#THE SAME ONES WHO WANT TO TAKE IT AWAY FROM YOU

[mercurial-chuckles]

Witless Wednesday Thought

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Hot n Spicy Supersolider | Bucky losing his shit | Bucky defending you | Smitten Bucky | Smitten Reader | Language | Mutual Pining | Kissing | Happy Ending | Language | ~1k | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything. A/N: I was working on another story when this tiny one sucker-punched my flow of thoughts. I scheduled it for yesterday, but that didn't work out. Anyhoo, here ya go! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! I do not consent to AI scraping my work. GIF credits to the OP. Divider made by me. Check out my other works: Masterlist

Part of ♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Indulge Away!

You'd never seen Bucky so angry, so enraged.

As a matter of fact, you barely saw any other emotion flit his face except impassiveness.

Sweet heavens! He was the most devastatingly handsome man you'd ever seen, too.

Normally, you would admire him inconspicuously, just like you did every day when he walked through your part of the office. But you snapped out of your 'Bucky delirium' for Wyatt's sake, who was currently being throttled by the supersoldier against the shelves.

"You don't call her that," Bucky growled.

Holy Shit! It took you a moment to peel your eyes away from that bulging bicep and clenched jaw to make sense of the situation.

One moment, Wyatt thanked you for resolving the system layout issue, 'I knew I could trust you, dawg!' Wyatt said, and the very next second, you saw Bucky throwing him against the shelves. You didn't even realize Bucky was there. He was so fast it made you question your senses.

Bucky must have misunderstood. As much as he'd adapted, James Buchanan Barnes was still a man rooted in a different era. Modern slang still tripped him, you figured.

"Please," you pleaded hurriedly, unsure how to actually intervene.

Wyatt coughed, stunned, his feet dangling as he struggled in distress.

"Bucky," you said, scared out of your wits. He looked down at you intensely, and you quickly took a small step back when you realized how close you were. As much as you silently pined loved Bucky and had imagined him doing wild things to you with that very same rage on countless occasions, you were, very realistically, intimidated at the moment.

"Please, Bucky," you whispered.

Bucky seemed to snap out of his trance as he blinked, his expression still rigid. He released Wyatt, who stumbled and fell to the floor.

Wyatt crawled away a little. Bucky stepped closer and sneered down at him, "Apologize. Now." He warned.

As much as you enjoyed your friend's sense of humor, Wyatt was so out of his depth sometimes, and you were sure his penchant for saying inappropriate shit would be the end of him. Because after all that just happened, he wouldn't shouldn't have said "Are you serious?"

Wyatt was a personality, alright! You tried your best to look at Wyatt, but Bucky's tall, broad frame blocked your view.

Bucky chuckled darkly, crouching down in front of Wyatt, who was still sprawled on his ass.

"Take a guess. DAWG," Bucky growled.

This shouldn't be funny.

This really shouldn't be turning you on as much as it was.

Wyatt finally seemed to realize the issue.

Fucking finally!

You wanted to explain that what Wyatt said was just an endearment, but the basic functioning of your brain had been fused.

"Look… I didn't mean…" Wyatt started, his gaze shifting to yours, and you must have looked like a stunned animal.

For the love of God, Wyatt! Shut up and say sorry! You thought.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt finally squeaked, trying to push himself off the ground when Bucky leaned further.

Bucky gestured toward you, "Apologize to her," he ordered.

Your heart pounded wildly. You hoped to stay upright and not fall victim to your dancing nerves.

"Sorry," Wyatt muttered, looking at you, and you felt terrified for him too. The poor guy was freaking the fuck out, and all for what, being cool?

"It's alright," you mumbled awkwardly. If not for the very adult feelings currently coursing through your body for the six-foot-something supersoldier, the whole thing might have felt like Wyatt was being scolded for pulling your pigtails on the playground.

When Bucky rose to his full height, you expected him to dash off. But he didn't. He stayed rooted in place, eyes fixed on Wyatt.

Wyatt, however, finally managed to peel himself off the floor, and he bolted in a jiff.

Good for him.

Not so great for you.

You stood there trembling, flushed, and utterly confused.

Bucky slowly turned to you, and the intensity in his gaze caught you off guard. You awkwardly shuffled back, lost your footing, and staggered. He steadied you, metal arm circling your waist and pulling you forward into his chest.

Goodness, Bucky was tall! He was so strong, all muscle, and smelled divine. The urge to nuzzle into his chest made you blush even more. Luckily, a modicum of rationality still prevailed.

But his eyes were so blue and beautiful you couldn't stop looking into them. He didn't avert his gaze either.

Bucky tilted his head and moved closer, studying your face while your brain buzzed and your ears rang.

"You okay?" he asked, his breath warm against your face.

It was totally unfair for a man to look the way he did.

"You with me, doll?"

That nickname in his raspy voice had your lips parting. Reminding yourself to respond, you put some effort into nodding your head a couple of times.

Noticing his eyes shift to your lips, your heart picked up, and you bit on your lower lip, feeling the pulse thrumming in your entire body. His tongue peeked out, quickly proceeding to lick his lower lip.

What was going on? Were you dreaming? But if you were, why did it feel so vivid? You fully expected to wake up on your couch like yesterday, with the TV running in the background.

Bucky slowly stepped back, removing his hand and taking all your sanity with his retreating touch.

"I..." Bucky began, running his fingers over his stubble and licking his lips again. You couldn't help but stare. His lips were so damn pink, and you really, really wanted to kiss him.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Your brain needed rehabilitation from Bucky Barnes.

"Wanna grab a coffee with me?" he asked.

You heard the words coming out of his mouth, you did, but you didn't quite process them. You just kept staring at him.

When you finally noticed the shift in his expression, his face falling and eyes apologetic, you cleared your throat.

"Coffee? With me?" That was a dumb response, but that was what your self-deprecating self came up with.

Bucky nodded, quite expectantly and hopefully.

"Okay," you managed to say, offering a small smile.

Bucky sighed in relief. Then he smiled, all shy and adorable, and you bet you could faint just like that.

Charming bastard! He was gonna kill you with his looks.

"Thank you," he said, grinning wildly. He felt overwhelmingly everywhere around you. Bucky shuffled, rocking on his feet awkwardly before nodding at you curtly.

"Right. Umm…I'll be here at 5:15," he said, and you nodded, though a bit too surprised he knew exactly when you clocked out.

Bucky took a few steps toward the door, and you stared longingly at his retrieving form. He stopped, turned around, and looked at you for a whole minute. His gaze transfixed you. Bucky strutted toward you and pushed you against the wall, both hands cupping your cheeks, making you gasp at the feel of them, at the feel of him.

"Sorry... I just..." he breathed against your lips, giving you a millisecond of space to push him away--you didn't. Instead, you rose on your toes, hands on his chest. Bucky groaned softly, pressed a gentle kiss to your nose, then tilted your face closer and captured your lips, tasting, nipping. The rough stubble scratched your skin sensually.

And somewhere in the corner of your mind, it became clear that Bucky Barnes, an Avenger, had no reason to stroll through the Technical Analysts' floor except for you.

Leave your thoughts if you enjoyed reading it. 💞✨

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

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[monzabee]

i desperately need nanny!reader and jealous!hotch. maybe reader have a date (that didn’t end well) and afterwards something happens between her and hotch… i just need something steamy to happen tbh

also how old is nanny!reader according to you?

date night (gone wrong) - a. hotchner

criminal minds masterlist || part of the nanny series

Summary: hotch recruits help to make sure the nanny’s date is not a serial, it’s definitely not because he has feelings for her.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: jealous and posessive aaron (finally), feelings galore, kissing, mentions of a bad date 

Author's Note: thank you so much for your request and i hope you like it!!

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Aaron convinces himself that it is for the best. And perhaps, it is. He doesn't need to feel this way���jealous, possessive—but somehow, when he sees you slipping into that dress, he is a goner.  

Black, skintight, and short, it is enough to drive crazy on its own if he were to imagine you in it. But actually see you walk out of his house wearing it? 

It’s a big problem. 

A very specific kind of problem that tightens in his chest and coils low in his gut. 

Jack had run up to hug you goodbye, completely unaware that his father was standing there, stunned silent, jaw locked, and fists clenched just out of your view. You’d looked over your shoulder to say something, he can’t even remember what, but the flash of a smile, the tilt of your head, and the bare expanse of your legs had him swallowing hard. 

“I’ll be back before midnight,” you’d said sweetly, adjusting the strap on your purse. “Try to be good for your dad, okay?” 

He’d barely managed a goodbye. Because how was he supposed to let you go when you were walking out the door looking like that? 

And with him? 

Your date had pulled into the driveway with his engine too loud and his sunglasses still on, even though the sun had set a long time ago. Aaron watched from the window, watched you wave and laugh as you slid into the car, his car, and drove off into the evening. And how could he be sure that he was a good driver? How could he be assured that he wasn’t going to get you in an accident which could end up in you getting hurt? 

So, he told himself it was because he wanted to make sure the man wasn’t a criminal. That it was just protocol. But that excuse thinned out the second he called Garcia to dig up a background check. Just in case. 

And now? Sitting alone in the dark with a glass of scotch he doesn't even want, Aaron realizes the truth: he's never wanted to punch a man more in his life. He’s never also wanted to punch himself more in his life for suggesting that you should try dating other people, but that’s a whole other story.  

He’s still on the couch when the sound of your key in the lock breaks the silence. 

It’s 11:56. 

You step in quietly, slipping off your heels by the door. He hears the faint clink of your purse hitting the entryway table, then the soft shuffle of your feet against the hardwood. 

Aaron doesn’t move. Not until you sigh. 

A quiet, tired, defeated little sound that lodges itself right into his chest. 

You’re in the same dress—minus your heels, and your makeup is smudged in a way that has nothing to do with laughter, passion or good conversation. Your expression is sour, your lips pressed into a line. 

“Hey,” you murmur, as you step into the living room and realize he’s still up. You take a few steps and drop yourself onto the armchair across from the one he’s sitting in. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours. You look… not upset exactly. But not like someone who had a good time either. “Hey,” he echoes, setting his glass down. “You’re early.” 

“Date from hell.” You respond, not choosing to elaborate, since you know he’ll understand just how bad it was from your lack of explanation.  

He doesn’t respond. Not right away. Because part of him is already, shamefully, thrilled.  But the lack of words on your part doesn’t stop him from asking, “What happened?” 

“He was rude to the waitress. Talked about his ex-girlfriend half the night. Called me a babysitter like it was a bad thing. Then he tried to kiss me in the parking lot and got pissy when I didn’t let him.” The shudder that goes through you is enough to send Aaron snapping. 

His jaw clenches so tightly it hurts, and his fingers curl into fists against his thighs. He’s up before he even knows it, crossing the room with a kind of restrained intensity that sets your heart hammering. 

“Did he touch you?” he asks, voice low and dark. Deadly calm. The kind that would make you scared for your life if you didn’t know he’s not capable of hurting you in any way.  

“What? No!” You shake your head, your face scrunched up in disgust. “No. I got in my Uber and left before he could try again.” 

He breathes, but it doesn’t ease the storm behind his eyes. You’ve seen him like this before—when someone threatens Jack. Or when a case hits too close to home. But never over you. 

Never like this. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with people like that,” he says, and there’s steel in his voice now. “You shouldn’t have to pretend to be interested. You shouldn’t have to settle.” 

You cross your arms—not out of defiance, but to hold yourself together, and it nearly drives Aaron insane because you push up your breasts without even intending to. “I wasn’t settling!” 

His eyes meet yours, sharp and knowing, and he tilts his head to the side in a knowing way. “Weren’t you?” 

You flinch at the honesty of it, at the way it lands squarely in your chest. You’d tried. Tried to date someone nice, someone safe. Someone who wasn’t Aaron. But it had felt wrong the entire night. “You told me to go,” you whisper. “You said I should date other people. That I—” 

“I know what I said,” he cuts in, voice rough. “And I lied. I lied because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought…” He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “I thought if I wanted what was best for you, it couldn’t be me.” You don’t answer him right away, not knowing how to choose the right words, and he takes it as a sign to continue. “I live a complicated life. I have a son. A demanding job. I don’t always get to come home on time. Sometimes I come home broken. And I thought someone else could give you something easier. Something… simpler.” 

He’s looking at you now like it’s the first time he’s let himself really look. The way you hold yourself. The faint smudge of mascara beneath your eyes. The way your shoulders sag like you’re tired of pretending.  

You feel exposed under his scrutinizing gaze. He is so tall, even when he is sitting down with a drink in his hand. “If I didn’t know any better,” you start, leaning towards him, “I’d say you were jealous.”  

“Do you?” He asks, an inquisitive eyebrow raised, “Know better?” 

Your lips part in a silent shock. “What are you saying right now?��� 

“I’m saying I hated watching you walk out that door tonight.” His hand brushes your arm, trails up to your shoulder. “I hated knowing someone else was going to touch you, even just your hand, even for a second.” 

Your breath catches. “You told me to go,” you remind him. 

“I know,” he murmurs. “And it was the biggest mistake I’ve made in a long time.” 

There’s a beat of silence where neither of you move. Then you whisper, “So fix it.” You glance over at him then, the corner of your mouth twitching, something unreadable in your eyes. “You jealous, Aaron?” 

The question hangs there, naked and daring. Kind of like you are, minus the naked part—though you wouldn’t object if he asked you to. 

His eyes meet yours. He doesn’t look away this time. 

“Yes.” It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that prickles under your skin. 

You blink. “Seriously?” 

He nods once, slow. “Painfully.” 

A beat. 

Then you stand up and walk over to him. 

Climb into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And he lets you. You’re straddling him now, your dress riding up, your palms pressed to his chest. Your legs bracketing his. You’re so close now, so unbearably close, and he realizes just how well you fit together, as if you were always meant to be. 

“I wanted to call you all night,” he admits, voice low and rough. “Wanted to tell you not to go. That I couldn’t stand the idea of someone else making you laugh, touching you, kissing you.” 

Your pulse spikes. Your knees feel unsteady even though you are sitting down on his lap. “And now?” you whisper, barely audible. 

His eyes drop to your lips. Then back up. “Now I’m going to kiss you,” he says, “unless you tell me not to.” 

You don’t. 

You couldn’t even if you tried. 

So, when his mouth finds yours, it’s with months, or maybe a year, of pent-up longing behind it. It’s not gentle. It’s not cautious. 

It’s desperate. And it’s perfect. 

[mcrdvcks]

truly

summary: After seeing Scott and Jean's newborn, Logan gets baby fever. word count: 6.6k+ pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader notes: here was the request that inspired this! i will say, anon who requested this, it got a little out of hand, lol. so enjoy 2 smut scenes. this is set in the same world as Deck The Halls and i just need this love spiral but you don't have to read those to understand this! (title is a song by cigarettes after sex) warnings/tags: reader and logan have a bio kid, laura, fluff, talks of having a baby, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, breeding kink, fingering, cum play (?)

The four of you were visiting the X-Mansion to see the new addition to the family, Rachel Summers.

Laura and Sierra had already dashed off to the backyard with some of the other kids, leaving you and Logan alone with Jean and Scott.

"Here," Jean said, carefully transferring Rachel into your arms. "She's fed, changed, and hopefully about to nap."

You grinned, gently settling Rachel against your shoulder. "I've got her. Go take a break."

Jean let out a relieved sigh. "You’re amazing, Y/N. I haven’t had an hour to myself in days."

Scott chuckled softly. "More like weeks."

Jean lightly elbowed him. "Be quiet."

"Go," you insisted softly, waving her away. "We’ve got this."

Jean nodded gratefully, already backing out of the room. "Thank you."

Scott followed behind her, offering Logan a quick grin. "Don’t let the girls destroy the place, please."

"No promises," Logan said dryly.

As they left, you gently rocked Rachel, smiling down at her. "Hey, pretty girl. You gonna sleep for your Auntie Y/N?"

Logan watched from a few feet away, hands tucked casually in his pockets, his eyes fixed on you and Rachel. "Looks good on you."

You glanced up, raising a brow. "What?"

He tilted his head toward Rachel. "That. Babies. Always did."

You laughed softly, moving slowly back and forth. "Yeah, well, I’m just glad ours are finally sleeping through the night."

He snorted. "Mostly."

"Mostly," you agreed.

He stepped closer, leaning against the table next to you. Rachel’s tiny fingers curled sleepily against your shoulder, eyes blinking drowsily before finally shutting. Logan’s eyes softened just slightly.

"I forgot how small they are at this stage," he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," you sighed, gently smoothing Rachel's hair. "Time goes by fast."

Logan watched the baby settle peacefully in your arms, his eyes thoughtful. "Laura and Sierra used to do that too."

"What, sleep?"

He smiled faintly. "Be quiet for longer than five minutes."

You grinned, keeping your voice low. "They're not that bad."

"Not that bad," he repeated dryly. "Laura's probably climbing a tree right now, and Sierra’s probably giving her ideas."

"True," you conceded with a chuckle.

Logan’s gaze drifted again to Rachel’s peaceful little face, the faint rise and fall of her chest. A tiny pang of something tugged deep in his chest, something he wouldn’t dare admit out loud.

"You want to hold her?" you offered gently, sensing his quiet contemplation.

He hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. Looks like she's comfy with you."

You smiled softly, carefully swaying back and forth. "Suit yourself."

Logan shifted, still watching. A beat passed before he cleared his throat. "Scott and Jean seem good."

"They are," you said. "Exhausted, but good."

"Yeah," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. "A newborn’ll do that."

You gave him a curious look. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Logan straightened slightly, clearing his throat again. "Just... thinking."

Your lips curved into a knowing smile. "Thinking about what?"

He shrugged lightly, voice careful. "Nothin'. Just... been a while since we had one this little."

You chuckled softly, shifting Rachel gently. "Someone’s getting nostalgic."

He snorted quietly. "Maybe a little."

"Well, you can always babysit Rachel," you teased softly. "Jean would probably be thrilled."

He cracked a faint smile, shaking his head. "Think I'll leave that to you."

"Mhm," you hummed knowingly, still watching him closely. "Sure."

Rachel stirred slightly, fussing softly in her sleep. Logan moved instinctively closer, a hand coming up to carefully rub the baby’s tiny back, helping soothe her immediately. He paused when he noticed your raised brow.

"What?" he muttered defensively. "Ain’t lost my touch yet."

You smiled, tilting your head. "No, you haven’t."

He watched Rachel settle down again, peaceful and warm against your chest. That gentle tug deepened quietly, making him sigh softly under his breath.

"I'll go check on Laura and Sierra," he muttered, pulling back carefully.

You smiled gently, letting him retreat. "Okay."

Logan paused at the doorway, glancing back once more. The sight of you holding Rachel—so natural, so easy—was etched warmly into his mind. He shook his head slightly, hiding a smile as he disappeared into the hall.

---

The house was quiet—after getting back to the cabin late, Laura and Sierra took their showers then got into bed.

You stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, Logan sitting on the bed with a notebook in his hands.

“You ever think ‘bout ��nother one?” he asked, still lazily doodling.

You glanced at him, pausing with your towel still wrapped around you. “Another what?”

Logan looked up, meeting your eyes. “Baby.”

You smiled faintly, resuming your movements as you searched for clothes. “Not much. Maybe a few times.”

He hummed quietly, his pencil pausing. “Today got me thinkin’.”

You chuckled softly, pulling a shirt from the dresser. “Seeing Rachel gave you baby fever?”

He shrugged, setting the notebook down. “Maybe a little.”

You turned to him, amusement on your face. “You’re serious?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t sound so shocked, darlin’.”

“Not shocked,” you said, pulling the shirt on over your head. “Just surprised, I guess. Thought you liked finally gettin’ sleep again.”

He snorted. “Sleep’s overrated.”

“Easy for you to say,” you teased, tugging on a pair of shorts.

Logan watched you, quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Wouldn’t be so bad though, right?”

You paused, looking up to meet his eyes. “Another baby?”

He nodded slowly, leaning back against the headboard. “Yeah. Sierra’d probably like bein’ a big sister.”

You smiled softly, moving toward the bed. “Laura already is one.”

“Yeah, but she’d probably love bossin’ around another sibling,” he smirked. “And Sierra’s gettin’ pretty independent.”

You climbed onto the bed beside him, crossing your legs and looking thoughtful. “You’re really thinking about this.”

“Like I said,” he murmured, eyes gentle as he studied your face, “today got me thinkin’.”

You tilted your head, a soft smile curving your lips. “Are you saying you want another baby?”

He reached out, tugging you gently closer until you settled across his lap. “Maybe I am.”

You laughed softly, sliding your arms around his neck. “Logan Howlett, secretly a softie.”

He rolled his eyes, brushing his thumb along your hip. “Keep it quiet. Got a reputation to uphold.”

You hummed, leaning in, lips brushing his gently. “Another baby, huh?”

He kissed you softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes again. “Only if you want.”

Your gaze softened, fingertips trailing lightly along his jaw. “Wouldn’t be so bad.”

He smiled slowly, hands slipping beneath your shirt, warm against your skin. “That a yes?”

You laughed, pulling him closer. “Yeah, Logan. That’s a yes.”

“Good,” he muttered, lips ghosting along your neck. “Figured we’d better get started.”

“Now? I just took a shower and put my clothes on.”

Logan’s lips barely brushed yours as he murmured, “Good thing I’m the one who takes ’em off,” voice low, teasing, full of promise. His hands were already sliding under your shirt, warm palms grazing bare skin as his mouth found your jaw, then lower—kissing along the line of your throat like he had all the time in the world.

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he eased you back against the pillows, but a flicker of something practical snuck in through the haze. “Did you lock the door?”

He groaned, forehead dropping against your chest for a second. “Fuckin’—” He sighed, kissed you once, then reluctantly shifted back. “You ruin all my fun, y’know that?”

You grinned, tugging the hem of your shirt up. “Go lock it, old man.”

He muttered something under his breath about being cockblocked by fatherhood and stomped off toward the door. A second later, you heard the lock slide into place. Then a scrape—he was dragging the chair under the knob.

You laughed, covering your mouth to muffle it. “Paranoid much?”

“Sierra picks locks now,” Logan growled as he returned, eyes dark and determined. “Not takin’ chances.”

Before you could say another word, he was back over you, hand splayed on your stomach, pressing you into the mattress. He shoved your shirt up to your ribs, mouth finding the underside of your breast, stubble scraping along your skin, tongue hot and slow as he sucked a mark against your ribs.

“Still smell like soap,” he muttered against your skin. “Gonna fix that.”

You gasped when his teeth grazed your nipple through the fabric, your hand flying to his hair. “Logan—”

He shoved your shirt up over your head and tossed it aside, then sat back on his heels, tugging your shorts and panties down in one rough pull. “Been thinkin’ about this since the second you held that baby. Looked like a fuckin’ dream. Like I needed to put another one in you.”

You flushed, heartbeat pounding as he lowered himself between your thighs, spreading them apart with firm hands. He kissed your inner thigh first—slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses trailing higher, teasing heat.

Then his tongue flicked—slow, deliberate, dragging up through your folds—and your breath caught hard.

You reached down, tangling a hand in his hair. “Thought you were impatient.”

His voice was muffled against your cunt, lips slick, tongue dipping low. “Can still enjoy it, sweetheart. Gotta get you ready, don’t I?”

His mouth was hot, deliberate, tongue sliding in slow circles around your clit, then back down, teasing your entrance, sucking one of your lips between his teeth just enough to make your thighs twitch. One of his hands slid up, spreading you wider, while the other held your hip down when it bucked.

You let out a breathy moan, biting your knuckle to stay quiet. “L-Logan—”

He didn’t stop. He groaned low against you like you were his favorite meal, tongue flattening and dragging hard and slow right over your clit again—wet, unrelenting pressure that made your eyes roll.

Your hips jerked and he growled, fingers digging into your thigh. “Stay still.”

You whimpered, breath catching. “F-fuck—”

He pulled back just long enough to say, voice all gravel and heat, “That’s it, sweetheart. Just relax. Let me taste you.”

Then he dove back in, and this time he didn’t hold back—tongue pressing deep, lips sealing around your clit and sucking with filthy precision. The wet, obscene sounds of it filled the room, and your thighs trembled as heat snapped up your spine.

His hand moved, one thick finger sliding into you slow and curling just right, and your back arched off the bed, a helpless cry breaking from your throat.

“Fuck—Logan—oh my god—”

He moaned against you like your taste was the best damn thing he’d had all year, and when he added a second finger, stretching you, working you open, it was almost too much. You squirmed, gasped, toes curling as heat bloomed sharp and fast in your belly.

"A-ahhh—fuck, Logan—"

His tongue didn’t stop, his lips slick with you, beard damp against your thighs. “Mmhhhn,” he growled low, the sound vibrating right through your clit like a goddamn electric current. His fingers curled again, slow and dirty, dragging along that spot that made your back arch like a bow.

You reached down blindly, tangling your fingers in his thick hair, gripping tight. “S-shit—Logan, I’m gonna—”

He didn’t even lift his head, just sucked harder, lips locking around your clit, two thick fingers buried deep and fucking slow, pushing you right over that edge without mercy. It hit like a damn freight train, ripped the air from your lungs.

"Logan—ohmygod—"

Your hips jerked, your thighs clenched around his head, and you came hard against his mouth, a helpless, strangled moan punching from your chest as your body shook apart under him. He didn’t stop—kept licking, slower now, easing you through it, savoring it like he wanted to bottle the sound of your wrecked breathing.

"Good girl," he rasped when he finally came up for air, voice dark and hungry, mouth glistening with you. "Fuckin' love when you fall apart on my tongue."

You were still panting, trembling slightly, your skin flushed all over. “Y-you’re a menace,” you managed, trying to blink him into focus as he crawled up your body.

He grinned, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned in to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. Hot. Filthy. You moaned into it, hands tugging him closer.

"Not done," he murmured against your lips. "Not nearly fuckin' done."

You reached down between you, felt him thick and hard through his sweats. He hissed between his teeth when your palm pressed against him, his hips twitching.

“Get these off,” you whispered, tugging at the waistband.

He didn’t waste a second, shoved them down and kicked them off, his cock springing free—thick, heavy, flushed at the tip and already leaking. You bit your lip at the sight, reaching to wrap your hand around him, stroking slow. He groaned, low and rough, head dropping to your shoulder.

"Fuck, darlin’... been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day."

"Yeah?" you murmured, breath hot against his neck, hand still moving. “About knocking me up again?”

He growled, deep and hot in his throat, hips rolling into your grip. “Mhm. Watchin’ you hold that baby—made me wanna bend you over right there and fill you up. Stuff you full, see if it takes.”

You shuddered, moaned softly, your thighs squeezing together. “Logan…”

He grinned, dark and wild, then reached down and hooked your leg over his arm, lining himself up with your entrance. His cock nudged against your soaked folds, teasing the head through your slick. "You want it?"

"God, yes—please—"

That was all it took. He pushed in slow, dragging a deep groan from both of you as you stretched around him. Inch by thick, fucking inch, he sank into you, filling you up with no resistance, just wet heat and pressure that made your head spin.

"Shhhhit," he breathed, eyes fluttering shut, jaw clenched tight. "Tight as ever… fuckin’ perfect."

You whimpered, clutching his arms as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The stretch, the fullness—it burned in the best way, had you writhing under him, thighs already trembling again.

"Move," you begged softly, voice catching. "Please—Logan—"

He did. Slow at first—rolling his hips in smooth, dragging thrusts that had your eyes rolling back, the head of his cock grinding deep, right where you were still sensitive. You gasped, clawed at his back.

"That what you need?" he rasped, breath hot against your ear. "Want me to fuck another baby into you?"

You nodded, whimpering, too far gone to answer with anything but a broken moan. “Uh-huh—ahh—yes—f-fuck—”

He picked up the pace, thrusts harder now, deeper, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the quiet room. You could hear the chair scraping faintly under the doorknob every time the headboard knocked against the wall. Didn't matter. Let it fall. Let it shatter.

“You’re gonna take every fuckin’ drop,” he growled, one hand sliding under your thigh to lift it higher, angling deeper, harder. “Gonna make me a daddy again, sweetheart?”

You cried out, eyes wide and hazy. “Y-yeah—yeah—want it—want you—”

"That’s my girl," he groaned, slamming into you, pace relentless now. "Gonna breed this pretty pussy till you’re knocked up. Fill you so fuckin’ deep you’ll still be leaking me tomorrow."

You moaned, helpless under him, his body caging you in, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside. It was too much, too good—your second orgasm building sharp and fast. Your nails bit into his back.

"L-Logan—gonna—I'm—fuck—"

"Yeah, baby, I got you," he panted, snapping his hips harder, faster. "Come on my cock—"

You shattered around him with a scream, back arched, body clenching down so tight around him he cursed loud against your throat.

“Fuuuck—you’re squeezin’ me—shit—!”

He slammed in hard one last time, then froze, cock twitching deep as he spilled into you, growling loud and low through gritted teeth, his whole body shaking. You felt it—hot, thick spurts of come painting your insides, filling you up just like he promised.

He stayed there, buried deep, chest heaving, his weight warm on top of you as both of you tried to catch your breath.

Then he chuckled, breathless, voice still wrecked. “That’s one hell of a start.”

You snorted, weakly swatting at his arm. “You're insatiable.”

He smirked, nuzzling into your neck. “With you? Damn right.”

His cock was still twitching inside you, and he didn’t move—just held you, sweaty and tangled, not caring about the mess between your legs, the heat of your skin sticking to his. You stroked a hand through his hair, still dazed and sore in the best way, heart thudding against his chest.

You didn’t say anything else for a long moment. You didn’t need to.

Then Logan shifted, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were warm, wild, a little wicked. “Round two’s gonna be messier.”

Your breath hitched. You smiled. “Good.”

---

A few weeks later, Sierra sat at the kitchen table drawing a picture for Rachel with her crayons. You were at the stove, making a pie for Jean and Scott.

Logan and Laura sat with Sierra, both of them reading—Logan a newspaper, and Laura a comic.

Then, Sierra spoke up. “Daddy, how are babies made?”

Logan choked on his coffee as Laura let out a snort. "What?"

Sierra tilted her head, blinking at him innocently. "How are babies made?"

Laura snickered again, hiding behind her comic. "Yeah, Dad. How are they made?"

Logan shot Laura a pointed glare. "Not helpin', kid."

You pressed your lips together, fighting to stay serious as you turned to Sierra. "Why do you ask, honey?"

"'Cause Rachel is a baby, and Jean said she grew in her tummy," Sierra said, still coloring carefully. "How'd she get in there?"

Laura’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "Yeah, Dad. How did Rachel get in Jean’s tummy?"

Logan’s jaw ticked. "You’re grounded."

Laura rolled her eyes, clearly not taking his threat seriously.

You sighed softly, leaning against the counter. "Well, Sierra, when two people love each other very much—"

Laura snorted again, louder this time. Logan shot her another look. "Laura."

"Sorry," she said, not sorry at all.

Sierra looked at Logan expectantly. "So how'd she get in there?"

Logan rubbed a hand over his face, sighing heavily. "Magic."

Sierra's eyes widened. "Magic?"

Laura laughed outright this time, ducking behind her comic to hide it.

You shot Logan an amused glance. "Really? Magic?"

Logan shrugged defensively. "You got somethin' better?"

You walked over, gently brushing Sierra’s hair back. "Babies come from love, sweetheart. When two grown-ups love each other very much, they decide they want a baby. Then one grows in the mommy’s tummy."

Sierra frowned thoughtfully. "Like planting flowers?"

Laura snorted loudly again. "I’m gonna die."

Logan leaned toward Laura, lowering his voice. "Keep it up, kid, and you’re gonna have this conversation next."

Laura immediately sobered, returning quietly to her comic.

"Sort of like planting flowers," you said gently. "A seed gets planted, and it grows into a baby."

"How does the seed get there?" Sierra asked, eyes big and curious.

Logan cleared his throat loudly, folding his paper. "I’m gonna go chop some firewood."

You shot him a pointed look. "Logan."

He sighed, looking resigned as he turned back to Sierra. "The seed... just gets put there."

Sierra narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "By who?"

Logan’s eye twitched slightly. "The... other grown-up."

You smiled sweetly at Logan. "Good job, honey."

He shot you a dry look. "Thanks."

Sierra seemed satisfied enough, nodding thoughtfully. "Oh. Okay."

Logan exhaled in relief, taking another careful sip of coffee. Laura smirked behind her comic.

"So, Daddy put the seed in your tummy when you had me?" Sierra asked suddenly, eyes brightening with realization.

Logan promptly choked again.

Laura burst out laughing. "Amazing."

Logan pointed a finger at her, voice rough. "Grounded. For real."

Sierra smiled happily, oblivious to Logan's distress. "Right, Mommy?"

You patted Sierra's head gently, trying not to laugh at Logan's red face. "That’s right, sweetheart."

Sierra grinned, returning to her drawing. "Daddy’s good at planting seeds."

Laura howled with laughter, dropping her comic. Logan groaned, covering his face with his hand.

You bit your lip, fighting back a laugh. "Maybe let’s talk about something else now."

"Please," Logan muttered weakly. "Anything else."

---

The next afternoon, Logan walked into the living room, wiping sweat from his forehead with the edge of his shirt. He paused when he saw you sitting cross-legged on the couch, sorting through a box of tiny baby clothes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Ain’t wastin’ time, huh?"

You glanced up, smiling softly. "Just figured I’d see what we still have from Sierra."

He stepped closer, peering into the box and reaching down to lift a small yellow onesie. His expression softened as he ran his thumb over the tiny fabric. "Forgot how little these things are."

You chuckled quietly. "You said that about Rachel."

"Yeah," he murmured. He looked up again, studying you carefully. "You feelin’ alright?"

You smiled reassuringly. "I'm good."

He nodded, thoughtful. "So we really doin' this, huh?"

You tilted your head playfully. "Second thoughts already?"

"Nah," he said, voice firm. "Just makin' sure you're sure."

"I'm sure," you said warmly, tugging gently at his hand until he sat beside you. "How about you?"

His eyes softened. "Darlin', I was sure the second I brought it up."

You leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek. "Good."

Logan wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he watched you fold a tiny shirt. After a quiet moment, he cleared his throat softly. "Laura asked me about it earlier."

You glanced up curiously. "What did she say?"

"Asked if we were really thinkin’ about another kid," he said. "Think she likes the idea."

"That's good," you said softly, smiling. "Sierra already acts like a mini-mom anyway."

He snorted gently. "She bossed me around for fifteen minutes earlier ‘bout how to feed Rocky. Pretty sure that dog ain’t listenin’ to anyone but her now."

You laughed quietly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Well, at least we know she’s ready to help."

He hummed softly, fingers gently tracing patterns on your arm. "Yeah."

There was a comfortable silence between you, Logan's steady heartbeat soothing beneath your ear. Then—

"Mommy," Sierra said from the doorway, her expression deeply serious, "Rocky ate my crayons again."

Logan sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Told you, he don’t listen to anyone but her."

You chuckled softly, sitting up to look at Sierra. "How many did he eat?"

She held up her fingers. "Three. And one was blue."

Logan grunted, standing up with a resigned sigh. "I'll handle it."

"Thank you," you said sweetly, earning a faintly amused glance from him as he headed toward Sierra.

"You're lucky you’re cute," he muttered affectionately to Sierra, ruffling her hair gently as they disappeared into the hallway.

You smiled to yourself, settling back against the couch and resting a hand lightly on your stomach, already looking forward to the chaos ahead.

---

Just a week later, you got your period. You weren’t necessarily disappointed—you and Logan had only tried once.

You stepped out of the bathroom, catching Logan’s curious glance from where he sat on the bed, tying his boots.

"No luck?" he guessed.

You shrugged lightly, unbothered. "Not this month."

Logan raised a brow, mouth curling into a faint smirk. "Guess I'll have to try harder."

You snorted, rolling your eyes playfully. "Yeah, I guess you will."

He leaned back on the bed, studying you carefully. "You good?"

"Yeah," you assured him, stepping closer. "Took a few months with Sierra too, remember?"

"I remember," he said quietly, pulling you toward him until you settled comfortably against his chest. "I ain't worried."

You smiled, fingers playing lightly with his collar. "Neither am I."

He brushed his thumb along your hip. "Besides, practice makes perfect, right?"

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Always looking on the bright side."

"Hey," he teased, voice low and warm. "Never heard you complain."

You hummed, leaning up to kiss him lightly. "Guess we'll just have to try again."

"Exactly my plan," he muttered, lips brushing yours softly. "Tonight?"

“Mmh.” You scrunched your brows together. “No. Sorry, honey. I just wanna lay in bed and eat ice cream.”

Logan chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "Ice cream, huh?"

"Mmhm," you hummed, settling comfortably against his chest. "Salted caramel."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Pretty sure Laura ate the last of that yesterday."

You groaned dramatically. "Seriously?"

"Yup," he said, voice low and amused. "Saw her sneakin’ the tub back into the freezer."

"She’s your kid," you muttered. "Stealin’ my ice cream."

"Our kid," Logan corrected, thumb stroking lightly along your side. "And Sierra steals your cookies."

You sighed heavily. "I never get anything around here."

Logan snorted. "Welcome to my world, darlin’."

You smiled faintly, tilting your head to look at him. "Can you go to the store?"

He raised an eyebrow. "For ice cream?"

"Yes."

"Right now?"

You gave him your best pleading look. "Please?"

Logan groaned softly, head dropping back against the pillows. "Fine."

You grinned, kissing him quickly. "You’re the best."

He rolled his eyes playfully, shifting you carefully off his chest as he stood. "I’ll remember this next time I need a favor."

You stretched lazily across the bed. "I’ll be here waiting."

Logan gave you an amused glance as he grabbed his keys from the dresser. "Don’t doubt it."

You heard his footsteps fading as he walked down the hall, followed by Sierra’s curious voice. "Daddy, where you goin’?"

"Your mom needs ice cream," Logan answered gruffly.

"Ooh," Sierra said excitedly. "Can I have some?"

"Nope," Logan said firmly. "You and your sister ate hers already."

There was a brief pause. Then Sierra called toward your room, voice filled with concern, "Sorry, Mommy!"

You laughed quietly, shaking your head. "It’s okay, baby!"

Then, the front door opened and shut, and a few seconds later, Laura’s head appeared in the doorway of your bedroom, eyebrows raised.

"Dad went out just for ice cream?" she asked skeptically.

You shrugged innocently. "He loves me."

Laura smirked. "You’re spoiled."

"Jealous?" you teased.

Laura shrugged lightly, a grin tugging at her lips. "Maybe."

You chuckled softly. "Good. You should be."

Laura shook her head, turning to leave. "I’ll tell Sierra to leave you alone ‘til he’s back."

"Thanks, Laura," you called after her.

A moment later, the house was quiet again, and you relaxed into the pillows, smiling to yourself. A quiet night, ice cream, and Logan—exactly what you needed.

---

A few nights later, the house was finally quiet. Laura and Sierra had both been asleep for at least an hour, and Rocky was curled up contentedly on his bed in the living room.

You stood by the kitchen sink, absently rinsing dishes from dinner, lost in thought until Logan’s hands slid around your waist, pulling you back gently against his chest.

“Kids asleep,” he murmured softly against your ear, voice low and warm.

You smiled, leaning into his warmth. “Mm. I noticed.”

His lips brushed the side of your neck, lingering softly. “Rocky’s passed out too.”

You laughed quietly. “You sound like you’re plotting something.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan muttered, teeth scraping lightly along your pulse point, making your breath hitch.

You set the dish down, water dripping off your fingers as you turned in his arms, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Feeling lucky tonight?”

His eyes darkened slightly, hands tightening around your hips. “Yeah, darlin’. Pretty damn lucky.”

You chuckled, fingertips brushing lightly along his jaw. “Confident.”

Logan’s mouth curved into a faint smirk. “Got every reason to be.”

He leaned down, capturing your mouth softly, the kiss slow and deep. You melted into him, fingers gripping his shirt as he pressed you back gently against the counter. When you finally broke apart, breathless, you smiled against his lips.

“Guess we should make the most of a quiet house,” you whispered.

“Exactly what I was thinkin’,” he agreed, voice rough.

He didn’t waste another second. Logan lifted you easily, setting you onto the counter and stepping between your legs. Your breath hitched as his hands slid beneath your shirt, tracing warm paths along your skin.

“You think tonight’s the night?” you asked quietly, eyes locked on his.

Logan smiled softly, brushing your hair from your face. “Hope so.”

You laughed, hooking your ankles around his waist and tugging him closer. “Then we better get started.”

Logan’s eyes sparked with amusement and heat. “Yes, ma’am.”

He leaned in again, kissing you hard and deep, hands gripping your hips firmly. You let yourself get lost in him, warmth curling low in your stomach as he pulled you flush against him, grinding slowly, deliberately, the friction making you gasp softly into his mouth.

He broke the kiss briefly, his voice ragged against your ear. “Gonna take this to the bedroom, darlin’. Counter ain’t exactly comfortable for what I got planned.”

You laughed breathlessly, fingers tangling in his hair. “Lead the way.”

He lifted you easily off the counter, keeping you wrapped securely around him. You pressed slow kisses along his neck, smiling against his skin as he carried you toward your room.

“Better lock the door,” you teased quietly.

“Way ahead of ya,” he muttered, kicking the door shut and clicking the lock into place.

You didn’t even get a word out before Logan’s mouth was on yours again—hot and demanding, like he hadn’t just had his hands all over you ten seconds ago. He walked you backward toward the bed without breaking the kiss, one hand gripping your ass, the other tangled in your hair.

By the time the backs of your knees hit the mattress, you were already gasping into his mouth, dizzy with heat. He eased you down onto the bed, crawling over you slow like a fucking wolf, all heat and weight and hunger.

You slid your hands up under his shirt, fingertips brushing hot skin and hard muscle. “Off,” you mumbled, tugging at the fabric.

Logan grinned against your neck. “Bossy tonight.”

“You love it.”

“Damn right I do.”

He sat back on his heels, yanking his shirt over his head in one smooth pull. You reached for your own, but he caught your wrists.

“Nuh-uh, lemme do it.”

His voice had gone low, dark—gravel scraped through honey. He peeled your shirt up slow, kissing every inch of skin he revealed. Stomach. Ribs. The underside of your breast. He paused there, nuzzling warm against you, lips dragging over the swell. You arched into him with a soft gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets.

Then he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, sucking slow, deep—just once—before switching to the other, tongue flicking in lazy circles until your breath hitched and your thighs rubbed together on instinct.

“Logan…”

“Shh. I got you.”

He kissed down your belly, thumbs hooking into your waistband, dragging your shorts and panties off in one slow pull. His gaze never left yours. Even with the heat low in his belly and the tension buzzing through his limbs, he wasn’t gonna rush a damn thing.

“You ready?” he asked, fingers trailing up the inside of your thigh.

You nodded, breath caught somewhere in your chest. “Please.”

That smug little smirk curved across his face, and he leaned in, kissing you again—soft this time, like he was savoring it—while his fingers slid down and dipped between your folds.

You moaned into his mouth, your hips rocking up as he rubbed slow circles over your clit, his fingers slick and teasing. Then he pushed one inside—slow and deep—and you gasped, clutching at his shoulders.

“Fuck—Logan—”

“That’s it,” he muttered, sucking on your bottom lip. “Already soaked for me. You really want this, huh?”

You nodded again, barely coherent. “Want you. Want you to fuck a baby into me.”

He groaned low, forehead dropping to yours. “Jesus, sweetheart…”

He added a second finger, curling them just right. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, body trembling as his fingers fucked into you slow and steady.

“I’m gonna knock you up tonight,” he growled, kissing down your throat again, biting at your collarbone. “Gonna make you a mama all over again. You’re gonna feel it, darlin’. Gonna know it took.”

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, your thighs clenching. “Logan—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he rasped. “Gimme one. Right here. All over my hand.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you broke—moaning, shaking, clinging to him like you’d fall apart without him. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers as you came, soaking his hand with a whimper that died against his shoulder.

He eased you through it, kissed the top of your head, then reached for the pillow, shoving it under your hips with practiced ease.

You blinked up at him, still breathless. “Logan—”

He was already stripping out of his sweats, his cock thick and flushed and heavy in his hand as he lined himself up, eyes locked on yours.

“You want it?” he asked, voice wrecked. “Want me to fill you up?”

You bit your lip and nodded, legs spreading wider. “Please.”

He sank into you with a deep, guttural groan, one hand gripping your thigh, the other planted beside your head. His body was hot, heavy, every thick inch of him pushing slow and steady until he bottomed out, hips flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he hissed, forehead resting against yours, breath hot. “This pussy’s gonna take all of me tonight, huh?”

You whimpered, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. “Always does…”

“Yeah?” He rocked his hips, slow, deep, grinding against your cervix until your back arched. “Gonna take my come too, sweetheart? Gonna let me put a baby in you?”

“God—yes,” you breathed, hands clutching at his back. “Wanna make you a daddy again.”

That sound he made—half growl, half moan—went straight through you. “Fuckin’ hell, you say that again and I ain’t gonna last long.”

“Do it,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “Come inside me. Fill me up. Knock me up.”

Logan snarled, hips snapping forward, hard. “You filthy little thing… beggin’ to get bred.”

“I want it,” you gasped, breath catching with every ruthless thrust. “Need it.”

He fucked you harder then—rough, relentless, the bed creaking beneath the rhythm of his hips slamming into yours. His hand left your thigh and pressed against your belly, right above where he was buried inside you.

“Right here,” he growled. “Gonna fill you up so full you’ll feel it for days.”

You cried out, nails dragging down his back. “Please—Logan—fuck—don’t stop—”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he panted, grinding down. “You’re takin’ me so fuckin’ good. This tight little cunt’s made to keep me in, yeah?”

You could barely breathe, every thrust knocking the air from your lungs, pleasure spiking sharp and high. “Gonna—gonna come—”

“Yeah?” He leaned in, mouth against your ear. “Then do it. Milk my cock, sweetheart. Get yourself good and ready to catch.”

You shattered around him, legs locking tight around his waist, your whole body pulsing as you screamed his name into his shoulder. He kept going, driving through your climax, chasing his own with that low, animal growl rising in his throat.

“Fuck—you’re squeezin’ me so tight—fuck—I’m gonna come—”

“Do it,” you begged. “Come inside me—please, baby, I need it—”

Logan slammed deep and stayed there, cock throbbing as he came hard, spilling into you with a choked moan, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, body trembling. “That’s it—fuck, that’s it, take it all…”

You felt him twitch inside you, his come hot and thick, filling you until it leaked out around him.

He didn’t move for a long moment—just laid there, buried deep, one hand splayed across your lower belly like he could feel it taking.

Then he lifted his head, eyes half-lidded and dark. “That oughta do it.”

You gave him a dazed little smile. “Think you got it in one?”

Logan grinned, kissed you lazy and slow. “Maybe. But better be sure.”

His hand slid down, slow and sure, knuckles brushing between your legs—right where you were still stretched around him, messy and slick with the load he’d just pumped deep inside. His eyes stayed locked on yours as two fingers pressed to your swollen folds, spreading you open just enough to watch it drip out.

“Fuckin’ shame,” he muttered. “Wastin’ good it like that.”

You shivered, hips twitching as he eased a finger back inside, slow and deep. You gasped, back arching slightly. "Logan—"

"Shh," he murmured, voice low, gravel-smooth. “Lemme make sure it stays where it belongs.”

He added a second finger, thick and insistent, curling them inside you like he knew every sensitive spot by heart—and he did. His thumb rubbed lazy circles over your clit, just enough to make your breath catch, not enough to push you over yet.

Your hips rocked into the motion instinctively, body still greedy for more. “God… you’re not done with me?”

He snorted, lips brushing your cheek. “Sweetheart, I’m just gettin’ started.”

His fingers pumped slow, deliberate, his palm slick with a mix of your arousal and his come, still leaking out around his knuckles. You whimpered, clenching down on him, thighs shaking.

“You feel that?” he muttered, dragging his lips down your neck, letting his teeth scrape lightly across your skin. “That’s mine. All of it. Gonna keep pushin’ it in ‘til your body holds on tight.”

“Logan—fuck—” you moaned, legs spreading wider for him. “You’re gonna make me come again…”

“Good,” he growled. “I want you to. That sweet little pussy soaks me every damn time, ‘course you’re gonna come.”

He curled his fingers again, hitting just the right spot, and your whole body jerked, toes curling. You could hear the wet, obscene sound of it—his hand working between your legs, your pussy clenching greedily around him like it knew what he was trying to do.

“I can feel you pulsin’ around me,” he rasped, kissing down your chest. “Just like that. Keep squeezin’. Gonna milk it all up inside you.”

You bit your lip, desperate to hold it back, but your body had other plans. With a sharp cry, you came hard, thighs clamping around his wrist as your cunt spasmed around his fingers, milking them like it wanted to keep every drop of him inside.

“There it is,” he breathed, watching your face like it was the only thing that mattered. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn pretty when you come for me.”

You twitched beneath him, breath ragged, and Logan gently eased his fingers out, slick and dripping. He watched the mess on his hand for a second, then brought it to your mouth.

“Taste what you’re takin’ in,” he muttered.

You opened obediently, sucking his fingers between your lips, tasting salt and heat and something that made your whole body ache with want all over again.

He groaned, leaning in to kiss you slow, deep, filthy. “You’re gonna get pregnant from this,” he whispered against your mouth. “I fuckin’ know it.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, breath still catching in your throat. “Think so?”

He grinned, cocky and warm, brushing his fingers lightly over your belly. “I’d bet on it.”

You gave a tired, blissed-out laugh. “You always so sure of yourself?”

He nuzzled close, lips grazing your ear. “Only when I know I’m right.”

[grotesquevi]

18+ mdni, collage au, use of marijuana, high sex, blink and you'll miss perv!vi, you smoke while she eats you (feral), spit, stoner!vi that got out of hand. fic directory, requests?

if you recognize this it may be because it's from my previous account aka @vicorices who got deleted out of nowhere, i'm trying to get all my work back up again cause i'm not losing three months of writing. bare with me pls love me back this was good soup back then.

dealer!vi who’s deep down a damn loser when it comes to you, an unmeasured crush that started out when you bought weed for the first time and she got your number under the premise of talking to you whenever she had good stash.

she stares for a good while at her phone after, trying to find out a reason to talk to you without sounding lame, the last time she was so afraid to talk to a girl she was what? sixteen? so fucking lame.

dealer!vi who leaves in the middle of a party cause you texted asking is she was up and well, it's her fault when she's spoiling you rotten, constantly selling to you her very best stuff at a stupid low price: she wants you to keep coming to her, so she makes sure of making an undeniable offer.

she's knocking at your door and it's way to late to be in the streets, standing with her hands shoved inside her jacket as she waits for you to open up.

dealer!vi who's impressed actually by your rolling skills cause how the fuck did you learn how to roll a joint like that? you have such a good technique she finds herself looking at it, fingers in perfect control as they swiftly pour the green from your purple grinder into king-sized pink rolling papers — is it indirect kissing when you're licking the paper and she can visibly see strings of your saliva? must be.

she looks at you when you light up the joint and the air is quickly filled with the intense smell of weed, a subtle fruity and citric aroma as you passed her the joint. indirect kissing. indirect kissing when vi's smoking from the very same spot you did, sitting close to you after selling you a good amount of weed and accepting a sudden invitation to stay for a while and smoke, make the journey at least a bit more worth it and not leave after five minutes with you.

it doesn't have to be just pure business.

you're oblivious to it, but her gaze lingers in your legs and the subtle way your shirt rides up showing more and more skin without you noticing, worried you'll find out she's right there high and dry in your sofa.

stoner!vi who laughs at your jokes, leaning forward when talking to you cause even high she just thinks about how beautiful you are, eyes red, half lidded, relaxed in the comfortable of your small apartment close to the uni.

and like a good stoner she forgets about she's holding the joint at some point, too busy with the conversation, your company and the atmosphere you’ve so easily created, the ashes falling to the ground now. she has sold you marijuana for months, yet she's not able to talk to you for more than explaining you what strain she's carrying to sell until well — now.

liking your photos, flirting but not at all, it's absurd the amounts of times you appear on her mind without even trying to, messy haircut, she's sure you have a tattoo hidden under the winter clothes cause she can be a proud stoner, but she pays attention, at least when she wants something, when it comes to you.

"are you ever going to make a move on me, vi? cause i'm getting tired of waiting for you to snap out of it."

and maybe it's the weed, that dizzy and nice sensation on her chest that makes her smile, cause she's sure you're pulling her closer even when she's the one moving on her own.

"a move, you want me to make a move on you?"

you're taking the joint from her fingers and she swears it's the hottest thing she's ever experienced, the way you were suddenly so close to her only to pull away after, letting the smoke linger in the air when you light it again: she has felt that very same thing before, the awful need of pulling you into a kiss.

"i thought it was obvious when i texted you in the middle of the night, but you don't seem to get it much" the music seems to drown her unsteady breathing, the loud guitars by the speaker in the table while your bratty attitude only seems to turn her on even further. "should i spell it out for you? send a formal invitation?"

stoner!vi who's really bad in controlling her force when high, cause her hand fist in the fabric of your shirt and she's finally erasing the distance she was once polite to keep, moving you without much effort across the cushions to pull you closer to her, make you lay on the sofa to pin you down beneath her.

her muscles flex on top on you and she's finally aware of the effect she has on you, when she's finally kissing you and you're responding to her even when she barely touches you — so maybe it's not as lame as she thought, cause her kisses travels down your throat, messy, sloppy open-mouthed kisses she places as she holds you there, still and where she wants you to, not lame at all when you cannot control yourself either, squirming, already asking for more.

and fuck it's good. she can smell the subtle smell of weed in your clothes, and swear could choke 'cause you're parting your legs for her, a silent invitation she just gets with no need to spell it out for her now.

"gonna smoke it all by yourself?" vi's messing with you at first, watching you take the joint you forgot in your fingers to place it over your lips — "or are you gonna share that with me?"

stoner!vi who fantasizes with the thought of spitting right over your parted lips when she's helping you smoke, lighting up the joint as she sits on top of you. she's slower, but her hips press down against yours just right, and trapped in between her thighs is a damn sight. her blushed cheeks match her cherry hair who's much longer now since the first time you meet her, and you, a demon as always, let your hand find the skin beneath her shirt, the pad of your fingers roaming against her hip bone, trailing it down her pants.

with two fingers, she places the joint over your lips. your breathing collides against her hand, and she can feel the softness in your lips for a moment before you're blowing the smoke in her direction, slightly and for nothing more than five seconds but enough to make her think about kissing you again, yearning when she's stealing kiss after kiss, taking away the joint to have you pay attention to her instead. needy.

the weed makes her like that she'd say, but in reality vi's going to pieces even before her eyes become glassy. shambles when the music on the speaker is not enough to muffle your gasps, the irregular sound of your breathing after she slowly begins to ask you for more — hungry even when she's full fed.

she's building you up, taking her time since she dreamed about this a lot, and she desperately wants it to make it last, savor it as long as she can have it, so vi's dragging your shirt upwards, enough so she can see the obvious lack of a bra, latching on the skin of your breast until it's bruised and sensitive, purple because of her.

you do have a hidden tattoo, only for her to see.

yet it's her name on your swollen lips what she enjoys the most, how she's there in your lungs inside you, the sound of your moans when you ask if she could keep going. your always perfect hair lays now messy, and god she just want to imprint the sight of you in her brain, how your skin shiver when she's kissing the expanses of your belly, that flirty look on your face she can see even when she's completely on her knees for you already.

"you forgot about the joint again, peach" vi mutters against your navel, her chin presses against your stomach and the mere contact makes your skin burn "you okay up there? 'cause last time i recall i was invited to smoke with you love, you're making me feel a little betrayed here."

stoner!vi who likes the fact you're smoking from her weed. may seem stupid but she damn prides on knowing you choose her every time even when uni is fucking plagued with providers all around: you praise about her quality, chanting about how good your high was, how she never disappoints.

the world seems to stop against your skin, the time dies between your thighs, the intense smell of your arousal clouds her with longing and her mouth waters at the compulsion to lean forward.

"it's not fair, making me feel so- fuck so-" the words die on her tongue, cause your panties are soaked through, clinging to your folds and she's already drunk on it, lost in the haze as she looks up to you, barely illuminated by the lights in the apartment, the ember of the joint lighting every once in a while.

"talk to me," your voice is rough as your hand reaches down to her hair, taking the long strands of the mullet between your fingers — "how do i make you feel, huh? tell me vi."

stoner!vi who's a chaotic eater. she whimpers at your praises as her tongue laps from over your slick underwear, drool escaping from the corners of her mouth as her nose rubs against your sensitive cunt and she doesn't really care if she stinks like pussy after, if you're gushing all over her cheeks as she's making your underwear to the side; she's surrendering entirely, spreading you with her fingers and sinking her face in your puffy, swollen lips already sticky with a sheen of arousal.

she cannot seem to have enough, one arm tangled around your leg as she's comfortable enough to gather a good amount of saliva on her mouth so she can let it fall against your already leaky pussy, scooping it with her fingers to use it as lube when her digits are forcing themselves against your entrance, opening you up for her as vi's mouth sucks greedy around your clit.

so you forgot about the joint laying between your fingers as you hold her face against your sex, moving your hips against her mouth until she's looking at you through half lidded eyes and you can see how her face seems to glisten thanks to you. vi seems to be hitting all the nice places when her fingers scissor inside you, rubbing on your walls as you become pliant in her touch, inviting as you seem to suck her in deeper.

stoner!vi who pays attention, cause she's fixated in your face when you fall apart, dissolving into pleasure, splintering in lust for a brief moment she prolongs as much as it's possible, slowly pumping her fingers inside your tight entrance to keep seeing that pretty face all constricted in need, babbling about how good she's eating you, how full you are when her fingers fuck you dumb like that.

stoner!vi who shoves her fingers in your mouth right after fucking you, using her thumb to trace them along the seam at first, coaxing you to open them for her, pushing down on your tongue as soon as she's granted permission.

it's her turn to smoke now.

[randompiecesofwriting]

Coffee Snob (Pt 2)

Summary: Follow up to Coffee Snob reader checks in on Robby a few days after the stitches incident to discover Robby’s fallen ill and is more than happy, despite what he says, to let her take care of him for a change

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Robby’s sick just talk of a coughing fit and some sneezes tho

Author’s Note: When I wrote Coffee Snob I had zero plans to write a part two. Then I got the very first comment on that work asking me to please make one and I wrote this that same day. Moral of the story here is fanfic authors are fickle people who will buckle under the smallest amount of peer pressure so never be afraid to reach out and ask. Thank you so much who showed the first part so much love that makes me so unbelievably happy! I hope you like this one too!

Part 1 Here

With the way he had spiraled over your stitches in the ER you had expected Robby to be insufferable about your injury for the days to come.

As promised you had shown up at his place after work and he had happily redressed your arm for you, taking much too long in your opinion to check over the stitches once again before wrapping them up and grilling you about your dizziness, not taking any of your assurances that you were fine for an answer and only finally backing down when you had cheekily proposed sharing a beer on the roof. That finally earning yourself a glare and swift instruction to go rest.

So naturally you had expected to see him the next day, for more than just a coffee handoff that was, but after that morning it was nothing but radio silence from the man.

At first you figured he was just busy, didn’t think much of it when you fell asleep that night without hearing from him.

But then it happened again the next day. No stop by for coffee, no text to make sure you were doing okay, no offer to check over your stitches again.

That was how you found yourself at his door bright and early the following day, forcing your hand to knock on it before you could talk yourself out of it.

At first there was nothing, you waiting long enough to prompt another set of knocks before you heard it, a raspy cough coming from inside the apartment. “Robby you in there?”

Still nothing but a pitiful attempt to stifle the next round of coughs, that alone was enough to push you to try desperate measures “Look I don’t mean to bother you but there’s this pus coming out of my stitches and it kinda smells”

The door was being ripped open before you could even finish the sentence.

You barely had time to take in the old blanket thrown over his shoulders or the deep purple bags under his eyes before he was grabbing at your arm, fingers already reaching to undo the wrappings as he spoke “you said it smelled?”

You ripped your arm back from his grasp, a disbelieving huff escaping you as you glared up at him “oh so you are home”

“Yes look” he barely gave the comment any thought, reaching again for your arm with a sigh “you could have an infection just let me-“

“Robby I’m fine” you cut him off, pulling your arm out of his reach and angling your head to properly catch his eyeline “I just wanted to see if you would actually answer the door”

He glared back at you, crossing his arms over his chest “so you lied to me”

“Oh that’s real rich coming from the man who was hiding in his apartment from me” You shot back with a raise of your brows, Robby at least having the decency to look sheepish from beneath your gaze “you’ve been avoiding me, what’s going on?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you” he countered with a shake of his head, stating the words as if they were obvious “and I’m-“ he suddenly cut himself off, chest heaving dramatically twice before a loud sneeze tore through him effectively putting an end to the sentence.

You raised a brow at that “you want to try that again? Or are we just going to pretend it never happened”

“It’s nothing” he fought back stubbornly “just a-“ and again he was cut off as he quickly pivoted away from you and tucked his mouth into the crook of his elbow, a series of coughs escaping him harshly.

Almost seeming hesitant Robby slowly dropped his arm and pivoted back around to face you slowly, once the coughing had subsided, a dramatic eye roll and sigh escaping him as he caught sight of your wolfish grin “no”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say”

“but I know what that smile means and I want nothing to do with it”

You stared him down with a smirk, Robby meeting your gaze unabashedly though you both knew who would win this waiting game, you just had to wait for-

Another sneeze tore through him, a defeated groan running through Robby once he had recovered.

“Michael Robinavitch are you sick?”

“I don’t get sick” the glare he sent back at you was more a challenge than anything, as if daring you to call him on it.

One you were more than happy to meet “oh so this is just what? Rapid onset allergies?”

“I will pay you to no longer have to be a part of this conversation”

“Oh come onnn” you whined at him petulantly, leaning against his doorframe, making it abundantly clear you weren’t going anywhere “it’s my turn to play doctor”

“You know what they say about doctors making the worst patients”

“They also say I’d make the worst doctor so that just makes us the perfect pair”

Again he just glared at you, arms tightening around his chest as he did so “are we done with this yet? Can I go nap?”

You grinned back at that, holding up a single finger “Hold on real quick I have to decide just how insufferable I want to be about this”

With a loud groan he was turning back to his apartment, making a show of grabbing the door to shut you out, but there was an unmistakable upwards tick of his mouth that told you he wasn’t quite as annoyed as he pretended to be. You took that as an invitation to push your way further into his place “Come on sickie I’ll make you some soup”

The heels of his palms came up to dig harshly into his eyes as he shambled further into the apartment “I don’t-“ he was interrupted by another coughing fit, having little choice but to drag himself over to his couch and collapse on the pillows “fine. You’re lucky I like your cooking”

“I’d say you’re lucky you like my cooking” you shot back with a wink, strolling over to his kitchen and opening the fridge letting a snort slip out of you at the sight “scratch that you’re lucky I stock my fridge like an adult. I’ll be right back”

You got little more than a hum out of the man in question as he sunk deeper into his couch, blanket wrapped tight around himself as his whole body relaxed on the spot making you smile.

Running upstairs to grab everything you needed you slipped back into his place without knocking, glad to see that he had fallen asleep.

Figuring you could take your time with it you started with your own homemade stock you kept in the back of your fridge, heating that up and taking your time to cut the vegetables.

By the time you dropped the noodles in about an hour had passed and you figured it was time to wake Robby up and give him some meds.

Spooning out a portion into a bowl to start cooling you made your way over to the couch, hunching down to just above him and quietly calling out his name.

The man asleep on the couch, however, didn’t budge, not moving at all still when you put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a small shake. With an amused chuckle you brought a hand up to his cheek, carting your fingers briefly through his beard before cupping it properly and giving his head a small shake, raising your voice just enough to catch his attention “Robby”

He jolted awake beneath your touch, eyes snapping open quickly as he took in a deep breath before snapping shut once again as he winced at the brightness of the room making you giggle. “Sorry about that”

He only hummed in response, the sound coming from deep within his chest as he pried one eye open to look up at you, a hand coming up to rake his fingers through his beard before capturing your own before you could fully pull it back, threading his fingers through your own before bringing the palm of your hand to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to the heel of it, discarding the hand in the next step fluidly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You desperately willed yourself to be normal about that as you leaned back slightly to give him room to sit up, Robby seeming to not even had noticed what he had done as he stretched and took in the room around him “what’s going on?”

“Made you food” you were praying to anyone who would listen that he wouldn’t notice just how hoarse your voice suddenly sounded “also wanted to check on you how’re you feeling” you avoided his gaze as you brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling the skin with the back of it as you assessed him.

The silence between the two of you stretched just a bit too long for it to be normal before you were pulling your hand back and looking down at Robby, finding the man’s gaze already on you intently, a soft, lopsided smile on his lips.

“Robby?”

The sound of his name seemed to snap him out of his trance, a slow dramatic blink taking over him as he shook his head slightly, his body physically going through a reset as he processed your question “Good. Yeah. Good. I’m good.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that “well that’s good” you teased him earning you a soft scoff “feels like your temperature’s gone down a little bit”

“Real scientific method of measurement you got going there”

“Are you trying to be difficult or does it just come naturally to you?”

He started to laugh at the jab, the sound catching in his throat and sending him into another coughing fit that had you frowning.

“When was the last time you took meds?”

He shook his head in response mumbling out a “didn’t” as he relaxed back against the couch and closed his eyes again.

“Doctors” you grumbled with a roll of your eyes, giving his leg beside you a pat as you stood up “we’re absolutely going to change that but first you should eat”

You grabbed the bowl you had let cool for a bit off the counter and a spoon and placed it on the coffee table in front of him.

“You made soup?”

“I made soup” you repeated with no small amount of amusement as you sat next to him on the couch, grabbing the remote off the arm of the chair in the process.

“With the stuff in my fridge?”

“With the stuff in my fridge” you corrected him with a snort, turning on the tv and scrolling through the options “I’m good but I’m not that good”

Shaking his head he picked up the bowl and brought the spoon to his lips, taking a first bite and barely getting it down his throat before he was practically melting on the spot.

“That good?” You asked with a grin, Robby barely sparing you a glance before took another bite.

“Did you make these noodles?” He asked in disbelief around the food.

You shrugged in response “figured I’d let you sleep for a bit while I did it”

He paused at that, as if that weren’t the answer he was expecting as his eyes cut from the bowl up to you “You really handmade the noodles in this soup”

“You were out for like an hour”

“You put handmade noodles in a soup you made for a person who is sick”

“I put handmade noodles in a soup I made for you” You corrected automatically giving his side a small nudge, immediately trying to downplay just how much the moment meant to you “if it means anything the stock I used is from scratch too but I definitely didn’t do that today”

He stared back at you dumbfoundedly, looking back down at the bowl before him as if it had personally offended him “I feel like I should save this for when I’m healthy”

“What” you laughed at the absurdity of it “don’t be ridiculous I made that soup for you now”

“But this is good soup. Restaurant quality soup. And I can barely breathe through my nose” he protested weakly.

“I’m a restaurant quality chef” you pointed out “you literally only let me come in here because I offered to make you soup”

“I thought you would throw some dried noodles into a can of broth not this”

“Robby I live right down the hall” you pointed out with a laugh “I make a stock from the veggie scraps in my freezer like once a month I can make you soup at any time”

Still looking skeptical he finally relented, slowly picking back up the bowl and bringing another spoonful to his mouth, practically moaning around it as he took another bite “fuck that’s good”

Snorting you turned your gaze back to the TV with a wide grin and a shake of your head, mumbling under your breath just loud enough for him to hear “can of broth. The fuck you think this is amateur hour?”

-

Robby can’t remember the last time he had woken up this comfortable.

It was as if someone had gone through his body and carefully tended to each knot in his muscles one by one. All the tension in him had melted away until he felt closer to an amorphous blob than human person. And he had to admit a large part of it was absolutely to do with the fingers dragging slow patterns back and forth through his hair, nails just barely scratching at his scalp.

Rather than like his last nap he rose to consciousness slowly this time, soft blinks allowing his eyes to naturally acclimate to the light in the room, none of this properly preparing his brain to fully process exactly what position he was about to find himself in.

His head had to be in your lap. That was the only logical conclusion he could come to with the way your upper body loomed over him, one elbow perched on the back of the couch with a book in hand, the other hand tucked back threading itself through his hair as if it were natural.

And for a second he could do nothing but watch. Watch as your eyes flew back and forth over the words on the page, your attention fully captured by whatever was happening within the novel, the patterns on his scalp only pausing briefly to allow you to turn the page and continue reading. Watch the way the soft light of what had to be sunset filtered beautifully through your hair from the window across the room.

For a brief moment he considered just closing his eyes once more. Feigning sleep for just a little longer. Letting himself bask in a rare moment of tranquility.

Instead his eyes caught familiar white gauze as your arm lifted to turn the page and the words were tumbling out of him before he could think better of it “How’s your arm?”

And maybe he should’ve made some sort of comment earlier to warn you of his consciousness, but it wasn’t something that had occurred to him until you were shrieking in surprise, his head snapping up at an awkward angle as your whole body jumped with it, the book dangling from your fingers falling as you released it suddenly, the spine of the hardcover book hitting Robby squarely in the nose.

He shot up on the spot, hand coming quickly to hold his nose as the book tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. And it honestly didn’t hurt too badly, the surprise of it all getting to him more than anything, but to see the wide-eyed look of guilt you shot him as both your hands came up to cover your gaping mouth. That almost made it all worth it “we gotta work on your bedside manner”

The quip seemed to snap you out of it, hands dropping from your mouth as you immediately leaned closer to him, desperate to get a good look at the damage as you swore “fuck Robby I am so sorry”

And you were just so close all of a sudden, perfume permeating the air around him, the distance allowing him to fixate on every fleck of color in your eyes, that it had his brain short circuiting, suddenly unable to form coherent sentences, something you clearly didn’t take as a good sign.

You were up before he could stop you, running across the apartment and returning with a bag of frozen peas he honestly didn’t even know he owned. “Of course the only vegetables you own are of the freezer variety”

Still he took the bag from you and pressed them to his face slowly, more to humor you than out of any need of it “You come into my home, insult my food, break my nose-“

“Shit did I really break it?” And again you were so close, a hand on his forearm to brace yourself as you leaned in and Robby was struck by the heat of the touch, by the subtle weight of your hand, by the smoothness of your skin, his next words coming out just a touch too late.

“No I’m fine” You shot him a skeptical look, Robby making a show of peeling away the bag of peas to reveal his perfectly intact nose “Really there was no harm done”

Though the words still didn’t seem to fully placate you it did have you backing down, releasing his arm from your grip and sitting back properly on the couch with a groan that had him chuckling softly, more than happy to realize the incessant need to cough didn’t arise from it. “What time is it?”

“Oh it’s-“ You cut yourself off as you searched around briefly for your phone, the question almost seeming to catch you off guard “4:30…meaning I have fifteen minutes before I need to leave for the restaurant” the words sounded almost bitter in your tone making him smile softly “will you be okay if I head out?”

“Yeah I’ll be good” he assured you quietly, enjoying the way you fussed over him “May even have all my extremities still intact if you leave now”

You rolled your eyes dramatically at the jab, running a tired hand over your eyes “Don’t make me start apologizing again cause I’ll do it”

He held up his hands in mock surrender at the threat, unable to keep the smile face as he did so “Really I feel a lot better. Go to work”

You narrowed your eyes at him, gaze skimming over him studying him, assessing him, before nodding reluctantly “okay let me just pack up the soup on the stove”

“I got it” he cut you off easily, more than happy to learn he’d have leftovers of your soup in his fridge “go”

Another skeptical look, another silent standoff, before you were conceding with a sigh and pushing yourself to your feet. “You took a Tylenol four hours ago so you’re due any time for another one. I’ll know if you don’t take one”

“Yes ma’am” he conceded with a grin, watching as you shuffled to his door and slipped on your shoes.

“Also drink more water you haven’t had any today”

“I will”

“I brought some saltines too they’re on the counter you should probably put something solid in your stomach”

“Y/N” he halted your rambling with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest as he talked “I am a doctor, I know how this whole thing works”

“Oh cause that was going so well for you when I got here” you rolled your eyes but nonetheless relented, putting your hand on the handle of his door, getting ready to leave, before turning back to him one more time “just…take care of yourself yeah?”

“I will” he promised softly, following you out the door, letting you get a few steps down the hallway before he was calling out to you “Y/N. Thank you”

You spun around to face him at your name, giving him a fond smile as you continued to walk backwards “Anytime Michael”

And god did he love the way his name sounded when you said it. The soft intimacy of it, the playful lit you put on it, the way it felt so natural, so light.

Grinning to himself as he let the door shut behind him, he faced his now empty apartment, the space suddenly feeling a lot smaller, a lot quieter, a lot lonelier.

Spotting your book forgotten on the floor he wandered over to pick it up off the ground, noting it wasn’t one of his, you must have brought it back from yours while he was asleep. Making a mental note to return it later he placed it on the coffee table in front of the couch next to a bookmark he also didn’t recognize and a hair tie that certainly didn’t belong to this apartment. Also placed precariously on the table was a mug that was his own, a thin layer of tea still at the bottom of it along with a tea strainer he didn’t recognize no doubt containing tea leaves whose tin wasn’t native to his cabinets.

Over the course of the day the table had become a mismatched pile of yours and his things within his apartment.

Robby found he rather liked the look of it.

[unrequi]

I don't know what, but something about her made me feel interest I have never felt before, a fascination of what was drawing me in. Something about her made me want to bare my soul, to explain, to tell her of how I feel, not in a seeking ownership kind of way but so that she could know of her effect on me. I desired to find out the thing that drew me to her, what was it about her, what quality did she have that made me like a moth to a flame. I think of her and I have to take a deep breathe and compose myself knowing that we may never speak the same, we may never exist the same. I wanted to know her, to find out what, to find out why, to know and to know, not as a partner but as a comrade, as a friend, as a confidante, but you can't tell people these things or they will think you insane. What makes it worse is I will never know if there was any mutuality of interest, and there probably wasn't. How torturous is it to be drawn towards someone who thinks not of you and feels not the same in friendship and in interest. My love for her means I must keep this contained, she must not know, she must live her life in peace doing what she does best, being great, and magnetic, and quiet, and wise. She will always be fascinating to me, she will always make me have to take a deep breath, and maybe the ache will decrease, the longing will decrease, the sadness will go away one day. My love will not trouble her, and I hope she is granted such love from another however form it takes.

"I Loved You", Alexander Pushkin (translated by Antony Wood)

[kisses4themissus]

Unknown Feeling | M.R X Reader

a/n: wydm i gotta go to work now :'( pairing: Michael "Robby" Robinavitch X Single Mom!Reader wc: 2.4k

!! warning; semi proof read !!

prev | masterlist | send me a love letter ♡

It was off, lacey sat across from nick with a look of uncertainty.

“I got you a gift buggy!” Nick smiled as he grabbed a small gabby cat keychain form his pocket, lacey smiled politely at it; truth be told lacey had hated the kids show, her allergy to cats filled it, only acting happy to please you.

“Thank you, nick.” She gently placed it down on the table beside her, you held back a laugh at the motion, the hidden look of disgust on her little face.

“Nick? I’m dada!” Nick smiled, making you nod and smooth the hairs on lacey’s head.

“You’re name is nicolas though!” She explained, looking at her mom, as if asking if the man in front of them was dumb. “I heard you’ve been doing ballet, you like it?” Nick asked, scooting the the edge of your couch.

You saw the plain difference, robby had asked the same question and gotten a whole exclamation of her ballet moves and class while now nick only gotten a small nod. “I’m going to be a rat again.” Lacey explained, looking to the side before back at you. “Can i get a juice, mommy?” She asked politely making you nod before getting up.

Not long after you left nick followed, sighing as he leaned against the kitchen island, admiring you.

You pulled out a small juice box, many cartoon animals on the carton, as you cleaned up you stood at the sight of nick. “What is it?” You asked, grabbing a small pack of pretzels for a snack for lovebug.

“Motherhood suits you y’know? The whole material is your vibe.” He chuckled, moving closer to you. 

“Opposited to your non paternal vibe?” You joked, laughing at it.

He rolled his eyes playfully and moved closer to you. “I could take care of you girls, i’ve got my own place not the far from the studio, you could quit the hospital and take care of lacey full time…maybe some more?” His words made you scoff.

“Sure, so you can leave again!” You smirked, placing your hands on your hips. “I was young, didn’t know what i even wanted.” Nick tried to defend, making you scoff. 

“And i wasn’t?” You asked, tilting your head to the side slightly. Nick sighed and stared at you for a moment before scoffing at you, an annoyed smile on his face as he paced the room.

“I get it now, you want me out so you can make that emergency doctor to her dad!” He accused, at his words you couldn’t help but laugh at his audacity. “You know what, he’d probably be a better dad than a deadbeat like yourself.” You scoffed, picking up the juice box and walked over to lacey who had zoned into her cartoons.

Nick walked over and sat down beside lacey. The little girl drank her juice and watched you both before going back to the TV.

“You excited to be a rat this year, baby?” Nick asked, lacey nodded wordlessly. 

“What do you plan on doing?” He asked, trying to start a conversation. Lacey sighed and blinked slowly, “Dance.”

Nick sighed and got up from the couch, this meeting clearly not working in his favor.

- - - - - - - -

It had driven robby crazy, you had been avoiding him at all cost. When you would run into him you’d refer to him as dr. robinavitch, there had been rumors of your own dating life going around now, robby had hoped none were true.

You had been spotted several times getting into a truck with a random guy. One of the nurses said they had seen you out in public with him at grocery stores and coffee shops.

Robby knew deep down he shouldn’t have felt that way after he hadn’t cleared up rumors of him and collins together. It was a constant thought in his head, were you and lacey happy with...him?

Sighing as he leaned onto central before getting pulled away by a trauma, most of his days had gone faster as he thought of several ways he could apologize to you, it had killed him to see the look of love change to nothing, as if you never opened up to him. He sighed as the EMTs rolled in more patients.

Robby glanced over them before sending them to open rooms and some into the trauma rooms. All while assisting the residents and interns robby couldn’t help but let his thoughts drift off to you.

As he exited the trauma room, tossing his gloves into the nearest trach can he mindlessly looked up and stopped as two ICU nurses rolled you in on a wheelchair, vomit bag in hand. “She keeps fainting, vomiting excessively and a high fever.” The nurses began listening off your symptoms to robby as you gagged into the vomit bag.

He knelt down and looked over you, ignore the death stare you gave him, he nodded and motioned for the closed off room. “Don’t do it robinavitch!” You warned him, your hand gripping one of the nurses hands as she went to wheel you away, stopping her from doing so. 

He smirked at you and tugged your hand back to your lap, following behind the nurses. “Too bad, it’s my ED, and I think you don’t look too good.” He chuckled, as you thrashed from the nurses. “I’ll go into an urgent care after work!” You yelled, glaring as one prepared an IV.

“You work at a hospital for gods sake, just see one here!” One of them groaned, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t make me give you propofol!” She warned, at he threat you groaned and helped the two as you got into a hospital bed.

As robby went to check you over a trauma caught his attention, he looked at you for a moment before leaving to the trauma, leaving you and the nurses in the room.

As you fell in and out of sleep, a knock on the door made you glance up, both dr. collins and dr. king stood at the door. You sighed and attempted to sit up. “Heard the ICU’s best finally fell.” Collins teased earning a small nod, you attempted not to be upset at heather, she couldn’t have known about you and robby either..

“Lovebug caught something, I assume it’s the stomach flu.” You sighed, motioning to the several vomit bags now laid out nearby in case. Dr. king sighed looking between you and collins. “We just need to rule out other things, Um– is there a chance you could be pregnant?” Mel asked politely, making you snort at the question, you shook your head at her.

“We’ll still have to run a test to be sure but more than likely you probably caught a stomach bug.” She nodded, handing you a testing cup. You nodded and got up with the help of the two women. Mel had helped walk you to the bathroom, quickly filling the cup.

You washed your hands and let your thought go to your patients upstairs or lacey’s practice. With a groan you realized you had left your phone upstairs on your desk. Walking out of the restroom, you walked over to mel and handed the test over.

Thankfully collins had gotten pulled away and mel walked to the lab to have the sample tested. You looked around, it had seemed busy, quickly making your way to the elevators, as your foot stepped in, a firm hands stopped you. “That’ll be an AMA, get back to your bed!” Langdon scolded, making you groan.

“I thought i was in the clear,” You whined as langdon guided you away from the elevators.

“I just left my phone upstairs, please can i go get it?” You begged, making him snort a laugh. “Sure you did, i’ll send an intern up.” He watched as you got back into the bed before flagging down whittaker to get your phone. The blond nodded and scurried away.

“I have two legs y’know?” You rolled your eyes, langdon shook his head. “And excessive vomiting, don’t need someone slipping in your dinner..” He smiled before leaving to central.

- - - - - - - -

It had been about two hours since you had tested, majority of the ED workers had “happened” to be passing by your room. You had managed to fall asleep, the fatigue hitting hard. 

A soft knock made you wake from the light daze you had fallen in. Mel stood at the door with her eyebrows furrowed. She stepped in and stood up closer to your bed. “Um- I got your results back.. It’s actually positive…” Her words make your stomach drop.

“Excuse me?” You asked, feeling ringing in your ears at the news. “You’re pregnant, congratulations, or if you need we can have a medical abortion, totally your choice!” Mel ressured, making you nod, your thought going wild. 

“Don’t put it on my chart please, um– just say it’s the stomach flu..” You asked the doctor who nodded, a bit confused but agreed. She had quickly dismissed you, helping you as you disconnected from the IVs, you shrugged on your jacket and walked back upstairs, quietly.

Lacey was going to be an older sister? It had to be robby’s child, you had refused to let nick get near you in any intimate way. Your thoughts ran wild the elevator ride. 

As you sat back down at your desk, you placed your hands on your head, wishing the world would swallow you whole at the moment. One of the nurses walked over and watched over you. “You alright?” She asked, eyeing you carefully. With a nod you sighed and got up to attend to the patients nearby, distracting yourself from the news.

As your shift had continued you couldn’t help but want to see the results yourself after seeing on your period tracker your cycle had been late,  quickly telling the others you needed to buy something at the cafeteria you had slipped down to the ED, making your way to their supply closet.

Slipping into the room, you searched over the shelves before landing on the pregnancy tests they used. You grabbed three and shoved them into your jacket pockets, making sure nothing stuck out.

As you went to leave, robby entered the room and blocked you in. You scoffed, the universe had it out for you that day. 

“Can i get by dr. robinavitch?” You asked, not making eye contact. 

“Not unless we talk.” He shook his head, crossing his arms as you nodded and looked around the room. “Dr. king cleared me, i have the stomach flu, lacey caught one from the kids at the studio..” You explained, grabbing a vomit bag in case, you quite literally couldn’t stomach the situation. 

“I mean about the park, these past few weeks..about us?” Robby kept his gaze on you, watching as you look down at your shoes; those pregnancy test burning a hole into your pocket as he kept talking.

“Talk? Talk about you randomly running off and appearing in a relationship the next week?” You asked, scoffing, your outburst taking robby off guards. “We should talk about this another time michael, i have patients and so do you. Now if i may leave!” You excused yourself and pushed past him and ran back upstairs to the nearest secluded bathroom.

Robby sighed and groaned as you ran past him, refusing to speak to him, calling him michael, it wasn’t like how he imagined it would go, rather then it sounding soft and filled with love, now it had a serious tone and nothing more.

Robby huffed into his hands as you left him in the supply closet, he couldn’t help but grow frustrated at his own actions.

As he leaned his forehead against the shelving, the supply door opened.

“Sorry to interrupted your breakdown but no one had taken a look at a dancer with a broken ankle in south 15..” Dana informed, watching as robby took a moment before nodding at her. “Yeah– yeah i’ll be there..” He sighed, running a hand over his head before walking out of the supply closet.

- - - - - - - -

“Hi there, i’m dr. robby, heard you have a broken–!” Robby stopped as he made eye contact with the three girls in the room, cursing under his breath.

Lacey sat on the patients mom’s lap, tapping away on her tablet while the mom quietly rocked lacey and herself on the plastic chair. “Broken ankle, um–how did it occur?” Robby asked, grabbing the nearest stool and sat down by the patient’s ankle.

“Dance practice…I was suppose to be our sugar plum..” The teen sighed, resting her head on gurney’s railing. Robby nodded and looked over to the ankle before nodding to himself. “Looks like you’ll be needing a cast and a replacement.” He sighed, his gaze following to lacey who had occasionally looked up from he tablet to listen.

“I told her only to do four pirouette’s for the practice...” Lacey muttered under her breath, robby hid a smiled as he typed up the order on the computer. “How many can you do?” Robby asked lacey, turning as she looked at robby before looking to the teen in the gurney. “I’m not showing you, look at what happened!” She said dramatically, patted the teen’s uninjured leg in comfort.

“A nurse should be in to set things up for the cast, then i’ll be back.” Robby smiled and went to leave the room, quickly waving to lacey before exiting.

- - - - - - - 

You paced the bathroom as the test laid face down, the timer on your phone going. As you thought of possibilities your phone rang, looking at the contact you sighed and answered.

“Yes mom?” 

“Oh perfect you answered, listen anna had a bad fall and her mother called to say that she won’t be able to be in the show and well me and marissa were going through the storage unit and happened to find your old sugar plum and it’s perfect since tomorrow evening the photographer will be here..” SHe hinted making you scoff.

“I haven’t done sugar plum since I was eighteen, nice try mom..” You sighed.

She scoffed on the other side before confessing. “Fine, when i picked lacey up, i may have snooped through your closet to have your costume resized, it should fit like a glove honey!” She reassured.

You sighed, going to open your mouth but stopping as the timer went off. “Yeah, sure mom. um–I’ll call you in bit!” You quickly hung up the phone and flipped over the test results.

All tests laid out the same result.

Negative.

lovebug taglist!! @nerdgirljen @whatdoesntkillyoumakesyoustrange @snowflames-world @evans-dejong @lovebuggyies @itschelseacisneros @kmc1989 @foolishseven @rhysology @delicatetrashtree @whimsicalfungiforager @equallyshaw @qardasngan @fallout-girl219 @dantemorenatalie @18lkpeters @ohmystrawberrycheesecake @blackblueberries @swiftie-4-lifes-stuff @isla-finke-blog @baileythepenguin @khaleesibeach @obfuscateyummy @li22ie2017 @hagarsays @catmomstyles3 @antisocialfiore @journalism2004 @capswife @obsessed-fan-alert @sabrinaselina55

[freakmcnastyy]

After Last Night

Geum Seongjae x f!reader

Warnings: mentions of sex, smoking, one-night stand

Note: Heyyy this is my first fan fiction ever, and honestly I’m super nervous. I know Seongjae is supposed to be 17, but let’s just say he’s 18 for safety reasons. Also, English isn’t my first language, so please be kind!

-> Pt.2 / Pt.3

This isn’t where you were supposed to end up. Not in a stranger’s bed. The club? Fine. But this? No.

How did it happen?

The last thing you remembered was a guy —glasses, orange and white jacket— buying you a drink. And now… this. You were naked, barely covered by a white blanket. Something hard was pressing against your head. You turned to your left.

There he was.

His arm was awkwardly slung under your head like he wasn’t sure how to cuddle. He reeked of smoke and alcohol. You sat up slowly, wincing. The room was a mess —your clothes, his clothes, all over the floor. Your head throbbed, your body ached, especially between your legs.

On the nightstand, you saw a wallet. You grabbed it —not to steal anything, just… curiosity.

Geum Seongjae, age 18. Just like you.

Made sense. That club was full of 17-18 year olds anyway.

You stood up as quietly as you could and started putting on your black dress from the night before. You tried to ignore the dull pain in your body, especially there. You were so focused on leaving, you didn’t notice he was awake.

He sat up in bed.

You turned —your eyes met.

All that wild energy from last night was gone. Maybe it was just the morning daze.

“Morning,” he said, grinning lazily. You felt… weird.

You were already dressed and looking around for your phone.

“Where’s my phone?” you asked.

He yawned. “If you were so eager to leave, why didn’t you just go last night?”

He got out of bed, pulling on gray sweats and a black t-shirt. Another yawn.

“Probably in the car,” he muttered, grabbing his keys from the table and walking out.

He didn’t say anything else, but you followed.

You both headed to the parking lot.

He unlocked the car and gave you a little nod.

You grabbed your phone and purse.

The back windows were still foggy. Handprints. The whole car still smelled like sex.

You tried not to think about it. You turned to leave without a word. He watched you. Longer than necessary. He was used to one-night stands. So were you.

“Wait,” he called out.

You stopped, turned.

You just wanted to go.

He smirked and walked up to you quickly.

“Last night… wasn’t bad. I’d like to do it again.”

Was he serious? Joking? You couldn’t tell.

“I don’t sleep with the same person twice,” you said flatly.

It was your way to avoid emotional attachment.

“I’ll pay you.”

That one hit different. He sounded more serious now.

You stared. “Do I look like someone who does this for money?”

“Not at all. You look pretty decent, actually. The money’s just… an offer. Take as much as you want.”

You could’ve said yes.

Easy money.

And let’s be honest—he was hot. Doing it again wouldn’t exactly be disgusting.

“I’ll think about it,” you said, swallowing your pride.

You handed him your phone to put in his number.

He chuckled.

“Already saved it last night. As ‘Wolf.’ With a black heart.”

Still grinning like an idiot.

You rolled your eyes.

You looked back at him one last time before walking away for good.

He watched you disappear, then went back inside.

The car needed cleaning anyway.

With a bunch of wipes and cleaner in hand, he came back down.

Opened the back door.

That’s when he saw it—a silver sparkle on the seat.

A necklace.

Yours.

Obvious.

He smiled again.

He’d give it back next time.

For now, he slipped it into his pocket.

[reidmotif]

Off the Record

Summary: Reader is hellbent on not confessing while the BAU is interrogating her. Spencer Reid finds an.. unconventional tactic that'll break her.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: f!receiving oral, f!masturbation, mentions of typical CM violence, o-denial, slight dbcon, pinv sex, rough sex/make-out, semi-public sex.

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist

There's reward in going unnoticed. 

Some would obviously say otherwise. There’s an argument to be made that it’s better to make your presence known, to announce who you are to the world with no apology or shame. 

After all, if no one sees you, truly sees you, what separates your existence from those who live and those who were never here to begin with? 

And of course, this may be true for some, but what do you say to those who live an existence fated to stay under the cover of darkness? To seal the horrors in Pandora’s Box out of mercy for a world that was never ready for you in the first place? 

Despite your reasons for staying quiet, Spencer Reid seemed determined to break you. 

“You’re not making this any easier on yourself, you know?” Spencer muttered, sitting across from you in the dim light of the interrogation room. His exhaustion was evident, the prolonged questioning taking a toll on his psyche.

 “You’d save yourself a lot of trouble if you just confessed.” 

His voice was low and tired, the hours wearing him thin. 

“Where’s the fun in that, Agent Reid?” You respond, cocking an eyebrow, your hands crossed over your chest. You pause, before adding: “Besides. Nothing to confess.” 

“Dr Reid.” He firmly corrects.

You’re defiant, consistently repeating the same lines you’d flung at every agent that had approached you for the past sixteen hours, since the moment you’d been torn away from the safety of your apartment. 

It was too bad. Even on what seemed to be a hard day, Spencer Reid was dreadfully handsome. 

Spencer let a deep exhale exit his nose, a testament to his growing frustration, and a half-hearted attempt to ground himself. “Liam Brown, Noah Williams, Theodore Smith.” He says, pushing various crime scene pictures towards you over the table. “All victims of a prolific black widow we’ve been chasing for months.” 

The images are gruesome, meant to provoke you. You give a response, but perhaps not the one they intended. Disgust slips into your expression before you can stop yourself, but you look away in the end, unwilling to yield and give yourself away. Nobody needed to know that you felt no pity for the men on the table. 

“A connection isn’t the same as probable cause, and I know my rights.” You snap, your body language making it clear that you were nowhere near giving them the answers you wanted.  “You can’t hold me any longer than forty-eight hours.” 

Spencer rubs a hand over his face, clearly exasperated. With no further words exchanged between the two of you, he rises from his chair, allowing the metal furniture to scrape softly against the floor, before disappearing to the other side of the one-way mirror that stood in front of you.

 You didn’t need to see him to know that his gaze was trained on you, even then. 

 Waiting for the moment you’d snap. 

Too bad he’d never get what he wanted. 

Several minutes pass by whilst you’re alone in the room. The air wraps around you, tension making a home through every inch of you as your thoughts run wild in the silence. 

What was your endgame here? Could you really outsmart the FBI? They still had about thirty-one hours with you. What would they do? 

Before you can answer any of your own questions, Spencer re-enters, but something’s shifted this time. The previous fatigue that plagued him just minutes ago was no longer there, but rather replaced with a defiance and intensity that mirrored your own. You’re already getting ready to fight, to match the shift in his demeanor, but he doesn’t give you the  chance.  

“Get up,” He barks out, his voice sharp and full of command that wasn’t previously there.

You narrow your eyes, still trying to maintain your resistance in the face of the new persona he seemed to be sporting. “Am I free to go?” 

He laughs, but it’s a sound completely devoid of humor.

 “Did I say that? No.” He answers his own question, sharply. “Get up. I won’t repeat myself.” 

Despite your desire to resist on principle, his tone carries a threat you can’t quite name yet. An involuntary shiver that passes through your body, and suddenly it seems like you’re better off complying, rather than sticking to your old patterns. 

Your body reacts. You’re unsure if you’re being led by fear, instinct, or something darker, but regardless of what it is, you’re compelled to listen to him, slowly rising to your feet. 

He wastes absolutely no time, gripping your arm with a bruising force as he leads you out of the stale room, his movements swift and purposeful. 

The cold metal of the cuffs bite into your wrists, a physical and unignorable manifestation of his regulation over your current predicament.  No matter what kind of show you put on, you weren’t the one in control. 

The halls around you stretch endlessly. Sterile, blank walls stare back at you, as if mocking you for ever entering in the first place. Each corner looks like the last, every turn erasing the one before it. You’re led deeper and deeper within the bones of the building, further and further away from prying eyes and pesky cameras. 

He doesn’t want you found. These hallways would never allow you to leave. He had you trapped.

And then, after what feels like an eternity of movement with no end in sight, you’re met with an elevator. It’s unmarked, and immediately you can tell you’re not supposed to be here. It’s a service elevator, the type meant to carry cargo, not people. 

And yet here you are.

There’s a foreboding silence as Spencer presses the button with a decisive jab to call the machinery. The doors creak open ominously, and he shoves you into the claustrophobic space without ceremony.

He’s so close you can feel his hot breath against the bare skin of your neck, the firm press of his body anchoring you in place, serving as an oppressive weight that reminds you there’s no escape. 

The thick silence between the two of you stretches as the elevator shudders to life. It’s the type of quiet that makes your body buzz with uneasy anticipation for what’s to come.

This isn’t protocol. You knew that, at this point. Whatever he was leading to you, you knew it couldn’t fare well for you. As the doors open to your destination, the ultimate question lingers in your chest. 

What was he going to do to you? 

The elevator doors hiss open, and instead of another line of sterile corridors, you’re met with the warm night air, the type of heat that only summer could provide. You blink, momentarily disoriented by the sudden change in scenery and the darkness, until your eyes adjust and you process where you are. 

The roof? 

You barely have anytime to register what’s occurred before Spencer is pulling you forward. You hear the elevator doors close with a soft, final clink behind you, and know you’re well and truly stuck here now. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask, voice barely audible. 

Spencer doesn’t stop moving, dragging you towards the parapet. “Thought we could use some fresh air. You’ve been inside for a while now.” 

The words are sweet, falling from his mouth easily, but the tone is all wrong. While you might be persuaded to believe in his consideration for your well-being, the sincerity of the statement is voided by the controlled cadence he delivers with it. It almost sounds rehearsed, a calculated and careful manipulation in an attempt to gain your trust. 

You’re absolutely sure he’s not as truthful about his intentions as he’d like you to believe. 

The space he’s leading you on is wide and industrial, filled with empty crates and encircled by dark, thick forestry on all sides. The pale moonlight spills across the rooftop, giving you a clearer view of your surroundings. 

You wouldn’t say it, of course, but it also got you a better look at Spencer’s expression. It doesn’t help, though. His lips are set in a straight line, eyes fixed ahead, face unreadable within the low light. Damn it. 

“I come up here to think.” Spencer says quietly, almost to himself. “The quiet makes everything easier.” He murmurs. 

His grip loosens around you as you reach the guardrail, but you’re much too on guard to make any sudden movements. You don’t slip away, opting to stick right beside him, close enough that you can still feel the body heat emanating from his person. 

“Why am I here?” You ask, voice a bit quiet to match the serenity of your location. 

“I figured you might need to think too.” He says, voice deep, taking in the view.  “You’ve got a tough decision to make, you know.” He says, head turning so his eyes can lock onto yours.

You ignore the implications of his statement, opting to narrow your eyes instead.  “Are we even allowed to be up here?” 

That earns you a quiet laugh under his breath. “Now you care about the rules? You do realize why you’re here in the first place, right?” 

The irony isn’t lost on you, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction of playing into his hand. “Not everyone plays by the same rules.” You retort, meeting his gaze with a steady look of your own.  

He pauses, licking his lips, whilst nodding in a noncommittal manner. “I agree to some extent.” 

He gives another long pause, before adding, “And yes, you’re right. We aren’t supposed to be here. But there aren’t any cameras up here, and I doubt anyone’s missing you.” 

His eyes focus on you, then. “I think you and I can agree that not everything worth doing isn’t always.. allowed.” 

That catches your attention. “What do you mean?”

He stalks closer to you, chuckling at your sudden piqued interest. “See.” He begins. “You want something. And I think I can give it to you.” 

The words strike something in you, and suddenly you feel too exposed. You don’t respond for a moment, before finding your voice again, in a mumbled, hoarse noise. 

“I want something?” 

He steps even closer, eyes fixed on you with a focus that borders on intimate. “Don’t play dumb. I saw it the second I walked in. Pupils blown out, your thighs pressing together under the table.” He gives an uncharacteristic smirk, as if he can’t help his pride at this moment.  

“You don’t do a very good job of hiding when you’re attracted to someone.” 

You blink, immediately flustered, feeling much more exposed than you did a moment ago. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. You’re attracted to me.” He repeats a hint of cockiness in his speech. 

“If you think I’m fucking you in exchange for a confession, you’re wrong.” You snark back, trying to build up some defense against the (very true) accusations he laid at your feet. 

“So you’re not attracted to me?” He replies, same, smug smile still gracing his features. 

“No.” You scoff, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, I’m sure you won’t mind me checking then.” He says, his hubris overwhelmingly obvious. 

Again, as is custom with him, you’re given no time to figure out what he even means before he’s on his knees in record time, nimble fingers hovering over the metal button of your jeans. He looks up at you, and you lick your lips, giving him a small, imperceptible nod on impulse. 

He wastes no time quickly pulling the denim past your hips, before grinning wildly at the sight that faced him. 

“You’re wet.” He murmurs, knuckles trailing over the wet patch that had settled in between your thighs. 

His fingers find your clit through the fabric, and he rubs them against it, the lace of your panties creating the most delicious friction between your folds. You shudder, your cuffed hands darting out to grab the metal railing to steady yourself. 

“Mm. And you say you’re not attracted to me.” He says, arrogance radiating off him in waves, practically singing the words to you.

“Shut up.” You garble out, not wanting to admit just how good this felt, despite the overwhelming evidence against you at that moment. 

“What? Are you always this wet?” He chuckles, pulling his fingers away, depriving you of your growing orgasm. Your eyes snap open at the loss of pleasure. 

“Why…” You whine, looking down at him from where he was currently situated between your thighs. 

“Say you want this.” He says, voice firm.

“I..” You start, voice quiet. 

You don’t want to. You couldn’t fall for him. Couldn’t give up what you’d worked so hard to build. But then your eyes meet his, and you see it. The undeniable hunger. The promise of a pleasure deeper than anything you could ever give yourself. You sigh heavily, before surrendering to it, not wanting to deny yourself of what this man so clearly has to offer. 

“I want this.” 

“Good fucking girl.” He murmurs, voice full of praise. He moves to slide your underwear down your thighs, motioning for you to step out of your jeans and to spread your legs, your thighs and sex completely bared to him. 

And then his tongue is everywhere, lapping over your core, slowly, from your entrance to your clit. He starts gently, allowing the tip of the wet muscle to circle  around the throbbing bud, before sucking it into his mouth, the suction driving you delirious. 

“Ahh.” You moan, your head lolling backwards, your eyes rolling to the back into your head. This man’s mouth was heaven sent. 

He pulls back from you, a lopsided grin on his face. “That’s right. Let me hear you. Let everyone hear you.” 

Exhibitionist.

He guides your thigh to be hiked over his shoulder, and with no further words exchanged between the two of you, starts to eat you out with renewed vigor. He enthusiastically devours you from below, his face buried in your pussy as he drinks your arousal in like a man starved. 

You’re an absolute mess above him. As much as it infuriates you to admit it, he’s undeniably good at this, and your orgasm is fast approaching. Maybe it’s the sight of him, his wavy brown hair between your thighs, and how every so often you catch a glimpse of his expression, eyes closed as if he was experiencing the highest form of heaven simply by eating you out.

The warm, wet muscle thrusts into your entrance, wrapping around you and exploring every inch of you with a heartfelt desire to leave no part of your sex untouched. 

“Oh god. Oh god! Dr Reid. I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come.” You moan out, unashamed. Why would you be? Your words were lost to the night that surrounded you two, swallowed by the darkness that concealed all of his ministries. 

He doesn’t let up, and you can feel yourself getting closer and closer. You’re right there, and just before you find yourself falling into that endless pit of pleasure, he pulls back, leaving you on the precipice of a little death. 

Motherfucker. 

You pant, in shock and still relentlessly needy for your release. “You- you stopped.” You say, voice shaky. 

“I did. Ready to talk?” He asks, a grin on his face. His mouth is glistening with your arousal, and he licks it off his lips. The sight is erotic enough to make your legs shake again, the flame of desire in you rising higher and higher.

But you see through his game, and you feel that familiar pride rise hot within your chest. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Your voice sharp and hiss-like. 

“I’d rather just fuck you.” He says cheekily, and you believe he’s going to go behind you but instead, he hauls you up, and crashes your lips on his. 

You immediately melt into the kiss with no hesitation, the fight draining out of you in favor of your need for this man. You desperately wish your hands were unbound so you could pull him closer, but the cuffs remind you that it’s his mercy you’re at. 

 In the end, it doesn’t matter though, because Spencer is doing all the work for you, pressing his body towards yours, as his tongue manages to invade your mouth. You taste your heady release on him, and moan, your back arching in a desperate attempt for more.

“Sorry.” He mumbles lips brushing against yours as he pulls back, almost sheepishly. “Had to do that at least once.”

 It’s almost endearing, the way he’s acting. Eating you out was no trouble for him at all, but kissing you is what made him shy. The contrast has you giggling despite everything, and he flashes you a crooked smile in return. 

Then, you feel it. The press of his bulge, hard and insistent, straining the fabric of his slacks. His hands slide up your back, gentle and firm all in the same, while he bends you over against the parapet. He steps in close behind you, and the quiet sounds of his belt being undone reach your ears. 

You know exactly where this is leading. 

Your eyes are fixed ahead as you tense in anticipation for him, and then feel his cock, sliding and teasing you, collecting the wetness that had remained between your folds.

He’s big, and just the feeling of it makes you go weak in the knees. 

He slides into you with a smooth, singulair thrust, and immediately sets a steady rhythm, his hips snapping against yours. You can hear the sound of flesh on flesh, the sound creating the perfect background to the debauchery you two were indulging in. You can hear his grunts behind you, the way his breath goes heavy with every hump he deals into you. 

“God, so wet, so-” He moans, unable to form a coherent sentence. A rush of pride runs through you, knowing you’re the one able to make him feel this good, that it was you that was unraveling him and dragging those desperate, pretty sounds from his parted lips. 

You arch your back in an attempt to take him deeper, moans and whimpers escaping you with every drag of his thick cock inside of you. How was someone so hellbent on your downfall so fucking good at making you feel this way? You involuntarily clench around him when the head of his dick nudges against that spot deep inside of you, the action causing a throaty yelp to escape from you. 

“God, you like that? Can feel you getting close.” He says, his voice with a slight edge to it. 

“Yes. Fuck- love this.” You moan, unable to deny the truth of how wonderful he made you feel. 

He hears it. Smirks. “You wanna come?” 

You nod, moaning obscenely. “Yes, please. Let me come.” 

You push your hips back against his, encouraging him to go harder, faster, and to finally take you over that edge, and he obliges, reveling in your greed. 

“Tell me what I want to know.” He breathes, low and deep. “Come on. I know you can.” 

Your mind reels. You’ve managed to hold back for so long, to maintain the facade, and it was never your intention to give it up like this. But with every thrust, your resistance crumbles more and more. He was fucking you dumb.

“I- I arrange the kills.” You moan. “I don’t murder anyone- I just, oh god. I help!” 

You can practically feel his smirk, and his movements faltering as he nears his own release. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

You want to throw back an insult, something clever, but instead, all that comes out of your mouth is a long, wrecked moan, your cunt clenching rhythmically around him as you tremble around him. In a daze, you can feel him reaching his breaking point as well, a loud groan slipping from him as his hips hold you in place, his warmth filling your deepest point. 

His chest presses against your back, his breath ragged. 

“You should get a lawyer.” He mumbles, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Appreciate it.” You say, dazed, and oddly.. content? You should regret this, but the feeling of his cum dripping down your thighs makes you forget that instantly. 

“You should thank me.” He murmurs, lips brushing against your shoulder.

“Why?” You murmur, confused.

He chuckles slowly. "You're in our custody now. Which means I get to keep you close."

You can’t say you’re mad about that. 

would you believe me if i said this is the most unsure ive EVER been on a fic. even more than my first attempt at writing a whump. anyway. i hope you guys liked this fic... please interact if you did? ive said this before but reblogs are the lifeblood of Tumblr and if you want my work to reach more people.. that is the way <3 and omg if you didn't like it. please give me feedback. anyway. thank you so so much for reading!!!! i so appreciate it regardless!! okay also this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins "stuck together" challenge so. go check that out as well!! okay bye!!!

[tzipporahs-well]

The worst part comes from when professors are totally fine and/or encourage using AI for classes and studying like in my department. As a PhD student, I hate this top down encouragement.

In a small anecdotal case study (class had 8 people including myself and the other student), one of my grad school classes and professors heavily encouraged AI use in class and for study. I refused to use any AI and I pretended to use AI in class when the professor said to use GenAI (I actually used my brain and a search engine). One of the people in the same class and lab as me used AI and encouraged me to use AI.

I got the highest scores on the exams. He got some of the lowest scores on the exams. I don’t know how much or how little other people in the class used AI. Most probably they used “assistive” AI in ranges between my usage and the other student’s usage.

It is making both professors and students much lazier, and it should be unacceptable for both professors and students to use AI in that context***. For the professors that say it’s fine: no. You are setting a poor example for students who may not have thought about using AI before and reinforcing other students’ dependency on AI. It’s especially unethical in my opinion for professors to feed their students’ work into AI without consent. If colleges and universities want to stem the plague, they need to set the example. Letting AI slide only encourages or reinforces this kind of cheating. Will it work from all the way down? No but it can prevent people who might otherwise not engage. I have other thoughts on education and core curricula since those were mentioned in the article, but that would derail the main topic.

*In certain fields like biomedical sciences (structural biology, pharmacology, biochemistry, etc.), the field gets more complex with things like AlphaFold and drug discovery. Usually the proteins have already been generated, and so you are extracting them from a database. The benefits of this tech are massive (new medications) even if the costs are also large (energy, water, and environment). Generating something myself from scratch using AlphaFold leans into that moral gray zone for me. In my opinion it differs from ChatGPT and similar because the latter provides minimal benefits for the more costs (in addition to the environmental costs, using AI in these contexts ‘rots’ people’s brains) while the former does something that we as experimenters can’t always do. Still though, I deeply resent AI for taking away entry-level high school opportunities for research (ex: radiology). People’s opinions on this may vary.

Generative AI has destroyed academia.

In the next few decades we’re going to have thousands of people who don’t really know anything, and can’t do any critical thinking.

[urmommysfavkisserrr]

Marry Me?

°•☆•° - Paige Bueckers x Ex-Wife Reader (Brazilian)

°•☆•° - When the weeks of stress finally catch up to you and leave you bedridden, Paige is there to nurse you back to health, and maybe make a few promises along the way.

°•☆•° - Part Three of End Of Her Rope. Final Part. Less sad!! For those I promised like a week ago, I'm sorry!

°•☆•° - 4525 words.

Part 1 | Part 2

°•°•☆°•°•°•☆•°•°•°☆•°•°

After that argument ‘ended’, you rolled over and ignored the world for the rest of the day. Paige was the one who picked up the girls from school when you refused to wake up, and even picked up dinner. She fed them, bathed them, checked their homework, put them to bed, and picked up around the still very messy house.

It was the same situation the next morning. Paige was up the second she heard Medora’s bedroom door open, meeting the tiny feet in the hallway with a soft smile and a tilted head. She fed both girls, got them dressed, packed their lunches, and got them off to school with time to spare.

That day, you slept until two pm, only waking up when you felt cold hands on your forehead and cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you had fallen asleep, or were sleeping that deeply. "Hm.."

Paige watched as your eyes barely opened to meet her gaze.

“Hmph..” she hummed, a soft smirk on her lips as her hand moved to push a few loose strands of hair out of your face. “Finally awake, huh?”

With a heavily sleep-slurred speech, you slid up to rest on your elbows. Attempting to blink and squint at the same time. "whattime s'it"

“About two o’clock,” Paige responded, her hand coming to gently rest on your cheek with that crooked smile of hers. “Slept long enough?”

You groaned softly, sniffling as you readjusted and stretched out. Shifting to lie back down on your stomach and hide your face deep in the pillows that now hold your ex-wife's all too comforting smell.

“You were out for a long time,” Paige said softly, her thumb gently tracing your cheek. She noticed the way she sniffled and the sick look in your eyes. “You’re still feeling crappy, huh?”

"Hm?"

“You still don’t feel good,” Paige said again, her hand gently touching your forehead once more. “You’ve got a bit of a fever, Ma…nothing too dangerous, but just enough for me to be able to say I told you so.”

You let out another groan, the sound and your words now muffled by the overly fluffy pillow. "Being broke don't make you sick."

Paige sighed softly, her hand moving down to your cheek. “Your body is weak because you’re not getting the necessary nutrition you need. That’s gonna make you sick. That, plus the stress you’re under all the time and the lack of sleep is gonna kick your immune system’s ass. Your body can only take so much. You need rest, and you need proper nutrition. If you don’t get that, you’re going to get sick and stay sick. Especially with the way you’re handling yourself right now.”

Paige pulled her arm over your waist, pulling you a bit closer. “And you need to be nicer to yourself. Stop taking care of everyone before you take care of yourself.”

Your lips faintly frowned, a small pout on your lips as you blinked up at Paige through glossy and bleary, tired eyes.

The frown on your face broke Paige’s heart.

“Stop pouting,” Paige said softly, gently bopping you on the nose. She could tell just by looking that you were still feeling pretty crappy.

"Make me." You grumbled, more to yourself than anything, as you picked your head back up.

“Oh? Don’t give me a reason to.” Paige responded, an eyebrow slowly rising. “'Cause I’ll gladly make you, baby.”

You shrank back away from the blonde's face, which was slowly getting closer, shaking your head. "noIjustwantedakiss"

Paige let out a soft laugh. How the hell was she supposed to stay mad at her? She couldn’t. “You wanted a kiss?” She repeated, one hand gently moving to play with your hair.

"Mhm. Cuz im icky." You nodded, batting your lashes.

“Mhm,” Paige said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Yeah...you’re real icky.”

Her hand continued to play with your hair as she spoke, her tone becoming serious. “You’re not icky. You just look a little sick. That’s all. But guess what?”

"Hm?"

“You’re still just…the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Doesn’t matter how you feel or how you look, you’re always going to be perfect to me. I don’t care if you’re a little icky. You’re getting a kiss anyway.” Paige said, her hand moving from your hair to gently grip your chin and keep your eyes on hers.

"Hm..take me to dinner first.." you weakly joked.

“Not on your life, babygirl,” Paige said through soft laughter. As amusing as she found it, there was no way in hell you were getting up to leave the bed. “You’re not going anywhere. You need to stay lying down and resting.”

"'s a joke," you mumbled, shoving your face back into the pillow with a huff.

“I know it’s a joke,” Paige responded, shaking her head. “But you’re not leaving this bed today. You’re staying put until you feel better.”

"...you're okay with picking the girls up from school?"

“You’re not getting up. No matter how much you whine.” Paige said, dropping her grip on your chin, knowing damn well You would try to get up. You think I care if I’m picking the girls up from school? I’ll be getting them.”

"S’gonna ask if you'd grab dinner while you were out."

“Of course I was gonna get dinner,” Paige responded, “I was already planning on it, sweetheart.”

"Yeah?"

“Mhm.” Paige nodded her head. She scooted herself closer to you, wrapping her arm around your waist and pulling you flush against her chest.

Both of you stayed there for a minute, breathing each other in, basking in the feeling of being so close after five years apart. 

Thinking over every moment you both had missed, been unable to experience with the other. The birthdays, the holidays, Christmas, Medora’s first day of school, Mother's Day, life milestones, struggles, hopes, and dreams.

You broke the silence first, not moving in any way.

"...hey P?"

“Hm?” Paige responded as she wrapped her arms tighter around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer against herself.

“I got a question.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Promise you’ll be serious?”

“Always. Hit me, baby.”

"....will you marry me, again?"

“Oh my god-”

Paige couldn’t help but softly laugh, a huge smile spreading across her face. She was caught off guard by that, but hearing you wanting to marry again made her heart skip a beat. “Yeah…yeah, I’ll marry you again. Any day.”

You picked up your head just enough to tilt it up and look at Paige. "Legally?"

“And legally,” Paige responded, nodding her head as her hand moved to trace your jawline. “Of course, legal, baby. I’ll marry you in every legal way possible.”

"And not letting your agents force a divorce on us, or being ashamed?"

“Hey..no.” Paige responded, shaking her head a little bit. She was annoyed again, being reminded of what had happened between them. “None of that is going to happen. They’re not going to get a say in our marriage at all.”

"They did last time." You mumbled, sassy seeping through, but also years of past hurt and pain.

“But I won’t let them this time,” Paige spoke softly, but firmly. She was not going to back down on that, but she didn’t want to speak too harshly. “They don’t have any power over me. They don’t get to force me to do anything that doesn’t have to do with my career. And you’re not a dirty secret either. They can shove it.”

Your eyes narrowed, a sly smirk sliding onto your lips as you cocked your head. "Maybe I like being a dirty secret."

“No, you don’t,” Paige responded bluntly, rolling her eyes at her. She had an idea of what you were trying to do, and that was not happening. Again.

“No, you don’t,” Paige repeated, her hand moving from your jawline to grab your chin. “You’re not my dirty little secret. You’re not a secret at all, baby. I’m not going to pretend I don’t love you, or that you’re not my partner. I’m not going to pretend you’re not the first thing on my mind in the morning, and the last thing every night.”

That killed the mood. Your smirk dropped, eyes too. The blonde's words cut deep, leaving you raw and bare. "I miss being yours."

“You’re still mine,” Paige responded, the words leaving her mouth before her mind could catch up with her. Her grip on your chin stayed tight, her thumb stilling, tracing your jawline ever so softly. “You’ve always been mine.”

You hummed, pulling your left hand free from the blanket you had bundled around yourself, and held it closer to Paige's face. Your wedding ring still proudly sitting on your finger. Where it should always be and have been. 

Even after five years it still looks so damn right.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat as she watched you hold your ring-covered hand up, her fingers tracing over the simple gold ring on your finger.

She wrapped your hand in her own, intertwining their fingers together, and brought your hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it before gently rubbing her thumb over your wedding ring. “You’re still my babygirl, you know.”

"Hmm. I used to be your angel, too, but apparently your daughter stole that name." You hummed, shifting to lie on Paige’s shoulder.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Paige said with a scoff, rolling her eyes at your words. She let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “You’re still my babygirl and my angel. She can’t have the name exclusively.”

"Used to call me Ma a lot too."

“I still will,” Paige responded, her hand still wrapped tightly around yours, holding it against her lips.

Her heart felt so heavy in her chest, hearing and seeing how many different titles you had held, and just thinking about how you went without hearing it for so long. “My baby girl, my angel, my ma…” She pressed another kiss to your knuckles before mumbling against them, “My wife.”

"Mhmm.." That earned Paige that smile she loved so goddamn much, even if you tried to hide it behind the pillows and Paige’s hair. Your lips curled ever so softly, nose scrunched up like a bunny does when it twitches, tongue poking out between your teeth. Eyes squinted at the bottom.

Seeing your soft, sleepy smile made her heart beat fast in her chest. Paige lifted your hand to her mouth, her lips softly pressing against your knuckles. “God, I love that smile…” She mumbled softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze with her own.

You hummed again, looking back up at the blonde. "So sappy."

“You make me unbelievably sappy,” Paige said, her hand still holding yours, gently turning it over so that she could place soft kisses against the palm of your hand. She took her time, making sure to tenderly kiss your palm over and over, letting her eyes flutter closed as she did.

“Only for you,” Paige said without hesitation. She pulled your knuckles to her mouth, pressing a kiss to the top of each one before looking up at you through her lashes.

"Mhm.."

“You’re so damn pretty…” Paige’s eyes travelled over her face, taking in the exhausted yet soft features before her. It made her heart skip a beat, seeing you in this state.

It made her remember every single reason why she had fallen in love with you that first time, all those years ago.

It was quiet for a moment as Paige finished giving your hand kisses, letting herself get lost in the moment before pulling away and looking up at you. Seeing you lying in front of her made her heart ache.

Seeing you so sleepy, sick, and vulnerable made her want to hold you and never let you go.

"I look gross."

“Bullshit,” Paige responded, not hesitating to argue with her. No way was she going to allow you to speak about yourself like that. “You don’t look gross. You look sick…not gross. There’s a difference, pretty girl.”

You scoffed, "Bro, I look worse than I did when Medora was born. And that's saying something."

“Oh, don’t even bring little Miss Medora into this,” Paige said through a soft laugh, not a doubt in her mind that the baby girl had you looking like a wreck the whole after-birth process. She had been there to see it.

“You still looked gorgeous while you were pregnant. Both times. Hell…I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful than before you were pregnant, but goddamn…carrying a baby made you the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen. Still are.”

"Oh my god-"

“I mean it,” Paige said firmly as her free hand gently touched your jawline again. “You looked like a goddamn goddess when you were pregnant with her, I’m not lying. You were glowing.”

"That's why she's the devil incarnate now?"

“Nah..that’s your fault.” Paige laughed softly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “You gave birth to her. You gave her the little attitude that she has. That’s all your fault, mama.”

"Nuhuh, you said I was glowing. Only angels glow."

“Mhm.” Paige nodded, lifting your knuckles back to her mouth, her lips gently pressing against them. “You were glowing. You were absolutely an angel…then you went and gave birth to a tiny devil.”

"Ugh."

“Face it,” Paige said softly as she continued to hold your knuckles against her lips and talked between her kisses. “She’s a little devil. And she got it from you.”

You gave her a pointed look, eyebrows raised. "You're not entirely innocent here."

“Don’t try and pin this on me,” Paige said with a laugh. Her hand moved to gently touch your forehead, trying to check your temperature as she spoke. “I’ll own up to a lot of her devilish behavior and attitude…but she got that from you, baby.”

"Uh-huh.."

“Don’t you sass me, pretty girl,” Paige said through a soft laugh. “You’re the one who’s got a bit of an attitude, you can’t deny that. Don’t try and say the little hellion didn’t get it from her mama.”

"Her mama has a disorder to blame it on, she's just a demon."

“Nah..she got it straight from you,” Paige repeated, a smirk on her lips. She wouldn’t let you try and blame her attitude on you having a ‘disorder’. “She’s got the whole (L/N) attitude, which clearly runs in the family…just as much as the stubbornness.”

Your mouth dropped open. "(L/N)?"

“Uh-huh,” Paige said, nodding her head as she continued to grin. “She’s got that (L/N) attitude. All you.”

"I've been demoted from Bueckers?"

“Nah,” Paige responded, shaking her head softly. She wasn’t going to let you get your way, but she wouldn’t take away something that meant so much to you either. “You were never demoted. You’ll always be a Bueckers. You were always a Reyes.”

You scoffed, tilting your head side-to-side in a ‘so-so’ pattern. "Maiden name, Married name. Blah, Blah."

“You’re just a greedy ass girl,” Paige said through a laugh, knowing well You loved the attention. She gently pulled you closer to herself, her hand letting go of your chin and slipping over to hold your waist. “You want me to try to hyphenate your last name and mine? Or are you gonna accept the fact that your last name is already perfect?”

"Why accept mine when I could have yours?"

“Mhm.” Paige hummed, shaking her head at you. She knew exactly what you were trying to do and was not going to let you get your way that easily. “You’re not gonna trick me into hyphen-ing your last name and mine and you being greedy about it.”

"You ain't wanna claim me?"

“Claim you?” Paige’s eyebrows raised at that, tilting her head a little as she gave you a look of disbelief. “I’m constantly trying to claim you. Constantly trying to keep you in my arms, and in my bed…you’d think it would be pretty clear that I still want you.”

"Mhm…” You trailed off, eyes softly dancing over Paige’s face before speaking up again. “You know, when we got married the first time, we never changed our names."

“That we didn’t.” Paige agreed, lifting a hand to gently touch your face again as her thumb traced your cheek. She was gentle, trying to help you relax as she continued to speak. “It wasn’t really on the forefront of my mind, and it clearly wasn’t on yours either.”

"Cuz we were stupid." You spoke, words slightly muffled as you put your head back against the blonde's chest, playing with her fingers.

“We? No. You.” Paige said, a soft laugh escaping her mouth. She wasn’t going to let you call her stupid. She wasn’t the one who ruined everything. “Dumbass. You’re the one who decided to just…leave.”

Your brow popped up. "Your agents threatened me."

“Yeah, they did.” Paige’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, her hand gently tracing your skin under your shirt, wanting to feel close to you. “But you let them. You let them scare you away and didn’t even bother to try and fight for us.”

That got your attention. "What?"

You sat up, even if your sickly body protested. "Paige I fought, so fucking hard. I was willing to take whatever punishment they would give me for staying. I was ready to risk it all just to stay. But then they brought the girls into it, I couldn't put them through that."

Paige felt her heart ache as you pulled away, watching you sit up and try to defend yourself.

“…what do you mean they brought the girls into it?” Her grip on your waist loosened, no longer holding you like she used to. She couldn’t believe whatever her stupid ass agents had done to push them any farther apart.

"They said they'd get taken away. That someone would put in an anonymous tip that I wasn't fit to parent them." Your hands moved through the air as you spoke, your words not enough to express how you were feeling.

“Goddamnit.” Paige’s grip on your waist disappeared as one of her hands moved up to drag through her hair, pulling a little bit. She couldn’t believe what her damn agents had done. “That’s bullshit. They can’t do that.”

"I didn't want to leave...I swear it.."

“I know, I know you didn’t want to leave,” Paige repeated, her hand still buried in her hair. She had no idea they could be this nasty and cruel. “They had no right to do that. To you. To us. I should have fired them.”

Paige’s hand fell back down and gripped onto your waist again, wanting to keep hold of you. “I believe you, baby.” She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, wanting to just hold you close.

You melted back into her, a mix of you being sick but also just missing the feeling of her being this close. "They were protecting you."

“And it cost me the love of my goddamn life.” Paige’s heart ached at your words, holding you closer as she spoke against your forehead, “They cost me everything, babygirl.”

"I'm here."

“But not the way I want you to be,” Paige said softly, letting her lips brush against your forehead as she spoke. Her hand gently slid back up your waist, her touch soft and tender, still wanting to feel your skin under her fingertips. 

“I want you as mine. Completely. And I want to marry you again, I do.” Paige murmured softly, her lips pressed to your forehead again. “I swear on my life, I do.”

She loved the feeling of having you so close, feeling your body against her own. Holding onto her. “I want to marry you and spend every goddamn day telling the world you’re mine. I want to hold you every damn day…just like this.”

"...only on two conditions."

Paige’s eyebrows raised at your conditions. She was willing to go along with anything if it meant she could be with you again. “Yeah?”

You nodded, shuffling to lie on your stomach and face the blonde. Using your fingers to count off your so-called ‘two conditions.’ "I want your last name. No more (L/N) bullshit. And you move in here. I know the girls have a room at your place, but they spend more time here. It's not fair to uproot them like that. Plus, this house already feels like home. Your’s just feels empty."

The smirk that spread across Paige’s face was immediate. She couldn’t help the smile that filled her entire face, nodding her head softly at your words. She loved every single thing you had just said. “Oh yeah? Those are your only conditions?”

You thought for a minute, not seriously, but enough to drag out the moment. "And maybe a daily kiss."

“Oh, a daily kiss?” Paige laughed softly, pulling you even closer, if it was at all possible. It was hard to keep the grin off her face. “One kiss a day is a pretty big demand, pretty girl.”

"Yeah..but you'll do it anyway." You tilted your head again, softer, more love behind it.

“Yeah…I would.” Paige nodded in agreement, still holding you close. She was pretty convinced she’d do anything that girl asked of her. “I’ll give you one hundred damn kisses a day if you want. You don’t even have to ask for them.”

The room went quiet for a minute as you relaxed back into the feeling around you, the feeling you missed so fucking much. "You really would give me anything, huh?"

“Everything,” Paige said softly, her chin resting on your forehead, her arm wrapped around your waist and keeping you close to her. “I’d give you the goddamn world if I could, babygirl.”

"Hm. What if I asked to move?"

“Then we’ll move.” Paige’s hand moved to gently caress your cheek, her thumb tracing your jawline. She knew you were sick and exhausted, but she wanted you close to her. “Where would you want to go?”

That one actually took some thought.

Where would you want to go? If you were being honest, as long as you had Paige and your girls, you couldn’t care. "Somewhere that's a mix between Brazil and Connecticut. So I can have the warmth from home, but you can have those snowy, cold, rainy days from CT."

“I swear to god, how are you so cute?” Paige felt her heart ache, seeing just how much you loved your home city in Brazil.

She was glad she still had that connection there, and it made her heart ache thinking about how she might have to let go of it altogether. “You’re the sweetest thing ever. I haven’t even seen you in four years and you’re just as damn sweet as the last time I saw you.”

You smiled again, not daring to hide it as you thought of another question. "..what if I asked for money, randomly?"

“I’d give you every penny I have,” Paige responded without hesitation. She knew you were just asking hypotheticals, trying to see if she’d give you everything that she had to offer, but she knew the answer to every question of yours.

The answer was always the same: she’d do anything if you asked. “Literally every single last penny.”

"That's dramatic."

"But true.” Paige shot back, trying not to roll her eyes. She wasn’t being dramatic. She meant every word, every single bit of what she was saying. “I’d give you everything. Every single last penny I have to my name if you asked for it.”

"No questions asked?"

“Zero. No explanations needed.” Paige responded, her hand stilling on your cheek as she continued to look down at you. Her eyes held so much sincerity, wanting nothing more than to be able to give you everything you wanted. “If you say you need it, you’ll have it. You want a million dollars tomorrow? I’ll give it to you.”

Your eyes narrowed, a small hum coming from the back of your throat. "What if...I want another dog?"

“I’d get you a whole kennel of dogs,” Paige said without hesitation again. The more questions you asked, that she was going to answer with yes was showing just how much power you held over her. “I’d let you get a whole zoo, if that’s what you wanted.”

“God, you’re dramatic.”

“I’m honest.”

"Alright, ‘Ms. Honest’, what if...I wanted another kid?"

That question made Paige’s heart skip a beat.

“Of course.” She responded without any hesitation, her hand gently tracing your jawline again. She looked down at you, her heart feeling the most vulnerable it had ever felt before. “I’d give you dozens more, if you wanted me to.”

That broke through any lingering walls you had, head tilting up so your lips hovered just under hers as your breaths mix between you. "What if we go broke?"

“Then we go broke,” Paige responded, her hand coming to slide under the back of your shirt. 

She began tracing her fingertips against your skin, her touch so gentle and light, trying to help you relax. “I don’t care about the money, babygirl. There’s only one thing I want, and it’s you. I don’t care if I have to live in a cardboard box on the side of the road. As long as you’re with me.”

A wide, shit-eating grin spread across your face. Moving your lips annoyingly closer, without actually touching her. "You're goin soft on me, Bueckers."

"Damn right I am," Paige responded through a soft scoff, shaking her head softly. She knew she was being vulnerable, she was saying things that she’d never thought of before in her life. “I’m soft on you, sweetheart. Always have been."

“God, I love you.” You mumbled, finally breaking the last of the distance and meeting her lips. Her hands stayed on your hips, moving you to slide over her lap as your hands found her face, neither of you daring to break the kiss first.

She still tasted like her morning coffee, Black. Smelled like her cologne that alone could get you going, and her body wash that you never threw out. Her hands still calloused and rough from the years of sports, even as they slid up and down your skin like you were something to be worshipped.

You still tasted like honey. Smelled like coconut and vanilla. Your own hands and skin so smooth and soft, Paige could have sworn you weren’t real. That you were some goddess carved out of marble and stone that she didn’t deserve.

And together? 

It was home. 

And that was all you needed.

[hellfire--cult]

No but I need all the fuckboy eddie thots 😩

oh sarah, i have all the thots

+18 - like for example, when you and fuckboy!eddie met for the first time. (prev eddie thot) - smut incoming btw, p in v, oral, all that

.

It was a party you weren't sure who was hosting. A normal summer night away from they typical bars and same group of people you hung out with every weekend. You met a new person while grocery shopping, someone you think you've heard of before, but you moved to Hawkins just a year ago, so you couldn't be sure.

Steve Harrington seemed nice, handsome, big hazel eyes that showed desperate need of attention, of someone to hold him and reassure him that he is an amazing guy and all that. You tried to grab the same kind of beans, fingers brushing with yours like it would happen in a romantic comedy, only that you really wanted to fuck him the moment you connected eyes with his.

He asked for your name and if you had been in Hawkins for long because he had never seen 'Such a pretty face' before in this town. Cliche lines, but that made it way easier. So before paying, he asked for your number and then invited you to a party he was going to with some friends that weekend and you could bring anyone you wanted.

So there you were, but no Steve Harrington to be seen.

Nursing a drink by yourself in the corner of the living room, all the guys playing beer pong while some girls danced on the side. It looked like a high school party, and you were already in your 20's. Your patience was thinning because you were expecting to get laid tonight, and now your friend was nowhere near you.

Until you took your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and started walking to the backyard that you spotted Steve making out with your friend in the kitchen. You groaned loudly, because you couldn't blame your friend. You explained Steve's looks to her, but there were many brown haired guys around, and you didn't spot Steve until this very moment, so you couldn't have introduced them.

You defeatedly walked to the backyard, already pissed that you were the one going home with a dry pussy. You put a cigarette up your lips only to not find your lighter anywhere, cursing through the stick, only to then have a flame lit up in front of you. Your eyes found sharp brown ones.

"Need a light?" His voice was hoarse, cheeky, a dimpled smile that could knock someone over. He had long hair, not exactly the type you always went for, but it looked good on him. He was definitely a metal head, just by looking at the get up and the accessories. All black, metal belt and chains hanging from his hips, leather jacket, a V-Cut shirt underneath and a red pick necklace adorning his collarbone.

And the glimpse of a tattoo coming out of the side of the collar, right on his left pec.

You slowly batted your eyelashes to him, leaning to light the cigarette with his help. You took a deep breath in as he lit his own cancer stick, taking a swig of it. You both exhaled the smoke at the same time before you talked.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Oh, petnames. You were definitely into that. "So, what's with the angry look?"

Should you lie? What kind of story would you perform for the guy you just met in front of you?

"Well, my friend is definitely making out with the guy who invited me to this party, so." You pretended to be hurt, not angry. Pretended that your ego was crushed and you were basically a damsel in distress with a pouty lip. His grin widened, his eyebrows falling on the edges in a 'sad' frown.

"Aw, poor baby. That's not cool of your friend, or that guy."

"It's fine, it's whatever. I met him once but--" You gave a shrug as he bit his lip and you noticed the people around you looking every once in a while. They knew this guy. Interesting.

"Well, I would be delighted, if you'd like, to spend the night with you while you wait for your friend to be done." He offered, and oh, you would be the delighted one by the end of it. You gave him a sweet smile, a bat of your eyelashes and you nodded. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

You gave him your name and you learnt that he had lived in Hawkins for a long while. Then you commented on his clothes and you were right when you said he was a metalhead. He excused himself for a second to get you two a drink and waltzed back inside. You finished your cigarette and a girl approached you with a guy on her arm.

"Damn, don't get attached to a guy like that girl." And as she left, you could already guess what that meant. People had said the same shit about you. It wasn't your fault that people got clingy after fucking more than twice. It wasn't your fault so many guys had mommy issues. And that girl was obviously an Ex-Hook Up of his. No woman would give out a comment like that for nothing.

This was going to be way more entertaining than Steve Harrington.

When he came back, you continued your sweet act. That carefree girl that giggled at everything, and you wondered if this man would be the same as the others. Would he get clingy? No. He didn't look the type, and if his reputation was the same as yours, then you knew he was just there for fun.

So it didn't take long for him to get you in the back of his van in the middle of the woods, far from the residencies. His van smelled of weed, leather, and some cheap ass air freshener. But you didn't really care for it. Not when this man was finger fucking you into another galaxy.

"Sweet girl..." He moaned into your neck, his upper body naked for you to see. It had three tattoos, one of the left pec just like you've spotted, one on his ribcage on the right side, then another in the left. His arms were littered in them and you wondered if his legs were the same.

You were entirely naked, letting him scan your body, letting him pretend he was dominant of the situation as you got vulnerable for him. He was all dressed still as you spread your legs for him and he moaned at the sight of you. In the palm of your fucking hand.

You weren't prepared for his fingers to be this good, until he went down and started eating you out, talking into your pussy when you asked how was he doing that.

"I play the guitar... And I sing too." And he proved that by swirling his tongue on your clit. You could count with the fingers of a single hand the times a man went down willingly on you. And you had a big body count.

He made you see stars two times, and then it was your turn. You were desperate that night to see his cock, and he didn't disappoint. He was blessed, to say the least. His legs had some tattoos, and you made sure to kiss them and trace your tongue all over them as his hand ran through your hair.

When you put his cock in your mouth and moaned, his head went back with a groan and an amused chuckle as you started bobbing your head, making the sounds louder on purpose, spitting at the tip of his dick and dipping the tip of your tongue into the head of it.

"Damn, you aren't that innocent, huh?" Understatement of the year, pretty boy.

And then when he was finally inside, he fucked methodically but desperate at the same time. He knew when to roll his hips into you slowly and when to start slamming into you like a madman.

"Eddie-- Eddie--" He was forcing you to look at him as the van moved from side to side, shaking at his movements, his cock going in and out of your leaking cunt. His hand was gripping your chin tightly, his eyes boring into yours as he breathed heavily through his nose, in harsh huffs.

"Say my name again, say it again." And you did. You did until you both came. You were amazed about how easily he made you cum three times in a single night and fuck do you want to experience it again, but you had to test the waters.

So when he was driving back to the party so you could find your friend and leave, you bit your lip, looking at him.

"Well, this was nice Eddie. Thank you for spending the night with me." You moved to open the passenger's door until his hand came to rub onto your cheek to make you look at him.

"Give me your number and we can repeat it again, whenever you like. I loved having a sweet thing like you tonight for myself." You gave him a shy smile, and he was smirking at you, licking the inside of the bottom of his lip. "Come on..."

"Alright." He gave you a kiss on your pulse point once you handed him the little piece of paper with your number on it.

Sucker.

[meraki-sunset]

I felt like this one deserved it's own post

Mage of Blood = Understand (with/through) Blood (bonds)

To me Harry is a leader like his father, but he can be very self centered. Blood is related to bonds and i feel like that's something Harry needs to learn about. To comprehend the stakes of being on the center of the stage with everyone depending on you to save the play. Also, him being a mage comes from his mother and all her wizardy vibes.

Maid of Light = Heals, creates and (re)generates (with/through) Light (Knowledge)

Light is knowledge. I see fit for Vriska's descendant to be a healer born and raised in a peacefull world, being kind of an oposite to her, mirroring what she could've been had the world not required her to be ruthless to survive. It can also be a learning oportunity for Vrissy, who wants to be cool and badass like Vriska, but her power is centered on creating and helping instead of stealing and destroying like her

Having the same class as Aradia, who killed Vriska, and The Dolorosa/Porrim who Mindfanf/Aranea, her ancestor got killed, also reflects this. Serkets and maids don't go well. But this one does, this one will brake the cycle

I also really like keeping the aspects as a family thing that get's passed on with trolls

Thief of Time = Redistributes (with/through) Time for Own benefit

This girl is done. She was made in secret, has been hidden, pushed away like an inconvenience, sent to live far from everything, used as a hostage at a war made by all this people who are suposed to be important and are suposed to be her family but that she doesn't know. She doesn't care. She'd ask for her life back but who knows how much of it she can consider hers. She just wan't her time back. The time this gods took from her. And she's going to take it one way or another.

I also love the pattern of time players being always red(ish) and space players always being green

Heir of Rage = Invites change, control and manipulation of/in/with/through Rage.

If someone deserves to explode is Tavros Crocker. Like a joke from the universe, the off brand John is a heir like his brother, but not a heir of freedom, no, the total oposite actually. He inherited something worst and he's about to use it to full buldose everything in front of him.

I think it's also cool that Hope and Rage are oposite aspects and he has Gamzee's aspect, and oposite to his dad's. Kinda reflecting all the messed up dinamig going on at his home

So basically, Harry and Vrissy will learn about responsability and help others and Ruby and Tavros will fucking obliterate the planet

[evilcarmona]

Okay, just listen to me…

So this story starts with the Fentons. Their little omega son was born not so long ago (I don't believe in ABO, where people learn their gender in adolescence, it's weird). In general, he is just a kid, but they decided to go on an expedition because they had an exclusive opportunity… What could have gone wrong?

All. You see, their poor little boy was lost in the mountains. There was nothing they could do. At least their daughter was safe… But because of their carelessness, they lost a child. Because of this, they will never build a ghost portal. In fact, they'll give up ghost hunting altogether and even start visiting Vlad out of guilt (he's a little less of a jerk because they finally remembered him).

In fact, it was a little more complicated.

Let's move to the League. How lucky they were to spot a couple of scientists studying what looked like the Lazarus Pits Water. even better, these idiots were next to their child. Of course, the League took Danny away to blackmail the Fentons into working for them later. But as they delved deeper into their work, it became clear that the Fentons were simply obsessed with ghosts… They are unlikely to be useful.

So they had an omega baby in their arms. Of course, you can get rid of it… But isn't he the same age as the young master? Of course, young alphas benefit from having an omega of their own age around. Why not keep it? Ra's simply waved his hand. He's a f... old man who thinks omegas are cute furniture, if his grandson can get a nice little thing, why not?

So, they grow side by side. Danny's learning some self-defense, but he's not in the best of health, and he's just an omega, so no one thinks he's going to make it. Nor does he show any interest in it. He seems to have inherited all that mad scientist energy from his parents? In this case, he simply joins the scientists working for the League. He tolerates the Water of the Lazarus Pits surprisingly well (after all, when Maddie was pregnant, she was infected with ectoplasm).

So, when Damian got his first missions (let's do the League of Assassins missions with Mom), he started bringing Danny all sorts of things: small hairpins-stars, souvenirs and sweets. It's cute. They became very close. When they promise to marry each other in the future, it's just charming, but Talia doesn't take it seriously, and Ra's just doesn't care (he probably thinks that in 20 years his grandson will have a harem in the spirit of Luo Bingge).

Unfortunately for them, even little Damian takes his promises very seriously.

Only then does Talia pick him up from the League and bring him to his Father. She promises to look after Danny (she lies ). Events follow one another. Soon, Danny joins a project to study the Lazarus Pit water treatment device. What do you think it builds? A few years pass, and Danny becomes the one who launches the portal to the Infinite Realms. Needless to say, he didn't plan on it.

It die. He is alive. When he found out what was on the other side, he destroyed the portal. After collecting the blueprints, he runs out of the league (because now it's much easier for him to do it).

It wasn't that he didn't know where to look for his dear young master. The young master is the only one he can trust with this secret.

After all, it's something fun.

Alfred: A courier came by today. Did Young Master Damian order anything?

Damian: No, what is it?

Alfred: The big box.

Bruce: Be careful, what if it's a bomb?

Danny, jumping out of the box: Has anyone ordered an ectoscientist? A ghost? Maybe the bride?

Somewhere in Amity Park, one of Vlad's inventions starts beeping. He immediately informs the Fentons that an overly powerful ecto-energy burst has been detected… And now it's making its way to Gotham City. They didn't want anything to do with it until Vlad said it was originally near the place where they lost their son.

Could it be the ghost that killed him? Or maybe this is the ghost of their baby, who can be seen for the last time? Anyway, it's the last time the Fentons are out hunting.

(Well, they'll end up hunting really well. I'm not sure what Ra's has to do to get away from Maddie.)

By the way, do you see this ugly suspension with a ghost and a heart? Jack had made it for Maddie before they were married. He was with Danny when he went missing…

[saltnsugarbear]

i see you’ve tentatively opened ur inbox for bob requests lmaoo, may i TIMIDLY request a fox that flips the whole “bob has a breakdown reader comes to help” narrative? ITS A GOOD NARRATIVE but there’s soooo many fics of that, give us some protective bob! some bob with emotional weight!!

shyly putting this on the Robert Reynolds x reader tags doorstep

thank you for the idea, my love! I wanted to see how I felt writing for Bob and if I could find his voice in myself,,,,, I wanted to contribute and I want to give him kisses so thank you thank you <3

I went a bit,,,, idk not like a meltdown but I wanted Bob to be the one that had hope and whimsy!!! Bob is the one to banish the doubt and sadness!!! I feel unsure about this piece and if I like it but here you go Bob enjoyers <3

word count: 1.8k

content warnings: gender neutral reader, 🍃 smoking to cope with existence/trauma/thoughts, reader and Walker have a non-descript past, post Thunderbolts*, existential dread,

side note: did you guys know Bob might have photokinensis (control/production of light) which is pretty cool idk also he dropped out of high school and his addiction started in middle school :( his wiki made me sad

Bob takes care of you in little ways. Quiet ways.

You've learned that he loves quietly. He does your laundry, folds your clothes neatly, and puts them away. He knows your coffee order better than his own, what meals you prefer depending on the restaurant when the team orders out. Bob knows it's easier for you to fall asleep around the team than by yourself, and despite warnings from Walker, how violently you could wake up.

That's how the team first found out Bob could... Well... Glow, for lack of a better description.

Bob's photokinesis was jarring for the whole group. Ava and Yelena whispered softly as they put away blankets while Walker and Bucky picked up leftover trash, snacks, and dishes. Alexei was the only other person asleep on the other side of the couch, so Bob was left hovering near where you rest. No one was paying attention to his silent turmoil, not wanting to turn on the lights in the room and risking a disgruntled group of half-awake Avengerz but not wanting to risk catching an elbow to the stomach like Alexei had earlier that week.

He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn't noticed that Ava and Yelena had stopped talking. Bob didn't notice the soft glow even as your brows scrunched together, and you grumbled an annoyed "Walker.."

"What?" He chirped defensively, not bothering to look in your direction as he stacked cups in a bowl.

"Turn off the light," you complain, burrowing further into your blanket.

"What ligh-" Walker cuts himself off when he looks over.

Bob misses the way that the girls glance to Walker, who looks to Bucky. None of them had seen Bob display any other powers after the Void's fit over New York. So the soft glow emitting from the man's skin gave them pause, unsure if they should intervene or stay silent. Finally, after a few minutes of staring and your quiet grumbling, Walker makes a choice.

"Bobby-" The sharpness of John's voice makes Bob startle, a bright flash of light blinding him before the room is dark again.

"What the hell," you grumble, finally opening your eyes, officially awake after that. "Why are you yelling at him?"

"I didn't yell-" Walker starts.

"You raised your voice."

"I did not raise-"

"And you know he doesn't like when you call him Bobby." You tack on.

"I know, I forgot." John huffs, glancing at Bob. "Sorry, kid."

"It's fine.." Bob assures him passively, tangling his fingers together as his softly drags a nail over his skin. "I- I didn't turn on the lights, though?"

"You were the light." Ava says bluntly, and Yelena can't help but nod.

"You were glowing, Bob." She says it the same way she would tell him that he was wearing a grey sweater or he had done the dishes.

"I.. I was?" He asks, glancing at each of his housemates for confirmation. Ava huffs with an endeared roll of her eyes while Yelena nods solemnly again. Bucky and John look the most put-off but the revelation, so Bob is unsure if he should be alarmed or not.

"Next time you decide to glow, Bob," You start collecting your blanket as you prepare to get up. "Do it when I'm awake. And when I have sunglasses on, in case you decide to blind Johnny again."

"O-Okay.." He nods, shuffling back so you can stand up.

"Thanks, bub," you say softly, nudging him with your shoulder as you pass. He hums shortly, watching as you make your way down the hall.

The rest of the supers watch Bob quietly before Yelena speaks up.

"We will be talking about this tomorrow.." An easy dismissal that the others agree on, different noises and hums from them. Bob nods, shifting as he watches everyone else clear up. Ava sighs quietly and gives him a pitying look.

"We're not upset, Bob, just surprised. Go get ready for bed." The reassurance settles something in his stomach. He feels like he's can let out a breath again. Bob carries those words with him when he climbs into bed.

Not upset. Just surprised.

Bob can live with that.

Being in an apartment full of people in different stages of recovery from varying substances can be... Stifling, for when you want to let loose. You, Ava, and Bucky all made a vote to keep any form of alcohol or drug stronger than Tylenol out of the house. For the sake of the remaining Avengerz. The three of you also agreed your votes counted as more, as the people least affected by the ban, when the other four tried to argue against it. Not that Bob had much reason to fight it. It was for the better, really.

Except, you didn't realize how horribly this plan backfired until you wanted to smoke or have a glass of wine after an annoying day with Valentina or reading a particularly gruesome article. Or dealing with the most recent, Sam's copyright lawsuit.

As such, your only options were drinking in the dark of your bedroom or standing on the balcony and smoking. The latter is the more appealing, letting you watch the streets with a level of detachment you only got when you were high. The rest of the team had dispersed to their separate night activities, watching TV or sparring or training.

So, you're surprised when you hear the door open behind you. You turn to look out of reflex, and your curiosity peaks when you spot Bob in the doorway. He sniffs softly, and you remember the joint between your fingers.

"Oh, fuck-" You scramble to put out the joint, stubbing it out against the railing. "Sorry."

"It's fine, never really liked pot.." He laughs softly. Bob watches silently as you tuck it away in a small tin and shove it back into your pocket. "What are you, uh.. What are you doing out here?"

"Needed some quiet to... Well..." You sigh. "Like you guys and everything but.."

You let out a deep breath, leaning against the railing heavily. Bob nods behind you, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. He took the stubbing of the joint as the silent invitation it was to stay out with you.

"Alexei is a little loud... Ava and Walker are always fighting." Bob shares quietly.

"Not fighting," You muse before you look back at him. "Maybe bickering?"

"Bickering.." Bob agrees quietly, nodding a little. You hum before turning back to the city lights.

"C'mere," you call him over, glancing back at him when you don't hear him move. "I'm not gonna let you fall."

The assurance makes Bob's stomach twist with an emotion he can't name but is finding himself familiar with the longer he's a part of the team. He muses over it long enough that eventually you hold your hand out to him, not bothering to turn to him. Bob tugs at the cuff of his sleeve before putting his wrist in your grasp.

He doesn't miss the huff you let out, but it follows as you gently tug him closer to the railing. He can feel a flush making its way to his face when you cradle his forearm against your side like a football. Your hold on his arm is gentle but firm, keeping him in place beside you.

"Those people will never know what we go through..." You say quietly, watching people jay-walk, honk their horns at one another, and pass each other in fleeting steps.

"Isn't that the point?" Bob asks, keeping his eyes on the buildings, watching people walk the halls and live their lives. You make a noise beside him, contemplating it silently. You dwell on it for a few minutes before you speak up again.

"Do you ever... Regret signing up for that Sentry serum shit?" You ask Bob softly, eyes tracing the cars as they wind around the city. Bob hums softly, tilting his head this way and that as he thought.

"I wouldn't have met you guys... Probably still doing meth and signing spinning... So this is probably better?" He says it like it's a question, and then he nods. "I don't think I regret it."

You nod, letting that sit in the air, wishing you could cling to that feeling he had. You can't find it in yourself tonight, grabbing around for something that isn't there.

"Do you regret yours?" Bob asks in turn. You turn it over in your mind for a couple of minutes, listening to the city noise.

"I was a kid..." You tell him. "I didn't know... I didn't-"

You cut yourself off, letting out a breath. "I'd stop myself if I could go back."

"Then you wouldn't be here, and we wouldn't be here.." Bob protests quietly.

"You guys could still do this without me," you counter, crossing your arms over the railing. "Be the New Avengerz... Deal with Valentina, play dress up every now and then..."

"Who would fix Walker's shield?" Bob asks quietly, and you can't help but scoff. It's not a mean scoff, more of a huff of exasperation and fondness for the man.

"He can still fight crime with a taco," you tell him. "Sometimes the doubt and the pain is just...."

"All consuming," He fills in. You nod. It's the only way to describe it on nights like tonight.

"Guess you would know something about that." You sigh, having forgotten who you were talking to. He shrugs beside you, making a sound of indifference.

"It's not always like that." Bob reminds you. "Like a wave or- or Ava. It comes and goes."

The comparison makes you snort, ducking your head to hide your grin. Bob sees it, though, adopting a small smile of his own.

"You guys made it better, though."

"Even Walker?" You muse. That keeps Bob quiet for a moment.

"Not always, but... It has to be better than dealing with it alone?"

You hum softly, mulling over his words. Apply them to the pit gnawing at your stomach and climbing at your throat.

"It eventually goes away... Even if it's just for an hour or a month." Bob says. "Like the seasons..."

His words settle over you like a blanket, soothing the doubts in your brain.

"You should become a therapist," you tell him. Your words surprise a laugh out of Bob. You sigh softly, feeling the light buzz behind your eyes.

You lean against him but just enough that if he pulled away, you wouldn't fall over. Instead, Bob finds the pressure comforting. The feeling of his arm cradled against your body and your weight beside him fills Bob with an overwhelming sense of peace. He doesn't even release he's leaning against you as well.

You hum quietly, taking the small victory of him pushing against you. He's warm, even through his sweater, and it bleeds into your own being, taking that warmth and holding in your chest as you look at the city. There's a soft glow in your periphery, and you can't help but grin.

"You're glowing again."

[absdollievu]

hi! i hope this isn't too much for you, i understand if you dont want to write 💖

can u do stalker!abby x reader? im obsessed with those stories but almost no stalker abby stories available :((((

On Her Watch

stalker!abby x reader

Warnings: Dark romance, m@sturbation

You meet Abby Anderson before you realize you’ve met her.

It’s fleeting. You’re leaving the biology building one rainy afternoon, juggling an umbrella, your earbuds, and a coffee that keeps threatening to tip out of its lid. She’s sitting under the overhang near the bike racks, hood up, dark eyes barely visible. You glance at her—something about her size, her stillness, the way she doesn’t fidget like everyone else in the cold. She doesn’t look away when you catch her staring.

Just a moment.

And then you’re gone.

You forget. She doesn’t.

⸻

Abby never intended to follow you. Not at first.

She notices you before that moment in the rain. Weeks earlier, actually—when you’d bumped into her in the hallway between classes, shoulder to shoulder. You’d apologized with a quick, sheepish smile, already late to a study group. She hadn’t said anything. Just watched you disappear into a sea of students.

She remembered your perfume. Clean. Soft. She caught it again, by accident, the next week near the rec center—only this time she followed the scent, just to see if it was you. It was.

It starts small.

She times her runs around your class schedule. Makes excuses to study in the same libraries. Notices your friends. Watches you walk from the dorms to the gym at night in too-thin shorts and a hoodie, humming to yourself. Watches you tie your hair up when you think no one is looking.

She starts building a map in her head: where you go, who you’re with, how often you check your phone, how your face changes when you’re tired or lonely. It’s data. That’s how she rationalizes it. Information. Interest. Curiosity.

But that’s a lie, and she knows it.

She wants to know you. Have you. She wants to unzip your skin and crawl inside, wear you like a feeling.

⸻

You meet her again—properly this time—at the gym.

You’re wiping down a machine, out of breath and flushed. She’s standing a few feet away, towel slung around her neck, hair tied up in a bun. You don’t recognize her, not really, though something tugs at your memory.

“You done with this?” she asks, gesturing to the equipment.

You nod, stepping back, your eyes flicking over her briefly.

“Thanks,” she says, and you catch the edge of something in her voice—low, velvety, patient. She holds your gaze a little too long. Not enough to make you uncomfortable. Just… notice.

You do.

That night, she jerks off in her shower to the image of your parted lips, the damp curve of your throat, the way you brushed past her. She hates herself for it. But not enough to stop.

⸻

The friendship starts naturally. Or so it seems.

Abby finds ways to insert herself into your orbit—just enough to make you curious. She makes a dry joke in a study lounge one night that makes you laugh so hard you snort. The next time, she shares her coffee. The next, you’re inviting her to walk with you to class.

She’s easy to talk to. Uncannily observant. She remembers things you didn’t expect anyone to notice: how you hate the texture of oranges, how you never take the bus on Tuesdays, how you always wear that one ratty sweatshirt during finals.

You start to depend on her.

You don’t see the way she watches your every move when you’re not looking. How she memorizes the shape of your mouth when you talk, or your passwords when you unlock your phone. How she waits until you’ve left the library to grab the pen you forgot and pocket it.

You think she’s just intense. Kind. Private. A little possessive. You like it.

You don’t know what you’re inviting in.

⸻

It builds.

One night, she shows up outside your dorm unexpectedly. Says she was “just passing by.” You believe her. You invite her in.

You sit close on your tiny bed, knees touching. You’re laughing at some meme on her phone, and she’s not laughing at all—just staring at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, a little breathless.

Abby leans in a fraction, voice quiet. “You’re just…hard not to look at.”

Your stomach flips.

It’s not the first time someone’s flirted with you. But this is different. Abby’s attention is like standing in front of a furnace—controlled, focused, burning. Like if she touched you now, you’d melt.

You don’t kiss her that night. But you think about it.

She goes home and fingers herself slow and rough, replaying your laugh in her head like a song she can’t stop humming.

⸻

You start finding little things out of place.

Your charger unplugged. Your sweater on the wrong hook. A lipstick you swear you didn’t leave out.

You brush it off. You’re distracted. Studying. Tired.

You never see the way your bedroom window slides back into place, silently, just before dawn.

⸻

She loses control the night she sees you on a date.

It’s nothing serious. Just some guy from your ethics class. You’re at a pub, laughing. Abby sees it through the window.

She doesn’t go in. She waits.

Follows you home after. Watches the way you stumble a little in your heels, tug your phone out to text someone. She imagines it’s him. Wonders if you’re going to fuck him.

You’re alone. She watches the light go off. Waits.

She just wants to look.

⸻

You’re in bed. Rolled to one side. Your sheets low on your hips.

She presses her hand to the glass. Wants to open it. Wants to crawl in, lie beside you, pull your shirt up and taste the warm skin of your stomach—

But she doesn’t.

Not yet.

⸻

Weeks later. After another night of laughter and long walks. You’re a little drunk. She’s not. But she doesn’t stop you.

Your lips are soft. Her hands are iron. You sigh into her mouth like you’ve been holding your breath for weeks.

She kisses you like she’s starving.

You think it’s the beginning of something new.

You don’t realize it’s the beginning of her finally getting what she wants.

⸻

The first time you sleep together, it’s raw. Tense.

She doesn’t take her eyes off you. Not once.

She touches you like you’re something fragile and holy—spreads you out on your bed, breath shuddering, mouth worshipful. She whispers things you barely understand, hands gripping your hips so tightly you’ll bruise.

You don’t mind.

You come with her name in your mouth.

She stays the night. Watches you sleep, fingers ghosting over your wrist, your lips. Her need doesn’t quiet. It just shifts. Evolves.

Now that she’s had you, she’ll never let go.

And you have no idea what you’ve let in.

⸻

a/n: part 2? Send more requests please!!!