makes your eyes flutter shut, warmth filling your core.

his other hand trails up the front of your body now, and it practically covers you completely because of how big it is—your stomach, your breasts, your chest, then finally, your neck. your gasp is loud; heavy, as his fingers wrap around your throat, holding you still for him.

all of you in the palm of his hand—all in his control.

you moan eagerly as he looks into your eyes through the mirror, grinning almost maliciously, “isn’t this what you wanted?” he laughs, his hips stirring a bit as he agonizingly pulls out of you, making you wince, “you wanted my attention so bad, wanted my cock so fucking bad..” he growls in your ear, his hand sliding from your throat to the back of your neck, pushing you down hard, and it makes you grip onto the side of the sink even more. 

“well, now you fucking got it.”

the sound of his rasping grunt hits you first; before you’re sobbing out on his cock, pelvis hammering inside of you with a tight hold on your neck, keeping you there with no chance of stopping, no squirming, no escaping.. no running away from this.

all you can do is take it as he pounds into you, the agonizing ache of his cock sliding in and out of you rapidly increasing the coil in your core, your loud cries and moans enough to make him go harder.

“there you go, there she is..” logan grits out, hands now grasping at your hips, smacking your ass, eliciting a grunt from you, “better fuckin’ hope no one walks in here, or else all they’re gonna see is some whore gettin’ used.”

you cry out as you feel the tip of his cock reach the deepest parts inside of you, nudging your g-spot suddenly as a tear slides down your cheek, your knuckles white from how tight you were grasping at your surroundings. your cheeks grow hot from the idea of that happening, stomach tightening as heat pools your core.

“what’d they think, huh? you think they’d wanna join in on the fun? bet they’d wanna fuck you too after i’m done with you. tightest fuckin’ hole i’ve ever had.”

you whine out now, shaking your head desperately in retaliation as you deny it. you couldn’t ever have another man like this, not now, not ever—only him.

logan sighs out, “no, no, no, i’d never let em’ baby, don’t you worry,” he reassures you, pressing his lips against the top of your head, “this,” he murmurs, his hand reaching to cup the front of your cunt, the rough skin on his palm grazing your clit just enough to make you squeal, “s’all fuckin’ mine. you hear me? not a single soul gets to use her like i can.”

“not like she’d want it anyway. only wants my cock in her. s’the only way she can really be filled up.. fucked stupid and cryin’ for me. ain’t that right? never got fucked by a man like me before y’met me, and i’m sure as hell no one will ever get her trembling like i do.”

you shake your head again, tears continuously spilling out of your eyes as your stomach tightens repeatedly, “n-no, lo, only you—” you stammer out as logan buries himself inside of you to the hilt, plunging into the warm heat of your walls, and he slows, relying on pure power than pace now. the harsh drive of his hips has your head fogging up, so close to reaching your peak with your cunt shuddering.

“ohh, there we go, she’s doing it now. shaking all over this fucking cock, squeezin’ me so tight,” he hisses, “that all you up in this pretty little head, or can you even control it? can’t even control it, can you, baby?”

a string of noises leaves your lips, breathless and mixed with whines and a few tears in your eyes as your core spasms out, his cock hitting deep inside of you repeatedly.

“what was that? can’t really.. understand you, baby, y’gotta speak up..” he teases, a mean laugh escaping his throat, “c’monnn, use your words, really think em’ out, say em’ clearly.”

“c’mon, show me that you’re still my good girl. my good little girl. speak up for your old man, honey.”

you yelp out at his filthy words, “m’.. i c-can’t.. control it, ah!” your moans involuntarily stringing out, eyes fluttering shut and rolling to the back of your head, your pussy convulsing around him intensely. “g-gonna–c-cum, lo, oh—” you spit out, your chest grasping for as much air as possible.

he hums in your ear now, fingers reaching for your clit and fastening tight, harsh circles at it, making you shudder, your cunt throbbing around his cock—pulsating over and over again as you start to see white. “gonna fill you up, sweetheart, gonna make you take it, fuck.”

you can’t even register him anymore as he talks you through it, the “come for me, baby,” muffled in your ears as you listen to him, cunt constricting around him tightly as you soak him, and the sound is filthy as logan chases his release, squelching loudly from your climax.

you let out a muffled sob as logan finally reaches his peak, slamming himself deep inside of you as he holds you there, the spurts of white hot spilling & coating your walls. all you can hear is the ringing in your ears, along with the mixture of your heavy breaths and logan’s rasps surrounding you.

logan’s strong arms pull you up against him as you catch your breath, heart rate slowing as your back leans against his chest tiredly. he mutters sweet nothings to you, praising you with kisses along your neck, cheek, then to your lips.

“my good fucking girl, my sweet girl—oh, baby,” he hums in your ear, eyes shut as he takes you in. you sigh out, breathing him in as your hand reaches behind, landing on the back of his head to pull him in closer, “god, i love you.”

you laugh, pressing a mindless kiss on his skin, “i love you more, lo, i–i’m sorry for acting out, for being such a—” you begin to apologize, but he just shuts you up with another peck to your lips. “shh, you hush now. i appreciate it.. you riling me up all the damn time. s’ the only way i can still feel so young.”

you giggle, eyes opening up to turn your head to him, taking in his disheveled look—tired, old, grumpy. the man you loved, as handsome as ever.

“always young in my eyes, lo..” you smile, “besides.. it’s the only way i can get you to fuck me that good.” you tease.

he huffs, rolling his eyes. “i fuck you that good every goddamn time, n’ don’t you deny it.”

you laugh, nodding. you can’t deny that fact. but, your eyebrows furrow slightly, suddenly thinking back to the previous events.

“did you really fuck me in a gas station bathroom, babe? what if someone walked in?!” you groan, pushing your forehead into his chest, embarrassed.

he chuckles, “locked it the minute we got in here, baby. wouldn’t let anyone see you like that,” he reassures you, gently gripping the side of your head to make you look up at him, “you got that?”

his face is stern now as he looks into your eyes, and those butterflies in your stomach erupt as if it were the first time you ever got them from him. you nod though, gleaming up at him.

“got it.”

he grins, “good. now, let’s get you cleaned up n’ back on the road. back’s killing me even more now n’ that bed’s calling my name.”

you laugh at him, teasing him further. “old man.”

you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[xervn]

till the sun is up

oneshot | cowboy sevika

ao3 link

summary: porch sex. that's about it.

18+ MDNI | 2k words | tags; modern au, cowboy sevika (doesn't play a big part though), established relationship, sevika has both arms (sorry, ik, i love it too), kissing, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, no use of y/n, porn w/ plot if you squint

took me weeks to write this because i'm lazy and a student, but i'm still in love with sevika. sorry if there's grammatical errors, i mostly wrote this with one hand (im joking)

It’s six-oh-something AM and you woke up to an empty bed; nothing but wrinkled sheets where your wife is supposed to be. You figure she’s keeping herself busy and will be back soon, so in the meantime, you tie your robe around your waist for a little warmth and head downstairs.

You get started on breakfast, turning on the griddle, and taking note of the things you guys need to stock up on. However, by the time you’re done, Sevika has still not shown up. You’re not used to waking up without seeing her, although the only reason you’re up right now is because you didn’t feel her next to you. 

“She must be in the barn.” You assume, making your way to the front door and to the porch. As expected, the horses are out, which could only mean Sevika was too. You make your own binoculars with your hands, trying to see if you can spot your wife in the distance, until you hear a soft grunt right beside you. 

A peaceful sight, Sevika napping on a wooden armchair like an uncle at a family gathering— you giggle at that— with her cowboy hat being used as a sleeping mask. You hate to have to wake her up, but you made her breakfast! And she should’ve been sleeping next to you anyways. 

“Vika..” You lean down to peek at her face, but, of course, her hat is blocking her eyes. “Vika, baby?” You squat down to plant a kiss on her cheek where you can manage, and she hums awake. “There you are.”

Sevika grunts and you giggle. She sits up and pulls her hat back on her head, squinting at the early morning sun that’s still rising, but somehow found a perfect angle to blind her. She turns to look at you instead. “Hey, sweetheart.” She greets with a rasp.

You spot her discomfort and use your body to block the incoming light for her. “Hi, I missed you.”

She smiles sleepily and reaches for your waist. She guides you down to sit on her lap and you happily let her. “‘M sorry. Woke up too early, thought I’d let the horses out and watch the sunrise...” She says before looking away to yawn. 

You gasp lightly, “Without me?” You clutch at your chest and Sevika chuckles at your theatrics. 

She gently tries to move your hand into hers, but you resist. She shakes her head, laughing, “No, no, no. Baby, please, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“But you made it sound so romantic.. I wouldn’t mind.” You pout. Sevika gives you a doubtful look and you pretend not to see it. 

“You’re not nice when I wake you up.” She reminds you.

“I would’ve been nice this time.” You lie.

“I didn’t want to test that.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Oh, whatever.” You shift to get up, but Sevika quickly anchors you down.

“Where are you going?” She questions with her hands on you firmly; one around your waist and on your stomach, and the other indented in your thigh like you might float away. 

“Ease up, cowgirl. I made breakfast. I made you breakfast.” You reply, placing your hand on her cheek.

“Oh? What’d you make?” She asks as she leans her face into your touch, innocently. Her hands don’t budge.

“Bacon, eggs,” you list and Sevika nods in approval, “Pancakes, and coffee...” You drawl, and her eyes shut as she groans. “Uh-huh, are you gonna join me?” You ask, resting your hands on her chest and waiting for her answer.

She looks you in the eyes, until her gaze starts to go south, lingering at the low neckline of your nightgown. Your cleavage makes a sudden appearance she didn’t notice at first. Sevika was half-awake, but she’s definitely not anymore; whistling at the sight of you. Her grasp on your thigh leaves and goes to pull your satin robe down your shoulder. Surprised, you scold, “Sevika!”

“What?” She goes for the other shoulder and you make no attempts to stop her. “I can’t admire my wife?” She says, resting her rough hand on your thigh again, but this time she’s slowly massaging it up and down.

“You can, but I made you breakfast and it’ll get cold.”

“Baby, that’s what microwaves are for.” She coos, venturing her hand between your legs, slowly making her way up. 

They almost flinch shut and Sevika awes. Your face turns warm and you look away, towards your surroundings, and although she's right about the food, you guys are still outside. You mutter out, “But..”

“But what?” She asks. You continue to aimlessly look in the distance, even though you know damn well there’s nothing but farmland and horses. Sevika chuckles, “The horses don’t care and we don’t get visitors. Even if we did, you know I’d kill ‘em before they could see you like this, right?” You fix your lips to respond, but you pause when the hand on your stomach moves down to the lace hemline of your gown. Her fingers curl underneath, waiting to search. “I miss you.” She whispers.

Her words tug at your heart and her puppy eyes burn into you. You didn’t need much convincing anyways, but you fold and you mumble out, “I know what you’re doing...” Your marriage has taught two things, if Sevika “misses you” she either really does, or she really wants to fuck you. 

You reach for her hat and perch it on your head; an unspoken rule about cowboys Sevika once said. She grins up at you as you slide your hand over her shoulder, closing some distance between you two.

“I do miss you, I miss you all the time.” She assures, leaning in to freely press kisses on your shoulder. Her fingers finally lift your dress and her kisses begin to trail towards your neck. You can deduce which “missing” she meant, and you feel the same way. 

Exhaling, you tip your head to the side to give her more room. Sevika’s lips marking the new territory makes you tremble like it was the first time. It’s no surprise that after years of being together, she still makes your heart race. 

You move with her as she leans back, tugging you towards her. You involuntarily let out a squeak that she snickers at, and she gives you a kiss on the cheek and several more, distracting you from her spreading your legs indecently; hooking your outer leg over her strong forearm.

She wastes no time to ride up the front of your nightgown, showcasing your plain, flimsy, black, cat-themed underwear. Sevika doesn’t bat an eye, of course, she’s used to it. 

Right now, she’s only focused on one thing. Her hand purposefully ghosts over, so she can ogle at you writhing with anticipation. Your knitting brows, heavy breathing— it excites her. She’s getting worked up from watching you. “Look how bad you want it.” She teases affectionately.

Sevika presses her middle finger on your damp, clothed clit, observing and feeling every reaction that pulses from you. You let out a soft curse and she rewards it by moving her finger in tight circles. Sevika listens to how your breath staggers and clenches from the ache between her own legs. She tugs your underwear to the side to properly admire how wet you are. The cool, morning air makes you shiver. 

Pinning the fabric with her ring finger, she sensually swipes her middle up your folds. “All for me?”

Her voice has you melting, throbbing, and you're unable to contain the whine that escapes you. Sevika’s gaze locks on your lips the second she hears it, as if she’s hunting for the next one. You make sure she’ll be able to catch it, meeting her halfway for a kiss. 

She grins as your mouths collide, eyes fluttering shut and lips passionately fitting together like a two-piece puzzle. She brings another finger to aid her in rubbing soft circles on your clit; just enough to build pressure, but not enough to relieve it. The tip of her tongue runs over your parted bottom lip, waiting for an invitation in, and you allow it with a breathy moan. She languidly teases her tongue across yours, then pulls away just to watch you follow after her— which you do— and you can see how much she got off on it. 

Panting impatiently, “Sev…“ But you trail off as she gravitates towards you with another magnetizing, searing kiss. Your hands find the side of her neck, brushing up her nape. 

She sweetly pecks your lips, breaking away for a second, “You’re,” she kisses you again, “Just,” and again, “So,” and again, “Pretty. I had to look.” She murmurs.

Your face becomes home for a cheesy smile Sevika reciprocates dotingly. You lean in to kiss her, and as your lips brush against each other’s, her fingers suddenly resume their movement, this time firmly and relieving. You whimper over her lips, and she chuckles darkly against yours. She kisses you deeply as she steadily coaxes your clit on a perfect pressure point. 

Your legs begin to bow together from the overwhelming sensation, slowly coming to its climax, and Sevika takes it as a sign to slip her fingers into you. The stretch hurts good as she curls her fingers into ‘come-hither’ motions right where you need them. The previous build up resumes instantly and you’re back where you left off, right on the brink. 

“Vika, I’m gonna…“ You softly cry out, unable to finish your words because she only increases her speed at the mention of her name. Now her thick fingers are squelching in and out of you and the sounds are fogging your brain. If it wasn’t for the chirping birds and the huffing horses in the distance, you would’ve forgotten where you were.

“Not yet, just a little longer.” She says— demands even.

You sob out a moan, akin to a tantrum, “I can’t— fuck — I can’t.” 

Sevika plants a kiss on the corner of your lips; her fingers refusing to stop hitting your rough spot. “You can, baby. You don’t want me to stop, do you?” She whispers.

She puts up a good point you can’t argue. You don’t want her to stop, you’d hate for her to stop. “N- No, but maybe slow— hnng— d— shit— down?” You bargain half-heartedly in stutters and stammers.

“Where’s the fun in that? And if you come right now, so help me god.” She growls. Yet, the way she’s fucking you is telling you the opposite; there’s a thin line on torture and mind-breaking pleasure she’s crossing and you love it. You try not to love it too much before you explode on the spot. 

She can see how much you're trying, squirming, whining with every fast-paced stroke. One word from her and you’d come undone: that’s her favorite part. She extends her free arm, the one propping your leg up, and she puts four fingers on your clit, then rubs it harshly. That does it. You actually can’t hold it anymore unless you want half an orgasm. Your head jerks back and Sevika’s cowboy hat begins to slide off your head. There’s tears in your eyes, your legs are weak and shaking. You need it, you need it bad.

And she gives it to you. “Such a good girl. Go on, come for me.” 

Your release hits hard, like a cork popping off a champagne bottle. Your eyes pin shut as it reverberates down to your toes, and courses up your spine. You let out high-pitched, breathy moans, and Sevika harmonizes— not mockingly — soothingly, as she softly rubs out your orgasm. Your underwear falls back in place as she removes her fingers out of you and off of you. You wince and she murmurs an apology with a smug smile. 

“Holy shit,” You exhale as your legs fall over Sevika’s thighs. You can feel the air getting warmer, and as your eyes flutter open, the sky is colored a blue only a risen sun could paint. “I love you.”

“I love you.” She replies with a smile.

“Your turn now.”

She laughs heartily, briefly biting her lower lip, “But I thought the breakfast was gonna get cold?” 

You grin, “‘That’s what microwaves are for.’”

[verareids]

feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader

spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3

also posted on ao3

“You know Pretty Boy likes you, don’t you?”

Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morgan’s voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way he’d look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than he’d like it to be. 

He’s been trying to ignore it, telling himself it’s unprofessional when really it’s because he believes there’s no way you could possibly feel the same. There’s a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly – that was probably the biggest.

“Likes me? How old are we?” The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation. 

“(Y/N), come on…” Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows he’d see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. “Look, you know he’s never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should just–”

“Derek.” You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. “I’m not having this conversation with you. I’ve told you, it’s not happening.” Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesn’t have to hear you reject him even harder.

~

Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed by you, not much does – especially where Spencer is concerned – and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. You’d sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didn’t take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek – he wouldn’t let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You haven’t given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you haven’t been able to deny it either.

When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. It’s only then you start to be concerned. It’s unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction you’d had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. He’s just tired. If it was serious he’d tell you… right?

~

The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didn’t write last night before he had basically ran away.

“Morning, Spence!” You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesn’t look up, like he’s trying extra hard to look busy.

“Morning, (Y/L/N).” He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.

“Hey… are you feeling alright?” You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly weren’t aware of. “I noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.” He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’m okay.” He responds after a while in a way that sounds like that’s not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.

“Spencer… I–” You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. “Is it me? Did I do something? Because if I did I–”.

“(Y/N).” Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. “Can we go somewhere to talk?” You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.

“What’s going on with you?” You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird.” You notice the way he dodges the question. He can’t meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.

“Spence, that’s not–” You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. “I only want you to be okay. You’ve been acting differently since last night… If there’s something going on I want to be there for you.” When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if he’s considering something.

“I heard you talking to Morgan…” He mumbles, still staring at his feet – wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? “On the jet on the way home…”

“Oh.” This isn’t happening. You figure you should’ve known Derek’s relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. There’s a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldn’t stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.

“Look, I– I didn’t mean to make this awkward…” Oh god. The way he’s stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. “It’s not like I thought you would feel the same way I just–” Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. “I wasn’t going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.” He begins to look a little panicked. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry if I did.” You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. “(Y/N)?” He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.

“Sorry, I–” You say slowly while shaking your head. “Are you saying that – Do you like me?” Now it’s Spencer’s turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.

“Yes?” He replies hesitantly.

“I like you too.” You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback. 

“You do?” The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. “But I thought— you told Morgan you didn’t like me.”

“I told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didn’t think this…” You gesture between the two of you. “Was ever going to happen.” Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.

“You could have just told me.” You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you weren’t messing with him.

“You didn’t tell me either.”

“I thought there was no way…” You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. “I guess it doesn’t matter now.” Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesn’t move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.

“Well… maybe if we don’t have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?” You’re staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face he’s still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you can’t help but smile right back.

“Yes— definitely.” You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm. 

You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldn’t have it any other way.)

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[ynbabe]

would you write an smau with yuki or Oscar with an ex racer male reader who hangs out around the paddock a lot, maybe there could be a scene where yuki/oscar gets asked in an interview about rumors about who he’s dating and reader’s reaction gives it away?

Chose Oscar for this one cause I'm gonna make the reader similar to a certain someone hehhehe

Also let’s all pretend this isn’t like 9 months later okay 😭😭

lando.jpg

lando.jpg he's such an airport dad (he still has my passport...)

username is that oscar?? in the last pic???

lando.jpg yes @/y/n/l/nofficial did a lil therapy session

lando.jpg father

y/n/l/nofficial do NOT call me that lando.jpg Daddy y/n/l/nofficial NO-

username the comments 💀

username lando just replaced Carlos with another older Spanish man- We see u pookie we'd fall Y/n too

oscarpiastri the one time I'm featured and I'm drunk and crying? I'm calling my father @/charlesleclerc

lando.jpg you're lucky thats all thats featured lando.jpg are you sure thats the daddy you wanna call? lando.jpg deleted comment

username HELLO??? WHAT IS GOING ON???

y/n/l/nofficial

y/n/l/nofficial he stole my bike so I stole his look🥰

username I need someone to look at me the way Oscar looks at Y/n

username that hoodie looks a lil too snug bbg do u have something to tell us??

username fr like Y/n is BUILT no way that’s his hoodie

username that’s Oscars for sure

mclarenf1 driver swap?

username YES pls get y/n back just for one race guys pls i beg landonorris I agree Oscars mean to me Y/n’s nice 🥰 oscarpiastri I’m sorry I didn’t laugh at your knock-knock joke 🙄

You laughed as you saw all the comments under your post, knowing you were joining the McLaren garage for the Austrian GP.

--------------------------------

You cheered as Oscar got P2 screaming with everyone else. Jumping and screaming with mechanics that used to be yours.

Everyone had thought you’d hate the boy replacing you, how you’d force everyone to side with you over him, poisoning Lando’s and the teams mind against him. They couldn’t be more wrong.

You grabbed the younger man’s fireproofs collar, pushing him to the wall.

“Y/n?” “P2 baby,”

You smiled looking down at him, giving up on being professional and placing your lips on his, trying to hold back knowing the man was tired but you simply couldn’t, tasting the sweet champagne from his tongue, you pushed one knee in between his separating them.

He gasped, arching his back away from the thin motorhome wall, grabbing a fist full of your hair, making you moan, his other hand reaching to the buckle of your belt.

You separated to breath, both panting, sweaty and blushing, resting our foreheads together.

“You think we’ve got time?” You asked, placing a soft kiss at the corner of his lips, feeling them lift up into a smile.

Just as the boy was about to speak, there was loud knocking on the door, shaking the wall next to it, “No monkey business guys,” a British voice yelled laced with a teasing tone, “Osco needs to be able to walk to the interview room,” he cackled making the other men groan.

“Shut up, Cabron, go annoy Carlos or something,” you yelled, resting your head on Oscars.

“Damn you sound just like him, I must have gotten confused,” he squeaked like a dolphin making Oscar cringe at the insinuation, pushing you away.

He pulled the door open, making the other boy falling in, “Disgusting Lando, never say that again,” he whined making the older papaya clad boy laugh again.

“It’s giving enemies to lovers, 100k words-”

“GET OFF AO3,”

“GET OFF Y/N, YOUR FRICKING LIPS ARE SWOLLEN!” He yelled pointing at his own lips, making Oscar cover his, both looking at you and back at each other, making you realise your unbuckled belt with the reddened lips didn’t look very innocent.

“Ewwwwwww!” Lando groaned, running out the room, “be at the press room in 5 minutes you disgusting rabbits, oh my god,” he cried as he sped down the hallway.

Oscar looked at you, cheeks tinted pink in embarrassment, making you smile back at him, suddenly shifting to a smirk, “well, we do have 5 minutes,” you winked, making him groan and look away.

“Shut up, y/n,” he rolled his eyes and began walking out, with you hot on his heels.

You quickly caught up to him, pulling him into you by his waist while you walked side by side with him, lips to his ears, “oh, it’s y/n now? I remember something like- please, oh god, please don’t stop, ahh,” you moaned quietly, leaning back to normal and walking away, leaving a stunned Oscar behind.

“Come on, Osco, you’re getting late,” you called, smiling to yourself for causing such a reaction from the usually calm and collected man.

You had followed him to where the duo was being interviewed, cameras had been set up by the pr team, and a small section at the side for Zak, Andrea and the race engineers incase there were any questions for the team. You saw an extra chair and made your way to sit next to the boss man himself, quite happy to get to reconnect with your old boss.

The interviewer asked questions after questions with Lando being the leading man as usual, your boyfriend being the more reserved between the duo.

You took a sip of water, keeping the bottle in your hand, lost in the conversation between you and the others but heard Oscar being singled out.

“So our podium sitter here, Mr. Piastri!” The interviewer hyped up, making Oscar smile and nod, “let’s move away from the race and focus on your relationships,” he cooed trying to elicit a response but McLaren media training was a beast so all he got was a small laugh from both boys.

Lando took the lead once again, “I’m just happy it’s not me for once,” he laughed.

“Ooh,” the interviewer gasped, turning the older man at the side, “talking about relationships, rather rumours, I believe we’ve got the F1 heart throb, Y/n L/n here,” the camera panned to you, mid conversation with your former boss who nudged you, bringing your attention to the camera to which you waved at, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The man called you over, obviously happy that he could get more out of the interview.

You wanted to refuse but couldn’t, walking up to the table and finding no space as both boys had chairs, you placed your arm around Oscar, shaking his shoulder as you slightly pulled him to make space for you. You smiled at the interviewer, keeping your hand on Oscars waist, holding on to the boy so he didn’t fall of.

“Oscar, you good there?” The man asked eliciting a nervous laugh and a seagull screech from Lando.

You laughed along, pushing and pulling him back into you, his hands finding his way to your thighs to stable himself , “Oski’s about to fall,” you wriggled your brows.

“So onto all the rumours,” the man continued, oblivious to what was happening behind the table, “now the two men besides you have had plenty of rumours themselves,” which was a nice way of putting ‘WE SAW HIM KISSING A MAN’ in a pc way, “but we’ve got some sources telling us you’re in a steady relationship, anyone we’d know Oscar?” You brought the water bottle to your lips, waiting for Oscar’s answer, missing the way he’d looked at you.

Unfortunately the interviewer and camera had not, “Why are we looking at y/n?” WHAT- you chocked on the water, spilling it all over your white shirt, pushing Oscar off the chair whom pulled you and Lando down with him.

“We’re okay!” Lando screamed, one hand raised.

“IM NOT” you groaned having broken Oscar's fall.

You'd though (hoped) nothing would come of the interview, but boy were you wrong, because the edits, oh god the edits. You almost had tears in your eyes at how creative some were and actual tears about how dirty the others were.

The sound bite of you and Oscar groaning after falling had been used to hell and back and every single driver had to keep reminding you of it. Especially Lando who kept sending you thrist edits to the point you were concerned about his fyp.

But the worst part was all the speculation. And all any interviewer would ask you or Oscar would be about the rumours. You were fine with it, having dealt with stuff like this all your career but the defeated look on Oscar's face after an amazing race only to be asked a very inappropriate question about the two of you had you wanting to punch people.

After a long, long, talk with Mark and both your respective PR teams, you knew the best option would be to come out with it on your own. So you did exactly that.

y/n.jpg

y/n.jpg well since y’all got your fucking degrees and know every fucking thing 🙄

lando.jpg the duality of man ft y/n l/n and oscar piastri

oscarpiastri woooooooooooooooow suddenly everyone has a jpg

y/n.jpg hey I wanted to do this on my main but someone kept whining about pr 🫵

oscarpiastri that’s it your sleeping on the couch

lando.jpg damn idts old man y/n’s back can take that 😩

y/n.jpg I’M 25!!!

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

He didn't mean to do it. He meant it, with every fucked-up fibre of his being he meant it, but he didn't mean to actually do it. 

Stiles had just—been so very fucking Stiles, in that stupid, irresponsible jump-head-first-into-the fray-on-everybody-else's-behalf kind of way that he has about him, and after the pack had neutralised the danger but everybody's veins still had more adrenaline than blood coursing though them, Derek felt—feels—so fucking livid, and so damn grateful, and so utterly, utterly muddled that he's grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and is pulling the kid's body into his own, hard, crashing their torsos together like a devastating highway collision, arms enveloping Stiles's shoulders as a crushed car bonnet wraps itself around a tree. 

Now—here, at a clearing in the trees on what has been Hale land for generations going back centuries, with Stiles in his space, and his nostrils, and in his fucking head—Derek is terrified. 

There's a fairly stilted, “Whoa, okay, alright, we're doing this, huh, big guy?” but then Stiles is relaxing into the hug. He sort of melts, actually, snaking long and wiry yet surprisingly strong arms around Derek's waist; so very warm, and alive, alive, alive.

“Stiles, you shouldn't have—why do you always have to—you could've fucking died!” he admonishes, although it doesn't come out half as harshly as he means and wants it to. 

Lost, Derek shoves his nose into Stiles's neck, and breathes.

Stiles lets him, because of course he does, cocking his head to the side to accommodate Derek's needs.

“Must be a day that ends in Y, huh, Der?” he answers, ever the class clown.

Derek quietly growls his annoyance and relief in equal measure, and even though he senses the rest of the pack has now gathered around them, and hating that he has an audience for this, he squeezes Stiles into him impossibly more.

Stiles wheezes comically, then jokes more, because humour is his default in any situation. “Why don't you ease up a bit there, buddy? Kinda need this work of art that I call a body in one piece if I'm ever gonna save your wolfy-ass again, oh alpha, my alpha.”

Derek shuts him up with a slick lick to the jugular. The kid shivers beautifully, but even Derek's tongue doesn't keep him quiet for long. Only Stiles Stilinski could ramble incessantly with a werewolf at his throat. 

“Okay, shit, that—ahhhhhhh, that tickles, Fido! Do I need to get the collar and chain on y—oh my fucking god!”

Derek clamps his jaws around the most exquisite throat he's ever seen, smelled, dreamed about, and growls out a warning sound that causes the betas to back off and Stiles to go weak at the knees.

Mine, he thinks loudly.

After a few moments of Derek gnawing on Stiles's throat, once they're alone in the preserve, other than the nocturnal animals and eery sound of the wind picking up from the west, Derek releases his jaws' hold on the sheriff's boy—the boy who runs with wolves; little red riding hoodie; the best human Derek's ever known—and soothes the purpling mark with a lingering press of his lips.

“Oh!” is amazingly all Stiles has got—although Derek can satisfyingly smell Stiles's arousal, his wolf now howling inside of him at the delicious scent.

“Yeah, oh,” he answers, after trying his level best to calm the feral instinct he has to pull them both down into the undergrowth and mate the boy.

He finally pulls away from Stiles, but doesn't release him from his grip entirely. Fire-red irises find big, brown doe eyes, and a smirk that Derek wants to lick right off Stiles's face and replace with a look of pure ecstasy.

“Stop doing stupid things,” he demands.

Begs. 

“Yeah, no, probably never gonna—oomph!” 

Derek kisses Stiles, kisses him like it's the end of the fucking world because he's realised that every time Stiles puts his own life in danger, it feels like it might be.

Stiles doesn't hesitate this time, though. He kisses Derek right back like he gets it.

Now found, Derek takes, and he takes, and he takes.

Stiles kisses like nobody else in existence, Derek is sure of it; he is earth and wind, fire and water.

Fucking elemental. 

When he presumably needs to breathe, Stiles tears his lips away from Derek's—swollen and blood-red—and Derek can't help the whine that escapes his. Their foreheads bump as they both pant, attempting to settle as they shake with post-fight waning nerves and a feverish desire.

Stiles says, “How ‘bout if you keep doing that, I'll get myself a bigger bat?”

Derek both hates and loves the smile that spreads across his face like a rash, entirely of its own volition. 

“How about next time, you just wait for me?” 

“Deal,” Stiles grins and kisses Derek again, and Derek hopes it's the kind of deal that's forever.

.

for @greyhavenisback—love yew, love <3 (unedited, soz!)

.

now edited and on ao3 HERE

[steddie-island]

Risky Business

Written for @steddie-week day 2 | Prompt: Hands Rating: M | WC: 2,027 | Tags: Pre-Steddie, season 2, shotgunning, dry humping, coming in pants, cheating (if you squint) Find full list of tags on ao3 | Divider credit

“Watch it, Harrington!”

Steve didn't even turn around to see who was yelling at him. He needed to get the fuck out of there.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

The words reverberated in his head, echoed in the empty hollow of his chest where his heart used to be.

"Like we're in love?"

It was too fucking much. There were monsters, and Barb was dead, and Nancy wasn't in love with him, and—

“Harrington!”

“What!” Steve spun around and came face to face with one Eddie Munson. He definitely didn't need this shit right now, either, whatever Eddie was trying to do.

“Jesus, who pissed in your cheerios?” Eddie held his hand out, where Steve's keyring dangled from one finger. “I was giving these back, but if that's how it's gonna be.”

Steve swiped for them, but Eddie already had them folded back into the palm of his hand and was walking towards the house again.

“Just— hand them over.” Steve tried to make another grab for them, but Eddie was too fast, the shithead. “Munson, I'm in a really bad goddamn mood, okay?”

Eddie lifted his free hand to his head, rubbed at the back of his neck. “How much have you had to drink?”

Steve blinked at him. “I'm fine to drive.”

“That's not an answer, big boy, and I'm afraid it would be against the Munson code to let you do something stupid like that.” Steve swiped for his keys again, but then Eddie was turning, rearing his arm back— and Steve watched as his keys went flying.

“What the fuck !” Steve wanted to shove him, wanted to wipe the stupid smile right off of his stupid fucking face.

“I'll help you find them later,” Eddie said. “C'mon, man. You're clearly not in any shape to drive. Let me take you home.”

Steve wanted to say no. He wanted to kick and scream and argue but how the fuck else was he supposed to get home now? Just the thought of sticking around long enough to see Jonathan pour Nancy into his car made his stomach twist.

He could walk, but he was so tired . It washed over him all at once, and Steve's entire body sort of slumped. “Fine. You're paying if we don't find them, though.”

Eddie looked surprised, like he hadn't expected Steve to give in so fast. Still he bowed, gestured ahead of them. “Right this way, sir.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

Steve shook his head, bringing his cheek to rest against the window. “Not really.”

”Okay.” Eddie reached over and turned the radio on. The music was heavier than what Steve usually listened to, but that actually helped get him out of his head. There was going to be a breakdown, and a big one, but he needed it to not happen here, in Eddie Munson's van.

Eddie fidgeted. Steve could tell he wanted to talk, to say somthing, anything , to get rid of the silence between them.

“Does... Wheeler have a way to get home?”

Steve wished Eddie would've kept his big mouth shut.

“She's fine,” he said flatly. Emotionless. He couldn't think about Nancy, about bullshit, bullshit, bullshit .

“Shit— hey, I'm sorry, man.” Eddie was really fidgeting now, and— fuck.

Steve wiped away traitorous tears and cleared the lump out of his throat. “I'm fine,” he said, snappier than he meant to. It wasn't Eddie's fault he was losing his cool.

“Clearly. Totally fine,” Eddie said, nodding. He seemed to think about it, fingers drumming against his steering wheel again— did he ever sit still? Then they were turning away from Steve's house, towards the edge of town.

“C'mon, man, I'm fine, just—”

“Trust me,” Eddie said. His eyes flicked over to Steve again. “This is better than going home.“

Steve had been to Lover's Lake before, but never in the back of Eddie Munson's van. They'd parked, and Eddie had lit up a preroll. Whatever was in it, Steve wasn't feeling any pain anymore.

They were floating together, weightless in the back of the van on the pile of blankets Eddie had spread out for them. Steve's hair hung away from his face as he watched the way the night sky reflected in the water.

There were no dead girls here, no alternate universes with monsters ready to rip them to shreds.

There wasn't a bat driven through with nails that looked rusty with old monster blood rotting away in his trunk.

There were just stars, and the music pouring softly through the speakers now. And Eddie, warm and sturdy by his side, with their pinkies barely touching.

"Fuckin' love this song," Eddie said. Steve didn't recognize it, though the thrum of the guitar made his already fuzzy brain vibrate pleasantly.

"Think you've said that about every song we've listened to," Steve murmured. His tongue was heavy and thick in his mouth. He reached for the joint, giggled when his fingers didn't want to work and he nearly dropped it.

"Lemme help you." Eddie rolled over, pressed the butt of if it to Steve's lips. His fingers were dry and warm. Steve's eyes nearly crossed as he tried to watch those fingertips. He was so distracted he almost forgot to actually inhale.

"Never woulda taken King Steve for a lightweight," Eddie teased. His voice was giggly, too, as he leaned back, brought the joint to his own mouth and took a long pull.

Steve couldn't stop watching his fingers, the glint of the light on his rings as he lifted a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear.

"You still with me?" Eddie asked. He lightly bumped his foot against Steve's and gave him a teasing smile.

"Yeah, 'm with you," Steve said. He reached up to touch one of Eddie's rings without really thinking about it. "You have nice hands." His fingers were long, slender. Musician's hands, complete with callouses that Steve had the odd desire to get his lips on.

Maybe the bitten nails weren't a musician thing, just an Eddie thing, but that didn't change the fact that Steve kind of wanted to kiss those fingertips.

"Yeah? You like, big boy?" Normally Eddie wouldn't have risked flirting with the straight jock high off his ass in the back of the van but Harrington didn't feel like a threat. He waved his hand lazily and watched Steve's gaze follow along like there was a slight delay between what Eddie was doing and Steve brain processing it.

"Yeah." Steve reached up to catch Eddie's wrist, to stop him from moving his hand around. "I do." He trailed his fingertips over Eddie's palm then outlined one finger at a time.

If anyone had told Eddie that morning that he would end the day holding hands with a stoned Steve Harrington at Lover's Lake he would've laughed in their face and asked if they needed a ride to the hospital. Here he was, though, with the ex king threading their fingers together, pressing palm flush against palm.

A shaky breath slipped out of Steve's chest. He pulled their hands closer so he could run his fingers over Eddie's rings, then up along his knuckles.

Eddie watched Steve with heavy lidded eyes. They were just holding hands— at least, he thought this weird thing Steve was doing where he followed the lines where their hands touched counted as holding hands— but there was something about it that felt intimate.

Maybe it was the way Steve's lips were parted, and the peek of pink as his tongue wet his lower lip. Maybe it was the way Steve was eyeing their clasped hands like he wanted to fucking bite them.

Or like he was holding Eddie's hand to keep from doing just that.

"Harrington." Eddie nudged Steve with his foot again. "Sure you're with me?"

Those warm eyes met Eddie's again. Steve didn't answer, he just watched Eddie's face in a way that made the other boy feel cut open and exposed. It was a feeling Eddie didn't get often, a feeling he really didn't know how to be comfortable with.

So Eddie did the first thing that came to mind that wasn't just staring right back. He took a hit off of the joint, never taking his eyes off of Steve's. He didn't let the smoke out and instead leaned in to almost press their lips together, and once Steve opened his mouth, he let the smoke pass between them.

Steve made an injured sound. Before Eddie could pull back to check on him a hand was in his hair, and then they were kissing. It was desperate, tongues and teeth meeting and clashing.

"Eddie," Steve panted before tipping his head back so Eddie's mouth could be on his throat instead.

Eddie wanted to mark him. He wanted to bite and suck and leave traces of himself all over this ridiculous jock. He had just enough mind left to not let himself do that, and instead he dragged his tongue over Steve's pulsepoint before giving his earlobe a gentle tug.

"Oh fuck —" Steve pulled him in, licked into Eddie's mouth again and ground against the thigh now settled between his own legs.

There was an urgency in the way Steve's hips moved, in the way he kissed at Eddie's neck before biting down, unafraid to mark the way Eddie had been.

Eddie cursed and rocked down, meeting those hungry little movements. They were going to come together, ruin their clothes together. He should stop it, should remind Steve that he was drunk and there was maybe a girlfriend waiting for him when the sun came up.

Then Steve tugged down the collar of his shirt and those perfect fucking teeth were digging into his collar bone. Eddie cried out at the flash of pain and pleasure as he spilled into his boxers.

Steve anchored a hand into Eddie's hair and pulled him in to kiss him again. His movements picked up, became something more firm against Eddie's thigh.

Eddie was going to remember the sound Steve made as he was coming for the rest of his life.

They settled together on their nest of blankets, with the come drying into the fabric of their clothes and in their pubic hair. Eddie barely dared to breathe, in case Steve decided to kick his ass once he'd come back to himself more. Steve didn't do that, though. Instead he took Eddie's wrist and brought his hand to his mouth, to kiss the underside of each of his three chunky rings before resting Eddie's hand on his chest.

"I should get home."

They cleaned up as much as they could with the napkins fished out of the glovebox. The blankets were left in a pile in the back to be dealt with later.

Steve seemed more calm on the drive back to the Harrington house. Some of the edge Eddie had noticed when they'd first ran into each other seemed to have been smoothed out, whether by the weed or the orgasm or a mix of the two he wasn't sure.

Only once they were parked did Steve remember— "Fuck." He looked up at his house, with all the dark windows staring down at him. "I don't have my keys."

"Actually…" Eddie reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and came up holding Steve's keys.

"You sneaky bastard." Steve took the keys and turned them over as if inspecting that they really were his.

"I really didn't feel like sneaking around Tina's house and having her call the cops on me. Just had to make you think I'd thrown them."

Steve watched Eddie's face in the dashboard light. Tomorrow he would have to talk to Nancy, he knew. It was going to hurt— already his chest ached with what they had to do, what he'd been refusing to accept had been coming for a while now.

But maybe it didn't have to hurt forever. Maybe he didn't have to hurt forever.

"Good night, sneaky bastard." Steve reached over and squeezed Eddie's knee before slipping out of the van.

"Night, Steve," Eddie said. He sat there watching until Steve was safely inside.

[thegnomelord]

me very patiently waiting for that mothussy :3

oh and here’s another wittle thing i thought…i tend to hc price as a bear hybrid or other so i think he would go into hibernations,, since hes still on duty he wouldnt go into a long-term one like other bears, but simply sleep a LOT of the day…i would wanna cuddle big bear price so bad awaawaewfgwh 🥺 hes really hairy but instead of it being coarse hair, its more fluffy cause its the winter!! so his facial hair puffs up a bit…and his chest hair…and the happy trail…you get the idea :3 idk i just like bear price i want him to pound me into the mattress and suck my cock until it falls off hug me!!

-❀

Give me like a couple more days lol, I got ghost and soap more or less done in a rough draft format, just need to write out price and gaz then a quick rewrite to clean up the draft. Cause rn all mini drafts are about 1k and very rough so when I clean it up they're probs gonna be bumped up to like 2k? Just knowing me and how my drafts end up doubling in size lol.

Also duuude you are a treasure trove of ideas lol. I want bear price now and now I'm horny so here's a bunch of bear price

Help a Bear Out

CW:NSFW, MDNI, daddy kink, dom/sub, oral, somno, edging, foodplay, cockwarming. Bear Price x Top Male reader Ao3

Imagine Bear Price who is by no means a small man any time of the year, bear genetics + having to be physically fit to take down terrorists leads to him having a very strong and imposing build befitting a Kodiak bear. The fur only adds to the striking image, making him look larger and his arms appear thicker, letting him scare many young boars from trying to tussle with him lest he crack their skulls.

But he turns massive in winter.

He can't help it; There's no escaping the iron clad control nature has over his body as his dark fur thickens and gains a fluffy golden color. No evading the instinct telling him to eat and rest and grow fat for winter until his hard earned muscles disappear beneath the cloak of fat. No ignoring sweet lull of sleep's song when he's yawning every five minutes and the words on the report swim in his blurry eyes.

Imagine Bear Price who, in his younger days, used to be self conscious about the changes his body went through. Growing up surrounded by humans was tough, dread would start building in his heart the moment the first leaf from the trees would fall. He's lost count how many times the kids would laugh at him when he'd show up to school after winter break with a chubby face and barely able to run a lap with how tired he was.

As he grew and started being curious about sex, it only got worse. He'd snatch the porn mags his sisters would buy behind their parents back, spending hours looking in the mirror and comparing his pudgy belly and fat thighs to the chiseled abs and lean muscles of the models. He'd spend hours exercising and trying to loose the weight he'd gain, but it would be all for naught.

And it didn't stop when he graduated and went into the military. His superiors may have tolerated the extra sleep and rations Price needed because he was a monster on the field, but they by no means were happy about it. He'd end up with thrice the amount of work and run ragged in training until he returned to his pre-winter weight.

Imagine Bear Price who doesn't give a shit about how he looks like now. Why would he, when he sees how you look at him? How you touch him? How you worship him?

Your hands wind around his waist and the groan you let out when you realize the space between your fingertips has gotten bigger is hungry. Your face burrows into his chest, his soft fluffy fur tickling your face as you nuzzle his pecks. The way his pudgy belly and love handles jiggle under your wandering hands makes you wish you had more arms so you could feel every part of him.

A content growl rumbles from the bottom of his chest, eyelids open just enough to watch you. "My boy's forgotten his manners." He chuckles, but there's no way to hide the wagging of his little bear tail. The reverent way you touch him makes him feel like a king.

"Sorry sir." There's absolutely no shame in your voice or your actions, not when your mind is held captive by the soft fluffy fur and the warmth of his skin. Without thinking you slide your hands up to grope his chest and you groan — the squishy fat covering his muscles and makes his pecs so large they don't fit in your hands anymore, fat plumping up between your fingers and his flesh jiggling as you press his pecs against your head and motorboat him.

The surprised laugh you earn is like ambrosia to sweeten the heaven you're drowning in.

Imagine Bear Price who gets so sleepy as the nights get longer and colder. While he still gets the work done, and for the most part doesn't mind the 'old man' jokes his boys make, it's obvious how irritated he gets when he's forced to stay awake longer than he needs to; each extra second spent explaining to a muppet how to do his job makes his eyes darker and voice rougher until he's passively growling like a construction engine.

Luckily you're there to calm down the beast.

Groping his ass or scratching the base of his tail to distract him so you can kiss along his jaw and rub your cheek against his beard. "You're doing it again sir." You mutter, voice smooth and low enough to soothe his prickled mind. Kissing him sweet and slow so you can tug his lazy body back into his room, into his den, where you can give him what his mind and body craves the most — sweet sweet sleep. . . and you.

Imagine Bear Price who's chest rumbles with a purr without stopping the second you settle into his den, his clawed fingers sliding over and groping your naked skin with just as much love and adoration as you show him.

Wrapped in so many layers of blankets and furs, engulfed by his bulk and his own fur, you are so so warm that neither one of you need clothes. Price's favorite position is to hug you like a Teddy bear. Despite the irony, it lets him wrap his body around you so you're safe and protected, practically suffocating in his fur. Not that you mind, especially when Price can nuzzle his nose into your hair or skin, to breathe in your scent to his heart's content and purr low praises into your ear: "Good boy,"

And, if you're especially good, he lets you use his ass as a pillow. He'll growl and grumble about not being able to scent you or hold you, but he'll soon be sleeping peacefully with you slumbering on his large ass.

Imagine Bear Price who, between the long stretches of sleep, get's horny. It's a natural reaction from sleeping next to his naked mate, wanting to feel you and hear your moans, but he doesn't have the energy to actually fuck. His lethargy turns the feeling of languid arousal into Hell.

Both of you try to initiate a couple of times; fumbling beneath the sheets, wandering hands roaming and groping as far as they can reach, his teeth nibbling on your neck and your hungry lips laying hickeys on his thick neck. Not wanting to undo the tangle of limbs you two end up grinding against each other, breathing the same air between kisses as sweet pleasure burns in your belies.

Then you stop just long enough to grab the lube, and Price's mind, still half way in lala land, only needs a couple of seconds of inaction to pull him back into deep sleep. By the time you return to him he's already snoring, limbs reaching out to grip you tightly and pull you close, but all thoughts of sex are forgotten.

And Price is so, so, angry with himself when he wakes up and realizes he left you high and dry again, shame eating away at his stomach because what kind of bear leaves his mate unsatisfied? The unworthy kind.

Imagine Bear Price who's mind is blown when you suggest cockwarming. Hibernation is about sleeping and relaxing, not strenuous sex, so the thought of being able to feel you while still fulfilling his body's need to rest? Oh it gets him hard.

It takes a while to figure out the perfect position, Price is too big and heavy to lay on top of you without crushing you, and his fingers earn to grip and hold you close so spooning him viable either.

Finally you end up with him laying on his back, legs spread with you laying on top of him and oh, it's perfect. You can feel him purr as you slide inside his blistering hot hole, his strong arms wrapping around you and claws scrapping along your spine. "That's my boy, perfect f' daddy." He mumbles through the fog of sleep, throwing one heavy leg over yours to keep you close.

You can't help the shudder that races down your spine, his musky earthy scent curling in your nose and making your cock throb inside him. You only stretching him long enough to be able to take you without tearing something, and Price relishes the slight sting of pain nibbling on his nerves when your cock hardens.

You don't try to fuck him, by the time you're fully settled inside him he's already snoozing. A slow roll of your hips and the resulting tightening of his hole is enough to sate your lust when it arises, enough to keep you half hard and stretching him out. His pecs make such a good pillow, thick fluffy fur and chest hair tickling your skin, the slow and calm beating of his heart lulling you to sleep before you know it.

Imagine Bear Price who gets an insatiable sweet tooth. There’s not a single secret stash in his room that doesn’t have his favorite bottle of honey in it. Hell, there’s more honey hidden in his room than cigars.

And his lazy mind decides to combine his hunger with honey with his hunger for you.

"Hold still for daddy, baby boy." Price mumbles against your abdomen, big hand gripping your hip to keep you still so not a drop of the honey he drizzles on your cock goes to waste. "Good." He purrs, wide tongue lolling out of his mouth to lap at your tip, claws massaging the skin beneath them.

He can spend hours laying between your legs, lazily lavishing your cock with attention while satisfying his craving for sweets. Whine and moan as much as you want, uselessly buck your hips as best you can against his unfair strength, nothing will make him rush — with his energy drained he'll spend meticulous minutes following every vein on your cock with his tongue before he even thinks of gently suckling on your tip. "Relax my boy, just enjoy this." He mutters, lips pressed against the sticky flesh of your shaft.

And when he does take you into his mouth, it's just as slow. His mouth hangs open so you can see your tip resting on his tongue before he laps at your slit, drool and honey running down his chin and sticking the strands of his beard together. When all the honey is in his stomach he just drizzles more, nibbling on your thighs or stomach to keep his mouth and mind occupied with you before starting the torturous process all over again.

The slow torturous pleasure is easy to endure just so you can see his eyes light up when you start leaking precum.

Imagine Bear Price absolutely loves loves loves the salty tang your cum adds to the sweet honey, the delicate combination of flavor dancing on tongue and only fueling his gluttonous mind to demand more.

The distinct taste is the only way to cut through the fog of lazy pleasure in his mind, turning him greedy. Price mumbles and growls incoherent words around your cock as he swallows you down to the root, swallowing around you and holding you down when you try to buck up. "My boy tastes so good." He mumbles as he rises up, nuzzling his cheek against your weeping tip, looking up at you with hungry blue eyes. "Just for daddy, yeah?"

"Ye-yes sir." You whimper through your clenched teeth, your head lolling back against the pillows when he swallows you whole again, your tip bumping against the back of his throat. "Just fo- fuck, fuck,- just for you." You don't know how he doesn't choke on you but you don't have the mental faculties to even think about that when your brains are leaking through your cock.

Price smiles around your cock, the purr rattling his chest and making his throat vibrate around you. "Smart boy," He praises after he pulls off, precum and honey swirling on his tongue as he takes the moment to savor the taste. He knows how close you are, he can feel the cum churning your balls when he rolls them in his rough palm. "You can give daddy a bit more, can't you?"

You honestly don't know how long you will last.

Imagine Bear Price who can get so insatiable he growls like a tractor when you try to weakly push him off your cock, so aroused that you think even the slightest gust of wind will make you pop.

Price bites your thigh enough to hurt and only his hand squeezing down on the base of your cock keeps you from cumming. "And where do you think you're going boy?" He demands, claws digging into your skin to pull your hips closer, little kitten licks of his tongue driving you to the brink of madness.

"S-Sir!" You moan before you can stop yourself, your hips twitching uselessly against his hands, thighs shaking. "'m sorry, I'm fuck, I'm so close." You whimper, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Every nerve in your system is on fire, pleasure so strong it's turned to pain along your body.

Price huffs, but his tight hold lessens. "It's alright sweet boy," He hums, placing a sweet kiss on your cock head. "I know how you can make it up to daddy."

Imagine Bear Price who's only placated when you slide your cock back inside him. Your muscles ache from the strength it takes you to hoist his heavy legs over your shoulders and keep them there, but your rewarded with the tightening of his sweet hole, a pleased rumble leaving his throat.

“G-good boy-.” He growls, long claws scratching down your back as you pound into him. Your thrusts are slow but deep, making his toes curl every time you bottom out, tip scraping his prostate and making his cock spurt a dollop of precum with every thrust. “Fucking daddy so deep. I taught you well, yeah?”

"Yes, yes, yes!" You agree to everything he says without hearing any of his words, your body moving automatically to bully your dick into him. Every thrust is heaven and every second spent pulling out from his tight heat is hell, the sensitive veins of your cock scraping against his walls.

He moans when you manage to clip his prostate with your thrusts, one clawed hand sliding down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise. "Harder boy," He demands, rolling his hips to meet you half way, other hand raising up to scruff you. "You can go har-hm!- harder. . . don't you wan- fuck, want to make daddy feel good?"

Clenching your eyes shut you slam into him as hard as you can, feeling the fat widening his frame jiggle with every hard thrust. Without thinking Price pulls your head down to smother you in his pecs, soft fluffy fur tickling your face as the ample flesh suffocates you. The sweet scent of honey mixed with his musk erases any vestiges of sentient thought in your head, leaving your animal brain to pick up the pieces — Pin him down harder and mate him, rut into him until he's roaring with his full chest, his hard cock slapping against your stomach.

Price reacts to the change in your behavior by pressing your face even harder against his chest, his walls clenching around your cock like a vice so you have to try harder to push into him. Price’s lips brush against your ear, voice low and rumbly. “My boy, come in daddy.” He urges you on, both legs now tightly wound around your waist so you can only hump your aching cock into him. “Co-mh!- cum, cum in me son, you want to be good for daddy right?”

That's all it takes to drive you over the edge, mind going black like a piece of paper as your orgasm rocks through you with the intensity of lighting. The sensation of your hot cum spilling into his hole triggers his own orgasm and he cums with a thunderous roar, sticky seed shooting across your abdomen.

You collapse on top of him, his legs keeping your softening cock inside him, not that you have even a single functioning muscle to try to pull out. His big hand cradles your skull, honey flavored lips placing soothing kisses on your temple. "That's my boy." Price murmurs, his chest rumbling with a soft purr. "Did so well for me." He yawns, eyelids fluttering as that fog of lethargy settles over both of you. "Now rest," The order is spoken in the softest voice he's ever used, and it works like a horse tranquilizer on you.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel his hole clench around your soft cock, the cum inside him squelching as his body unconsciously tries to persuade yours into filling him up just a bit more.

It's gonna be a long winter.

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔇𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 Until Dawn males x male reader

Summary: 4 smut scenarios featuring each of the men from Until Dawn. Each scenario exists in its own standalone world, completely unconnected to the others—distinct, isolated, and unforgettable.

Tags: He/Him pronouns used for the reader. Mike Munroe x male reader; Matt Taylor x male reader; Josh Washington x male reader; Chris Hartley x male reader. Set before the events of the game. All of these are separated and not connected. All of these with bottom male reader. Friends to lovers/ established relationships. Smut. Gay smut. Dom Mike Munroe. Gentle dom Matt Taylor. Dom Josh Washington. Submissive Chris Hartley. Pinning. Anal sex. Shower sex. Riding. Blowjob.

Recently reached 300 followers and i wanted to do something special <3

Words counts: 8000 words (around 2000 for each character)

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

ℳ𝒾𝓀ℯ ℳ𝓊𝓃𝓇ℴℯ

Cocky and relentless. Teasing that borders on merciless, using his natural charisma to push buttons and see you squirm and blush beneath him. He doesn't stop until he's left you utterly wrecked, trembling and begging for more. He'd enjoy having full control, alternating it with whispered reassurances or moments of tenderness.

Mike Munroe sat in the chair beside you, leaning back with his signature cocky grin plastered across his face, a textbook in front of him that he hadn't opened once since arriving. He had the look of someone who didn't really care about studying, which, frankly, was true. This entire night was a ruse, a flimsy excuse to be alone with you under the pretense of needing help with an exam.

The plan had seemed solid in his head. You'd sit close, explain things to him with that focused, determined look he loved and he'd lean in, let his charm work its magic and, eventually, your studying would devolve into something much less productive.

Mike had always been good at getting what he wanted. A flash of his smile, a sly remark and most people melted. But now, as you sat at the desk flipping through pages and genuinely trying to explain a concept he couldn't care less about, Mike was starting to feel… frustrated.

"You're telling me I have to memorize all this crap by Thursday? Who the hell needs to know about… what even is this—" he glanced down at the page in front of you, squinting as if the words offended him “—polynomial functions for real life? What, am I gonna solve equations at my job interview?"

You sighed, trying to ignore his dark eyes locked onto yours instead of the textbook in front of him. "You signed up for the class, Mike. I didn't force you to take it."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand. "But that's why you're here." He leaned in closer, resting his elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand, his face mere inches from yours. "You make it all make sense. You're, like, my personal genius."

Your stomach twisted at the compliment, even though you tried to brush it off. This was just Mike being Mike, wasn't it? He was like this with everyone. Charming, flirtatious, impossible to ignore. You'd seen him in action before: the way he smirked at the girls in class, the playful winks he threw at random people in the cafeteria.

It was just his thing. And yet, being on the receiving end of it made your heart race in a way that was becoming harder to ignore.

"Your 'genius' thinks you should actually start paying attention," you said, nudging the notebook closer to him. "Try solving this one."

Mike groaned dramatically, dragging the notebook toward him like it physically pained him to do so. "You're cute when you're bossy."

"Mike—“

"I'm kidding." He shot you a lopsided grin before glancing at the problem you'd written out. He picked up the pen, twirling it between his fingers as his brow furrowed in mock concentration. "Okay, so, uh… the square root here is… this, right?"

You couldn't help but laugh at how off he was, shaking your head as you leaned over to correct him. The faint scent of his cologne, woodsy with a hint of spice, hit you as you got closer and you froze for a moment, suddenly all too aware of how close you were.

Mike noticed. Of course he noticed. His grin widened and he tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking from your face to your lips and back again.

You cleared your throat, quickly retreating to your seat. "Focus, Michael."

"I am focusing," he said, his voice warm and husky now, enough to make your pulse race and your breath catch. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a strip of toned stomach. He caught your eyes flicking down and smirked. "On you."

Your face burned and you buried it in the textbook, pretending to reread a section. "Don't you have an exam to pass?"

"Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah," he said, waving his hand lazily. "But it’s hard to concentrate when you're sitting there all cute and stuff."

Your heart stuttered, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes, words stuck in your throat as you kept your focus ahead.

He shifted on the chair, his eyes trailing to your lips as you read aloud from the book. God, you had no idea how good they looked, slightly pursed as you concentrated on the material. He could only think about how soft they would feel against his, how warm they'd be as they moved down his body.

His gaze darkened, drifting lower, watching the way your throat moved as you spoke. He wanted to trace his lips there, feel your pulse against his tongue. The idea made his pants feel uncomfortably tight and he shifted again, trying to will the thoughts away.

The study session continued, with you trying your best to keep things on track despite Mike's constant interruptions. He'd accidentally brush his hand against yours when reaching for a pen, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. He'd lean in close under the guise of needing help, his lips so close to your ear that his breath tickled your skin as he murmured, "Explain that one more time?"

The shift you made brought you closer, your thigh brushing against his and Mike had to work hard not to react.

"Here," you said, pointing to a diagram you'd sketched out earlier. "This is how you get everything right. Got it?"

Mike barely registered your words. He was too busy realizing how he could feel the faint heat of your body. His eyes dropped to your hands as you gestured toward the page, wondering what they'd feel like gripping his shoulders, his hips, his—

"Mike”

"Hmm?" He blinked, forcing himself to meet your gaze.

"Are you sure you're okay? You keep zoning out. You said you needed help with this, right?"

Mike sighed dramatically, flopping back on the bed. "Yeah, yeah, I need help," he muttered, though he wasn't talking about school.

As you leaned forward to grab some papers on the desk, his eyes traced the curve of your jaw, the line of your neck, the way your shirt shifted slightly to reveal just a hint of skin.

It was torture.

Sweet, delicious torture.

"Can we take a break? I feel like I'm not gonna retain any of this if I don't decompress a little."

You glanced at the clock. "We've only been at it for 20 minutes."

"Exactly!" Mike said, his grin widening. "That's, like, more than I've ever studied so far."

You rolled your eyes, doing your best at suppress the warmth rising at his warm gaze in your direction. "Let me at least finish this thing?"

"Alright, fine," he muttered, picking up the book with a theatrical sigh and flipping through it aimlessly. "Keep cracking the whip, Teach."

You smiled faintly and got up to grab another set of notes from your backpack. The second you stood, Mike's eyes trailed down the curve of your back, lingering too long on the way your jeans clung to your butt. He bit his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

Enough was enough.

With a quick sigh, he stood, ego hurt and curiosity piqued. He closed the textbook on your desk with a sharp thud. His lip curled briefly at the sight of the boring equations inside, a momentary flicker of irritation at how they'd monopolized your attention. Then he turned his focus back to you.

When you turned around, annoyed at now being able to find what you were looking for, you froze.

He moved closer until your back pressed against the wall. His chest rose and fell steadily, his lips curving into a soft, almost vulnerable smile.

"Can I ask you something?" His voice was low, the teasing edge stripped away, leaving something raw and earnest.

"Uh… sure?" Your pulse quickened as his hand came up, resting lightly against the wall beside your head. His tall frame radiating heat as he leaned closer to you. His dark eyes bore into yours, not with the usual teasing glint, but with raw, unfiltered emotion that made your heart race.

"Do you like me?" he asked, his voice low and intense.

The question hit you like a punch to the chest. "What?"

"You heard me," Mike said, his tone softening, though the intensity in his gaze didn't waver. "Do you like me? Because, damn it, I can't keep this up anymore. I came here because I wanted to be with you, not to study. I just… I need to know."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so loudly you could barely think after hearing the vulnerability in his voice.

"Just tell me the truth," he murmured, his hand lifting to cup your jaw. His thumb brushed lightly over your cheek and the tenderness of the gesture made your knees weak.

Your throat tightened and you felt heat flooding your face. "Yes, Mike. I like you. A lot."

His grin returned, slow and breathtaking, as though your words were the only answer he'd ever wanted. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."

He closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It was hungry, raw, as though he'd been starving for this moment. His hands found your waist, pulling you forward until you were pressed tightly against him as his tongue pushed into your mouth, exploring with urgency.

You gripped his shoulders instinctively, your fingers digging into the firm muscle as he deepened the kiss.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against your lips, his voice rough and breathless. "Fuck, I've been wanting this for so long. You have no idea."

He bent down abruptly, his arms sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly. You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mike's lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping as he trailed down to your collarbone. His light stubble scratched your skin, a delicious friction that left you squirming in his hold. He sucked a mark just above your collarbone, his tongue soothing the sting before he moved up to your jaw, his breath hot against your cheek.

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a husky growl.

His lips found yours again, the kiss deeper this time, his tongue delving into your mouth as though he couldn't get enough. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your skin as he ground his hips against you. You could feel his hardness through his jeans, pressing insistently against you and making you ache with need.

With a grunt, Mike turned and carried you to the bed, laying you down carefully before crawling on top of you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, his sturdy frame caging you in as his lips found your neck again. His hands were everywhere, exploring your body with a mix of reverence and urgency.

You moaned softly as his teeth grazed your neck, his tongue soothing the sensitive skin before his lips claimed yours again. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it off in one swift motion before discarding his own. His bare chest pressed against yours, the heat of his skin making you gasp as his lips continued their assault on your neck.

Mike's hands moved lower, unfastening your pants with a speed that made your head spin. He slid them down along with your underwear, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you fully bare beneath him.

His fingers found their way between your legs, teasing you as he leaned down to kiss you again. His other hand wrapped around your length, stroking you with firm, steady movements that made your hips buck into his hand.

"You like that?" he asked, his grin wicked as he watched your reaction. "I want to hear you, baby. Don't hold back."

He worked you with expert precision, his mouth returning to your neck to suck another mark. He was relentless, his fingers slipping lower to tease your entrance, his voice low and commanding.

"Relax for me," he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'll take care of you, I promise."

His fingers moving in and out with practiced ease as he murmured praises against your skin. His other hand continued stroking you, his thumb teasing your tip in a way that had you writhing beneath him.

"God, you're so tight," he muttered, his breath hot against your neck. "I can't wait to feel you around me."

When he finally replaced his fingers with the hot, throbbing weight of his cock, the stretch was overwhelming. You hissed, your hands gripping his shoulders as he sank into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling forward to rest against yours.

Mike’s lips didn't stop their assault on your neck, alternating between wet, searing kisses and the light scrape of his teeth that left trails of fire in their wake. Each movement of his hips pressed his thick, throbbing length deeper against you, and the friction was maddening.

"Fuck," he whispered, "You feel so good. So fucking good."

His restraint snapped, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he fucked you deeply, his groans mixing with your moans in the heated air.

His pace quickened, his thrusts hitting deeper as he angled his hips just right. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as pleasure overwhelmed you.

"That's it," he growled. "Let me hear you."

You couldn't hold back, your moans growing louder as he pushed you closer to the edge. His hand slipped between your bodies, stroking you in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice strained.

His words sent you over the edge, your climax hitting you as you cried out his name. The way your body clenched around him pushed him over the edge, his thrusts growing erratic as he spilled inside you with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, his body trembling as he pressed soft kisses to your neck, his arms wrapping around you as he held you close. "Worth every second," he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection.

ℳ𝒶𝓉𝓉 𝒯𝒶𝓎𝓁ℴ𝓇

He would seek constant reassurance as he takes tentative steps. However, once he gains confidence, he becomes surprisingly assertive. He'd focus entirely on your pleasure. His athleticism would lend itself to strength and stamina, ensuring you're worshiped and cherished. He would revel in making you feel safe yet utterly overwhelmed by the raw power of his passion, glowing with pride every time he draws out a moan or gasp.

The campus was alive with the lazy hum of an afternoon sun. Matt Taylor was out on the field, his athletic frame in constant motion as he jogged the perimeter.

The way his shirt clung to him, damp and snug from exertion, only highlighted the strength in his broad shoulders and the subtle definition of his chest. It clung stubbornly to his abs, outlining the defined ridges of his stomach. Every muscle in his body seemed to work in perfect harmony as he moved.

The sweat glistening on his caramel skin only made him look more enticing.

He stopped after a lap, bending slightly to catch his breath, hands resting on his thighs. The sight was enough to steal yours.

There were moments when his head would turn, his dark, warm eyes flicking in your direction. He always seemed aware of your presence, like you were a natural part of his environment. The way you looked at him was as essential as the air he breathed.

He'd catch your gaze just for a second, his lips quivering into a smile. It was like he knew you were watching and wanted to remind you that he saw you, too.

With a deep breath, Matt straightened, one hand pushing his damp shirt away from his torso, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Wiping the sweat from his face and neck with a calm, unhurried precision.

Matt tilted his head just slightly, as if gauging your reaction. Then, without missing a beat, he pressed his hand to his lips and blew a kiss in your direction.

Your heart stuttered, the sheer casualness of it leaving you stunned.

He turned toward the bench at the edge of the field, where his water bottle rested and took a moment to hydrate. He poured some of the cool water over his head, letting it cascade down his face and neck before trailing over his chest. The droplets caught in the sunlight, gleaming as they traced the curve of his shoulders and the hard ridges of his collarbone. His free hand dragged across his jaw, wiping the excess water away in a move that was as unintentional as it was captivating.

The others called out to him, ready to start another round of drills and he responded with an easy wave. As he jogged back to join them, he passed by where you sat.

"Hey," he said, his voice low and warm, tinged with the kind of softness he reserved for moments like this. He leaned down, resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "I was trying out some new moves. Gotta know if they're, you know, impressive enough." His tone was light and teasing, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, like he genuinely cared what you thought.

"They're impressive," you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended.

His smile softened and for a moment, he looked almost shy. "Thanks," he said, straightening up and running a hand through his short, damp hair.

You watched as he jogged back to his friends, the muscles in his legs flexing with every step. He jumped right back into the game, throwing himself into it with renewed energy. He made daring plays, diving for the ball in ways that sent his friends laughing and clapping him on the back. He'd glance your way after every particularly bold move, his smile growing brighter each time he saw you watching, eager to impress you.

The dim lighting of the locker room cast soft shadows over Matt's glistening body as he leaned against the lockers, phone in hand, his voice warm and playful. His towel hung loosely around his neck and his shirt was long forgotten, leaving his torso on full display. Every inch of him radiated heat.

The room was quiet now, save for the distant echo of running water in the pipes and the soft shuffle of Matt's footsteps as he paced near the benches.

"Yeah, I'm still here," he chuckled into the phone, his deep voice carrying a hint of teasing affection as he talked with you. "No rush, though. No one else is around."

He glanced at the screen, his smile softening before he made up his mind on what to do next.

"Want to hang out? We can talk later after I'm done here, if you want?" He murmured, voice low with a sweet and earnest tone.

"Turn around," you said.

Matt froze for a moment, processing your voice now coming from behind him. He spun on his heel, his eyes widening as they landed on you standing just inside the locker room door. A surprised laugh escaped him and he hung up the call, sliding his phone into the pocket of his gym bag.

"You're here," he said, his grin growing wider. His dark eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and shyness as he took a hesitant step forward.

"I wanted to surprise you," you replied, your voice soft but steady.

He moved closer, the heat of his body palpable even from a few feet away. The faint sheen of sweat making every curve of his muscles stand out.

"Let me—uh—just a sec," Matt stammered, rubbing the back of his neck as he closed the distance between you. He was so careful, leaning in slowly as though worried he'd overwhelm you. His lips brushed yours lightly at first, the saltiness of his sweat mingling with the sweetness of his breath.

"You don't mind the, uh…" He gestured to himself, his cheeks flushing slightly.

"Not at all," you murmured, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, his mouth moving against yours with a mix of gentle passion and restrained hunger. One arm looped around your waist while his big hand cradled the back of your head. His hands found your hips, his touch firm but tender.

He broke the kiss only to glance over his shoulder, his eyes scanning the empty locker room. Once satisfied you were alone, he turned back to you, his expression soft but smoldering.

"Shower's right there," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Think we could, uh… clean up together?"

The corner of his mouth twitched in a nervous smile, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable.

You didn't answer with words, letting your lips find his again instead, this time with more urgency as he backed behind with you caged in his arms.

The shower stalls were humid and warm, steam curling in the air as Matt turned on the water, letting it cascade down his back. He stood under the stream for a moment, his head tilted back, droplets running over his shoulders and down his chest, washing away the sweat that clung to him.

He turned to you, his expression soft but filled with intent. "Come here," he whispered, holding out a hand.

You stepped into the stall, the warm spray hitting your now naked skin as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. His lips found yours again, deeper this time, his hands exploring your back, your sides, the curve of your hips. His touch was firm but gentle, every movement infused with the kind of care that made your chest ache.

His hands moved to your waist, lifting you slightly to press you against the cool tile wall. The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver through you, but Matt's body pressed against yours was a furnace, his heat keeping you grounded.

The water ran between you, slicking your skin as his kisses trailed down your neck, his lips warm and soft against your wet skin. His breath was hot, mouth lingering over every inch of you like he couldn't get enough.

"I want to make you feel good," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, water dripping from his hair and into your eyes.

Hands broad and rough from years of training roamed your body with deliberate care. He started at your waist, his thumbs grazing your hips, then slid them down to cup your thighs, pulling you closer until every inch of him was flush against you.

His lips moved down the side of your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses that lingered, his tongue flicking out to taste the droplets sliding down your skin. "You feel so damn good." Matt murmured, his voice thick with need.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip before his tongue pushed into your mouth. His hands drifted lower, gripping your ass firmly as he hoisted you up, pressing you against the cold tile wall.

His hips pressed into yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness between his legs, the weight of him grinding slowly.

"Matt," you gasped, your voice catching in your throat as his lips found your collarbone, then moved lower, trailing down your chest. He paused at your nipple, his mouth closing around it, his tongue swirling as his teeth grazed just enough to make you arch into him.

The water streamed down his back as he continued his descent, his tongue and lips mapping a path across your stomach, his hands gripping your hips tightly, anchoring you. He looked up at you as he knelt, his eyes filled with a hunger that made your knees weak.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

You nodded quickly, your breath hitching as he kissed along your thighs, his mouth hot against your damp skin. His fingers traced delicate patterns, teasing you, making you ache for more. He submits his mouth to take on your length, his tongue flicking out to taste you, slow and deliberate as he traced every vein and ridge.

The sensation of his mouth on you was almost too much. Your hands flew to his hair, your fingers tangling in the soft strands as you arched up against him.

His hands gently rested on your soft, supple ass. He circled the hole gently before pressing his finger inside up to the second knuckle. Your head tilting up as the finger went in deeper before adding in another finger.

When you were trembling beneath his touch, Matt stood again, pulling you into another searing kiss. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, lifting you easily as he aligned himself with you. The anticipation was overwhelming, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Tell me if I'm too much. I don't want to hurt you."

His sweetness melted into raw passion as he slowly pushed inside, stretching you in a way that made your breath catch. The pressure was intense, the fullness almost too much, but Matt paused, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured against your skin.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice strained, his restraint obvious as he let you adjust.

When you nodded, giving him the okay, he began to move. His thrusts were slow at first, measured, each one sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you steady as he found a rhythm, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the small, steamy space.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he buried himself deeper.

His pace quickened, his control slipping with each thrust, his eyes watching you intensively, filled with unspoken adoration and need.

Matt's hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers stroking in time with his thrusts. The dual sensations were overwhelming, your body tightening around him as you felt yourself teetering on the brink.

"Come for me. I want to feel you," Matt whispered, voice a mix of command and plea.

His words pushed you over the edge, your climax ripping through you with an intensity that left you shaking, your cries muffled against his shoulder. The way your body clenched around him sent him spiraling, his thrusts becoming erratic as he groaned your name, his release spilling inside of you hot, heavy and overwhelming.

He held you there, both of you trembling as the water continued to pour over your exhausted bodies, his breath ragged but his smile soft.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice hoarse but filled with tenderness.

You nodded, your fingers threading through his damp hair as you pulled him into a soft, lingering kiss. "More than okay."

And with that, Matt grinned affectionately before wrapping you in his arms, his warmth and love enveloping you completely.

𝒥ℴ𝓈𝒽 𝒲𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓉ℴ𝓃

He would be almost hypnotic. His hands firm, guiding you like a puppeteer while he watches every reaction with piercing eyes. Touch that alternate between rough and tender. He'd seek absolute surrender, his lips tracing feverish paths across your skin as he demands every gasp, every shiver, until you're completely undone.

The basement was dimly lit, a warm glow from the single overhead bulb casting shadows over the eclectic collection of items Josh's family had accumulated over the years. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with dusty film reels, old cameras and props from Josh's endless experiments in cinematography. You trailed behind him as he rifled through a box, muttering under his breath about where he'd left the camera he needed.

"You've got enough stuff down here to make a whole trilogy,” you spoke amazed, picking up a fake severed hand from one of the nearby tables. "Let me guess, this was for some horror project?"

Josh turned, his smirk lighting up his face even in the shadows. "Oh, that? Nah, that was just Halloween last year. Dad thought it'd be funny to have it sticking out of the candy bowl." He rummaged through a nearby crate, pulling out a few props from old projects like the fake blood packets and a weathered script.

You laughed, shaking your head as you placed it back on the table. Josh returned to rummaging through his box of supplies and your attention wandered to a nearby shelf where a cracked clown mask hung ominously. This place is like a treasure trove, a mix of fascinating and unsettling, much like Josh himself. His mind always worked a mile a minute, brimming with ideas that danced somewhere between genius and chaos.

"Found it!" Josh declared, holding up a vintage film camera triumphantly. "This baby's gonna make my project an A+ for sure."

"Finally," you teased, crossing your arms. "I thought we'd be down here forever."

Josh's grin widened, that familiar mischievous glint lighting up his eyes. "Oh, don't tell me you're scared of basements."

"I'm not scared of this place," you replied, rolling your eyes while turning around to see again a cool looking mask that you wanted to try out.

"No?" he asked, his tone mock-innocent as he casually reached for something behind him.

When you turned around to face your boyfriend again, your eyes were met with a mask that resembles a skull-like style with a pair of thin black eyebrows, a cracked nose and rotten styled teeth. The dim light casting eerie shadows across the distorted features.

He lunged at you with a guttural growl, arms outstretched. Startled, you yelped involuntarily, stumbling back a step as he grabbed you with exaggerated ferocity. He gripped tightly your waist and hoisted you effortlessly onto a nearby table, pinning you in place.

"Gotcha!" he exclaimed, pulling the mask off to reveal his gleeful grin.

"You absolute jerk!" you gasped, swatting at his chest with your right hand in frustration.

Josh laughed, his deep, warm chuckle echoing through the basement. "You should've seen your face! Priceless."

"You're the worst," you muttered, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed how flustered you were.

"Oh, come on," he said, leaning closer. His hands rested on either side of your hips, trapping you. "You're even more handsome when you're scared. Seriously, it's not fair."

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, "Let me make it up to you for my genius prank." He concluded the line with a kiss to your neck, his lips warm and insistent against your skin.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice low and rough, his hands sliding up your sides as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses down your neck and along your collarbone. His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, pushing it up to expose more skin, his lips following the path his hands carved.

"We’ve done it not even an hour ago," you murmured, your voice trembling as he nipped lightly at your shoulder.

Josh chuckled against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Perfect then! Means that you’re ready for me," he admitted, pressing his lips to yours into a kiss that was equal parts sweet and consuming. His hands roamed your body with a mix of confidence and care, his touch leaving trails of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss just long enough to tug your shirt over your head, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you. "You look good," he said simply, his voice tinged with awe.

"Stop being sappy," you teased, though your heart raced at his words.

Josh grinned, his hands sliding to your waistband. "Fine, I'll focus on other things"

He made quick work of your pants, his lips finding yours again as he pressed you back against the table. The feel of his body against yours, the weight of him grounding you, sent a shiver down your spine.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and intimate.

"You," you replied without hesitation, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

Josh groaned softly, his fingers tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the bare skin just above your knees as he stepped closer, pressing himself against you. His lips trailed along your jawline, soft and teasing at first, but the heat in his movements grew with each passing second.

He tilted your head slightly, exposing more of your neck and pressing his lips there, warm and insistent.

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue following in a slow, deliberate sweep that left you shivering. His hands roamed upward, fingers hooking under the hem of your shirt before tugging it over your head in one swift motion.

"God," he breathed, pulling back just enough to take you in. His eyes were dark, predatory. "You're fucking amazing."

"You don't look so bad yourself," you managed, your voice shaky but laced with a teasing edge.

Josh smirked, leaning in to kiss you again. This time, there was no pretense of restraint. His tongue slid against yours, the kiss messy and consuming as his hands pulled you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between you.

Your hands found their way to his shirt, pushing it up over his torso. He broke the kiss just long enough to yank it off, tossing it carelessly to the floor before returning his lips to yours. The heat of his bare chest against yours sent a thrill through you, his skin warm and slightly damp as your hands explored the defined lines of his back.

Josh's hips rolled against yours and you felt the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. Your own erection makes your pants feel painfully tight. He groaned softly, his breath hot against your neck as he ground into you, the friction sending sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"You're driving me crazy," he admitted, his voice rough as his hands slid to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for just a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "Can I…?"

"Yes," you said quickly, the word barely more than a whisper.

He grinned, his usual cocky demeanor softened by the flush in his cheeks, and tugged your pants down, his hands deliberate and firm. You kicked them off, your skin prickling with anticipation as he leaned back to admire you.

"You're perfect," Josh said, his voice husky as his fingers traced along your thighs, his touch featherlight but electrifying.

You reached for him, pulling him closer until his body was pressed fully against yours. The feel of him, hard and eager, against your own growing arousal made you gasp. Josh took the opportunity to kiss you again, his hands sliding lower to grip your ass, lifting you slightly as he aligned himself with you.

"Ready?" he asked, his hands voice soft but filled with intensity.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck as he positioned himself. The stretch as he pushed inside was slow and deliberate, his movements measured as he let you adjust to the fullness.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buried himself completely.

The words sent a shiver through you, your hands tightening on his shoulders as you urged him to move. Josh pulled back slightly, his hips rocking forward again in a slow, steady rhythm that left you breathless.

He found a pace that was both gentle and intense, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one drawing soft moans from your lips. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as he pressed kisses to your neck, your jaw, your lips.

Your own voice trembling as the pleasure built with each movement.

Josh's pace quickened, his control slipping as his need for you overwhelmed him. The table beneath you creaked with each thrust, but neither of you cared. The only thing that mattered was the way he filled you, the way his body moved against yours like you were made for each other.

Your climax hit suddenly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you and leaving you trembling in his arms. You cried out his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body clenched around him.

Josh wasn't far behind. His thrusts grew erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, groaning your name as he spilled into you. The warmth of his release sent another shiver through you, the sensation leaving you breathless.

For a moment, the two of you stayed like that, tangled together on the table, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Josh pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his hands trailing soothing patterns on your back.

"Am i forgiven now?" he asked, his voice hoarse but laced with his usual humor.

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his neck. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Josh grinned, his arms tightening around you as he rested his forehead against yours. "Good. Because I'm not done yet."

𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈 ℋ𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓁ℯ𝓎

Hesitant, nervous chuckles and self-deprecating jokes peppering the atmosphere before his passion takes over. He's the type to fumble slightly, then find his rhythm as he becomes more confident. He'd moan sweetly, almost embarrassed by how lost he becomes in you, whispering heartfelt praise and words that reflect just how irresistible he finds you.

The game's victory screen flashed across the TV, the sound of triumphant chiptunes filling the room. Both you and Chris collapsed onto the bed in an exhausted heap, the adrenaline of finally beating your highest score leaving you giddy. His laughter bubbled up first, that unmistakable mix of relief and joy that only he could manage and you couldn't help but join in.

"We actually did it," Chris said, breathless as he flopped onto his back, one arm draped lazily across his forehead. "I thought we were doomed when you missed that jump in the third level."

"Excuse me, you're the one who forgot to grab the power-up right before the boss fight." You shot back, turning your head to face him.

Chris groaned, dramatically rolling onto his side to look at you. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair was sticking up in every direction, but he looked so completely relaxed and at ease in that moment that it made your chest ache in the best way. "Okay, okay, my bad. But you have to admit I nailed that final combo."

You snorted, nudging his shoulder with yours. "Yeah, sure. But only because I carried us through the rest of the game."

His jaw dropped in mock outrage. "Carried us? You died twice in the first round, man!"

“And who revived you at the end?" you shot back, smirking.

Chris opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his grin widening as he broke into laughter. "Alright, alright. You're not entirely useless. We're gaming legends now! They're gonna put our names in the Hall of Fame or something."

"Right next to the guy who discovered cheat codes for unlimited lives," you quipped.

"Exactly," he said, grinning as his blue eyes sparkled behind his glasses. "We're pioneers of our time."

The two of you laid there, the laughter slowly fading into a comfortable silence. The faint glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light, illuminating the faint curve of his smile as he gazed up at the ceiling. His arm was still close to yours, his fingers just brushing against your skin in a way that felt deliberate but unspoken.

"It was fun," Chris said after a moment, his voice quieter now.

"Yeah," you agreed, your own tone softer. "I don't think I've laughed this much in a while."

He turned his head to look at you, his glasses sliding down his nose slightly. "From now on you'll be my good luck charm."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "You just needed someone to keep you focused. You do get distracted a lot."

Chris groaned, covering his face with his hands. "Don't remind me. I'm like a dog chasing squirrels. Oh look, shiny object—game over."

You both laughed again, the sound soft and intimate in the late-night stillness. When it faded, you found him watching you, his blue eyes catching the flicker of light from the TV.

"What?" you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Nothing," he said quickly, but his grin gave him away. "You're a lot of fun to hang out with, you know that? Like, even when you're roasting me."

"Glad to be of service," you teased, your own grin mirroring his.

His gaze lingered a little longer than usual, his expression shifting slightly. "No, but seriously. I mean it. You're, uh… you're really great."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

"Thanks," you said softly. "You're pretty great too, Chris."

He smiled, a little shyly this time, and turned onto his side fully, propping his head up on one hand. "Have you ever thought about how weird life is? Like, one day you're just doing your usual things, then Sam one day shows up with someone like you and suddenly everything's a million times better. Boom. Butterfly effect."

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to be romantic at two in the morning? Because I think the lack of sleep is getting to you."

"Hey, don't ruin my moment!" he protested, but his laughter undercut his words.

You laughed too, the sound mingling with his as the moment stretched on.

You sat up on the bed and then crawled toward your destination, the TV's glow fading as you turned it off. When you turned back to the bed, Chris was sprawled out like a contented cat, his arms spread wide, his legs slightly apart. His glasses were back into their original place at the top of his nose.

"You just gonna stare, or are you gonna accept my invitation?" he teased, wiggling his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion.

You laughed, shaking your head, but the way his smile widened when you leaned closer told you that you weren't fooling him for a second. You crawled onto the bed, resting against his side as he let his arm fall lazily around your waist.

"Happy now?" you asked, pressing a quick kiss to his left cheek.

"Getting there," he said, voice soft and a little breathless

You didn't stop, peppering more kisses along his cheek and down to his jaw, light scratches from his stubble against your lips. Your hand wandered lower, brushing over his stomach, then down to his pants, where you felt the beginnings of his growing arousal.

Chris chuckled, the sound nervous but filled with anticipation. His free hand moved to your back, pulling you closer as his breath hitched. "Wow, okay, uh… Someone's feeling bold tonight," he murmured, though his grin betrayed how much he was enjoying it.

"Aren't we supposed to be basking in our gaming glory?"

You squeezed him gently through the fabric, feeling him harden further under your touch. "Should I stop, then?" you teased, feigning innocence as your fingers lingered.

"Nope!" he blurted out quickly, his voice cracking slightly as his head shot up. His face was flushed, but his lips found yours in a soft, insistent kiss, his usual shyness tempered by a growing determination.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing yours as his hand slid under your shirt, his fingers warm and exploratory against your skin. You shifted, straddling his lap, and he let out a quiet groan as your weight pressed down on him. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you slightly as he rolled his hips up, creating delicious friction that left you both breathless.

"God, you're… You're really good at this," Chris muttered, his lips trailing down your neck, each kiss accompanied by a soft hum of approval.

"You sound surprised," you teased, grinding against him again just to hear the way his breath caught.

He laughed softly, though it quickly turned into a low groan. "No, no, I mean—I just—" He stopped, shaking his head as if words were failing him entirely. "Never mind. Keep doing that… please?"

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him again, your hands slipping under his shirt to explore the warm expanse of his chest. He was lean but toned, his body radiating heat as your fingers traced over him, eliciting small, breathy noises that only spurred you on.

Chris's hands slid to the waistband of his pants, fumbling slightly as he worked them down. "Help me out here," he said with a nervous laugh, his cheeks red but his smile never wavering.

You helped him and he helped you out, the two of you working together to peel away the layers until you were completely bare. Him beneath you with your naked body on top of his. His erection stood proud, flushed and eager and the sight of him vulnerable yet so clearly aroused made your own desire burn hotter.

"You're handsome, you know that?" you said softly, running your hands over his thighs as you sat back to take him in.

Chris laughed, covering his face with one hand. "Oh my God, don't say stuff like that. I'll die."

"Too bad. I’ll say it, whether you like it or not," you teased, leaning down to kiss him again.

His response was a muffled laugh against your lips, but it melted into a moan as you reached down to guide him to your entrance. He gripped your hips tightly, his eyes searching yours for confirmation and when you nodded, he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay," he said, his voice soft but steady. "Okay, just—take your time."

You did, slowly sinking onto him, the stretch intense but achingly good. Chris's grip on your hips tightened, his head falling back against the pillow as a low groan escaped him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, his hands trembling slightly as he held you steady. "God, you feel amazing."

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to move, your body adjusting to the rhythm as you found a steady pace. Chris's eyes were half-lidded, his lips parted as he sat up from his previous laid position. His hands were guiding your movements but never pushing, always letting you set the pace.

"Is this— shit, is this okay?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly as his hips bucked up involuntarily.

"it's perfect," you murmured, leaning down to kiss him. "You're perfect."

His laugh was breathless, almost disbelieving, but he met your kiss with fervor, his tongue tangling with yours as his hands explored your body. The soft gasps he made, whispered curses, your name falling from his lips like a prayer… it all drove you closer to the edge with every thrust.

Chris's movements became more erratic, his hips meeting yours with increasing urgency. "I'm—oh God, I don't think I'm gonna last," he admitted, his voice high and strained

"Don't hold back," you said, your own voice trembling as your climax built.

With a choked groan, Chris buried himself as deep as he could and tightened his arm around your body, his release hitting him in waves that left him trembling beneath you. The feeling of him filling you, combined with the look of utter ecstasy on his face, sent you over the edge, your own orgasm crashing through you as you collapsed onto his chest.

For a moment, the two of you stayed in that position, your breaths mingling as you came down from the high. Chris's arms pulled you close as he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

"Best. Night. Ever," he murmured, his voice warm and content.

"Agreed," you said, your own smile matching his as you nuzzled against him.

If you liked this, please leave a comment. I love reading them <3. Let me know if you had a favorite one out of this four fine men ;)

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 10

part 1 | part 9 | ao3

cw: recreational drinking

When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.

There’s just static on the screen.

“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.

Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.

“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.

“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”

“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”

“Mom.”

“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.

Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??

Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”

Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.

But also, like.

It is a little funny.

Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.

“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”

“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”

“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”

“Have a seat.”

Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?

The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.

Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.

"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."

Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"

Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...

Whatever. It's old news.

Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"

Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"

"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."

“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”

God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.

Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.

Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" "You're not?"

Steve grins and wipes his mouth.

—

They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.

Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"

"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."

"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."

"A what story?"

"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"

Then later:

“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”

“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”

“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.

“Whatever, Spiderfan.”

And later still:

"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."

Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.

Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"

—

They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.

"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."

Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."

Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”

Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”

Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.

Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.

Who's the fucking coward now?

—

part 11

y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69

[imagine-you]

all the smiles that are ever gonna haunt me [Logan/Reader]

Summary: Sequel to won't somebody come take me home? and closer to where I started. Now that you've decided to put the past behind you, you're focused solely on what the future holds for you, Logan, and your family. Whether that means teaming up with the X-Men to help stop the escalated attacks around the city or sitting down for a nice dinner with Logan, Laura, and Wade, you're ready for all of it. You're so close to being completely happy until you find yourself a victim of one of the attacks and find out that someone from Logan's universe has managed to return. You never expected your new life to be easy, but you certainly never thought Logan's wife would show up and disrupt everything you had built for yourself. Word Count: 9k Author's Note: This chapter may contain: Angst, Reader Whump, Surprise Cameos, Angst, A New Villain, A Disrupted Villain Origin Story, Training Montages, Angst, A Smidge of Hope, Illusions, and…Angst. (but I swear the angst gets resolved. y'all have to trust me!! there will be a happy ending for this fic.)

When I'm With You I'm Home 'verse

won't somebody come take me home? // closer to where I started

Read on AO3

If anyone had told you while you were stuck in the Void that there was a future where you found yourself in another universe and your greatest wish had come true, then you would have chalked it up to a pipe dream and left it at that. If anyone had told you there was a future where your worst nightmare had come true, well then, that would've been easier to believe.  

"What are you making?" Laura asked, peering over your shoulder to get a look at the stove.  

"Something special," you told her, winking at her when she let out an impatient huff. "Steak and pasta," you clarified, turning your attention back to where you were spooning sauce over the steaks, hoping the flavor carried through for you.  

After getting back from your original universe, you had felt like the weight of the past had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn't give a fuck about your original Logan and as far as you were concerned, he could fuck off into whatever happy existence he wanted with Jean. Did you want them to suffer? Maybe. But it was no longer a requirement for you to heal.  

Your Logan had made sure of that.  

Now, weeks had passed, and you felt like a new person. Gone was the obsession with the past and in its place was now your excitement for the future.  

Your future with Logan and Laura and even Wade. Your future with a new family and a new team. Life hadn’t given you a moment of rest, but you were happy to know that when your back was against the wall, you had people ready to jump in and protect you from whatever hit came your way.  

All of you had spent the last couple of weeks wrapped up in the escalated attacks happening throughout the city. There weren't many indicators about who exactly was causing them. Half the time, there were explosions and other times it was just an outright slaughter.  

Logan and Wade were out trying to help the X-Men clean up the latest catastrophe. You had opted to stay home with Laura, taking a moment of well-deserved rest from running from one tragedy to the next. Logan had left you with a promise to return that evening and a kiss that hinted at more later.  

You thought it was cute how Logan kept insisting he was retired, but the first sign of trouble, and he couldn't help but jump right in. It was why you loved him, because even though he had spent years spiraling after the devastation he faced with his old life, he still couldn't help but try to make things better for others.  

You liked to think you had a little something to do with that.  

Even though you were just within reach from a perfect existence, you knew it still wasn't without its problems. You and Logan still had a lot of work to do. Both of you were still holding things close to the chest, afraid to show them and lose everything you had earned.  

Sometimes, you caught Logan simply watching you, wary and concerned, as if he thought you were about to leave him. Other times, when Logan woke in the middle of the night and reached for you, you wondered if he knew it was you or if he still held onto the memory of his wife, seeking her for comfort. Logan had been open and honest with you, but you sometimes got the feeling that he wasn't telling you everything. Some nights, when you couldn't sleep, you would lie awake and watch him, terrified that if given the chance he would leave you in a heartbeat for his old life.  

You always had the feeling like the other shoe was about to drop, so you had taken on the mentality that you were going to enjoy every day you got with him. Which was why you were hellbent on making the perfect dinner and having the perfect dessert all ready to go when he got back home. 

"Shit," you hissed when you started stirring together the ingredients for the pasta sauce. "I forgot one thing," you groaned, glancing over at Laura. "I've got to go out to grab something. Will you keep an eye on this for me? Just make sure it doesn't burn," you instructed her when Laura gifted you with a skeptical look. 

"What if it burns?" Laura wondered, reaching out to take the spoon from you when you handed it to her.  

"Then we'll order takeout," you answered with a shrug of your shoulders. "It won't be a big deal, but I still want to try to get this right," you told her, reaching out to flick her ear. 

Laura turned a glare on you, and you knew if you were anyone else, she would have already brought out her claws. You saw a fond smile take the place of her scowl before she shook her head. "Hurry," she urged you, turning a wary look at the stove.  

"Ten minutes," you promised, reaching out to grab your keys and wallet. "Just going down to the corner store." You saw Laura open her mouth and you knew what she was going to ask. "Yes, I'll get the cookies," you told her, thinking of the chocolate monstrosities she was so obsessed with lately.  

Laura grinned at you, pleased, and cautiously began to stir the sauce.  

You locked the apartment door behind you. You knew Laura was more than capable of taking care of herself and she had already been through hell and back, but you couldn't help but want to protect her in every way you could. She was still a kid, even if she would point out she was seventeen.  

You made it to the tiny market just around the corner from your apartment within four minutes. You were eager to get back and finish dinner. You couldn't wait to see the look on Logan's face when you had dinner all set up and told him that Laura even helped make it. You knew Wade would invite himself to dinner, so you would of course have extra just for him. You knew you wouldn’t be here without him, and while he drove you crazy, you now couldn’t imagine your life without him in it.  

You were a family, fucked up and weird, but full of love.  

You grabbed the cookies Laura wanted and searched for a can of black olives. You caught sight of the spices and started in that direction to see if there was anything extra you wanted to add to the sauce. You figured you had maybe five minutes to get back before Laura insisted she did everything she could to salvage dinner, but maybe you should just order pizza.  

You were reaching out to grab a bottle of parsley flakes when you noticed something pass right in front of you. You startled at the sight of the playing card, faintly glowing pink, as it sailed towards the shelves in front of you.  

You didn't even have time to prepare before the card landed and the shelves exploded. You brought your arms up, trying to shield your face from the shrapnel. The force of the blast was strong enough to throw you back into the shelves behind you. You felt your head connect with the edge of one the shelves and stars exploded in your vision.  

There was a ringing in your ears and the taste of blood in your mouth. Your head felt like it was spinning as you struggled to open your eyes, not even sure when you had closed them.  

You could hear footsteps approaching you and you managed to squint up at the person standing in front of you. Your gaze drifted from his boots to his trench coat and then up to his eyes. They were glowing a faint red.  

"Remy?" You groaned, reaching up to press a hand to your forehead. You blinked a couple of times, trying to make sense of what was going on. You looked at your fingers and they were stained red, blood coating them. Your face was stinging from the bits of shrapnel you hadn’t been able to shield yourself from and the back of your head was aching in a way you had never felt before.  

Remy crouched down in front of you. He reached out and tucked his fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Now, I know we've never met before, so how is it you know my name?" He turned your head one way and then the other, considering you for a brief moment, before he made a thoughtful noise. "Oh, but believe me, we're going to get to know each other real well, bon ami. Just you wait." His eyes were no longer glowing, but there was a devious look in them you didn't like.  

You attempted to sit up, but your vision swam and you felt like you were going to throw up. “What the hell are you doing?” You attempted to ask, but your words were slurred, and you were having a hard time concentrating on him even though he was right in front of you.  

"Let's get you home, hm?" Remy said, gathering you up in his arms. He stood, lifting you with him, and you tried to wriggle out of his hold, but he was clutching you tightly enough that you couldn’t move.  

The last thing you saw was the underside Remy's jaw and the blur of the ceiling tiles above you before darkness swept in to collect you.  

You woke to sunlight that had escaped past the curtains in your bedroom and crept right towards you. It was an unwelcome intrusion and you brought your hand up to shield your eyes.  

You groaned, forcing yourself to sit up, before squinting at your surroundings. Your head was aching, each pound of your heart sending a bolt of pain right behind your eyes. You didn’t remember drinking the night before or even crawling into bed, but it felt like the worst hangover you had ever experienced. 

"Fuck," you grumbled before forcing yourself out of bed. Logan seemed to already be up, and you wondered if he had liked your dinner the night before. There was something wrong, something off, but you didn't know what it was yet. You were having trouble thinking past the pain.  

You walked towards your bedroom door, intent on hunting down the bottle of painkillers you kept in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. You tried to think about what happened before you fell asleep and finally your memories came back to you in a dizzying rush.  

Making dinner, leaving Laura in charge, and locking the door behind you. Going to the store, a playing card that ending in an explosion, and Remy promising to take you home.  

"I had the weirdest dream," you muttered as you stumbled out into the living room. The pain in your head spiked with every footstep and your mouth was so dry your tongue felt like it was sticking to the roof of your mouth.  

The first thing you noticed was that Logan was sitting at the kitchen table and the second was that he wasn't alone. You froze just a few feet away from the table trying to make sense of what was in front of you.  

Because Logan was there in his usual seat at the table and he had his hand outstretched over the surface. His hand was clutching the stranger's like a lifeline and he looked as if the person in front of him had just saved him from his own personal torment.  

You slowly rounded the table, a twisting feeling of dread in your gut, as you got a look at the stranger.  

It was you.  

Well, not you. She had a scar crossing one of her eyes and her hair was a different color. She carried herself with more confidence, her shoulders not slumped and head held high. She was wearing the same yellow and blue X-Men suit you first saw your Logan in when you were trapped in the Void.  

But she was still undeniably you. Just a variant you could have been in another universe.  

"What?" You felt helpless as you looked to her and then to Logan. Pain had been overtaken by confusion and now you felt like you were going to pass out for an entirely different reason. "What's going on?" 

"My wife," Logan said, finally tearing his gaze away from her to look at you. "She's back. A portal opened up last night and she walked right through it." His voice was filled with incredulous awe, and it felt like there was a knife digging into your chest. Your breath hitched and you tried to push past the feeling being carved out right where your heart resided.  

You didn't think it could get any worse until you noticed the look of pure love and adoration he gifted her. You had only ever seen that look aimed at you and seeing it given so freely to someone else had you clenching your fists at your sides, anger washing over you.  

"So, what?" You snapped, trying and failing to keep the hurt out of your tone. "She's just going to live here now? We'll all be one big happy family?" You didn't want to fight anyone for Logan's attention. Not again. Not after what happened with Jean in your other universe. You couldn't lose again. You wouldn't.  

Logan stared up at you before he finally looked back at his wife. "We're still married," he pointed out, brushing his thumb gently over the wedding ring on his wife's hand. "And she was my first love," he continued, twisting the knife deeper and deeper. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave her again." 

You watched the couple in front of you, frozen in that moment. Hurt and indecision rose within you and you felt trapped.  

"So, what does that mean for me?" Your voice sounded so small and scared that you almost didn't believe it was yours. You had never felt this way with your Logan before and you didn't know what to do.  

Logan finally tore his gaze away from his wife to look at you again.  

"I'm sorry, but now that I have her back...," he trailed off, letting you assume the rest for yourself. "You can stay until you find somewhere else to go," he offered, as if it was any consolation.  

You let out a hollow little laugh as you took a step away from him. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Logan, after everything you had been through together, was giving you up as if you meant nothing to him. The same ache and loneliness you felt back in your original universe was descending on you again. You thought you had put those feelings behind you, but now you were having to confront them again in the worst way.  

Because this Logan had loved you like the other one never had and this one had promised never to hurt you. But here he was, crushing any hope you had that this Logan would be different.  

You forced yourself to turn around, putting your back to them. You couldn't stand to look at them anymore.  

You were faced with Laura standing there in the doorway of the apartment. She was silent, watching you, and you had a sinking feeling in your gut that told you this wouldn't go your way either.  

"Laura, I--," you started as you approached her, not even sure where you would end up. "Do you want to come with me?" Was what you settled on, because evidently you couldn't stay here. You had been through so much with Laura. You had survived the Void together and fought together just to survive. Surely, that had to mean something to her. ‘Don’t leave me all alone,’ was what you wanted to beg, but you didn’t want Logan to have the satisfaction of seeing you brought down to your lowest point.  

Laura took a few steps forward and you wondered if she would meet you in the middle. Instead, she walked past you and stood at the table, joining Logan and his wife. "I can't lose him again," Laura said, echoing your thoughts. Except, Laura could stay and you had to go.  

You saw Logan's wife, the other you, the one he was choosing over you, reach out to flick Laura's ear. Instead of snapping at her, Laura turned a fond, soft smile on the other you and you felt another piece of your heart break.  

That was your thing with Laura and that should have been your smile. Logan's wife had swept in and cleared you out, leaving no room for you.  

You could feel the fight or flight instinct rising within you and you chose to get the hell out of there. It wasn't your home anymore, because someone had filled your role. You were no longer needed.  

You didn't even know where you were going to go, but you somehow found yourself right at Wade's doorstep. You brought your hand up to knock, terror and despair coursing through you.  

Wade answered the door in a suit and tie. You would have asked him what the hell was going on, but he didn't give you a chance to talk. He leaned on the doorframe, considering you with a grimace. "I thought you'd show up here after you found out." 

"You know?" You weren't sure why it felt like such a betrayal, but you always thought Wade would have had your back. Why didn't he track you down and warn you? Why had no one just given you some kind of heads up that you would be completely ousted from the life you had built for yourself with Logan? 

"Sure do, baby bird," Wade confirmed with a quick nod of his head. There was something off in his tone. This didn't feel like the same Wade you had come to know and reluctantly love. This almost felt like a stranger wearing a Wade mask. "I was there when she showed up. Just walked right out of that portal and into Logan's arms like she hasn't been dead for the past who knows how long." 

You hated that you could picture that perfectly, as if Wade's memory was playing out in your head.  

"Yeah, well, it looks like I'm not needed anymore now that he has who he really wants." You felt like an idiot for ever thinking you were more than just a placeholder for Logan's wife. You didn't want to cry in front of Wade, but you could feel the sting of tears in your eyes.  

Wade tilted his head to the side, watching you with an intensity that was almost unnerving. "So, what are you gonna do now?" 

"Can I stay here?" You tried, knowing that you couldn't go back to your apartment. You didn't want to ever step foot in there again, knowing that the bright, happy memories you had created were now tainted with misery.  

Wade brought his foot back, kicking the door to his apartment open enough for you to see Vanessa seated at the table. "No can do," Wade answered with a wince. "You see, I'm trying to win her back over and I'm already sharing a one bedroom apartment with Blind Al, so it's a little cramped around here. But hey, if you join the X-Men, it usually comes with free room and board. They'll take anyone," he got out on a laugh, before he waved his hand. "Well, except for me. You shoot one person," he lamented, shaking his head in disappointment. "Or, hey, I hear Love Island is casting. Might be time to find you a new boo." 

"So," you started, trying to reconcile the fact that you no longer had a home with Logan and now you couldn't find one either with Wade. "I can't stay here," you said, and it was no longer a question, it was just a fact of your new lonely, pathetic existence. 

There was something so off about everything that had happened that day and you were trying to make sense of all of it. You had just spent the night before making a special dinner for your family and now you didn't even have one.  

Everything was happening so fast that you felt like you weren’t even really processing it. Why hadn’t you just stayed at the apartment and fought for Logan? This was your life. Your home, your family, your love. Why were you just giving it all up so easily? You didn’t understand, but now you weren’t even sure you would be able to force yourself to go back. 

"No," Wade admitted, with a sheepish grin. "It's not only Vanessa, you see, but Logan. I mean, Deadpool and Wolverine are a package deal now. There's no breaking up that superhero wet dream team and if I'm harboring his ex? Then that'll just make it more awkward than the time I used his toothbrush on Dogpool. Trust me, he made me regret that one. There are some places those claws of his should not go," he warned with a shudder.  

Hearing Wade refer to you as Logan's ex broke something inside you. You could feel hurt begin to overwhelm you, swiftly replaced by anger. You let out a short, sharp scream of frustration. You didn't even realize you had formed a forcefield around you and pushed out with it until you realized Wade had been knocked several steps back.  

"Y/N--" Wade started, but you turned away from him.  

You didn't want to be placated and you didn't want to deal with anymore of Wade's nonsense. You let yourself go invisible, knowing that it was the only way you would feel safe now.  

You wandered around the neighborhood for hours, trying to figure out where you belonged. You trudged from street to street before unerringly finding your way back to your apartment complex once night fell. You didn't dare go inside, but you stayed out on the sidewalk. People passed by you, never knowing you were even there, and you kept your gaze up on the window that shone brightest in the dark.  

Logan was up there. He was with his wife and Laura and they were a family in their home enjoying a night together. You were no one with nothing and no home to share with anyone. 

You weren't sure why you stayed there for so long, but you thought it had something to do with hope and an inane wish that he would come downstairs and tell you it was all some sick joke. You thought of his promise that he would always find you, even when you were hidden, but that hadn't been true either.  

Logan was happy without you, because he had what he really wanted all along. So, why would he come find you when he didn't even need you anymore? 

Or worse, Logan knew you were down here and just didn't care about you anymore.  

With that revelation, you turned and walked away. There was a swirling mess of thoughts stuck in your head that dredged up the same old insecurities you thought you had shed once and for all.  

You would never be good enough. You were unloved. You didn't matter. You weren't worth anything. 

You had no one.  

You felt tears slide down your cheeks as you aimlessly roamed from place to place. You next found yourself outside the X-Mansion, wondering if you should take Wade's advice and join up with the X-Men. As much as you longed to feel like you belonged somewhere, you didn't think you could go back to saving people with a smile on your face like you weren't slowly withering inside.  

There was a whisper of your name on the air. You glanced over your shoulder, looking to see who called your name, but you found no one. It had been so faint that you might have imagined it, but there was a feeling, an electrified touch, that had briefly set your nerves alight.  

You weren't sure what time it was, but you were exhausted. You found it pathetic and sad that you didn't have anywhere to go. You didn't even have money for a hotel room. All you could think to do was find a park and drop down onto a bench. At the very least, you knew you could protect yourself if anyone tried to attack you.  

You formed a forcefield around you, ignoring the fact that it would only slip away while you slept, and let yourself drift away.  

When you woke, you weren't alone. You jolted in place, suddenly wide awake, and scrambled to sit up. On the bench across from yours, a man was sitting reading a newspaper.  

He quirked an eyebrow at you when he realized he had your attention.  

"I was wondering when you would wake up," he said, lowering the newspaper.  

He had dark eyes and darker hair. He wore a suit with a black trench coat, but the illusion of a businessman was ruined by the combat boots he was wearing. His skin was pale and there was a faint ring of red around his eyes that had you wondering if he was wearing makeup. His appearance, oddly enough, seemed false, but the grin on his face was genuine, if a bit unsettling.  

"Were you watching me?" You couldn't help but wonder, half-torn between becoming invisible to make your escape and staying to get answers.  

"Yes," he answered, unashamed by his actions. "I thought it fascinating that someone would let you stay out here all alone. You don't deserve that, so I stayed to keep watch over you." 

You wanted to tell him you could take care of yourself, but you didn't feel so sure about that anymore. The reminder of your loneliness crept up on you and you could feel doubt settle over you. You were on your own now without a team. No one was going to come save you if you found yourself in trouble. You would simply have to claw your own way out.  

"What's your name?" You decided to ask instead, studying him from across the small concrete path that separated you.  

"Nathaniel," he introduced himself with a smile. "And you are?" 

"Y/N," you returned, with a half-hearted wave.  

"Now, I know we just met, but I do have one thing on my mind," Nathaniel started, leaning in towards you after placing his newspaper on the bench beside him. "What on earth are you doing out here all by yourself?" 

You felt your lips twist to the side in a frown as you bit down on the side of your mouth to keep a lid on the emotions that threatened to boil over at the reminder of the previous day. "I--," you cut yourself off, not sure how to phrase your situation to a stranger without making it seem as if you had completely lost your mind. "I lost my home yesterday," you settled on with a grimace. "My family kicked me out." 

Nathaniel made a sympathetic noise before he stood up. "May I?" He asked, gesturing towards your bench. 

You shrugged your shoulders in answer but moved over to leave him enough space to sit down beside you.  

"In my experience, family is a fickle thing," Nathaniel continued once he was at your side. "People come and go, but you have to be able to stand by yourself and forge your own path once it all falls apart." 

"I don't know if I can do that this time," you whispered, ashamed to admit that you were on the brink of losing whatever control over your emotions you had managed since waking up.  

Nathaniel turned so he could watch you. It was a bit unnerving, but you figured you had no one else for company. A smirk tugged at his lips as he studied you. "You're a fighter," he assured you.  

"Oh?" You wondered, returning his stare. "And how would you know that?" 

His smirk was still in place as he tapped his temple. "I'm psychic," he proclaimed, holding up his fingers and waving them before imitating a ghostly wail.  

You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you and it felt so wrong.  

"There we go," Nathaniel murmured with a pleased smile. "Look, I know you don't know me, but how about a drink? Coffee?" He prompted, moving to stand and holding out a hand to you.  

You didn't want to wallow in your misery on the park bench all by yourself and you figured Nathaniel made a decent enough distraction. "You're paying," you told him, reluctantly grabbing his hand and letting him help you up. "Only because I don't have any money." 

Nathaniel laughed, the sound briefly jarring to you, and cocked his head to the side. "In that case, I'll buy you breakfast too." 

You found yourself in a diner booth sitting across from Nathaniel. He offered to buy you whatever you wanted, but you settled for a cup of coffee and a stack of pancakes. You weren't all that hungry and you couldn't get your mind off Logan. You wondered what he was doing right at that moment and then you dashed the thought. He was probably happy with his wife and Laura and had forgotten all about you.  

"Hey," Nathaniel called, getting your attention. "Where did you go?" 

You shook your head, biting your lip to distract yourself.  

"Thinking about your family?" He prompted, shooting you a wary look. "I know I'm a stranger and it's none of my business, but do you want to tell me what happened? Maybe I can offer some perspective." 

You scowled down at your pancakes, pushing them halfheartedly around the plate with a fork. You glanced around the diner, spotting a blonde woman wearing a white suit watching you curiously from a booth not far from yours. You shook your head at Nathaniel, not wanting anyone to overhear you.  

"Let's get out of here," you told him, pushing yourself out of the booth. "I could use a walk to clear my head." 

"Alright," Nathaniel readily agreed, standing as well. While he placed a twenty on the table, you made for the door.  

There was that whisper again in the air that had you looking over your shoulder. Someone was calling your name, but you didn't see anyone you recognized. No one was even looking at you except for Nathaniel who was slowly approaching you.  

"You okay?" Nathaniel interrupted, stealing your attention away.  

"Yeah," you muttered, briefly nodding your head. "Just c'mon," you said, barely waiting for Nathaniel to follow you before you pushed through the door and walked outside.  

You didn't think you would be able to confide in a total stranger, but there was something strangely freeing about unloading all the burdens on your mind to someone who didn't know anything about you. You even managed to drop the mutant bomb on him and were surprised when Nathaniel only took it in stride, as if he had expected all along you weren’t quite normal. He mostly seemed focused on what you told him about your family and how you lost them all in one fell swoop.  

"Sounds like you're better off without them," Nathaniel mused. "Anyone who would let you go like that is an idiot." 

"Maybe," you begrudgingly agreed. You didn't think it was possible, but Nathaniel had managed to make you feel better. Maybe letting out all your worries had briefly unburdened you. Or maybe since you lost everyone, you had been desperate to hear someone tell you it wasn’t your fault.  

"They're all ungrateful idiots," Nathaniel continued. "You're special," he told you. "And you deserve more." 

His tone brooked no argument, but you were a little thrown off by how serious he seemed.  

"I don't know what I'm going to do now," you deflected, scowling down at your hands. "I don't have anyone or anywhere to go. And I've just spent the day with a stranger telling him my whole pathetic sob story." 

"I'm not a stranger anymore," Nathaniel offered with a grin. "You know my name and everything." 

"I know literally nothing else about you," you pointed out. You were starting to feel apprehensive about trusting someone you didn't even know. Your head was beginning to hurt and you could feel your hands trembling. You weren't sure why panic had hit you all at once, but you could feel your heart beating overtime in your chest and a cold sweat begin to break out along your skin. You were beginning to hyperventilate, confused and overwhelmed, when Nathaniel took you by the shoulders and forced you to look into his eyes.  

"Hey, it's all going to be okay. Just trust me, alright? Y/N, you with me?"  

You tried to focus on Nathaniel, but there was a ringing in your ears and you swore someone else was trying to get your attention. You shook your head, trying to keep yourself from falling right into a spiral. You forced yourself to take slow, deep breaths, realizing that Nathaniel was also taking them, trying to coach you through your anxiety attack.  

You closed your eyes once you finally felt like you could stand on your own two feet without freaking out. You took a moment to center yourself before allowing yourself to open your eyes again.  

"Thanks," you whispered, nodding at him when he shot you a skeptical look. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," you claimed, even though you knew it was a lie. You were tired of loving and losing. Your heart ached for Logan and you knew that you would never recover from losing him. But Nathaniel, odd as he was, had managed to help you feel like maybe you didn't have to spend the rest of your existence completely alone.  

"I know you will," Nathaniel confirmed with another one of his smiles. "Because you're coming home with me." 

You stared at Nathaniel, waiting for the punchline, but it never came. "I could be a serial killer," you warned him with a scoff. "And you're inviting me into your home?" 

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders, a smirk on his face. "I'm not scared of you." 

He sounded so sure of himself that you couldn't help the disbelieving laugh that escaped you. "You're completely insane, aren't you?" 

"So, is that a yes?" Nathaniel wondered, holding his hand out to you and waiting for you to take it. "Will you join me?" 

You stared down at his hand for a beat too long to be socially acceptable. It felt like you were about to make a deal with the devil, but Nathaniel had been nothing but kind. He had given you a shoulder to cry on and was now giving you a place to go so you wouldn’t have to spend another night on a park bench. 

You knew it was probably a bad idea, but you still found yourself reaching out to take his hand.  

"Okay," you reluctantly agreed. "I'll go with you." 

You thought it would be weird once you found yourself in Nathaniel's apartment, but it felt oddly familiar. He had a guest room that he had designated as yours and made sure you could take whatever you wanted from the fridge. You didn't know how to return his kindness, but you knew you would have to find a way.  

Nathaniel had gone out to get dinner while you waited on his couch, idly flipping through channels. You were starting to doze off, exhausted, when you heard someone calling for you.  

You squinted at the television, wondering if you were hearing things, when it happened again. You had stopped on a news report, catching sight of the woman from the diner. You assumed she was a news anchor, but the way she was looking at the camera gave you the eerie sensation that she was somehow actually watching you. When her gaze drifted over, as if looking at someone behind you, you rushed to turn off the television. 

You cautiously glanced over your shoulder, half-expecting to see someone standing there. But you were alone.  

 “Y/N,” the voice called again. It was faint, like they were outside, but close enough for you to hear.  

“What the fuck is happening?” You growled, growing frustrated. “Where are you?” 

You stood, wondering if you should go looking for whoever was trying to reach you, when Nathaniel walked into the apartment. He held up the bag of takeout and nodded towards the kitchen table.  

"Ready to eat?" 

Time dragged on as days and weeks passed. You still thought of Logan practically every waking moment, but Nathaniel had done his best to distract you.  

You were grateful for him, because you didn't know how you would have lived without someone there to fill the void in your life.  

You weren't sure what day it was or even how long had passed since you last saw Logan, but you knew that you had started to heal.  

"Sometimes," Nathaniel told you once you voiced that thought to him. "You have to let something break so you can piece it back together to get something new. To get what you truly want. What is it that you want, Y/N?" Nathaniel studied you with the same unnerving intensity he always did and you hated to admit that you were finding it less weird each time it happened.  

Logan was the first thought that came to your mind. You wanted Logan and you wanted your home and you wanted your family. You wanted to show Laura how to cook and you wanted to follow Wade into crazy situations, knowing that he would have your back just like you had his back. You wanted to crawl into bed with Logan at the end of each day knowing that you were wanted and cherished.  

Nathaniel made a disappointed noise before he shook his head. "There's no going back," he told you "I'm sorry, but it's just not going to happen." 

You didn't like the way he sounded so sure of himself. Nathaniel didn't know Logan and he didn't even really know you. You had spent weeks with him, but years of your life had been devoted to a Logan. Your Logan had been better, you knew it, so maybe you were the one who wasn't worthy.  

Nathaniel made a tsking noise before he reached out. He wrapped his hand lightly along the underside of your jaw, his thumb pressed to the other side of your neck over your pulse point. He considered you for a long moment, as if he was searching for something.  

"He left you," Nathaniel reminded you, as if it hadn't been eating you up inside since it happened. "You are special. You deserve to be cherished," he continued, and you started to worry about the potentially romantic direction he was going with his lecture. A brief smile flitted across his face, as if he could read your mind, before his expression slipped back towards something more serious. "You're lost and you're broken," he added, gently sweeping his thumb over your pulse point. "Let me put the pieces back together." 

You weren't even sure if you trusted Nathaniel, but you had spent so long hurting that you were tempted to say yes.  

You suddenly felt like someone had brushed their hand over the back of your head and you heard someone call your name. It was the same voice as before and you knew better than to look for someone you wouldn't find. But Nathaniel's eyes strayed just over your shoulder, as if he had heard it too. There was a brief flicker of irritation on his face before he gifted you with a sincere smile.  

"I've got you," he promised. "No one is ever going to get near you again." 

"Okay," you finally agreed, if only because you were curious about what he had in mind. You also couldn't deny that you were just so desperate to not fall back into that desolate pit of isolation you had begun to dig for yourself. Nathaniel saw you and he wanted you. There wasn't much else you felt like you could ask for now.  

And if Nathaniel's sharp smile sent a shiver through you for all the wrong reasons, then you were the only one who had to know about that.  

Nathaniel seemed insistent that in order to move on, you would have to make yourself stronger. To him, that seemed to mean training day and night, improving upon your power in new and terrifying ways.  

You spent hours, days, weeks, stretching the limits of your power. Your power had always been meant as a defense, to protect and contain, but now you wanted to wield it as a weapon.  

Your progress felt excruciatingly slow, but you had to admit that you were pleased with the results. It started simple enough with just a thought. You wanted your forcefields to hurt. The barriers you would have erected to protect yourself should also be used to hurt anyone who dared get too close.   

Nathaniel had rented out an abandoned location in a strip mall and set up targets for you to use. More often than not, he was watching you, as if he was waiting for something. Other times, he seemed content to leave you alone, trusting you would have something new to show him when he returned.  

You practiced on the targets, first forming forcefields around your fists and breaking anything that stood in your way. Nothing held up to them and you started growing bored of that tactic. You started to think that if you could form a forcefield, then it could be any shape you wanted. Spikes, swords, knives all began to adorn the edges of your forcefields, facing out and ready to maim anything that was in the way.  

Nathaniel seemed eager when you first formed a forcefield that was outlined with spikes and used it to repeatedly stab holes into the brick fence that lined the back of the property. You were sure he was never going to get his deposit back, but he didn't even seem to care. He only encouraged you to think bigger and do more.  

With time, you were even able to produce two forcefields at once. It was exhausting and drained all your energy, but you liked the idea of protecting yourself while also using a different forcefield to hurt an attacker. From there, it was only natural to think of taking a forcefield, forming it around an enemy, and turning the projected spikes inward, letting them impale your target without a way to escape.  

You felt stronger and invulnerable. You had never thought to test your power like this, and the feeling was nearly intoxicating. Logan and Laura and Wade were still on your mind, but now you knew that you didn’t need them. Like Nathaniel told you, you could stand on your own and forge your own path ahead.  

No one would hold you back now.  

The first time you felt the full force of your own power was when Nathaniel was taunting you into a reaction.  

"He doesn't care about you anymore. He's moved on with the true love of his life and you are nothing to him. You don't need him anymore. You can show him that you're better off without him." 

There were targets surrounding you, but you didn't care about them. All you could think about was Logan and the stupid lovelorn look on his face as he looked at his wife. He looked like he had been saved. Saved from you and whatever pathetic existence he was ready to settle for in her absence. You deserved better and you wanted to rip that stupid look right off his face. You wanted to make him and her regret it.  

You let out a scream of frustration, punching out with your forcefield at one of the targets, but it got carried away from you. All the targets snapped back, taken out at once from the blast. It carried farther out, nearly ripping the door off its hinges and shattering the front windows.  

You looked at Nathaniel, where he was splayed on the floor, staring up at you in awe.  

"You did it," he praised as he began to push himself to his feet. You crossed over towards him, holding out your hand to help get him up off the floor. “I knew you could do it.” 

"What was that?" You wondered, breathless and ecstatic. Your power had never quite felt like that before. You wanted to try it again, the rush of it addicting. If you could hone that and strengthen it, then you could use it on multiple enemies at once. You could become nearly unstoppable.   

"A repulsion field," Nathaniel answered, reaching out to rest a hand on your shoulder. "With time, I expect you'll be able to direct it and control it. You’ll be able to take out a whole city if you want." 

"Shit," you breathed, still shocked that you had managed something like that. "I didn't think I could use my power in that way. It was...exciting," you decided with a grin at Nathaniel.  

"I told you that you're special," he reminded you. "I knew you had that in you all along." 

"Thank you," you found yourself saying. You considered the targets on the floor and wondered if there would be any more use in them.  

"I have extras," Nathaniel assured you. "Want to try again?" 

You felt a pleased little thrill shoot through you at the thought. "Fuck yes," you answered.  

A week passed since you found out about the extra perk your power allowed you. You felt more confident and assured of yourself. Gone was the self-doubt and in its place was a feeling that you could defeat anyone or anything.  

You were walking to the store with Nathaniel, thinking about what you might want to make for dinner. Nathaniel was being unusually quiet and leaving you alone to your thoughts. You wondered if something was wrong, but then you spotted her.  

It was you. The other you. She was alone. No Logan or Laura or Wade in her vicinity.  

You couldn't help the way you froze on the sidewalk or the fury that rose up swiftly enough you felt nearly sick with it.  

She was to blame for everything. She had stolen your life away from you and now she got to be happy while you spent the rest of your life wanting someone you would never have again.  

"Is that her?" Nathaniel asked, rounding back to standing at your side. "The one who stole your life from you?" 

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a lid on your anger.  

"Why don't you make her regret it?" 

The idea was so simple, but so damn tempting. You could just imagine the look on her face when she realized she was incredibly outmatched now. You could destroy her within seconds and she would never be able to stop you. 

You knew it wasn't something you should entertain. You had lived your whole life as a hero. There was a line you would have never dared to cross before but after everything that had happened, you were starting to realize that line was blurred beyond recognition. As far as you were concerned, she had stolen your life from you, and it was only right that she realized what a mistake that had been.  

"You're better than her now. Stronger," Nathaniel continued, leaning in closer to you. "She can't do half of what you can. Show her what you've learned." 

"I don't know," you tried to deflect. You wanted your revenge, but there was still a tiny voice in your head saying it wasn’t right. It wasn’t what you were supposed to do. 

"Aren't you tired?" Nathaniel hissed, his hand coming up to clutch your shoulder in a near-painful grip. "Tired of being the doormat. The hero. The martyr. Don't let them get away with it. Don't let her walk away." 

You didn't even realize you had made up your mind until you were walking up to the other you. She was checking out a display of plants that had been left outside of the market for customers to choose, but she seemed to sense your approach, because she turned to consider you.  

You weren't sure what she saw when she looked at you, but her eyes went wide with fear, and she immediately pulled up a forcefield. You stalked forward, intent on your target. You didn't care if anyone was watching, because you felt like you were completely justified in your actions.  

You passed right through her forcefield and pushed her back. She fell to the ground, staring up at you in terror. You pulled your fist back, forming your own forcefield around it. You let spikes form along the outside facing towards her. All you had to do was bring it down onto her face. It would be a killing blow, and you would never have to think about her again. Logan would lose the love of his life, but maybe he would come back to you. Maybe you could return to him stronger, better, and without any more competition.  

For a moment, as you looked right into her face, it was like gazing into a mirror. The scar was gone, her hair was the same as yours, and you were wearing similar clothes. She looked just like you.  

You were convinced that she was you.  

And that made you pull back, horrified at what you had almost done.  

Her eyes were closed, ready for a blow that you weren't capable of dealing any longer.  

"I'm sorry," you whispered before stepping away, propelling yourself right out of her forcefield.  

"Y/N?" Nathaniel called, pulling your attention towards him. "What are you doing? She's right there. Kill her," he demanded, his lips pulling back in a sneer.  

You shook your head, feeling something indescribable but ultimately terrified swell within you. What had you become? What had Nathaniel done to you? You had let him so far into your head that you had almost done something unspeakable.  

You made yourself go invisible before you took off running. You didn't know where you were going or where you would even hide, but you knew that you needed to get away from Nathaniel. He had pushed you to do more, be more, and you had never once stopped to think about which road you were heading down and whether it would lead you right to the point of no return.  

You could hear Nathaniel yelling for you to stop and come back, but you didn't listen. You wanted to get away from him and just think. It felt like you had let him take up residence in your head and now you wanted to figure out how the hell to evict him.  

You ran until you felt like you were going to collapse. You finally stopped outside of a library. You rushed inside, catching a glimpse of the news anchor flipping through a book as you went right for the back corner.  Two bookshelves met there and you sank right to the floor in front of them. You dropped your head into your hands and forced yourself to take deep breaths.  

"Y/N," you heard someone call. It wasn't Nathaniel and it wasn't anyone else you immediately recognized. But it was familiar. They had been trying to get your attention all along.  

"What," you snapped, already feeling like you were on the verge of crumbling. Nathaniel had been right that you were broken, but who was going to put the pieces back together this time? It felt like Nathaniel had managed to piece them back together all wrong and you didn't even feel like yourself anymore.  

"Y/N," the voice called again.  

You closed your eyes and focused on the voice. You reached out for it, desperate for any sort of lifeline. It was a spark right at the back of your mind. You rushed to meet it, eager to figure out who had been trying to talk to you.  

"My name is Charles Xavier."  

You startled, nearly letting the tenuous connection between you and Charles drop, but finally throwing everything you had towards it.  

"This world is a lie," Charles continued once he realized you could hear him. "Do not let him break you. They're coming to find you." 

"Who?" You couldn't help but ask, hope and fear clashing inside you, threatening to overwhelm you.  

"A rather odd group of saviors," Charles answered, a hint of amusement clear in his words. "But stay strong and do what you can to break free of his hold. He has a way to keep me out, so once he finds you, I’m afraid I won’t be much help to you. Just hold on until they get there." 

You didn't know how you were going to get yourself out. You were starting to think it was hopeless, because you hadn’t even realized you were trapped in the first place. The more you thought about it, though, the more obvious it became that something had been wrong since the morning you woke up and Logan’s wife was sitting in your kitchen. The fact that she had come back from the dead, Logan’s quick dismissal of you, Laura and Wade both turning their backs on you. Nathaniel’s convenient timing and the way he watched you as if you were nothing more than an experiment for him. A pet mutant he could poke and prod and play with while you were none the wiser.   

“Who’s coming to find me?” You didn’t dare to assume that you were worth the rescue, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know. You had to hold onto the one little spark of hope you could feel burning defiantly inside you.  

For one terrifying moment, your mind was still, and you felt crushingly alone. Just when you thought you had been abandoned, Charles left you with one final word.  

"Logan." 

Author's Note: There will be a fourth chapter! Did I have you going for a while there? I felt so evil writing this. I truly did. If you liked this, please let me know. Not to sound needy, but comments/reblogs/etc. literally fuel me to write more and inspire me so much to keep coming up with fun stuff. Thank you to everyone who has shown this series any support! Also, if you would like to be added/removed from the taglist, just let me know!

Taglist: @wonderfrost @mrsyixingunicorn10 @blackbleedingrose @arrozyfrijoles23 @elianamarie-blog

@sarahskywalker-amidala @whiskytoast @shizzybarnaclee @zbeez-outlet @halepack2011

@facelessfionna @i-left-my-cat-on-the-stove @whyam1heree @serendippindots @janilovecookies

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[velvet-n-lace]

Can You Suck Yourself Off? 💖

Series: Obey Me!

Genre: Smut/Headcanon

Word Count: 1.4k words

Pairing(s): The Brothers x Gender Neutral MC

Tags and Warnings: autofellatio, masturbation, humiliation, blowjob, fucking you so hard you lose your memory [NOT CLICKBAIT]

A/N: This has been a long time coming; I was initially gonna wait until 666 followers on my OM blog to start posting my writing, but with the recent developments of the games and people being afraid that OM fanfics will be deleted because of it, I decided to just post them now. I'm posting my AO3 stuff here, so if you can't wait for what I'm gonna post, you can just go read them on there; thanks ^^

rea the AO3 version here -> 🎀

Lucifer 💙

When you suggested it to him, it looked like he wanted to push you off the bed. To have you watch him suck his own cock is the last thing he wanted you to do. He covered your mouth and continued fucking you for the rest of the night, hoping you would forget that you even asked such a question.

After that steamy night, your lewd request was all he could think of.

“Ridiculous, I would never do such a thing...”

He stared down at his half-flaccid cock and made sure his door was locked. After stroking it hard again, he bent his head down and sucked down on it slowly.

“Ridiculous… ridiculous… ridiculous…”

Surprisingly, it made him realize the difficulty you have to deal with when you give him a blowjob; Luci is hard to impress, and even his self-sucking felt like it wasn’t enough; he wanted more and more of it.

After trying for a few minutes, he gave up and jacked himself off to take his mind off his half-assed attempt.

Asking him to do it in front of you would be like asking for a death wish, so he expects you never to bring it up again.

But he would certainly try again behind closed doors until he is ready to let you watch him do it~

Mammon 💛

“Are ya crazy!? I ain’t doin’ something that humiliating!”

Exactly what you’d expect, you pouted and asked him again.

“If you do, I’ll get Goldie back to you by tomorrow night.”

Mammon’s face went completely blank, and he immediately followed that up by stroking his cock to get it hard again. Lucifer took away his credit card again, and he was willing to do anything to win his precious Goldie back. He lowered his face to his cock and began sucking it viciously.

He really wanted Goldie back. Damn.

You watched in awe as he sucked his cock. He bobbed his head quickly, almost trying to get it over with, but he began enjoying this new method of self-pleasure. He glanced at you but only shut his eyes tightly before he sucked harder, making his whole body convulse. It turned him on even more as you touched yourself in front of him. He let his cum drip down his dick before it spurted on his face and into his mouth.

“Augh!! Y-You better… get my precious credit card back…” he panted as he lifted his head from his crotch.

He totally didn’t enjoy that… 

Leviathan 🧡

“Eh? S-Self-suck?”

“Do it, do it, do it!” You tell him.

Levi didn’t know what he was getting into, but whatever it was, he wanted to please you however he could. He leaned himself upside down against the bathtub bed, bent his legs down, and started sucking down on one of his cocks slowly.

His other cock began twitching as you stared at him hungrily; you took his other cock in your mouth and sucked alongside him.

His body convulsed, his moaning was loud, and his face was red as a beet. “This is so lewd omg omg. I can’t believe I'm doing this,” He thinks.

You can feel his heartbeat surging through his cocks; he almost begged you to do more to his body.

He writhed in ecstasy as you teased him some more. He shut his eyes as he got close to climaxing.

“Mmmmh… mmmmhh… mmmh… mmgh!!”

By the end, you could only hear his gasping and moaning as he came huge loads on his face. He looks up at you as he’s drowned in gratitude and arousal.

Satan 💚

He stared down at you with a confused look, maybe a bit disappointed that you asked him something he would immediately refuse to do.

“You’re very bold to assume I would do that…”

As soon as you left the room, he began thinking about it. He looked down at the bulge in his pants and sighed. “Tch…”

After unzipping them, his erection sprung free. It twitched in his hand, but he hesitated to bend down to lick the tip.

He felt a rush of heat flow through him; he had never felt such a strange sensation as his own member entered his mouth, and you also felt a surge of arousal the moment you walked in on him trying it.

“AH! Ugh… fine, watch.”

Satan worked his tongue down his own shaft, and you could feel his moaning getting louder the more flustered he got.

He looked up at you with a mixture of anger and desire; he was cumming soon, and he knew that the moment he finished, he would have his way with you.

He was trying so hard to hold back his release, knowing he had let his guard down for a moment. He took a deep breath, and his seed spurted across his face before he panted heavily. Later that night, he made sure to fuck that memory out of you.

Asmodeus 🩷

“Like I don’t do that anyway!” Asmo winks at you as he bends his legs over his head with ease, his demon cock dangling over his pretty mouth, “Enjoy the show. ♡”

He licks his lips before wrapping them around his sensitive cock-head. He keeps glancing at your face, in awe of his flexibility and self-pleasure, like you're craving his existence.

His eyes locked onto yours, and you could feel his intense heat emanating through his core; he pulled you in so you could help him out.

“Aaah... that’s right, lick the rest of it, suck on my balls while I suck myself off.”

He moaned in delight when you joined; his body was writhing in ecstasy as his thighs trembled and his moaning got louder.

He was on the verge of climaxing but acted as if it was only the beginning. His balls tightened in your mouth the more he laced his tongue down his shaft.

He let out a guttural groan as a wave of cum spilled all over his face.

His sweet seed filled his mouth, and as he caught his breath, he was ready for you to have a taste of him next~

Beelzebub ❤️

“Hmm…” He stared down at his cock, wondering if his mouth could reach a sliver of it, “I think so… I’ll try…”

He took a deep breath and bent toward his massive member; his tongue flicked out eagerly as he wondered what he tasted like.

He was fixated on his cock; he knew it was huge, but he never considered this method before you brought it up. Beel wanted it to feel as good as your own lips.

His eyes glaze over at you; bending down to take it was easy enough, but it was challenging to bring it all down to his throat.

“MC, can you lick the rest of it, please?”

You lick up what he couldn’t reach; his body tensed up, and his sucking got harder, desperate to taste his own cum.

“Mmmmh… mmmmhh… mmmh…”

Beel began to grunt and moan, your hands gripping his cock as he went down on his throbbing member.

You felt the heat of his saliva on your fingers; the remaining grunts filled your ears as he swallowed his load.

Belphegor 💜

“Mh? I’d rather you do it for me…”

“C’mon, please, just once,” you begged, “I’ll do it after you try,” the more you begged, the more he couldn’t resist your sweet, pleading face.

“Mmh… fine, “ Belphie grumbled, “but you need to help me…” He pulled down his pants and cupped his member already glistening with precum. He closed his eyes and leaned down to lick the tip before coughing up his salty taste.

It felt nice; his breathing became erratic the more he pressed his cock into his mouth.

“Suck on me too, please!” He begged.

You eagerly obliged and ran your tongue down his balls and shaft, making him tremble. His satisfied groan only made his cock swell in his mouth, but he was still unsatisfied with his half-assed attempt.

Your tongue helped him out immensely; he kept moaning harder as he begged you for more. He was really enjoying your pretty mouth teasing his shaft.

He pulled back so suddenly, and as he laid down panting, it didn’t stop you from finishing the job. You took his cock in your mouth and sucked down on it violently.

Your tongue swirled around the head, tasting his bittersweet essence. His moans grew louder and more intense, and as he let out a final cry, he came and realized it was all worth it in the end.

[ki-yomii]

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 1k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, masturbation (solo m), panty kink, switch!jk, semi public sex, exhibitionism, cum play ➥ summary | request: was wondering if you could do another short chapter of what will happen if y/n chose to wear the underwear jungkook used to masturbate with🥲 ➥ notes | ask and ye shall receive lol. i changed the prompt a little but i hope you enjoy anon 💚 also sorry for any mistakes its 3 am 🥲

🤎 series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 🤎

"You might wanna hurry up," you warn, your lips teasing the corner of Jungkook's trembling mouth with every breathy word. "They're gonna start wondering where we are."

Bar bathrooms aren't the most discrete of places, certainly.

Not only could anyone walk in to find you with your pants tight around your thighs - hands stretching out the waistband of your panties to keep yourself exposed to your boyfriend - you've been gone for long enough, the other's are going to come looking.

You might have another ten to fifteen minutes if Jimin gets distracted by shots (even less if he doesn't).

Jungkook groans, low and throaty. "I'm trying, I -- fuck!"

A shiver rattles his frame. Sweat dapples his forehead, clings to the downy soft hair at his temples. One arm braces him against the stall, the other working furiously between his thighs to no avail.

"I don't think I can cum like this, baby."

You hum, dragging the tips of your fingers up the length of his exposed thigh. The muscles bunch, jumping beneath the whisper of your touch. His lashes flutter.

The intensity of his gaze when his eyes catch yours sends sparks of awareness ricocheting down your spine, blowtorch bright. His brows furrow low over blown pupils; the pretty amber of his irises a thin ring of glittering gold.

When his teeth tug on his lip ring, you want to take a nibble for yourself, attention drawn to the red bitten swell of his bottom lip as the metal dimples the flesh.

You swallow, rough.

So pretty like this, you think.

"Fuck, that's it," he hisses, voice reedy and thin with desire. He rolls his wrist, squeezing the swollen head of his cock between his fingers until a clear bead of pre-cum oozes from the tip. "Keep looking at me like that."

Your stomach swoops.

Liquid fire burns through your veins, settles into a blooming warmth that hooks behind your navel. Your thighs clench, and your hips twitch. You throb when he stares down at your pussy, transfixed by the sticky slick clinging to your folds and the pulse of your clit.

"I wish we were back at home," he says, tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Wanna fuck you so bad, baby."

You sigh in agreement, ducking forward to ghost a kiss over the corner of his jaw. "Please, Kook. We don't have much time. Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum on my pussy, wanna play with myself all wet and messy when we get home."

His fist slams against the stall door, his head rolling back between his shoulders as he grits his teeth. His other hand reaches down to massage his balls, a thumb digging into the base of his shaft.

"Shit!"

So, so close. And yet...

"If you don't now, you won't be able to for the rest of the night. You know how the boys are - we're gonna be out until at least 2 AM."

Jungkook huffs, “I know, trust me. I want to cum, but I’m telling you I can’t.”

It’s adorable how frustrated - how miserable - he looks as he works a hand over the length of his soaked cock. Movements short, rough; desperate strokes meant to get him off quick and dirty because you're running out of time.

"My poor baby," you say.

Heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation, you tilt your hips out. Your stance widens, allowing you to slip a hand between your thighs with ease. Fingers stroke down the length of your slit, tips dipping into your entrance to gather sticky arousal.

Jungkook watches you all the while, his breath stuttering from him in heavy pants. His eyes are twin black holes; dragging you in and refusing to let go. His hand's movements never paused, still working at his cock with long, heavy strokes.

"Here, let me help with that."

Reaching up, you take your soaked fingers and trace them along the curve of his mouth. Smear your slick into the chapped skin. Tease the tips along the soft velvet of his inner lip.

Your breath catches when you feel the flicker of his tongue lapping up your arousal, his gaze burning into yours.

"You taste so good."

Teeth nip at your fingers. When he speaks, his words slur together and his hand speeds up until his inked knuckles are a blur of movement.

"Hahh - wanna bend you over right now, eat you out until you're crying. Fuck you full. Make - make your pretty pussy squirt all over my cock."

"Yes," you breathe, touching your forehead to his. Your noses brush as you share space, the air heavy with arousal. "Just like that, baby. Now... don't you wanna cum all over me? Soak my panties and make me walk around the bar all messy just for you?"

"Oh fuck, oh fuck!"

When he finally falls over that edge, his mouth drops open on a silent whine. His eyes scrunch shut as the fingers of one hand curl over the top of the stall, the other a loose ring for him to fuck his hips into.

A full body shudder rolls through him.

Spurts of cum stripe along the top of your mound, dripping down over your throbbing clit to pool into the crotch of your panties. The fabric darkens, sticky and damp.

"That was so hot, baby." Jungkook runs his clean hand through his hair, fingers trembling. He's glassy eyed, dazed as he shoots you a dopey smile. "Haven't cum that hard in a while."

You smile, tossing him a wink while you pull the waistband of your panties up your hips. You moan when the fabric clings to your folds, pussy throbbing; a sticky friction you'll feel with every step.

You kiss his flushed cheek, and say with a wink, "Mm, now let's get back out there. Wouldn't want them thinking we were up to something, would we?"

His laugh echoes off the bathroom walls, following you out into the din of the bar, his body a line of heat at your back. When you get to the shared table, you're not fooling anyone.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍: Make-Up Sex w/ Dean Winchester

a/n: now that i feel better, though still albeit exhausted, i'm now literally running, jumping, fucking skipping to get caught up because somehow october decided to actually speed run its own month like the hell???

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Being with Dean Winchester was challenging at times, because no matter how much he trusts you or how good things really are, he's always expecting the rug to be pulled out from under him. Even if sometimes he is the metaphorical rug.

You've had many arguments before, but none of them have hurt like this. You often found yourself in bed alone, usually because the boys were out hunting or catching up on lore, and you were honestly okay with that because duh— they were saving the world! But, sometimes you missed having some cuddle time with your boyfriend, but apparently he did not feel the same.

When you came to peel him away from whatever article he was reading on the computer, he snapped at you, saying some things that were very unnecessary. It had sent you back to bed angrier and more hurt than you had ever been before.

It only took a few minutes of harsh silence before he came stomping down the hallway and into your shared room. You didn't dare move a muscle, remaining on your side with your arms crossed and glare settled on the wall in front of you.

He took a moment to kick off his shoes and shuck off his flannel before shuffling into bed behind you, a heavy hand resting on your plush hip that was covered by the duvet.

"Sweetheart…" He began. "Go away, Dean." You said coldly, unravelling your arms to shove his hand off of you. 

"Look— I'm sorry." He rasped quietly. "Could've fooled me." He sighed. "I— didn't mean what I said, I'm just… tired. This case has been whoppin' me and Sammy's ass." He explained. "I just wanna catch this thing before it kills anyone else, and I ended up taking my anger out on you and you didn't deserve it," Dean took your body relaxing as a sign to be able to spoon you. "Fuck, honey. I'm sorry."

You chewed on your bottom lip thoughtfully. A part of you didn't want to give in, but the other part acknowledges that Dean never apologises unless he really means it.

"You really hurt my feelings, you know?" You whispered meekly. "I know baby, I know." He murmured into your neck.

You basked in his closeness, in the strength of his arm wrapped around your softened midsection. You shivered when you felt him place gentle kisses onto the exposed skin of your neck, the arm holding you pressed your back harder onto his chest.

"Let me take care'a you." He said seductively, his palm slipping up to cup your braless breast. You whimpered at the feeling, but nonetheless grinded back on his growing bulge as he stimulated your nipples.

"Please." You breathlessly begged. 

He was quick to turn you on your back, lips slamming down on yours. He devoured your mouth, his tongue demanding entrance as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of your pajama shorts. He groaned lowly at the fact that you had no panties on.

"Was this what you were gonna give me to make me feel better?" He asked with an amused smirk painted on his lips. Your skin flushed but you nodded shyly. "If it would have helped you, yeah." You confessed sheepishly. "Can't believe I was such an asshole to my sweet girl." 

His fingers teased your damp folds, sliding a finger between them to collect your slick before prodding at your entrance. Your breath caught in your throat, a small whine leaving you as he joined your lips together once more.

It was as though he was trying to destroy you from the inside-out. His strong fingers worked your entrance open, the man slipping in a second finger. Your legs twitched around his arm, loud mewls passing between the both of you whenever he'd hit your g-spot. 

You pulled away from your spit soaked kiss to cry out. "Dean, baby, 'm gonna cum!" 

He slipped in a third and final finger. He twisted his wrist torturously, his thumb reaching up to rub furiously at your clit. Your hand gripped desperately at his wrist, holding it to your body as you desperately rode his hand. 

"There you go, sweetheart. There ya go." He talked you through your orgasm. "Dean… Dean…" All you could whimper was his name.

"Fuck." You heaved after taking a few moments to catch your breath. "You okay?" He asked gruffly. You nodded your head, your own fingers tangling themselves up in his spiky hair. 

"I need you in me." You said as you cradled the back of his head. "Don't know if I deserve it." It sounded as if the big bad Dean Winchester was actually pouting! 

"Ugh, just c'mere." You said with a grin, tugging your boyfriend over your body. "If you don't fuck me, then I'll be sad again. How does that sound?" You asked playfully. "Not good." He murmured with a matching grin.

He was quick to take off his jeans, practically falling over himself to get naked as you finally stripped yourself of your own as well. Both of you were as naked as the day you were born by the time he had his cock lined up to your entrance.

His tip teased your clit, which caused you to whine in displeasure. "Dean…" He chuckled lightly. "Sorry, honey." 

With his hands on either side of your head, he entered you, your head falling back in pleasure at the feeling.

"Jesus." He groaned. "Feels so good, baby." He praised. Tiny whimpers left you as he bottomed out, sheathed all the way to the hilt as your velvety walls fluttered around him selfishly.

"Shit! Please move." You begged. 

Dean would be damned if you had to beg for fucking anything tonight. Pulling out slowly, he slammed his hips into yours. A loud smack! Resounded throughout the room, a choked moan slipping out of you.

"Ah!" His tip brushed against your g-spot pleasurably. Your nails dug into his back as he pounded into you, holding onto the older man for dear life as he continually stretched you out.

Your velvety walls sucked him in greedily, like they were practically trying to keep him inside of you. You could feel that familiar coil in your stomach tighten continuously, a feeling that Dean had made sure you were familiar with for the past years that you've been with him.

Your pussy burned with overstimulation as you neared your end, and it made it harder for Dean to move in and out of you.

"You gonna cum, baby?" He asked through gritted teeth. "Y— yes!" You stuttered. "Cum for me then, sweetheart." Your hand slipped down to rub at your clit hurriedly, your back arching at the overwhelming feeling.

"Fuck!" You swore as you came, your chest pressed against Dean's. One of his arms held himself up as the other stretched over your back to keep your plush upper body anchored to him as you rode out your high.

"Holy shit." You gasped, your chest heaved with each quick breath you attempted to take. 

"Best apology ever." You said with a hazy laugh.

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