#V; Discovering Hope | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonlightwritingf1 · 3 months ago

Text

Just a Picture | LN4

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° summary ━━━━━━━ After four days of silence, Y/N was drowning in heartbreak, replaying the fight that started it all—a photo of Lando in a club, looking far too close to another girl. It triggered every insecurity she'd tried to bury, and when she confronted him, things spiraled—accusations, shouting, even a panicked flinch that neither of them could forget. Then he showed up at her apartment, looking just as wrecked as she felt, desperate to explain, desperate not to lose her.

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° word count ━━━━━━━ 10k

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f and m receiving), creampie?, slow sex, lots of 'I love you's

⚘.ᥫ᭡⋆˚✿˖° author's note ━━━━━━━ I guess this can be part 2 to The One He Couldn't Let Go if you squint a bit.

Based on this request.

It was late afternoon. Y/N was in her apartment, the dark clouds outside mirroring the storm brewing in her thoughts. She paced across the polished hardwood floor, arms folded tightly over her chest, her posture radiating tension. The living area—modern décor, a minimalist gray couch, glass coffee table, and tall bookshelves filled with novels—felt both too big and too small all at once.

Her phone lay face-down on the dining table, silent for the past three days. Not a single call from him since that explosive argument. She glanced at it again, half-hoping it would light up, but it remained still. She bit her lower lip, trying not to let the swirl of angst devour her. The image from that damned photo online had replayed in her head non-stop. Just a random snapshot—but enough to trigger months of tension that had been quietly building between them.

A year ago, when she first met Lando, she had never imagined she could be standing in this place—both physically, in her apartment, and emotionally, consumed by heartbreak so intense that it threatened to break her from the inside. And yet, she remembered how it all started. He had breezed into her life, courtesy of a mutual friend, with that mischievous grin and those unexpectedly soft, bright eyes that seemed to look right through her. At first, she’d tried to keep her distance. He was a playboy, or so all the rumors said. She had read the articles, seen the gossip, heard the stories from random acquaintances who claimed they knew him. She doubted he was the type to stay faithful. She doubted he was the type to take relationships seriously, given all that she’d heard about his partying, about the way he used to message random girls on Instagram. It was the exact opposite of everything she wanted or needed.

Yet he had pursued her relentlessly. Flowers would show up at her apartment every week—delicate bouquets of roses, peonies, lilies. Expensive gifts, random text messages in the middle of the day just to say he was thinking of her. He found out about her favorite authors and sent her limited-edition books. He discovered her love for certain designer bags and surprised her with them, even though she told him a hundred times that she didn’t want him to waste money on her. She had tried to play hard to get; she had shut him down over and over, telling him that she wasn’t convinced, that he’d break her heart. She had tried to remind herself that once upon a time he had been in a relationship, still rumored to be cheating, going to clubs, and partying with random women. All the gossip. All the pictures. She didn’t want that kind of heartbreak. She believed he would revert to his old ways at any moment.

But then, five months ago, she finally gave in. Five months that had begun the strangest, most wonderful, and most complicated relationship she had ever experienced. From that moment, everything between them had been intense, nearly suffocating in its passion, overshadowed by her lingering doubts and his determination to prove her wrong. Every kiss felt like a confession of how badly he wanted her to trust him. Every time he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, she glimpsed in his eyes a silent plea that she believed in him. And slowly, she had begun to let her guard down. She let him in further than she had let anyone before.

That is, until four days ago, when her phone blew up with messages and notifications from mutual friends, from acquaintances who had seen it on social media: a photograph of Lando in a club with an unknown girl pressed very close to him. The angle of the camera made it look suggestive, as if he were leaning down into her ear, or maybe even nuzzling her neck. The girl’s arm was around his shoulders, and it looked like she was whispering intimately to him. The moment Y/N saw it, her stomach dropped. She hadn’t known rage so pure, not since childhood memories that she tried to bury. And in that moment, every single doubt she’d ever had about him came roaring back. She confronted him that night in her apartment, the memory of that confrontation still burned into the walls.

–

Four Nights Ago – The Fight

The moment Lando stepped into her living room, Y/N’s hands were shaking from anger. She had texted him: We need to talk. Now. And he’d come over immediately, wearing an expression of anxiety mixed with confusion. He must have known the rumors were swirling online.

“What the hell is that?” she demanded, pointing her phone at him, screen displaying the offending photograph. She didn’t realize she was almost yelling from the get-go. “Care to explain, Lando?”

He swallowed hard. His cheeks reddened. She wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or guilt or both. “It’s… nothing,” he said, raising his palms defensively. “That picture—God, I didn’t even know someone snapped that. It’s not what it looks like.”

Her words came out in a hot rush, unfiltered. “Oh, it’s not? Because it looks like you’re cozying up to some random girl at a club—just like the old days, right?” She breathed in sharply, unable to stop the venom streaming out. “I knew it. I always knew you’d go back to your old ways sooner or later.”

He stepped closer, frustration written on his face. “I wasn’t cozying up to her. She was a friend of a friend. I was leaning down to hear what she was saying because the music was too loud. That’s it. It’s a stupid camera angle.”

“Camera angle,” she repeated mockingly. “Right. Always an excuse. You act like I don’t know you have this… this history. Messaging random girls. Sleeping around. Even when you were with someone, the rumors said—”

“Rumors!” he interjected, voice cracking with frustration. “They were just rumors! I told you a hundred times, I never cheated on anyone. If I had a reputation for partying, it was because I was young, going to clubs, sure, but I wasn’t hooking up with every girl who came near me. And I’m sure as hell not hooking up with them now!”

Her face twisted with anger she couldn’t contain. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You know how insecure I already feel. You know what I’ve been through, Lando!” Her eyes welled with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to cry. “You should’ve been more careful. You should have thought about how that picture would look. How it would make me feel.”

He ran a hand through his curls, agitated. “For God’s sake, Y/N, I can’t control every photo or every rumor. I’m an F1 driver. People take pictures. I’m sorry that it happened, but I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sure. Just like you never did anything wrong all those other times you got plastered with groups of girls, right? God, how am I supposed to believe you, Lando?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. She could see him holding back his own anger. “Because,” he replied in a voice that trembled with repressed fury, “I’ve been bending over backward for months trying to prove to you that I’m not that guy. Do you think I spend all this time showering you with gifts, messages, and time, just so I can go out and hook up with random girls? That’s not me anymore!”

he shook her head, her voice laced with contempt that came from the deepest pit of her insecurities. “We can never know for sure, can we? God, I can’t stand the idea that I let you in, and you do something like this.”

He took another step toward her, eyes flashing. “Don’t put this all on me. You came into this relationship—if we can call it that—assuming the worst about me. I’m always on trial with you, Y/N. You never truly trust me.”

She let out a bitter laugh. “Well, if you want my trust, then don’t get photographed cuddling with random girls!”

He breathed heavily, exasperation rolling off him. “I told you, it wasn’t cuddling. And I can’t believe you’d think I would cheat on you. After everything we’ve shared.”

For a long moment, they stared at each other, hearts pounding, both of them caught in the throes of powerful, conflicting emotions. Then she lifted her chin, refusing to budge. “Get out,” she said quietly, but her tone was menacing in its finality.

He froze. “Y/N, please. Don’t do this.”

She shook her head. Her vision blurred as tears threatened to spill again. “Get. Out. Now.”

Lando’s expression turned furious and wounded. “Fine,” he spat. “If you won’t even listen to me, what the hell am I supposed to do?” In his frustration, he flung his arm up, wanting to run his hand through his hair, but in that split second, it looked like his hand was coming toward her in a fast, menacing way.

She recoiled instantly, a panicked flinch, arms defensively curling toward her face, eyes wide in fear. A rush of adrenaline spiked through her. It was so fast, so involuntary, as if a primal reflex told her that he was about to hit her.

His entire demeanor changed in an instant. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a haunting sorrow. “Y/N,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You think… you think I would—?”

She just stared at him, still trembling. She hated that her body had interpreted his movement as a threat. “I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, guilt mixing with the cocktail of fury and heartbreak in her chest. “I— I just… you moved so fast.”

He took a shaky step backward, heartbreak contorting his features. “I would never lay a hand on you,” he said, voice trembling. “How could you even think—?”

She pressed her lips together, her cheeks burning with shame. But the anger was still there, too, overshadowing everything. “Just get out,” she repeated.

He stared at her for a few long seconds, pain written on every line of his face. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel, storming out of the apartment. She heard the door slam behind him. It left her standing alone in the silent living room, her heart pounding loud enough that she thought it might burst through her chest. She sank onto the couch, tears finally spilling.

–

The Four Days of Silence

Now she was on day four without a call, text, or anything from Lando. At first, she’d been so angry she told herself she wouldn’t care if he never reached out again. But after the first 24 hours, the doubts crawled in. Had she overreacted? Was that truly just an innocent picture? She battled with herself over and over, replaying the confrontation in her head, fixating on the moment he raised his arm to push his hair back—how she flinched, how his eyes turned to raw agony.

Guilt ate away at her. Yet the betrayal—and the fear that he was still that same playboy—remained. She wasn’t sure she could handle being with someone who always had rumors swirling around. It was making her question everything.

But she also missed him. Terribly. She missed his laugh, that boyish grin in the morning when he’d wake up next to her, the way he’d wrap his arms around her waist from behind while she was doing something mundane like making coffee. She missed how he would gently brush his fingertips down her cheek while watching TV, how he was always so enthusiastic about introducing her to his friends—well, the few times she’d let herself be around his circle. She missed that warmth and attention, how being with him made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long while.

Late into the nights, she lay awake in her bed, staring at the city lights, tears wet on her cheeks, imagining him in Monaco or at his family’s home, maybe even with that unknown girl. The worst part was that she realized, in her chest, that she truly loved him. A truth she had tried to ignore because acknowledging it made her feel so vulnerable.

She hated herself for flinching, for letting him see that she thought he could physically harm her. She knew enough about him by now to know he wasn’t violent. That flash of panic had come from a dark place in her mind, shaped by her insecurities. She didn’t know if he’d ever forgive her for that. Or if she could ever forgive him for being so careless in that photo.

Day three passed. Then day four. She was pushing through work, eyes rimmed with dark circles from lack of sleep, snapping at her coworkers who asked too many questions, trying to bury herself in spreadsheets and emails.

–

The Afternoon of the Fourth Day

She had just gotten back to her apartment after another draining day at the office. She kicked off her heels by the front door, passing the large mirror in the entrance hallway. She lingered a moment, studying her reflection—searching for something she could never quite name. She tried to straighten her shoulders, to seem more composed than she felt, but the familiar ache of doubt had already settled in.

She always worried that Lando, with his flirty ways and well-known preference for a certain type, would eventually look at her and realize she wasn’t enough. It hurt that she cared so deeply about this. She hated that she cared. She wanted to be that fierce girl who didn’t need anyone’s validation. But with him, she felt so out of control sometimes—like all the confidence she’d tried to build kept slipping through her fingers the moment he smiled at someone else.

Letting out a shaky breath, she headed to her bedroom, planning to change into something more comfortable, maybe sweatpants and an oversized tee. She rounded the corner into her living room—and froze.

Lando was there, standing by the window, looking out across the glittering skyline of London. He had his luggage next to him, as if he had come straight from the airport or something. Her heart jumped to her throat. Anger, relief, love, and pain swirled inside her so violently that she couldn’t even speak for a moment.

He turned at the sound of her footsteps, eyes meeting hers. She saw the exhaustion on his face, the shadows under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days either. His hair was disheveled, the curls an unruly mess, and he wore a fitted black hoodie and gray joggers. Under normal circumstances, the sight of him might have made her breath catch with desire, but now, there was only tension.

They stared at each other in silence. Her eyes filled with tears again. She loathed that she cried so easily these days. “How did you get in?” she finally managed, her voice cold.

“I still have the key,” he replied quietly. “You didn’t ask for it back.”

She swallowed. Right. She hadn’t. Maybe that was a subconscious sign she wanted him to return. “You can’t just barge in here.”

“I didn’t know how else to see you,” he said, voice trembling with raw honesty. “You wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I kept sending messages the first two days, you never replied. I got scared you’d blocked me, or that you never wanted to see me again.”

She scoffed, though hearing he’d tried to call made her guilt spike. She had left her phone on silent, or face-down, ignoring the messages—convinced she had to remain strong. “And so you decided to ambush me at home?”

He clenched his jaw, taking a step forward. “I couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Y/N. It’s been killing me.” He paused, searching her face with a mixture of desperation and anger. “I’m sorry for everything. But you have to understand, that picture—it was nothing. And I hate that you believed otherwise. It feels like you don’t trust me at all.”

“Because you’ve given me reasons to doubt,” she snapped, tears threatening to spill once more. “I’ve seen the rumors, the pictures, the girls you used to be with. I can’t— I don’t know how to handle it. It hurts to even think about. I can’t stand the idea of being compared to those bikini-model types you used to party with.”

His eyes widened. “Compared to them? Y/N, I’ve never once compared you to anyone. I—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know I made mistakes in my past. I slept around. I partied. But that was before. This last year has changed me, especially these five months with you.” He paused, voice trembling, “I’ve never felt this way about anyone.”

Her throat was tight. She exhaled slowly, all the anger and hurt rising again. “Then why did that picture look so—so intimate?”

He rubbed his face. “I was talking to that girl. She was leaning in because the music was loud. I wasn’t even there for long. I’d gone out with some mates, had a few drinks, and left early. I swear to you, I wasn’t flirting or anything close to that.”

She folded her arms protectively, glowering. “And I’m just supposed to believe that?”

He looked at her with a heartbreak so profound that her stomach twisted. “I wish you would,” he whispered. “Because it’s true.”

She stared at the floor, tension coursing through her. The silence pressed down on them. She recalled the image of his arm moving up four nights ago, the absolute terror she felt, that flicker of fear that he might hurt her physically. She forced her eyes up to his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, voice catching. “For thinking you’d hit me.”

His face contorted with anguish. “That… that moment,” he said, voice shaking, “I can’t even describe how it felt to see you flinch like that. Like you believed I could do something so horrible.”

She sucked in a breath, her lips quivering. “I just—I don’t know what came over me. It was a reflex. But everything else I meant. I can’t stand the way you have these shady pictures circulating. The rumors. And I hate feeling like I’m one in a long line of random women in your life. It eats me alive.”

His eyes were red, and he seemed to hold himself back from crossing the room to comfort her. “You’re not just another woman,” he said, voice brimming with emotion. “I would never see you that way. I love you, damn it. Don’t you get it? You’re everything to me.”

She swallowed, her heart thumping so loud it filled her ears. “You say that,” she answered raggedly, “but it’s so easy to say. What if you get bored, or you find someone else, or you want someone who wears skimpier clothes—someone who has the perfect body or an easier attitude?”

He scoffed softly, a pained look crossing his face. “Skimpier clothes? You think I care about that? Y/N, I love you for you. You can wear a shapeless potato sack, and I’d still think you’re breathtaking.” He licked his lips, stepping closer, but still leaving a couple feet of space, as if cautious not to invade her bubble if she didn’t want it. “I don’t want any other woman. I want you. I hate that all these rumors, these illusions, keep driving a wedge between us.”

She turned away, crossing to the couch. She rested her palms on the back of it, trying to steady her breathing, trying not to let the tears fall. “I can’t… forget. When I see pictures like that, it’s like a knife to the chest.”

He came up behind her, so close she could feel the warmth of his body. Very gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. “Y/N, I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I wish I could erase my past. I wish I could protect you from seeing that photo. But I can’t. All I can do is promise you I wasn’t cheating, nor do I ever want to.”

Anger still simmered beneath her skin, but she also felt the longing, the deep ache to reconcile with him. She wanted to lash out, to blame him, but she was so damn tired of fighting herself and him. She turned around slowly, looking up at him. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” she asked hoarsely, tears pooling in her eyes. “Why didn’t you show up earlier?”

He inhaled sharply. “I tried calling. When you didn’t answer, I was worried you’d blocked me or that you needed space. I also needed to cool down. After how we yelled at each other, I— I was afraid you wouldn’t even look at me.” A trembling laugh escaped him. “I didn’t want to drive you further away. But last night, I realized I couldn’t handle another hour without trying to see you. So I packed my bag and flew here this morning.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fresh tears running down. “I hate you,” she whispered, though her tone was heartbreakingly vulnerable, betraying how she felt the exact opposite.

He grimaced, eyes moist. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I’ll do anything to make this right.”

For a moment, she couldn’t respond. She just stared at him through the haze of tears. Something inside her cracked wide open—the dam that had been holding in all the emotion. In one swift motion, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. She felt his heart hammering beneath her cheek.

He hesitated only a split second before he crushed her against him, his arms wrapping around her waist so tightly as if he was afraid she’d slip away at any moment. The tears she’d been holding back poured out, and she felt his body shaking too. They stood there, locked in an embrace that trembled with raw anguish.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“I hate that you made me doubt you,” she whispered, voice muffled by his shirt. “And I hate that I’m so insecure. But most of all, I hate that… I can’t let you go.” She let out a choked sob, closing her eyes. “I love you too. And it hurts so bad because I’m scared you’ll destroy me someday.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’d rather die than hurt you,” he said, voice cracking with sincerity. “I’d rather die than lose you.”

The tension and heartbreak in the air shifted palpably, turning into a different kind of electricity. They pulled back just enough to look at each other, eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Their faces were inches apart, breath intermingling. Then, wordlessly, as if drawn by a magnetic force, their lips collided in a fierce, desperate kiss.

She tasted salt from her tears as he kissed her, but the urgency in the press of his mouth overwhelmed her senses. Her hands slid up around his neck, fingers tangling in his curls. He held her face between his palms as though she were something delicate—yet the kiss itself was anything but gentle. It was raw, intense, filled with the pent-up longing of four days of agony and an entire relationship’s worth of insecurities.

They broke apart for a brief moment, gasping for air, foreheads touching as they tried to form words. But no words came. Only that frantic hunger to feel close after so many days of pain and confusion. They resumed kissing, deeper this time, tongues and teeth clashing, breath ragged. She moaned softly against his mouth, her body igniting with the need to be consumed by him.

“Bedroom,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to speak. His eyes were dark with longing, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

She grabbed his hand and led him down the short hallway. The moment they entered her bedroom, the tension redoubled. Even the air felt charged. The blinds were half-drawn, letting in the golden glow of the late-afternoon sun. The duvet on her bed was slightly disheveled, and she had thrown some clothes on it earlier that morning. The entire room smelled like her faint vanilla perfume and the leftover anxiety of the last few days.

She turned to face him, breath quivering. He reached for her face, cupping her cheek. She looked up into his eyes, still rimmed with leftover hurt. She reached for his hoodie, and he helped yank it off, tossing it aside. The next second, he was kissing her again, guiding her toward the bed. He peeled off her blouse, his hands shaking with the intensity of the moment, exposing her skin to the cool air and his heated gaze.

His lips moved down her jaw, her neck, gently nipping at the sensitive flesh there, drawing out soft gasps. Her fingers fumbled with the waistband of his joggers, pulling them down. Every movement was frantic, desperate, as if they both knew that making up like this was both a healing and a reaffirmation of what they meant to each other.

She sank onto the bed, and he followed, settling above her. Their mouths found each other again in a searing kiss, tongues dancing as their bodies pressed together. She could feel his heart beating wildly. She let her hands roam over his torso, savoring the warmth of his skin, the muscle that flexed beneath her palms. He groaned into her mouth, his voice husky with need.

“God, I missed you,” he breathed. He lowered his head to kiss down her collarbone, his breath hot against her skin. “I was going crazy not hearing your voice.”

She arched against him, eyes fluttering shut, overwhelmed by how much she had missed him too. Her nails lightly raked his shoulders. “Don’t ever disappear on me again,” she murmured, breath hitching. “Don’t leave me like that.”

He lifted his head, meeting her gaze. The raw emotion in his eyes almost made her dizzy. “Never,” he promised, and he sealed the vow with a slow, deep kiss.

Their hands explored every inch of exposed skin, reacquainting themselves with each other’s bodies as though it had been years rather than mere days. Slowly, carefully, they stripped away the barriers of clothes. Each article of clothing fell to the floor or was pushed aside on the bed, along with the tensions and fears that had weighed on them. He caressed her curves, pressing gentle kisses to her hip, her waist, then trailing his lips up to her neck. She whimpered softly, allowing herself to be lost in the sensations.

He loomed above her, completely naked, his body trembling with the intensity of the moment. His hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before he moved up her body again. His lips found hers in a searing kiss, hot and desperate, as if he were trying to make up for every second of the four days they’d spent apart. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands tangling in his unruly curls, pulling him closer, as though she could fuse them together and never let him go again.

When he finally broke the kiss, his lips didn’t stray far. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead, her temples, each press of his mouth a silent apology, a promise, a plea. His breath was warm against her skin as he trailed kisses down her jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, a soft whimper escaping her lips as her head fell back against the pillows, her body arching instinctively toward him.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he kissed across her collarbone, his hands moving down to her shoulders to steady her. His lips moved lower, leaving a trail of fire across her chest. He lingered there, his tongue darting out to taste her skin, his breath hitching as if he were savoring her. She could feel his hunger, his desperation, and it mirrored her own. When his mouth finally closed around her nipple, she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair.

He sucked gently at first, teasing her, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud until she was squirming beneath him. Then he sucked harder, drawing a sharp cry from her lips. She could feel the heat pooling low in her stomach, her body responding to him as it always did, as if it were wired to crave him and him alone. His fingers found her other breast, kneading and teasing, and she moaned, her back arching off the bed.

“Lando,” she whispered again, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing.

He lifted his head, his eyes dark with desire, his lips swollen from kissing her. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I can’t get enough of you.”

She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing over his cheekbone. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything that had happened between them hanging in the air. But then he leaned down, capturing her lips in another kiss, and all the tension, all the doubt, melted away, replaced by an all-consuming need.

This time, when he pulled back, his hands moved to her hips, lifting her slightly so he could slide further down the bed. His lips trailed down her stomach, leaving a path of fire in their wake, and she shuddered, her hands clutching at the sheets. He kissed her hips, her thighs, his breath warm against her skin, and then his mouth was on her again, sucking and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste her.

She cried out, her hips bucking involuntarily, and he groaned against her, the sound vibrating through her, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her still as he continued to worship her with his mouth, his tongue flicking over her sensitive flesh until she was trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“Lando,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “Please.”

Lando didn’t lift his head, not yet. His hands tightened on her hips as he leaned in, his tongue flicking out to trace the slick, sensitive folds of her pussy. He groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her, and she whimpered, her thighs trembling on either side of his head. He could taste her, her arousal, her need, and it drove him wild. He loved her like this, so open, so vulnerable, so completely his. His tongue delved deeper, exploring her, savoring her, and she cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured against her, his breath hot. “I could taste you forever.” His voice was rough, dripping with desire, and it sent a shiver up her spine. He pulled back slightly, his lips closing around her clit, and he sucked gently, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She arched off the bed, her moans echoing through the room, and he groaned, the sound muffled against her.

He lifted his head just enough to speak, his lips glistening with her. “You taste like heaven,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “I fucking love your pussy, Y/N. I love how you writhe for me, how you moan for me.” He kissed her again, his tongue slipping inside her, and she gasped, her hips bucking against his face. He held her steady, his hands firm on her hips, as he drank her in, every sound, every taste, every shudder of her body.

He loved this—he lived for this. The way she fell apart for him, the way her breath hitched and her cries grew louder, the way she trembled when he touched her just right. He loved the way she moaned his name, the way she clutched at the sheets, the way she surrendered to him completely. He loved knowing that he could make her feel this good, that he could bring her to the edge and push her over, that he could make her his in every possible way.

His tongue flicked over her clit again, faster this time, more insistent, and her moans turned into desperate cries. “Lando—please—I’m so close,” she gasped, her voice breaking. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow down. He sucked her clit into his mouth, his tongue working her relentlessly, and she came with a sharp cry, her body convulsing, her hands clawing at the sheets. He didn’t let up, drinking in every drop of her release, until she was panting, her body limp and trembling.

He finally lifted his head, his lips wet, his eyes dark with satisfaction. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice rough. He crawled up her body, his hands framing her face as he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. “I love making you feel good,” he murmured against her mouth. “I love hearing you moan, feeling you shake, watching you fall apart for me.”

She reached for him, her hands trembling as she cupped his face. “You’re incredible,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “I love it when you worship me like that, when you make me feel like I’m the only thing that matters.” Her eyes were soft, filled with adoration, and he kissed her again, gently this time, savoring the way she melted into him.

“You are the only thing that matters,” he said, his voice low and earnest. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you—your body, your mind, your soul. I love making you feel good, I love hearing you moan, I love watching you come. I love you.”

She smiled, a slow, sweet smile that made his heart ache. “I love you too,” she whispered. She pulled him down, her lips finding his, and they kissed, slow and deep, their bodies pressed together, their hearts beating in sync. For the first time in days, the world felt right again.

He pulled away from her lips reluctantly, his chest heaving, his cock throbbing between them as he hovered above her. “I need to be inside you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. “I can’t wait anymore.” His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her skin as he guided her closer to the edge of the bed, positioning himself between her legs.

But she shook her head, her eyes filled with need, her lips swollen from his kisses. “Not yet,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I need you in my mouth first. Please, Lando. Let me taste you.”

He groaned, his head falling back as he fought for control. “Fuck, Y/N—I want to be in you. I’ve been waiting for this for days.”

Her hands slid down his chest, her nails lightly scratching his skin as she moved lower, her fingers wrapping around his hard cock. He hissed at the touch, his hips jerking forward instinctively. “I know,” she said, her voice soft but insistent. “But I need this. I need to feel you in my mouth. Let me, please. I’ll make it good for you.”

He looked down at her, his eyes burning with desire and frustration. She was begging him, her voice dripping with need, and he couldn’t deny her. Not when she looked up at him like that—with those pleading eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his resolve crumbling. “Just—just for a minute. Then I’m inside you.”

She didn’t waste another second. Lando lay back on the bed, his head resting on the pillows, his chest rising and falling rapidly as she positioned herself between his legs. His cock was already leaking precum, the tip glistening, and she could feel him twitch in her hand as she stroked him slowly. She licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight of him, at the thought of tasting him, of feeling him on her tongue.

Without hesitation, without teasing, she took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around his shaft, her tongue swirling around the sensitive head. He groaned loudly, his hands fisting in the sheets as she sucked him deep, her head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm. One hand rested on his inner thigh, her fingers digging into his skin, while the other stroked the base of his cock in time with her movements.

She looked up at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, her lips stretched around his length. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger—was almost too much for him. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, and she moaned around him, the sound vibrating through him, sending jolts of pleasure racing down his spine.

“Look at you,” he breathed, his voice rough with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so sexy like this. You love having my cock in your mouth, don’t you? You’re such a good girl for me, Y/N. Such a fucking slut for my dick.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t stop. She loved when he talked dirty to her, when he called her his slut, his good girl. It made her feel wanted, desired, and it only made her suck him harder, her movements becoming more desperate, more eager. Her hand moved from his inner thigh to his balls, her fingers gently massaging them as she continued to suck him, her lips and tongue working him relentlessly.

She could feel him throbbing in her mouth, could taste the saltiness of his precum on her tongue, and it only made her want him more. She loved the way he felt in her mouth, the way he filled her, the way he made her feel so alive, so connected to him. She loved the way he moaned her name, the way his hands tightened in the sheets as he tried to hold himself back. She loved the way he looked at her, his eyes filled with desire, his breath hitching as she sucked him.

For Lando, it was almost too much. The sight of her—her lips wrapped around his cock, her eyes filled with hunger, her hand stroking him, her fingers massaging his balls—was driving him wild. He loved seeing her like this, so turned on, so eager for him. It made him feel powerful, desired, and it made him want to give her everything she begged for. He loved the way she looked at him, her eyes locked on his as she sucked him, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He loved the way she moaned around him, the way her body trembled with need. She was his, and he loved every fucking second of it.

But he couldn’t let himself come—not yet. He wanted to be inside her, to feel her tight, wet pussy around him as he spilled himself deep inside her. He gently pushed her away, his hands trembling as he gripped her shoulders. “Enough,” he said, his voice rough with need. “I need to be inside you. Now.”

She pulled back, her lips swollen, her breathing ragged, her eyes filled with longing. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling with desire. “Please. I need you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His hands moved with purpose, gripping her hips firmly as he manhandled her onto her back again, her body sinking into the mattress. She gasped, her hands instinctively reaching for him as he positioned himself above her, his weight pressing her into the bed. His eyes locked onto hers, intense, brimming with something deeper than desire—something raw, emotional, and unspoken. He hovered for a moment, his breath ragged, his chest heaving, before he shifted, guiding himself toward her entrance.

She felt the tip of him brush against her, hot and insistent, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her. He paused, his hands framing her face as he leaned down, his forehead pressing against hers. She could feel the tremble in his body, the way he was holding himself back, trying to control the primal urge to claim her. His breath mingled with hers, shaky and uneven, as he whispered, “I love you, Y/N. So fucking much.”

And then, slowly, achingly slow, he entered her. She felt every inch of him as he pushed inside, her body stretching to accommodate him, the sensation both overwhelming and electrifying. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady her breathing. It wasn’t just the physical sensation that made her head spin—it was the way he looked at her, his eyes never leaving hers, his expression a mix of reverence and desperation. It felt like he wasn’t just entering her body; he was reclaiming her heart, her soul, every piece of her that had been fractured by distance and doubt.

For Lando, the moment was equally intense. The warmth of her body enveloped him, tight and welcoming, and he groaned, his head falling forward as he fought to keep his movements slow, controlled. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps, and it made him ache with a need that went far beyond physical. He wanted to lose himself in her, to drown in the way she felt around him, but more than that, he wanted her to know how much she meant to him. How much he loved her. How he’d do anything to keep her, to protect her, to make her feel cherished.

He stayed inside her, not moving, his body flush against hers, their breaths mingling as they stared into each other’s eyes. The stillness was charged, electric, as if the world had paused just for them. She could feel him twitching inside her, the way his body seemed to throb with the effort of holding back, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her hands clutching at his back. “Please… move. I need you.”

But he shook his head, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had started to fall. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to take my time with you. I want to show you how much I love you, Y/N. How much you mean to me.” His words were soft, tender, but there was a fire behind them that made her heart race. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a slow, deep kiss, his tongue exploring hers as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her.

He pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here. I’m yours. Always.” His voice broke on the last word, and she could feel the sincerity in it, the weight of his promise. It was as if he were trying to pour every ounce of his love, his devotion, into that one moment.

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. “I love you,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion. “I missed you so much. Please, Lando… don’t let go.”

He kissed her again, his movements slow and deliberate, his hands roaming her body with a reverence that made her heart ache. He worshiped her with his touch, his lips, his words, as if every inch of her were sacred. His hands slid down her sides, smoothing over her skin, before he cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in slow, teasing circles. She arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as her body responded to him instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he leaned down to kiss her neck, her collarbone, the sensitive spot just below her ear. His lips were warm, his breath hot against her skin, and she shivered, her hands tightening in his hair. He took his time, exploring every inch of her with a patience that made her ache.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice pleading, her hands tugging at his hair. “Please… I need you. I need you to move.”

But he shook his head again, his hands sliding down to her hips, gripping her firmly as he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. “I’m not going to rush this,” he said, his voice steady despite the fire burning in his gaze. “I want to make this last. I want to make you feel how much I love you, Y/N. How much I’ve missed you.”

His words were a balm to her soul, soothing the raw edges of her heart, but they also made her ache with need. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, twitching with every breath, and it was maddening to have him so close, so still. “Please,” she begged, her voice breaking, her hips lifting slightly in an attempt to get him to move. “Please, Lando… I need you to fuck me. I need you to make me feel good.”

He groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily at her words, but he held himself back, his hands tightening on her hips. “I will,” he promised, his voice rough with desire. “But not yet. I want to savor this. I want to savor you.”

She whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she tried to pull him closer, but he stayed still, his eyes locked on hers, his expression filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache. She loved this side of him—the way he could be so soft, so gentle, even in moments of intense passion. It made her feel cherished, adored, and it made her love him even more.

Finally, he began to move, his hips rocking against hers in slow, deliberate thrusts. The sensation was maddening, each movement drawing a soft cry from her lips as she writhed beneath him. He kept his pace slow, his eyes never leaving hers, his hands moving to cup her face as he leaned down to kiss her again. His lips were warm, his tongue exploring hers in a way that made her head spin, and she moaned into his mouth, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

For her, the slow, deliberate movements were both agonizing and intoxicating. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. She could feel him inside her, hot and thick, filling her completely, and it made her ache with a need that was almost unbearable. She wanted more—needed more—but he held back, his movements controlled, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made her heart ache.

For Lando, the slow pace was equally intense. He could feel her around him, tight and warm, and it took every ounce of his self-control to keep from losing himself in her. He wanted to savor this moment, to make it last, to show her how much she meant to him. He wanted to worship her, to make her feel loved, cherished, adored. And he knew that the only way to do that was to take his time, to draw out every second, to make her feel every ounce of his love.

He kissed her again, his lips moving against hers in a slow, deep rhythm that matched the pace of his thrusts. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice trembling with emotion. “I love you so much, Y/N. I’m never letting you go.”

She whimpered, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as she kissed him back with a desperation that mirrored his own. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando… don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He kept his pace slow, deliberate, his thrusts deep and steady as he continued to worship her with his body, his touch, his words. He kept kissing her neck, her collarbone, her shoulders, his lips lingering on every inch of her skin as if he were trying to memorize her. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every dip, as if he were trying to commit her to memory.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he leaned down to kiss her again. “I can’t get enough of you, Y/N. I never will.”

She moaned, her hands clutching at his back as she arched into his touch, her body responding to him instinctively. The slow, steady rhythm of his thrusts was driving her wild, the sensation building slowly, steadily, until she felt like she might explode. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Please… I’m so close.”

He kissed her again, his movements never faltering as he held himself above her, his eyes locked on hers. “Let go, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

And with those words, she shattered, her body convulsing as she clung to him, her cries muffled against his chest. He held her through it, his thrusts never faltering as he continued to drive her over the edge, his own release building steadily until he could no longer hold back. With a low groan, he pressed his face into her neck, his body shaking as he spilled himself inside her, his breath hot against her skin.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, their bodies trembling, their breaths mingling as they held onto each other. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the weight of everything they had shared, everything they had overcome.

Slowly, he pulled back, looking down at her with an aching tenderness she had never seen so plainly before. He brushed damp hair off her forehead, trailing a thumb across her cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice a low rasp in the hush of the room. “I love you so much. And I’m so sorry for everything.”

She exhaled shakily, caressing the side of his face. “I’m sorry, too,” she murmured. “I got so consumed by anger and jealousy. I should have let you explain calmly. And I… I should never have doubted that you’d raise a hand to me.”

He shook his head, kissing her temple. “You have nothing to apologize for. Your fears come from a real place. I just want to do better for you. I never want you to think I could hurt you.” He swallowed hard. “I’m terrified of losing you.”

She stared up into his eyes, seeing the layers of heartbreak there. “Don’t do anything that makes me doubt you again, Lando. Please,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “I can’t take this kind of fight again.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “I promise,” he said. “And if something comes up—pictures, rumors, anything—please talk to me before letting it build up in your head. I’ll tell you everything.”

She nodded, tears threatening once more, but they didn’t spill. “Okay,” she agreed softly.

They settled into a quiet embrace, his arm draped over her waist, her head on his chest. She could hear the steady rhythm of his heart, each beat reassuring her that he was here and that he wasn’t letting go. Outside, the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in pink and orange hues that filtered into the room. For a time, neither of them spoke, letting the warmth of each other’s bodies and the lingering afterglow of their fierce coupling do the talking.

Eventually, their breathing evened out, and Lando shifted to lie on his side, propping his head on one hand so he could look at her fully. She blushed slightly, tugging the sheets up to cover herself, though he’d already seen every inch. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her lips felt tender from the rough kisses.

He reached out to tuck a stray strand behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes, but her cheeks warmed. “Don’t,” she mumbled. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he insisted. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Your body, your face, your heart… it’s all incredible to me.”

“Stop flattering me,” she murmured, but she couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at her lips. His genuine admiration always made her heart skip a beat.

He gave her a half-smile, though there was still a hint of sadness in his eyes. “We have to talk, you know,” he said softly. “We can’t just… pretend the argument didn’t happen.”

She nodded, the smile fading as she remembered the fiery fight. “I know.”

He took a deep breath, shifting closer so their foreheads nearly touched. “I hate that my past makes you feel insecure. But it’s my past. I can’t change it, no matter how badly I wish I could.” He placed a hand gently on her hip. “I need you to understand that I’m not that guy anymore. Maybe I was reckless before, a little shallow. But I’m not the same person I was a year or two years ago.”

She chewed her lip, eyes drifting to where her hand lay over his on the bed. “I guess a part of me thinks that once a player, always a player,” she admitted. “Like, if you’ve done it once, you’ll do it again. But I know that’s not fair. People can change.”

His fingers squeezed hers lightly. “I don’t want anyone else. I know you might find it hard to believe, but it’s true. I’m not going to ruin this for some random stranger in a club.” He paused, voice growing thick with emotion. “I love you, Y/N. I love your fierceness, your shy smiles, your sarcastic quips, how you refuse to let me pay for everything even though I want to spoil you. I love the way you get all excited about a new book or a new recipe you learned. I love your body, every curve, every inch, how it feels like you were made to fit in my arms.”

She drew in a shaky breath, tears gathering again. “Lando…”

He nodded, blinking back his own moisture. “So trust me, please. Talk to me if you feel suspicious. Don’t bottle it up until it explodes. Because I can’t go another four days like this. It was pure hell.”

She closed her eyes, exhaling. “I’m sorry I shut you out,” she whispered, voice trembling. “And I’ll… I’ll try. I don’t want to go through this either. I just need reassurance. Because my insecurities are… they’re crippling sometimes. Seeing that picture brought back every fear I had.”

He cupped her cheek gently. “I get it. And I’ll do my best to reassure you. Always.”

They shared a tender kiss, a silent pact to communicate better, to lean on each other instead of letting the fear linger. After a few more minutes of hushed conversation, she excused herself to use the bathroom, to freshen up.

Stepping into the attached en-suite, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror: flushed cheeks, swollen lips, hair in wild mess. She splashed cool water on her face, trying to calm the roiling emotions. She felt lighter somehow, as if her chest wasn’t as constricted. He was here, in her home, in her bed, and they’d just poured out so many painful feelings. But they’d also reconnected intimately, forging a new bond in the midst of all the anguish.

Yet a small flicker of doubt still lingered. She wondered if she could truly accept the rumors that might come in the future—pictures of him with fans, random girls in clubs, or women who found him attractive. He was an F1 driver, he was famous, and she couldn’t shield him from the outside world. She swallowed hard, telling herself that if she truly loved him, and if he truly loved her, they would find a way through it.

When she returned, dressed in a fresh tee and shorts, she found him sitting on her bed, having pulled on his boxers. The bedside lamp was on, illuminating the curve of his shoulders, the slight slump as he stared at his phone. He looked up the moment she stepped in.

“Everything okay?” she asked softly, noticing his phone in his hand.

He grimaced. “Max and a couple of the other guys are freaking out because I went off the grid. I told them I needed time to sort this out.”

She nodded, crossing to the bed, settling beside him. “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

He shook his head. “No, don’t apologize for that. They were worried, but now that I told them I’m with you, they’re pretty much leaving me alone.”

She reached for his phone, pressing the lock button so the screen went dark, then set it aside on the nightstand. “You’re here with me now,” she said quietly. “Focus on that.”

He exhaled, nodding. Then his eyes flickered to the faint bruise on her wrist, a small mark she’d gotten from accidentally knocking her hand against a table the day before. She saw him stare with concern. “What’s that?”

She glanced at it. “Oh, that’s nothing. I bumped into something at work. I’m clumsy.”

He lightly brushed his thumb over the bruise, then lifted her hand and kissed the spot gently. The tender gesture made her chest tighten. His gaze moved up to hers, intense. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “for scaring you the other night. I haven’t gotten that out of my head. The way you flinched…”

A wave of guilt crashed over her. “Lando, I said I’m sorry. It’s not you—it’s my own fear. I just reacted.”

“But the fact that you could even think I’d—” He exhaled unsteadily, closing his eyes. “I promise I’ll never move that way again. I’ll be mindful. I don’t want to trigger that reflex or make you think—”

She slid her arms around him, pulling him into a hug. “No. Don’t change how you move or exist in the world,” she whispered, voice thick with regret. “It was my own trauma or fear or something. But I know you’d never do that to me, logically. My body just panicked.”

He nodded, holding her close. “Okay,” he said softly. “But if you ever feel scared, tell me. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel safe.”

They stayed like that for a long time, arms wrapped around each other on the bed, the soft glow of the lamp creating a cocoon of intimacy. She felt his heartbeat slow as he relaxed in her arms, his breathing growing calmer. She gently stroked the back of his neck, and he exhaled against her shoulder.

Finally, she drew back slightly, looking into his face. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”

He shook his head, giving her a wry smile. “No. I came straight here from the airport, then… all this happened.”

She offered a small smile in return. “I’ll order us takeout. Thai or pizza?”

He shrugged. “Anything you like. Though I’m kind of craving noodles.”

She nodded, picking up her phone from the nightstand, scrolling through her food delivery apps. Within minutes, she placed an order for a selection of Thai dishes. Then she set her phone aside again.

Lando let out a soft chuckle. “I can’t believe we went from screaming at each other to ordering noodles. My head’s spinning.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, it’s been a rollercoaster.” Her features turned somber as she looked at him. “Do you regret coming here?”

He reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. “Not in the slightest. I want to fix things with you more than anything.”

A gentle silence fell over them, broken only by the hum of the city outside. She cuddled closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Despite the leftover ache, a sense of relief washed over her. He was here. They were together, speaking, touching, and trying to heal.

2K notes · View notes

sweeheeheehee · 9 days ago

Text

first time? ⭑ heeseung

| in which.. heeseung, the known player, discovers his interest in the girl in the back of his english class..

| playboy!heeseung x virgin!reader ₊ highschool au ₊ reader is a inexperienced loser ₊ smut warnings: dom!heeseung oral (fem. receive) tongue fucking fingering virginity loss p in v rough sex unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it) petnames multiple oragasms cumming inside heeseung is pussy drunk for a second dumbification creampie breeding kink dirty talk lots of kissing a bit of aftercare

| i didn’t bother to proofread this cause i got lazy so if it’s bad then eat my ass but lmk if you guys would like an aftermath cause honestly i would LOVE to write one!! enjoy!

You don’t have any experience with boys. You’ve never even had your first kiss, haven’t even held a guys hand before. You can’t talk to anyone opposite gender without buffering and literally running away.

Exactly what you are is considered lame. a virgin.

What can you do? you can’t help but be a nervous wreck whenever you’re approached by a guy!

So what makes your english teacher think assigning YOU and lee heeseung, the schools most known playboy, on a project together would be a good idea?

You’ve heard things about him from girls he’s hooked up with. You heard a girl say he “fucked her so good she passed out” you wondered if that could actually happen..

“Mr. smith out of all the students in the class, you chose to partner me with heeseung? we are complete opposites!” You complained, in hopes of getting a partner change.

“Yn, heeseung needs this! he’s almost failing my class and you’re the top student! i need you to help him boost his grade because i cannot have him failing this class!” you let out a heavy sigh as your teacher picked up his bag and left the classroom, leaving you alone.

You’re so fucked. Working with heeseung would mean distraction and distraction means no work, excluding the fact you could barely look him in the eye.

“Fuck..” You huffed.

“What’s got you in a tangle hm?”

A very familiar voice sounded from the doorway. “What are you doing in here alone anyway?” heeseung asks, stepping into the classroom.

You turn to him, your eyes widened from his surprise attack, “Uh-“ “Aren’t we partners on this english project thingy? Good, i need a good grade in this class or i’ll fail”

Heeseung eyed you, examining your every move. Every little twitch of your finger, when you bit your lip softly, the way you blinked excessively when his eyes met yours. Heeseung waited for a response while you just stared at him nervously.

Another beat of silence passes and heeseung looks away with a “tsk”.

“Good talk! uh anyway we can start working tomorrow night at my place just come anytime after five” heeseung says as he gives you a piece of paper with his address on it. “see ya later cutie”

“cutie” ??? he found you cute even though you barely even made a peep while he was talking to you..

oh you’re so definitely fucked.

The project actually didn’t seem too hard, you could do this by yourself but mr. smith just had to put everyone in pairs. Why did it have to be you to boost his grade up anyway? There were plenty of other students who were more than willing to tutor heeseung.

You shouldn’t be the one responsible for his grade, it was his fault he didn’t try to pay attention in class nor do his work. And plus heeseung wasn’t going to help you do the assignment! All he’s gonna do is sit back on his phone while you do his part.

He won’t even learn anything and the teacher knew this so why did he partner you up? You don’t know.

You paced back and forth in your room debating if you should show up early or late. You didn’t even want to go but mr. smith gave you such little time to complete this assignment.

You must’ve taken too long overthinking because the next moment you glanced at the clock it was 7. Great, now you’re gonna show up to his house late late amazing!

You quickly grabbed your keys along with your school bag and shoved the piece of paper into your pocket, running out the door alerting your roommate you’ll be back. You punched his address into the gps and started to make your way there.

On the road, you hoped you didn’t make a fool of yourself, you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of heeseung because he’s the type to tell his friends about it.

Gosh, you couldn’t be anymore unlucky, you’re seriously dreading meeting up with heeseung in private. Your stomach felt uneasy due to the nervousness building up, who knew heeseung would make you feel this way?

Why didn’t you say “no” to meeting up? Gosh you’re so stupid. Okay, you seriously need to calm down it’s just one meet up! It can’t be that bad.. right..?

It was about 7:15 by the time you finally arrived at his house. Taking deep breaths, you gathered all the courage you had and made your way to his front door.

With a sigh, you knocked once, twice, should you knock a third time? Would that seem desperate? Yea that’s definitely too much. But he hasn’t answered the door yet? Maybe you should knock ag-

Before you could finish your thought, the door swung open revealing heeseung. He had on grey sweatpants that hung loosely off his hips along with a baggy white tee. He looked good.

“Took you long enough! was starting to think you weren’t gonna show” Heeseung says with a grin as he looked at you like you were his lunch. “Uh yeah sorry i uhm lost track of time! haha..” Heeseung lets out a breathy laugh and moves aside to let you in.

“My roommates are out of town for a little while so we can work in my room” “oh okay..” In his room? You really could just work in the living room.

You felt all the nerves as heeseung led you to his room. You tried to mentally calm yourself because you’re only here to work, nothing else. You do your roles for tonight and then you’re out of here.

Heeseung’s room was surprisingly clean, his bed was made, his collection of keyboards was organized in a particular way, and there were no clothes on the floor nor any food.

It smelt strongly of his cologne but it was oddly comforting.

He plopped down on his bed, quickly kicking his legs up and getting comfortable while you just stood at his door awkwardly.

“Don’t be a stranger baby,” heeseung says while patting the spot next to him.

You laugh nervously before walking towards him cautiously as if he were a dog about to snap any minute. He examined your every step, smirking.

You sit on the side of his bed with your back facing him and pulled out your laptop from your bag, “The sooner we start to work, the sooner we’re done! lets start”

He only lets out a quiet chuckle. It was so faint you barely heard it. But you did.

The assignment was something about historical figures, you two got assigned William Shakespeare and both of you had to study this and that about him.

You were too busy reading and typing away that you didn’t notice heeseung hadn’t been typing the whole time.

He was just.. sitting there and staring at you.

You could feel his eyes burning holes through the back of your head, his breathing heavy.

Your fingers came to a slow stop, “Uhm.. how’s your part going..?” You ask while slowly turning to him.

As soon as you turned to him, your eyes met and you felt your body go weak for a moment.

“This is boring. I don’t want to do this” heeseung whined like a child and pushed his laptop away from him.

“I- Uhm-“ You cleared your throat. “Well you have to do your part in order to get a good grade heeseung, you said you had to get a good grade or you’d fail..” Your voice came out weak and unsteady as you struggled to hold eye contact.

Heeseung only let out a groan and sat up, now face to face with you. “You know.. i have something more fun to do”

You knew exactly where this was leading, and you didn’t want to let it happen.

“Heeseung, we only have a few days to complete this assignment so please no foolish acts..”

With another breathy laugh he replied, “I promise to do my work if you let me show you how much fun we can have, hm princess?”

Your eyes slightly widened at the change of his tone your heart started to beat faster, “heeseung.. p-please.. let’s just get our work done..”

Your mouth was slightly ajar as you felt your eyes start to water from how nervous you were. Heeseung was slowly moving closer to you, his gaze switching from your eyes to your lips.

“Cmon princess, it’s not gonna be that bad.” He places his hand on your chin, his face now inches from yours.

When you don’t dismiss his suggestion, he takes that as a sign and finally leans in and presses his lips against yours.

Your eyes instinctively shut as his other hand went to hold your waist from behind. The position you two were in made it uncomfortable.

You were too much in shock to try to kiss back, you two just sat there with your lips connected.

He pulled away after a minute and looked into your eyes admirably. “so pretty”

Heeseung guided you to lay on your back so he was now in between your legs hovering above you.

He leaned back in and this time you kissed back. It was soft and careful, like you were something fragile.

His hand suddenly gripped your hip firmly, earning a tiny gasp from you, and heeseung took that as an opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth.

The assignment was long forgotten as the kiss grew deeper and needy.

His hand gripping your hip suddenly pulled you closer to his body, letting you feel his hard cock through his pants.

The sudden pressure caused you to whimper into his mouth as your hips involuntarily grind down on him again.

He pulled away with a string of saliva stretching from your mouth to his.

“Slow down princess, i wanna taste you first” Heeseung speaks lowly before his lips attach to your neck, sucking and nibbling. Your hands tangle into his locs, the feeling of his hands and mouth on you becoming overwhelming.

One of his hands on your hips move to the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up. “H-heeseung.. i’ve never done anything like this before..” You whisper out.

He pulled away just enough to look you in the eye, “I’ll take care of you pretty, just let me do the work.”

With that, he starts to pull your shirt over your head and you arch of the bed slightly to help him.

Once your shirt was off, he tossed your shirt somewhere on the ground as he admired your tits, “Fuck.. they’re perfect baby..” He whispered and leaned in to start kissing and sucking marks on the exposed skin.

Your hands that are in his hair slightly tug on the strands, causing him to groan.

His hand slides behind you to unclip your bra sending shivers down your spine. Your tits spill out as soon as he removes the restraint and again tossing it with your shirt.

He pulls back to get a good look at your chest, licking his lips “You’re fuckin’ perfect”

Heeseung dives back in and starts sucking on your nipple, the sensation causing waves of pleasure to course through you.

“Oh my… heeseung” You let out breathlessly, mindlessly arching up into his touch.

He hums in response and starts to slowly trail kisses down your torso, ending at the waistband of your pants.

This time he doesn’t wait for your consent, too eager to finally taste you.

In the blink of an eye, your pants end up on the floor with the rest of your clothes leaving you in your panties.

“Not fair.. why am i completely naked while you’re fully clothed” You complain.

Heeseung laughed and sat up on his knees to pull his shirt over his head. His body was carved deliciously, his abs were defined and his biceps were now fully revealed.

You had to bite your lip in order to contain a whimper threatening to spill as he leaned back down to face your clothed cunt.

He trailed kisses down your inner thighs getting oh-so close to where you so badly needed him only for him to trail his lips back up.

“Heeseung.. please” You pleaded, you were pretty sure he could feel and hear the throb of your pussy.

Heeseung smiled deviously as he bit down on your underwear and slowly tugged it off, making intense eye contact with you while he took his cruel time teasing you.

Now fully revealed to heeseung, you couldn’t help but feel shy and instinctively retract yours thighs back together but heeseung’s head stopped you.

He laughed lowly, “Don’t get all shy now baby” Heeseung mumbled and used his hands to pry your thighs open again.

You felt sensitive as the cold air hit your soaked cunt.

“Fuck..” heeseung whispered before diving in without warning eliciting a dragged out moan from you.

His bold licks caused your hands to fly to his hair once again, pulling harshly as he sucked on your clit just right. “nghh heeseung.. feels so- fuck- so so good”

Your grip on his hair increased when he moved his tongue lower and into your hole.

He slid his tongue in and out as his nose nudged your clit deliciously. You couldn’t contain the loud high-pitched moans that flooded out of you, thank goodness no one was home.

Heeseung’s grip on your thighs tightened as he pushed himself deeper into your pussy urging his wet muscle deeper into your hole as his shoulders pushed your legs off the mattress.

His eyebrows furrowed as he focused on delivering your pleasure, his hands spreading your legs even more.

You felt the pressure in your stomach building as you tugged on his hair again, “Hee.. you’re- ah- i’m s-sooo close!”

He only growled into your pussy, the vibration adding to the pleasure.

Not once did his pace falter as he brought you closer and closer to your breaking point. The lewd sounds of your slick with his saliva was borderline dirty.

Your moans and whimpers grew more high-pitched the closer you got. “mmm hee im gonna cu- oh!”

With one last tug at his strands your orgasm hit you like a truck and you finally came undone on his tongue heeseung helping you through your high.

His pace didn’t slow, he drank every last drop of your release and even pushed his face deeper if that was possible.

The overstimulation kicked in immediately after your high was over, you whined and squirmed and attempted to push heeseung off.

“Heeseung.. too much too sensitive” You say breathlessly.

His hands steadied your hips, “Stop moving.” Heeseung growled against your folds and made you take what he was giving you.

It wasn’t long until he had you coming undone again with a loud squeal.

Again, he swallowed your release and gave your clit a kiss before crawling back up your body, his lips and chin glistening with your cum.

“taste so sweet” he murmured before he leaned in to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his lips.

You bucked your hips forward in a desperate attempt for some friction. “You sure you’re ready?” heeseung asked, his voice careful and steady.

You nod, your head clouded with lust and desire too far in to turn back now.

Heeseung grins slightly as he plunges two of his digits into your drenched hole. His eyes are focused on yours as he carefully examines each scrunch of your nose and every time your mouth falls open.

“Gotta stretch this pussy a bit if you wanna take my dick”

He scissored his fingers inside you making you a moaning mess.

Once he was satisfied, he pulled out his fingers and held them to your lips with a “open.” You parted your mouth open and sucked his fingers clean while he watched.

Heeseung went to take off his sweats along with his underwear finally letting his painful hard cock free.

It immediately sprung out hitting his stomach, the tip angry red and leaking with precum. You felt fear shoot through you at the size of it. That? was supposed to fit in you?

“Fuck. This might sting a little but just bare with me” Heeseung said as he held your hips still.

Heeseung slowly pushed the tip in, the stretch all too much but addicting in a way. “mm-”

Heeseung stopped with half his dick inside, allowing you to adjust. “ffffuck you’re tight” heeseung says as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

He stayed still for a while until you told him “you can move”

Heeseung’s restraint seemed to snap all within a second as he pushed fully in pulling a very loud moan from you. “Fuck i love the sounds you make” heeseung whispered in your ear.

Your legs felt weak from the penetration, the new feeling of the burning stretch felt surreal.

Heeseung started to move slowly but as his pace increased, so did your volume.

The sound of skin on skin echoed through the room mixed with your moans and his occasional grunts.

His hands squeezed your hips so hard you’re sure it would bruise. “feels so good- fuck” he muttered.

You heard his quiet moans in your ear which only turned you on further and your nails to dig into his back.

You weren’t aware of how loud you were until he said something about it, “Enjoying yourself that much huh princess?” the smile clear in his voice.

“Heeseung.. fuck!” You moaned.

The wet, lewd sounds were straight up filthy. You couldn’t believe you’re the source of the sounds.

Your mind grew even more clouded with each thrust and each creak of the frame, you were sure the neighbors hated you guys by now.

“Fuckkk i love this pussy” heeseung dragged out, his voice high. Your nails raked down heeseung’s back leaving painful scratches but he didn’t care.

Heeseung suddenly sat up on his knees, grabbed one of your legs that were around his waist and placed it over his shoulder.

When he started moving again he hit places so deep you didn’t know he could reach.

Now your mind was completely blank. you couldn’t process anything but moans as your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “mmm yess! lovvee it!”

Heeseung laughed lowly, “You love it huh?” “yes!”

His tip kissed your cervix making your moans higher. Heeseung could tell you were close because of your tone.

“You close baby?” You couldn’t answer. You were too lost in the pleasure to acknowledge what he said, the band in your stomach tightening beyond belief. “Best pussy i’ve ever had fuckkk”

One of heeseung’s hands went down to rub your clit in circles adding to the pleasure. Everything heeseung said sounded like background noise, your mind was hazy and your vision was dotted with white.

“You still with me princess?” heeseung said between thrusts, you could only let out moans in response.

His nails dug into your flesh as his pace increased, his dick twitching inside of you signaling he was close. You were too.

“Gonna fill this pretty pussy full. you want that right princess?” heeseung spat at you, looking down at your fucked out look, your eyes rolling back.

His hand on your leg reached to grab your face, “answer me.”

“yes! want it all!” You replied.

“Good girl.” heeseung says with something you can’t place your finger on.

His hand let go of your face and returned to its original position on your leg as he now focused on chasing his high.

With a loud, high moan, your orgasm washed over you, soaking your thighs and his stomach.

Heeseung kept thrusting even after you came, creating a white ring at the base of his cock. With a moan of your name, his hips stilled as he buried his warm cum deep inside of you and collapsed on top of you.

You shivered at the feeling, your body going limp as you slowly came back to reality.

After another minute of silence, he slowly pulled out the mixture of your cum and his spilled out of you.

“How was that for your first time?” heeseung asks with a smug smile. “It was.. really good” You answered tiredly as your eyes grew heavy.

You felt heeseung get off the bed for a moment and when he returned he was cleaning you with a damp towel. He discarded it once he was done and guided you under the blankets.

“I know you’re tired, go to sleep” heeseung whispered in your ear.

The last thing you felt was his arms sliding around your waist and his chest pressing against your back before you drifted off to sleep.

Maybe Mr. Smith partnering you with heeseung wasn’t such a bad idea..

my debut fic 👅👅 yes im very aware of how many times he calls reader baby or princess shush.. bruh i legit couldn’t stop laughing while writing this i forgot writing smut made me laugh.

2K notes · View notes

bluetimeombre · 27 days ago

Text

☽｡⋆ If you need my love ｡⋆☽

. You were growing up in a house with little love, but luckily Joel Miller was living across the road and he was always there to pick up the pieces.

this is a long one, 8k but i had so much fun writing it, might do a part two. i hope you enjoy!

warnings: smut, fluff, angst. neglectful parents, obsessed Joel, needy Joel, no outbreak au, oral (f! receiving) older joel, younger reader, drinking, p in v sex (unprotected) language

When Joel opened the door to you one cold evening, your arms wrapped around yourself, you drenched in rain, he only sighed.

"Oh honey," he shook his head.

Your teeth were practically chattering. "Nobody's home and I-I don't have a k-key."

A crack of thunder sounded behind you.

Joel looked over his shoulder at your house that was cloaked in darkness. It did look deserted, like nobody had touched it in years. "C'mon in, hun." He held the door open and stirred you inside.

Even if you'd been in the house more times that you could count you still shuffled inside, as if you didn't know where his living room was.

It was a small town in Texas, everyone knew everyone. Everyone knew Joel Miller and his daughter Sarah. Joel knew everyone too. He knew Jimmy a twenty minute drive away, his farm where anyone nice enough could get the best fresh eggs.

There was Bess who ran the bakery. You could get the best fresh bread and every year Joel always got Sarah her birthday cake from her.

There was Dave, coach of Sarah's soccer team. There was Louis next door who always had a issue with his hose leaking all over his garden- even in the drought.

Then, there was you.

You lived across his street with your parents. You who'd moved in ten years ago. A few years Sarah's senior, she'd been over the moon to have another girl to hang out with.

Apparently just hanging out with her dad was becoming a lost trend.

But even though you were a few years older, probably had your own teenage things to be getting on with, you treated Sarah like a best friend.

"You don't have to you know," Joel remembered saying years ago after you'd stayed up late with her, watching movies, only for her to fall asleep with her head on your lap- trapping you.

"It's no bother."

Even Joel had offered to pay you, acting as if you were a babysitter for his kid. You'd denied, almost offended.

You'd insisted you enjoyed it, that his house was nicer than yours.

Joel didn't get it. He was always behind on laundry, hardly had any healthy food- only takeout in the fridge- and dead plants on the windows, compete to your own house.

He'd seen the way you tenderly cared after anything and everyone, it didn't make sense. He assumed you were just sweet, or too shy to say anything different.

He remembered the day he discovered just why you liked his house.

Joel had only gone over with Sarah to talk to you about a sleepover. His brother, Tommy, was taking him out of town, insisting that he needed a 'guys weekend' and that Sarah at fourteen was fine to be left alone. Joel disagreed and he'd only meant to ask if you were around, would be willing to just hang out like you had hundreds of times before.

At the door he lingered, shouts and the shattering of glass sounding behind the door.

"Dad?" Sarah looked up to him un-sure.

Joel was already pushing her down the porch. "Go back to the house."

"What is that?"

"Not our concern."

But it was. It was his concern.

The shouting dulled but there was still a harshness hidden out of sight.

Sarah made her way down the porch, back to the Miller residence and Joel was following on un-sure feet when he heard the door swing open and shut.

Joel looked just as you hurried down the porch steps, keys swinging in your hand. "Woah hey-hey."

You looked aghast, stopping in your tracks when you spot Joel in front of you, hands out and reaching for your forearms.

"Is everythin' alright?" he asked, nodding back to the house.

In the afternoon sun your cheeks turned pink, the colour creeping up to your ears and down your neck. "Yeah, yeah everything's fine." You grinned but it was like a crack in an otherwise well structured wall.

Times like that started to happen more often.

Joel would always find you leaving the house in a hurry, getting in your car and driving off like escaping a crime. Or you'd be on the porch, sitting with a cup of coffee if it was early in the morning or tea late at night. He'd watch from his bedroom window that conveniently over looked your front porch.

Some nights he'd join you, pretending he didn't know why you were hiding out, pretending he didn't hear the shouting.

He'd make up some excuse.

"Neighbourhood watch, you never know who's out here..."

"Was gonna go for a drive, fill the tank if you wanna join..."

"My coffee pots bust, spare a sip?"

It was obvious what he was doing.

Yet you always entertained him.

You were standing like a statue in Joel Miller's living room. Granted- a chattering statue. You'd started shaking sometime an hour ago and you'd yet to stop.

The living room- the entire Miller house- was bathed in a warm orange glow. The tv was on mute, some film that was Joel's favourite Sarah had told you once. Curtis and Viper.

Joel had gone up stairs shortly after he told you to 'make yourself comfortable' but you didn't want to make his couch wet. You were already dripping on his carpet.

Had you woken him? God, what if you had?

What if he'd gone to bed and just assumed you'd wait until your parents get back? If they did.

You wouldn't have knocked and asked if you weren't desperate. But you'd only gone to go grocery shopping, you'd been hardly an hour and neither your mom or dad had mentioned leaving.

You wouldn't be surprised if they'd booked a last minute trip to try to salvage whatever was left of their failing marriage. Or if one had gone to the bar and the other to the arms of another.

Either way, you left the grocery's on the step and your key inside.

You'd called and got nothing from either of them.

You would never have annoyed Joel by knocking as night drew in if you weren't desperate.

Perhaps you could huddle on the porch, eat that chocolate you'd gotten.

You were just forming a plan in your head when Joel Miller practically tripped with how quick he came down the stairs.

"Here-" there was a small pile of clothes in his arms, what looked to be black jogging bottoms and a checked shirt. "I'd offer you some of Sarah's but she's already growing out of everything." He rubbed the back of his neck as you took the clothes.

"You don't have to," you said though you held the clothes close. "I'm sure someone will be home soon."

You really weren't certain anyone would be back for the weekend approaching.

Joel looked at you sternly, his hand on yours that was cold and trembling. "Change."

His eyes raked down the clothes that stuck to you.

He must have thought you looked a mess.

"Shower. You'll probably wanna get warm, c'mon." Joel led you up the stairs, this time slow. His arm was out, ghosting your back as he showed you into his room.

The one room that you'd forbidden yourself into entering.

Joel opened the door like it was just another room of his house, not his room where he spent quiet nights, where he slept among other things.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he chuckled dryly, kicking away a pile of clothes that looked a lot like trousers and boxers. "Here, my bathroom."

It was cleaner than his room objectively. One or two cheap colognes and a good one littered the counter. A bar of soap and a watch that you remember Sarah showing you she'd got him for his birthday.

"Let me-" Joel slowly peeled the clothes from your arms and nodded down at you. "I'll put these to heat up, you get yourself warm hun. I'll be just down stairs if you need anythin' else."

You nodded and gulped down all your objections to his kindness. "Thank you, Joel. I won't be long."

He smiled at you, a gentle smile. It was the kind you'd never seen before. "Take all the time you need, darlin'. And then some. I imagine it's been quite the night."

You scoffed and averted your gaze.

"I'll be downstairs."

You took your time in the shower. Not because he'd told you to but because you were frozen from cold and from trying to keep every small detail in your mind.

It was not right to think about Joel in his bathroom, bowing his head under the steady warm shower, naked. No matter the circumstance it wasn't right for your mind to wander what Joel looked like naked with droplets of water running down his chest, his sternum and lower.

You blamed it on the lack of sleep.

But you knew as soon as you could get back into your room you'd be dreaming about him again.

By the time you were done with the shower, condensation had covered the mirror and made the walls slick. You wrapped a fuzzy towel around you and tried not to think about other parts of Joel it had touched.

You sat yourself down on the edge of his bed, ignoring the way it dipped. You tried to calm yourself, your nerves and think of a solution. You could hop the fence, break down the back door.

Maybe you could even book a hotel for the night?

You had no doubt Joel would be gracious enough to offer you the sofa, but you didn't want to take over his kindness. You were already there as much as possible with Sarah.

You liked the kid of course, but you also liked the smiles that were always around the house, accompanied by the peace.

A gentle rattle of knuckles on the door broke you from your search of solutions.

"Hey."

Joel slowly opened the door and paused when he spotted you. On the edge of his bed, draped in his towel.

You realised, as you were drying, your hair was dripping. You were getting his bed wet. "Sorry." You got to your feet.

Joel held up his hands. "I jus' wanted to check you were alright. Needed anythin'."

"I'm good, thank you, for all this," you said, clutching your hands in front of you.

"You don't have to thank me, at all," he said, leaning on the door frame. "You saved me from a boring evening alone."

"Sarah?"

"Gone for the weekend. Tommy took her on a fishin' trip."

Your lips tilt up. "You're not a fisher?"

"No," he chuckled. "I'm afraid all that talent went to Tommy."

"Well I'm sure you're good for other things." You hadn't meant the words to hide some sort of hidden comment but as soon as you'd said it all you could think about was his 'other' talents.

Maybe Joel could tell you were being filthy, taking his hospitality for granted. He looked down and grabbed the handle. "Change. I'll be waitin'."

When the door clicked shut behind him you dropped back onto his bed, hiding your face in your hands and groaning.

What were you doing?

By the time you'd peeled the towel from yourself and folded it up, changed into what you assumed were Joel's old clothes (you'd had to roll the waistband of the joggers over several times and roll up the sleeves to) and made your way down stairs the credits were rolling on the movie.

The sofa was hidden under cushions and blankets.

Joel was leant over it, punching the pillows till they seemed fluffy enough. "C'mon, damn you."

You cleared your throat.

Joel whipped around. His lips parted, ready to speak but instead he got an eyeful of you. You in his clothes.

For a second you were delusional enough- and exhausted enough- to believe that he liked seeing you like that. Draped in him. But he was probably realising he liked that shirt and wanted it back immediately.

"You didn't have to do this, really," you said, gesturing to the makeshift bed he was making. "I don't want to put you out."

"You're doin' no such thing, I already told you. I was havin' a borin' evening."

"Well I'm glad me getting locked out and soaked amused you," you teased.

Joel's jaw ticked, his tongue running slowly over his bottom lip as his gaze fell lower. "Yeah," he hummed.

It seemed like an excruciatingly long moment that you let him stare.

Joel realised and cleared his throat. "You must be hungry," he walked by you, leaning away to avoid your touch. "Can't say I've got anythin' much good. Some pizza, maybe."

"I'm ok, thank you though."

Joel glanced back at you. "You've eaten?"

"I had lunch, i'm good."

Joel frowned at you, confused. "Lunch? It's dinner time, we'll order somethin."

"You've done too much-" you protest but Joel was already reaching for the phone and pulling at the draw of take out menu's.

"You like it plain, right?" he asked, already dialling the number and wedging the phone.

You walk to him. "At least let me pay-"

Joel held up his hand. "No, stay," his voice was low and gruff, eyes watching you darkly as you paused in place. "Good girl- hello, Jo? Yeah, it's Joel you son of a bitch."

Joel had sat down with you on the sofa and re-played Curtis and Viper while you ate pizza. He'd insisted you had to watch when you said you'd never seen it before. He'd mumbled something about not living till you had seen it, he wasn't even sure what he'd said to get you to sit and watch it with him.

It had worked.

He should have sent you to his bed, told you to rest because you were giving him challenges after challenges and you moved like you didn't even know it.

When you'd told him to come in when you were only in a towel, sitting on the edge of his bed like you didn't know what to do with the space. Wearing his clothes like you weren't giving him images that he'd keep locked up somewhere deep and dark in his mind for weeks to come.

You'd eaten pizza, asked him about every scene and slowly come out of you cold.

You'd become warm again next to him and it was driving Joel into a hot mess.

When the credits started to roll for the second time that evening Joel could tell you were struggling to keep your eyes open.

"You wanna sleep?" he asked. His arm had stretched out along the sofa, conciously to get closer to you.

You shook off your sleep. "Sorry."

"You needa stop apologising, you know," he teased, finger prodding at your shoulder.

You stretched. "Is it bad if I say sorry?"

Joel chuckled, spreading his legs out. "Right, you take my bed. Sofa's mine."

You woke up at that, all sleep gone from you. "What?"

Joel looked at you again in confusion. "Can't have you takin' the sofa after the day you've had."

You scoffed. "And I can't kick you out of your own bed."

"You ain't kicken me outta anythin', i'm tellin' you."

Joel would never be this kind to anyone else except his own kid. If any other neighbour of his found themselves in this situation he'd never have offered them his own clothes, wouldn't have sat down and watched a movie he'd seen a dozen times before.

But it was you. Joel was good at saying no to you cause you were always unfair to yourself mostly.

You were gorgeous, intelligent, kind and self-dependant. A treat dangled in front of Joel, constantly nibbiling and never taking. If he took he'd never be able to spit you back out your system.

Either you knew what you were doing with your coy smiles, gentle shuffles into him and sweet words and wanted to torture him or you didn't know and that was worse.

He couldn't pretend the idea of you in his bed wasn't driving him mad but he also could see the droop on your eyes and the slug in your body. You needed rest. You needed someone to look out for you.

Joel would kill to be that man.

"Joel, I can't," you protest.

"I'm not takin ' no for an answer, sweetheart," he said.

"The couch is more than fine- the floor even."

Joel shook his head. "C'mon, it's gettin' late. Head up."

He stretched further out, his foot now against yours.

You were watching him, brows pulled together and eyes focusing on him. "No."

Joel's brows rose. He'd perfected the stern look of a father but it didn't seem to be workin' on you. "No?"

"No, I want the sofa."

In a move he didn't anticipate, you threw yourself down, your hair fanning out on the pillow and you pulled the blanket up to your chin, kicking out your legs till they were draped over Joel's lap.

For a moment all he did was stare, his lips parted and a soft breath falling from him. You closed your eyes like you were already drifting off, un-aware the effect your cat-like stretch was having on him. His nerves had been shattering since he saw you wrapped in his towel.

You were giving his patience a good try.

Joel chucked under his breath, calling your name.

Your sly smirk did things to him, especially as you ignored him.

Joel's hand fell upon your shin, trailing up slowly as his body slowly leaned over. He'd never known anyone to have an effect on him like this. Never been so allured and so ... needy like he was a damn teenager again.

All he wanted was to press his body into yours, to kiss your hair and assure you he would look after you, no matter what, no matter where.

Your body stilled as his, heavier and larger, caged you on the sofa.

His arm stretched over your head and your eyes opened, flickering to find his gaze.

"Jus' get comfortable," he'd reached over and flicked the lamp off.

But he didn't move. No, Joel was stubborn.

Once the soft glow of the lamp had gone and he'd turned the tv off the living room was put into darkness.

Joel wedged himself in, his chest to your back, arms wrapped around himself to stop him from teasing with a touch.

"Joel what are you-"

"Shh, i'm tryin to sleep," he grumbled. He tried to push himself into the back of his couch that was falling under both your weights, rolling you into him.

He tucked his head in and closed his eyes as he felt you turn, questioning him. Heck, he was questioning himself. He'd promised some easy down time while Tommy took Sarah out, not this. Not his own battle of temptation.

"If you ain't takin' the bed then i'm not neither," he grumbled.

Your body pulled back and Joel thought he'd done in, over stepped. That the walking in on you in a towel, wearing his clothes, an arm too close around you while the film played had been too much.

Instead he felt a warmth brush over him and your body close to him.

You'd shared his blanket that was too small for the both of you.

In all of Joel's wants to take care of you, perhaps there was a bit of you that wanted to take care of him.

They weren't back.

It was the Saturday and there was still no stirring in the house, no cars outside. Not even a damn text.

You were still draped in Joel's too big clothes for you, staring at the house that was still.

The sun had risen long ago but Joel still slept on the sofa.

Where you'd both slept. You woke with his arm around you, strong and un-yielding as he held you into his chest. It had taken you a near ten minutes to free yourself from his warmth but you'd finally gotten free and his little snores continued.

Only for two minutes did you stare at him, smiling to yourself before realising it was wrong. Wrong to want him so much and wrong to wonder why he'd insisted he share the sofa.

Either he was the most stubborn man you'd ever met.

Or he wanted to be close.

You couldn't decide which was worse.

But now you were faced with small other options.

What did you do now? You couldn't stay with Joel for another day, heck you still only had your clothes that were still damp on a chair in Joel's room.

Maybe you'd go out of town yourself.

Call a friend?

There was a stirring on the sofa.

Joel woke in confusion. Not at the sleeping on the sofa. His fist was clenching at the empty space in front of him and his gaze still blurry with sleep looked for you.

When he spotted you at the window his body visibly relaxed.

And it set your body taunt.

"Morning'." His voice was hoarse, lower register than you'd ever heard.

"Hey," your arms fold over your chest.

Joel was still watching you, throwing an arm behind his head. The blanket slowly fell and his shirt rode up. "You sleep alright? Didn't snore, did I? Sarah says I do sometimes."

You smile and shake your head.

Joel huffed as he sat himself up. You still weren't moving, body his but mind elsewhere. "Everythin' alright?"

You sighed, looking down at your feet that just about peeked over the joggers. "My parents, they still aren't back."

You couldn't meet Joel's gaze as he huffed in annoyance.

"I'm sorry," you apologised. "I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can. I'll drive around, meet a friend or somethin'. I won't trouble you anymore."

"You ain't troublin' me, honey, not in the damn slightest," he grumbled.

It did nothing to settle your nerves.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth.

Joel must've noticed your hesitation, your worry that you were too much. He was moving across the room before you could register it. "Stay."

"I shouldn't, you've done so much and you were supposed to have a break this weekend. I'm already ruining it," you ramble.

Joel's hands are steady as they settle on your forearms, thumbs soothing you. "Stay."

You eyes flickered up to him. It always shocked you how stern his face could be, the wrinkles dawning at his forehead and the creases when his mouth moved, but his eyes were soft, always calm like warm coffee. "Joel-"

"Whatta do I gotta say to make you stay, huh?" he asked, smirking. "Promise of more shitty movies and even worse food? My sorry-ass company?"

You chuckled. "It wasn't a shitty film," you said. "And your company is the best i've had in months. Sarah exculded."

There was a glimmer of pure joy in Joel's eyes as he laughed. His hands squeezed your arms once before he walked to the kitchen, leaving you to look at your house once more time before following.

"So what do you say I get some coffee goin' and then we can see what groccery's of yours we can salvage?" he said.

You nodded to whatever he said because leaning on the doorway, watching his shirt ride up every time he stretched, you weren't sure you could ever listen to anything he was saying.

Tommy: So, you resting up?

Was he? Was Joel using his weekend to rest.

No, he was using his weekend like a test.

When he woke without you in his arms he was close enough to whining. Whining! It took his body seconds to grow cold without your warmth and for him to wake.

And then it took every ounce of himself not to smile when he heard your parents still weren't back.

First he wanted to yell, wanted to beg your parents home so he could give them a peace of his mind. But he quickly thought about what was presented. You. You and him for a whole un-interrupted day.

Joel thought about the things he could do. Keep you next to him, cook you breakfast- whatever you wanted even if it meant he'd have to break speeding laws to get to the shops.

You in his house, wearing more of his clothes.

After coffee he'd dismissed himself to the bathroom quickly to get filthy thoughts out of his head before they could manifest lower. You in his house, all to himself, desperate for warmth and love. Everything he could give you.

Joel had called Sarah just to distract himself.

No, Joel was not resting up.

You'd spent the day with him cleaning his kitchen, insisting you needed to do something for him.

There was plenty he thought you could do.

Then Joel showered, it was already mid day. He'd stepped out the shower and pushed his face into his towel to dry off when he inhaled and smelt you.

He groaned into the towel, diving in again, almost slobbering at the smell of you on his towel.

It drove him mad.

And it drove him back into a very cold shower.

By the time evening had dawned you insisted to leave the house. Not because his company was boring, but because you wanted to take Joel somewhere.

"I could always break in through a window to get some clothes," you suggested as you gestured to the attire you were still in. "You're in that building way of work. You can repair a window?"

"Can't glue glass back together," he said, leaning over the counter. "I'll see what Sarah's got." Maybe yesterday he'd lied just a bit about her clothes and growing out of. He'd just seen an opportunity to have you draped in him and took it.

He found some of Sarah's things, a bag of clothes that were supposed to be donated last year and left you with them.

When you came back down the stairs Joel's pulse shot.

You'd put those jeans you had on yesterday back on, but they'd been cleaned and dried and now they were snug on your hips and backside. The top you'd picked was from one of Sarah's old favourite band but it was too small on you, tight on the sleeves and showing a healthy slither of your skin.

Fuck.

Suddenly Joel regretted giving you that bag, hated that he'd promised you a night out of his house. He hated everything in him that wanted you.

How could your parents leave you? How could anyone not want to be in your company always.

"Is it ok?" you asked.

Was it ok? Everything was far from ok?

"Let's go, darlin'."

The two of you went in his truck, going to a simple bar for some cheap and good enough burgers and drinks. You were over twenty-one, just, but you'd assured Joel you were a regular at the bar. That it was the hottest place for everyone to go to.

When he walked in and the two of you got a booth, Joel wasn't so happy with the old guys staring at you. Or the younger ones too. As if he wasn't ogling you when you got the chance.

He just liked that you hardly noticed any of them, eyes only on Joel.

You'd gotten burgers and beer, talking about anything and nothing.

Joel did not broach the subject of your parents.

He watched you talk about anything you wanted, watched the way your lips moved with words he could just about make out.

"You staring at me," you laughed, nursing another beer. The burgers were half eaten, fries gone. Your body was turned into Joel's as he curled into you.

"Starin'?" he repeated with cheek. "Am I?"

"You are."

Joel hummed and let himself stare a little longer. You'd already caught him, what was the harm of anymore.

You shied under his gaze, looking away. "I don't have to stay tonight, Joel," you said. "I could get a hotel, easily. We're in town anyway."

He was already shaking his head. "Not happin'."

"You don't have to do this just to be nice."

"Who's to say i'm not gettin' anything out of this?" he said.

Your brows rose as you lifted the bottle to your lips. "Are you?"

The teasing was laid out bare on the table like a meal.

"Maybe," he said, taking a swig of his own. "You're good company."

You smiled, a small pink to your cheeks coming again.

Joel wondered what else could have you blushing like that. If he was to dip his head low and trace whispers in the skin of your neck, would he be graced by your bashful look. Or would you crane your head back for more?

His eyes drifted at the skin of your neck at the thought.

You shuffled, leaning back in your seat, edging him on.

If you knew his thoughts would you take the reigns?

"Gotta take a leak." Joel did not have to piss, he needed to give himself a stern talking to in the mirror, splash some cold water on himself and move on, shake off his want.

You had come to him for solace, not to be the victim of his pervy thoughts.

"Get it together, Joel." One weekend without his brother and kid supervision and he was reverting back to a horny teen.

By the time he'd shook himself out of it and was walking back to the booth, his seat had already been taken by a man probably his age. John. The scoundrel.

"You're very pretty mind," Joel heard him mumble, saw you look down but not smile or thank him for the compliment.

Joel's hand was clapping down on his shoulder. "Everythin' alright here, buddy?"

"Joel, man," John greeted with a grin as if he wasn't taking his seat and his girl. "Where've you been hidin this young little thing? You know, sharin' is carin'."

"Excuse me?" your voice sounded, startled and disgusted.

That was enough for Joel to pull John out the booth.

"We don't care for your business here," said Joel, standing tall on guard over the booth.

"Oh come on-" John tried.

"Out!" he yelled, gaining looks from the people around.

John scoffed, a glare in his dark and cold eyes as he still took time to scan you.

Joel was watching him go, counting his steps and assessing anyone else in the room that might want to speak to you. He'd tell them to beat it to.

It wasn't until he felt your hand on his bicep that he looked at you.

"Hey," he could hear his own voice softer than the growl he'd used with John. His arms rose, hand holding yours. "I'm sorry."

"No don't be, don't be," you said. Your eyes drifted around the bar as his were still down on you. "Can we go back to yours?"

It had been ruined. The night you'd wanted so bad crumbled. Still, Joel couldn't find it in himself to deny he didn't hate hearing you ask to go back to his.

"Course, of course, darlin'. Come on." He led you out the bar, throwing dollars on the table and leaving your half eaten food and half drunk beers.

The night air ran shivers over your skin as he escorted you to his truck, opening the passenger door for you.

You stood there, hair brushed back in the wind and arms crossed over your chest. "Thank you, for back there."

Joel rested his arm over the opened door. "Don't thank me for that. Guy like that shouldn't have been talkin' to you like that."

You nod and gulp. You took a step closer to him as Joel watched. "You've done so much for me, Joel," your voice was low, with no need to speak up. "What can I do for you, please?"

Joel's breath stuttered as he saw you come closer, close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss and grab and hold and- he cleared his throat and looked past your head. It was not a step to take tonight. Maybe ever. "Get in the truck."

The night hadn't gone as planned. Granted, none of the weekend had gone as planned.

Joel's truck pulled up in front of his house slow enough for you to catch the lights on in your house, the car back at front. Someone was home and suddenly that made your weekend all the worse.

You and Joel both got out the truck silently and walked up to his porch but both of you were looking at your house, alive.

"Someone's home."

Joel sighed heavily next to you. "Yeah."

So the weekend would be done. You'd go back to whatever new and tense atmosphere was created. There goes your time with Joel that you hadn't realised could do so much for you.

"Well," you started. "I'll get Sarah's shirt washed and dried for you and get it back. Thanks so much for putting up with me and-"

"Don't go," said Joel.

Your head rose. From the silent way he drove you both back and the way he'd been in the bar, you thought he'd push you back to your house.

Joel's tender gaze shone under the dim porch light. "I know you have shit goin on in that house and I can't stand the thought of that. Can't stand to think you're upset. I want you to stay. For tonight. For always. Just-"

You kissed Joel.

You surged up on your toes, held his cheeks and kissed him.

And his lips felt better than ever imagined. They parted under you and you got your first taste of the man you'd dreamt about. Beer on his tongue, desire on his lips and a thousand wants in the back of his throat.

Joel's arms were strong and urgent as they scooped you up and into his chest, moving until he had you pinned against the wall and his body. He surged you up, feeling into your mouth deeper, pressing his body against yours.

He pulled back, lips kissing under your jaw and trailing down your neck. "Oh baby," he cooed, peppering kisses along the skin.

"Joel," you whined, hands grasping at his shirt and pulling.

He nipped at the skin at the base of your neck and licked over the red he'd created. "Fuck. Say my name again," he muttered. He pulled his head back enough to look at you. "Say it."

"Joel."

He kissed you hard, mouth open and tongue discovering your every angle. His hands wasted no time in falling into your hair.

"Stay tonight," he mumbled against your lips as if he couldn't take himself any further away from you. "Please. Let me show you love. Let me... let me take care of you, baby."

His eyes looked at yours, his head nodding like he could coax that same nod from you. He was still mumbling under his breath, a series of please.

There was nothing in the world that could take you from that moment.

"Yes."

Joel kissed you again, face in yours, tongue finding easy triumph over yours. He kept you into his chest with one arm, the other blindly reaching out to unlock his door.

He threw it open and it banged against the wall.

Joel carried you through the threshold, arms secure around your waist. One hand cupped your ass, dragging over your thigh and encouraging you to wrap a leg around him.

He groaned when he felt the warmth of you on him.

He kicked the door close behind him and was still kissing you, was still stealing your breath when he got to the stairs.

It was slobbery, it was wet. You could only hear the ticking of a clock and the sound of your lips as Joel set you on the stairs.

"Need you," he mumbled, kissing down your neck. "Needed you so long now, you have no idea."

"I do," you moan, throwing your head back, eyes squeezed shut to focus on the heat between your two bodies. "Dreamt about this."

Joel looked up at you. "Yeah? When? When you were in my shower?" his hand dragged down your neck, watching it go. "When you were wrapped in my towel? Wearing my clothes." His hand disappeared under your shirt.

Your breath caught as you felt his rough hands drag up and cup your breast. "Joel," you gasp.

"Wanted to have you so bad, baby," he said, speaking to himself as he tugged up the top. "Smelt you on my towel and had to fist myself thinkin' 'bout you."

You mewl at his words, a needy and pathetic noise.

Joel pulled the top off you and threw it somewhere behind. Your breasts were spilling out of your bra, begging. "Shit."

There was no time for you to speak, to gage yourself as Joel hid himself in your breasts, un-clasping your bra and throwing it aside.

It was needy.

Your hands were in his hair, tugging at the roots. You could feel Joel everywhere, his lips dragging against each boob, jumping between the two as if he couldn't decide where to start. His hands were running all over you, down your hips, between your thighs, desperate to feel it all.

Your breathing was erratic, your mind foggy with only one thing. Joel, Joel, Joel.

"Don't- don't stop," you beg.

"Never, never wanna," his voice was muffled as he cupped your breasts, squeezing them together. His tongue darted out and dragged over the skin, hands squeezing.

Your leg wrapped around his hips again and pushed him into the heat between your legs.

Joel groaned.

He pulled back enough to look at you. His hand cupped your cheek, brushing your hair back. "Please... wanna treat you so good.... want you to feel."

"I do," you nod, empty without his lips.

Joel could tell, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. At odds with the hardness that he unconsciously thrust between your legs. "Wanna treat you so good.... gonna be so good for you. Wanna show you love... let me take care of you."

You couldn't make words. The promises in mumbles was driving you mad.

Joel's hand was gentle on your neck but there enough to stir your gaze to his. "Say yes, baby. Say yes."

"Yes, Joel, yes," you weren't even sure what he was asking for. To use you, to fuck you, to take care of you? It was all a yes.

"Let me... let me do everything to show you love," said Joel. He pecked your lips. "Let me eat your pretty pussy. Let me make you tremble on my fingers. Want it. Need it."

You gasp at his words as his hands fall to your jeans, popping the button and pulling them down. "Joel, we're- we're on the stairs." Was this about to happen, your parents over the road? Was Joel gonna take you however he wanted on the stairs leading to his bedroom?

"Yeah we are baby," he said, "need you. Can't wait. Fuck, might die if I don't get your pussy on my face."

You moan aloud at the words.

Joel looked up at you, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Stand up for me, baby."

How you got onto your feet, you had no idea. But you stood steps ahead of him, wearing nothing but soaked panties and a breathless expression.

Joel knelt before you, jeans tight and strained at the front but he moved like it wasn't there. Like his own need wasn't driving him mad as his hands cupped the back of your thighs.

His eyes weren't warm coffee but a dark night as he kept his eyes on you, tongue darting out to lick a strip over your panties.

He hummed. "You're wet. You're so wet. Been needing me? Been needing attention?"

"Ye-yes," you gasp, eyes closing.

"God what a pretty sight, coulda had this, honey," said Joel. His finger followed the path his tongue created. He prodded your panties, watching the material dampen under his touch. Joel pushed it and watched your pussy take it.

"Joel!" your hands flayed, unsure were to put them.

Joel kissed over your bundle of nerves hidden from him once more. "Can you take them down for me? Please?"

You nodded and realised he'd asked you to do something.

Quickly, you slid them down your legs, exposing yourself without a second thought while Joel tore his shirt off.

Before you could throw them with the rest of your discarded clothes but Joel was quick to take them from you.

The material bunched in his fist first before he brought it up to his face. You watched in wonder, noting the quick rise and fall of your own chest, as Joel's tongue darted out and got a taste of you on your panties.

It was obscene and almost had you kneeling over.

Joel's gaze flickered back up to you, dropping your panties when he noticed your pussy weeping. His hands pulled at your thighs, groping the skin until he had you spread on his stairs. "Gonna eat you out now, ok, honey? Gonna have you trembling. Need you on my face, all over me... fuck."

Joel went in like a man starved. He practically sat himself under you legs, holding your thighs apart and spreading you open.

Your moan beat in your own ears as you braced yourself on the wall and banister.

His tongue was sloppy as he went up and down your folds, gathering your juice and swallowing it. He moaned into your pussy.

"Gonna-" he kissed over your folds, wet. "Eat you up, yeah?" he was talking to himself, or your pussy.

The pleasure was all yours as it escalated up your body, leaving you in moans and pathetic whines.

Joel took no notice of anything else but his face in between your legs. "Eat you out till you forget your name. Till you only know pleasure and want," his tongue flattened against you and slurped, drinking everything you had for him. He whined into you, lost in need. "Fuck, baby, this so good."

Your breathing was un-stable, loud. "Joel, you're-you're-"

One of his hands fell to his crotch, squeezing the thick indent of himself. "Don't try and speak baby, know you can't. Just feel. Just feel me and cum when you want. Want you to cum on my face, all over me. Know you can... Want..." his voice was lost in moans and making out with your core.

If he went anywhere to your nerves... If he so much as looked at your clit you feared you might make his wishes come true.

Like he knew your thoughts, Joel's large palm sprawled out on your sternum, thumb circling your clit as his tongue fucked up, dipping in and out of your juice.

"Joel- Joel!" you yelled, gripping the banister like it was the only thing tying you to the earth.

Joel groaned, thumb applying pressure. He knew every part of you already, knew buttons to press to get you a squirming mess. "Come, god baby, please come all over my mouth. Let me... need it," he begged.

He pushed his face flush into you, nose nudging your clit even more as he moaned into you.

You were screaming out as you finished, thighs shaking so hard Joel had to hold them as he took what you gave him, all of it, licking up the mess and cleaning your thighs only to smear more of it over his face.

"So good..."

"Baby, your pussy the best thing I ever had..."

"Feel good, honey, I feel so good. So damn happy right now..."

He was still talking to himself by the time your eyes had opened.

You found his hand down his own trousers, the tip of his cock flush and pink and weeping. You leaned over him, desperate for your own touch.

"No, baby, no." Joel grabbed your wrist and stirred your wanting fingers into his mouth.

He sucked on them (just how you wanted to on his cock) he took them like it was his own favourite treat. He was still moaning, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat he'd created from his own need.

"Wanna.... want your cock, Joel," you whined.

Joel looked up to you, taking your fingers from his mouth with a trail of saliva. "I know baby, he wants you too. God, does he want your mouth."

Joel got to his feet, tugging your still shaking body into his. He kissed you, open-mouthed, tongue licking in. "But I wanna take care of you more than anythin'."

It took a while to get to his room. He carried you up, had your body on his and he couldn't have his lips without yours for more than a second before he was chasing after you for more.

It was like being a teen all over again. It was like tasting the first forbidden fruit, it was like a drug that you never wanted to quit.

It was enough to kill you, but have you living in bliss.

Joel flicked his light on in his room and closed the door behind him. "Gonna fuck you now, ok baby?"

His hand cupped your cheek, coaxing you to look at him.

You nodded, head brushing his.

"I'll be gentle, I will, but I need you open, I need you ready," he kissed you. "Need to fuck you into my bed. Want your body indented there. Want to smell you on my sheets for weeks in case."

In case he never got it again.

You cupped his cheek, fingers ablaze from the feel of stubble. You implored him to look at you. "Won't be the last time."

"No?" his eyes lit up like a boy on Christmas.

Your tongue darted out, flicking his lips. "Gonna need you, always."

"Always," Joel repeated.

While distracted, you slid to your knees, dropping down with a thud.

You didn't even bother freeing Joel from his trousers and boxers, you just wet him over it with your mouth. You dragged it up, tasting the denim but feeling the twitch of satisfaction he gave you.

Joel groaned, hands hovering in the air around you as you made quick work. "Baby, no, what did I... fuck... what did I say?"

You moan against the denim, hand on his thigh to steady yourself. "But want you, Joel, want to feel you."

"Arg- you will baby," he grunted, jaw clenching. "Go on then, play a bit."

You smiled and pulled down his jeans and boxers in one. His cock sprang out, beads of pre-cum already trailing down.

He had length but it was the thickness that had you swallowing. The veins that had you reaching out with spit on your hand to work him up and down.

You tried to go slow, you really did, quickly you picked up the pace as Joel moaned.

You kissed his tip and then around it before your tongue licked around him, collecting his pre-cum and savouring the taste. It was so him.

"Oh baby, enough to bring a man to his knees."

You sensed you didn't have much time, darting your head low to engulf his balls in your mouth- or at least one of them. It was heavy on your tongue, warm with him.

As suspected, Joel groaned loudly before dragging you up.

He tossed you down on the bed, stepping out of his pants.

You expected to feel his cock trace your entrance, to be prepared for the burning and passion inside of you.

Joel had gone in with his tongue again fist. He really was on his knees, holding your thighs open and licking up and down, getting your taste again like he'd forgotten it in the time it took to get to his room.

Your hand flew to his hair, tugging at the roots. "Joel!"

"Whatever you want, baby," he mumbled, kissing at your thigh.

"Fuck me! Fuck me, please!"

His tongue left you alone and you felt the bed dip as he crawled over you. Your legs fell flat and wide, accommodating him. He hovered over you enough so you wouldn't feel him. "You want it?"

"I do," your eyes stung, you were close enough to tears.

"Want all of me splitting you open?" he asked, "once you have me baby, that's it. You can't have anyone else."

"Don't want anyone else, just please."

Joel tested himself on top of you, head in the crook of your neck, nipping and licking. "Gonna fill you up, make you feel.... so good!" He broke off in a groan as he led his cock into you. "Shit! You're so ... so tight."

Your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he slowly inched himself in more and more. "Joel..."

He brushed your hair out the way, still over you. "This ok? You feelin' me? Feelin' all of me."

Your eyes screwed shut at the initial burn but your own need pulsed and had you begging for more.

"Don't wanna hurt you, my pretty girl," he mumbled.

You shook your head. "Won't. Just move!"

Joel could never say no to you.

His hips rocked slowly, until all of him was sunk in. He was still a moment longer, panting above you.

"Joel, move, please," you begged, holding onto him.

"Baby if I move now i'm coming inside of you and i'm spent," he chuckled. "Trying to make it good. Trying to make it last."

There was earnest in his voice. A true desire that went beyond touching, that went beyond proving he could love you and take care of you.

He wanted you. All of you. Forever.

Your hand cupped him, thumb tracing over his bottom lip as his eyes opened to yours. "It's perfect."

Neither of you blinked. Neither of you dared look away to where he slowly sank in and out of you. You looked at each others eyes, watched every wince and flicker of pleasure. Watched the darkest of desires and the purest of desires flicker with every twitch and move of him.

It grew to more.

Joel's hands went from your neck to your hips to rock you into him, to guide each thrust. Every time he slowly left you he entered you with force, needing to stabilise you.

He wasn't just talking when he said he'd fuck you into the bed.

Soon enough he was bottoming out in you with every thrust and you could only hear the slapping of skin and the words tumbling out his mouth.

"Made for me. My god, where you made for me..."

"Pussy feels just as good as it tastes... can't believe it...."

"Gonna finish inside of you, and you're gonna finish on my cock. This is it. It's us now, ain't nobody ever takin you from me..."

"Yours," you moan, nails scratching down his skin. "Oh, i'm all yours."

"Prove it to me," he all but growled as his thrusts became quick and hard. "Come on my cock and show him how good it feels. He needs it, he wants it. Needs.... wants..."

"Joel I- mmh- want you to come."

"So kind baby," he chuckled. "But I will, god will I. But only once you've come. My cock needs it now, baby, now!"

You didn't think it could get better, that his thrusts could get harder and stir you into a craze but he proved you wrong.

As you mouth hung open in a moan, Joel held your jaw open and had his fingers in there, gathering your saliva before he moved those fingers down your body and onto your clit.

The deftness of his fingers and the quick thrusts had you finishing and pulsing on his cock, screaming his name until the whole damn street could hear.

Your walls were wet, your pussy clenching around Joel until his hips were stuttering with his groans.

"Oh i'm gonna cum.... oh, i'm gonna... fuck- fuck!" his words trailed away into groans from hell as he hit one last thrust, balls against you.

You were still riding your high when you felt his warmth inside you, marking you, becoming you. Both of you climaxed and moaned, every twitch and touch sending trembles through you.

Every little pulse had more of Joel spluttering inside of you until he had nothing left.

He fell on top of you, cock twitching. He kissed your skin, licked away the sweat rolling down your temples until he could find it to move out of you.

Joel rolled onto his side, pulling the covers over you as you both caught your breath.

Once you had enough air in your lungs, you turned to Joel. He was already scanning you like he was ready for round two.

"Thank you," you didn't know why you said it. All you knew was you'd never felt so cared and loved before.

Joel smiled. "You're so welcome, baby. But don't think i'm done takin care of you yet."

2K notes · View notes

taintandviolent · 6 months ago

Text

Tangled ; Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: One lazy summer day, Eddie discovers something new about you when his rings get tangled in your hair.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, established relationship, smut, use of pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby, etc.), light praise, no use of y/n, hair pulling kink, soft dom Eddie if you squint, fingering, p in v, doggy style.

a/n: this was an anon request! I hope you enjoy, wherever you are! divider by @/strangergraphics!!

fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

It started out innocently. Really. It did.

A warm, summer breeze drifts through the trailer. The two of you sit on his mattress, sheets strewn about, and your bodies snuggled together like the lovebirds you are. Wayne’s out of town, so you’ve been spending as many nights at his house as you can, sleeping in his bed and waking up in his hot, bare arms. You wouldn’t trade that feeling for the world, if anyone offered.

Today, you’re lazily thumbing through a copy of Teen Beat. He’s sloppily sketching out ideas for his next campaign with his left hand, and absent-mindedly, the ringed fingers of his right hand play with strands of your hair, twirling them around his digits. A sudden pain erupts over your scalp, sending a bolt of electricity right to your core. Feeling sudden resistance, Eddie panics, pulling his hand away, which pulls your hair harder. He’s snagged a knot on one of his rings; specifically, the pig.

“Shit-shit-sorr–!”

As he yanks away, you tilt your head back to lean into him, a lewd, high-pitched moan falling from your mouth. So lewd, that Eddie freezes mid-pull, and looks at you, brows high on his forehead. You immediately clap your hand over your mouth, as if that could take it back.

“What… was that?”

“Ummm… I… it hurt.”

He smirks, his full pink lips spreading across his teeth. “That didn’t sound like it hurt, princess.”

In one strong movement, Eddie has you on top of him, straddling him. Like a serpent, his hand slowly slithers up your spine, to the nape of your neck and into your hair. He makes a fist in the soft tresses and tugs softly, not enough to hurt, but enough to elicit another reaction from you.. The reaction is similar; your eyes roll back in your head, and your thighs squeeze his as you try to clamp them together. A desperate little whining sound comes from your mouth, and Eddie, beneath you, is absolutely beaming.

“Someone likes their hair pulled, I see.” He has that dominant, theatric voice he uses in campaigns. Damn him.

You scramble, trying to defend yourself. “I do not! It's just… I was…”

“Uh-huh, you were uh-huh.” He teases and tugs again, a little bit harder than before. This time, you bite your lip, your hands finding and gripping his bare shoulders.

“Eddie, stop…!” You plead, though it sounds as fake as it feels. He’s too smart to believe that.

The look in his pretty, chocolatey brown eyes says everything; he’s not going to let up until you admit it. He grips your hair at the back of your skull, tugging it tight and pulling your head back slightly. Your jaw drops, your eyelids fluttering shut. Between your legs, you can already feel the telltale throbbing, the damp heat accumulating. His voice is low and lusty, something he knows is a weakness of yours. He could get you going just by talking, but when he uses that particular voice… you’re done for.

“Sweetheart, c’mon… look at you. You’re practically coming undone just like this. You know you don’t need to be shy around me…” He pulls again, and you whimper.

“Eddie….” you mewl, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. You feel his free hand tap your jaw a few times, bringing you back to him. He knows that you close your eyes to avoid dealing with things – another way you can’t weasel out.

“Ah-ah. Eyes on me, baby.”

You lock eyes with him, and your resolve crumbles. He’s giving you that look, the one that oozes mischief, playfulness and hunger, the one he gives you right before he pounces on you, tackling you to the bed.

You take a big breath, and say it all in one breath. “Okay, fine, that felt really good and it turned me on. Happy now?”

“Immeasurably.”

Eddie brings your body closer to him, guiding you right to his waiting lips. You’re glad you’re already on your knees, because the kiss that he plants on you is enough to bring you there if you weren’t. It’s loaded with a newfound hunger; he loves finding out things about you. Even though you two have been dating for a few months now, he always thinks you’re like a little puzzle box, spring loaded with secret compartments that hold more untold secrets. The hair pulling was one of them.

“Let’s put it to the test, shall we?”

He drums out a little rhythm on the fullness of your hips, urging you up off him. You flop over backwards onto the bed, onto your elbows, and watch him as he crawls on all fours towards you. As he does, he frees his swelling erection. Only clad in a pair of plaid boxers, he doesn’t have much to shed. Neither do you, for that matter, as you’re in a cute little nightgown and nothing else. Eddie pushes the satin up your thighs, revealing your glistening cunt.

“Sweetheart, sweetheart…. Look at this.” He runs a single finger along your slit, and your body shudders. “Such a mess.”

Though he doesn’t need any help getting himself hard, one hand wraps around his cock, pumping it slowly in and out of his fist as he gazes over your body. There’s something so… domestic about the way you’re looking at him, waiting for him to fuck you. He exhales through his nose, smiling, and leans forward to press a kiss to your bare stomach. His finger ghosts a path down your tummy, all the way to the soft mound between your legs. Gradually, he teases your entrance, spreading your arousal over your folds until you’re coated in it. He brings his thumb down over your clit and traces it in tight circles, pleasuring you until your thighs start to quiver – his favorite thing. Quivering like a scared little bunny in his hands… drives him crazy. You blindly reach for his forearm, feeling for the warm skin. God damn guitar players…. Their stupid nimble fingers….

“Turn around, pretty girl,” he hums.

You’re more than eager to complete his request, flipping over onto all fours. You lower yourself back down onto your elbows and in doing so, stick your ass up for him to admire. Tenderly, Eddie reaches forward to gather all your hair into a ponytail before giving it a firm tug. Your whole body spasms with pleasure; your cunt throbs and your back arches up into a tantalizing curve.

“Fuck,” Eddie grunts from behind you, lining the leaking, flushed tip of his cock up with your waiting slit. The head nudges your folds, twitching against them in anticipation. You brace yourself, taking fistfuls of the sheet below you. “Ready, baby?”

You nod against the mattress.

“Words, princess. We talked about this.”

“Mhm…. please fuck me, Eddie. I wanna’ feel you…”

That’s all he needs. He sinks himself inside of you, until his torso is pressed against the firm curve of your ass. The feeling of his cock is always enough to get you off – it always does. But when Eddie tightens his fist around your ponytail and yanks it hard, you let out a moan that is loud enough to rattle the trailer’s windows. He finds his rhythm easily, rutting his hips furiously against your ass and keeps a firm grip on your hair, almost using it as leverage to pull into you.

“Fuck, fuck… oh my god…. Oh my god, Eddie!!”

He pulls harder, and a melange of pain and pleasure erupts at the crown of your head – you swear you’re seeing stars at this point.

“You like that, baby? Huh?” Eddie asks, breathlessly.

“Yeaaaah…!” A pressure builds above your sopping cunt, feeling white hot. The room is filled with the sounds of skin against skin, and the wet, slick sounds of your cunt as Eddie buries himself inside you. The air is heavy with the scent of sex and you’re breathing it in deeply, each of your breaths laboured and loud.

“Fuck yeah, baby… oh fuck…”

Eddie thrusts hard, burying himself to the hilt and pulls back out, admiring the way your pussy clenches around him like it’s trying to pull him back in. His cock aches, you know it does, because the few seconds spent away from your cunt, you can hear him stroking himself, nudging your entrance with the cockhead. He’s trying not to come. He’s edging himself. Something he only did when he was really worked up.

“I’m gonna’... Eddie, I’m gonna’ come… fuck me.”

Wasting no time, Eddie sheaths himself back inside, and presses his stomach against your back, angling his lips next to your ear. He pulls hard on your hair, and you bend your neck back, screaming out in ecstasy. Hot, erotic tears prick the corners of your eyes as Eddie pulls, fucking into like his life depends on it. When he finally speaks, it’s a hissed whisper, and sends a chill down your spine.

“You like that, huh? My good girl likes her hair pulled, doesn’t she?”

“Yes, yes! GOD! YES!”

Your cunt clenches around him like a vice, warm and slick, as your orgasm washes over you. Eddie feels it – but he doesn’t stop thrusting. He chases his own orgasm, humping you feverishly, and in doing so, pulls another screaming two orgasms from you. He laughs breathily as his thrusts slow, hips rolling against the curve of your ass. You can hear the smile in his laugh, and collapse against the sheet.

“I learn something new about you every day, princess. Every damn day.”

#Eddie Munson #Stranger Things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #myfics

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dollfacefantasy · 11 months ago

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS ♡

pairing: logan howlett x puppy-hybrid!fem!reader

summary: logan finds you, a special kind of mutant, out on a mission. when he takes in this puppy girl, you quickly forms a bond to him. he tries to tell himself he doesn't like his new shadow or want the attention, but it gets harder to deny as the two of you grow closer.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), hybrids, breeding kink, praise kink, dumbification, fluff, canon-typical violence, blood, nightmares

a/n: thank you so much to @gor3-hound and @nexysworld for beta reading <33

Adamantium strains against the skin between Logan's knuckles as his fists collide with his opponents' bodies. His claws beg to come out, to slice through his own skin and into the men he's striking. Despite causing himself pain, it would make this little struggle easier.

Regardless, he reigns in the urge and continues to fight without them. He didn't need them yet. Having a skeleton of impenetrable metal served as the only weapon he needed for right now. These guys taking him on weren't anything special, simple lackeys hired to protect a facility they didn't even understand the operation of.

His unpierced knuckles land a few strikes to one's abdomen, and he pops the other's face with his elbow. He whips his forearm around and slams the first to the ground in a finishing blow. The other man comes crashing down close behind after he connects his fist with the center of his face.

He looks at both of them crumpled up and unconscious on the ground, shaking off the adrenaline from the scuffle with a few rolls of his shoulders. He swipes the set of keys that hang off the belt of one who went down first and reconvenes with the rest of the team at the point of entrance to the next part of this warehouse.

"Did you find a way to open the doors?" Storm asks him. The white-haired woman struts beside him to the large cement doors at the end of the hallway.

Logan holds up the set of metallic keys, giving them a little jingle as his answer.

"Wow, and without shedding any blood. Impressive," Cyclops mocks from behind. Him and Jean walk a couple paces to the back of him, their eyes scanning for any potential hindrances to the mission.

"Night's not over yet, bub."

The four of them reach the door, and fortunately, it only takes a few tests to determine which key is meant for this lock. Before either Logan or Storm can push the barrier open, the door swings back under the force of Jean's telepathy.

They head inside but brace themselves for what they might see. This mission came about after the professor discovered that this building was being used as some kind of location to traffic mutants. The team had dealt with cases like this before, and they were never pretty. Often, the victims were young and struggling, picked up off the street or gathered from false mutant shelters to be sold into a life of experimentation or fetishization.

Upon first glance, this section of the building holds nothing new. The room isn't large in comparison to the others before it and looks more like a connector between the last hallway and another one. It's dark, not much light to get a good look at anything that could be hiding away.

Storm is eager to keep moving along and guides them towards the entrance to the next hallway. His other two teammates overtake him as well and follow behind her.

"I'm gonna sniff around here for a minute. I'll be right behind you," Logan says and waves them forward.

The two women spare him a skeptic glance, but Scott couldn't be more eager to part from him. They head off in the other direction, leaving Logan alone in the quiet between these four walls.

He just wanted to be sure there was nothing here, whether it be something he could help or something meaning to do them harm. Though he kind of hoped it was the latter. He never felt very good at the 'saving' part of being on this team. Let him go in a room full of threats, and he was guaranteed to be successful. He'd take every last one down in record time and not even have to think twice about it. But give him one person to comfort and tell that everything is gonna be ok, and that would have him breaking a sweat. It's not that he couldn't do it; he simply had to work at it. He didn't have to work at being a weapon.

Treading over the pavement cautiously, Logan's eyes sweep over the few vacant shelves and lonely crates. The room truly seemed unoccupied. He could probably only justify a few more feet before having to go join the rest of the team. But then he sees it.

A cage towards the back of the room, a tarp over the top. It sat near a smaller door he hadn't noticed before. He wasn't too concerned with going in just yet. First he wanted to see if anything was confined behind those thin black bars.

It was larger than a simple pet kennel but too small to give the impression that held anything monstrous. He walks closer to it. No sound came from it nor could he see any movement, but his curiosity had been triggered. He had to know why this thing had been secluded.

Once he's close enough, he crouches down and pushes away the rough white material draped over it. His fingers undo the latch and open the door so he could get a better look inside.

He peers in and is met with a pair of eyes staring back at him out of the darkness. His first instinct is to back up and get into a defensive position, but whatever's inside doesn't give him the chance.

You lunge at him and knock him flat onto his back.

He hits the cement with a grunt, and his claws cry out to him again. He could easily unsheathe them and tear whatever you were to shreds. But before he does this, he realizes that this isn't an attack. He's not in any kind of pain. In fact, nothing is really happening to him. All you were doing was... sniffing him?

He could hear your rapid inhales and exhales as your nose trailed along the collar of his white tank top. Straining his neck back as much as he can, he finally gets a good look at you. You were human - smaller than most with wide, curious eyes - but you also had floppy ears erupting from your scalp and a long tail coming from your backside that was whipping back and forth.

Even with all the different kinds of mutants he'd seen, he couldn't help thinking this was bizarre at first glance. He knew it was possible for mutations to express physically even though most were internal. For god's sake he had literal claws and knew multiple people who were straight up blue. But he'd never seen anything like this.

You looked like just a mix of canine and human. In honesty, you were pretty cute. You didn't look like the type of thing someone would shout 'freak' at from across the street. Hybrid was probably a more accurate descriptor than mutant. Either way, he didn't want you on top of him.

"Quit it," he growls before grabbing your waist and pushing you off. Based on the fact that you weren't attacking, he assumes you're a victim rather than a perpetrator. He rises to his feet to stand above you, ready to fight just in case. "What the hell are you supposed to be?"

You sit there, tail still wagging despite his rough temperament. Your eyes have that gleam that likens your appearance to a puppy even more than your ears or tail do. He realizes you might not be able to talk or something, but he doesn't get too far with that thought before you speak.

"A mutant. Like you."

His eyes narrow.

"Yeah? How do you know I'm a mutant?" he asks. He hadn't shown you his claws and you hadn't seen his skin magically stitch itself back together. Maybe you were on the other side of this mission.

"I can smell it," you answer.

That makes his eyebrow slowly raise. "Smell it?" he says.

You nod. "Mutants smell different than humans," you say.

You rise to your feet and stand next to him. Leaning in again, you smell his arm. Your head moves down his bicep and to his elbow and forearm. He pulls his limb away with a scowl, but you'd already had a chance to register the scent that'd caught your attention.

"You smell metallic too," you say.

So your canine traits weren't just physical. Logan knew you weren't lying, having an enhanced olfaction himself. He'd just never met someone else who also had that ability.

"Your mutation is basically just being an overgrown dog then?" he asks with a bemused expression, "You like playing fetch? Want me to call you a good girl?"

You can't help the automatic twitch in your tail when you hear that phrase, but your expression darkens as if a storm cloud had formed inches above those folded ears.

"I'm not a dog. If I'm a dog, are you like a robot since you have metal in you?" you huff and cross your arms.

A sharp puff of air comes from his nostrils at your attempted retort. "Robot isn't exactly what they call me."

You grumble and roll your eyes. Your tail had gone still behind you and hung between your legs.

He continues to stare down at you, trying to decide what to do next. Even though you were a mutant, you didn't seem to be a fighter or have any skills that would be useful in combat. He wasn't just going to leave you here, but he didn't know how big a risk it would be to let you tag along.

"What are you doing here? Did someone lock you in that cage, or is that just where you spend your free time?" he asks.

"Someone took me and locked me in there," you say, your pout deepening.

"For how long?"

You shrug. Logan has the urge to roll his eyes just as you did, but he can tell your lack of knowledge is genuine.

"You don't know how long you were in there?" he prompts.

"No. Maybe like... a couple weeks or something. I don't know. It's hard to keep track."

Of course. Just like a puppy, you had a poor concept of time. He shakes his head and rubs his hand over his face. It did look like you'd been captive for a few weeks. You weren't in the best shape and had bruises littering your body. Your clothes were dirty and torn at the hems. As annoying as he found you in the few minutes he'd known you, he knew you didn't deserve this treatment. Locking a cute little thing like you in a cage was plain cruelty.

"Alright. Well what's your name? I'm Logan," he sighs.

You tell him, but just as the last syllable leaves your lips, footsteps burst into the room from the direction of the hallway.

Scott and Jean round the corner, clearly looking for their teammate. Logan turns around to see the new arrivals and relaxes when he recognizes the man in the visor and the redhead beside him.

"There you are. We thought you took off or something," Scott mocks casually.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the words dissolve when he feels a thud against his back.

You don’t recognize the people who'd just shown up, so you hide yourself behind the man who found you. Pressing yourself against his back, you cautiously tilt your head to his side to peek at Scott and Jean. Your fingers clutch the fabric of Logan's tank top so tight they threaten to poke little holes in the ribbed material.

"What- what are you doing?" he grunts and tries to look over his shoulder at you. The way you were latched onto him prevented him from turning around fully. He lifts one of his arms to see your eyes scoping out the potential danger in front of him.

"Get- C'mon get off. They're not gonna hurt you," he continues, brushing you off by reaching back and lightly tugging your hair.

You stumble to the side, and he manages to grab your shoulders and walk you in front of him. He holds you there, presenting you to Scott and Jean. The way your ears pin back to your head makes him feel a little guilty about making you confront the strangers so directly, but they weren't gonna do anything to you. Assuming they were gonna rescue you and take you back to Xavier's, you'd have to get used to prying eyes and meeting new people.

Both Scott and Jean look at you curiously, Jean with less confusion than Scott. Clearly, he had a similar thought process to Logan while the woman next to him could sense that you were a mutant and what your abilities were.

"I found her in that cage back there," he explains.

The two of them nod. They take a few more moments to simply observe you before they move closer and ask for your name. You give it just like you had to Logan. They nod again and then begin running through a similar routine of questions. Theirs are more detailed though and manage to coax more information out of you.

Your responses give them a quick little rundown of you. You fit the profile of the people they usually found on these missions. You're young, early 20s, struggling because getting a job was nearly impossible with your ears and tail. You had no family. They'd given you up after your mutation began to manifest. Everyone thinks puppies are cute, but apparently, no one wanted a human child that shared features with them. You'd been taken from the shelter you were staying at like most others who found themselves in this situation.

As you answer each one posed to you, Logan feels you subtly sinking back against him. Your back meets his abdomen like two magnets slowly being pulled together. Despite the annoyed look on his face, he doesn't say anything or pull away.

When the brief interrogation comes to a close, Scott relays to Logan that they had found other victims in another part of the facility. Storm was with them now, guiding them to the extraction point where they'd be taken to safety. The four of you just had to follow along.

Scott and Jean lead the way. Logan follows behind and you trot along beside him. He notices you're staying close to him in particular.

"Did the guys who took you say anything else about why they wanted you?" he asks. The fact that you were kept separate was still lingering in his mind. To him it didn't mean anything good.

You shrug and look up at him. "They didn't really talk to me that much unless they were being mean or spitting at me. Or kicking the cage," you say.

You say it like it's casual, but he can tell it hurts. He knows how it feels to an extent. All mutants do. Not many people will openly talk shit about a guy with metal claws, but the sentiment is still there. The idea that you're inferior. That something is wrong with you. That you don't belong in this life.

He just nods, not knowing much else to offer as comfort. "Did you ever overhear them talking about you? Any reason they wouldn't have put you with the others?"

"I think they wanted to figure out if there was more of me. Or if they could make anymore at least," you say after taking a moment to think, "Cause you know. Guys like the whole puppy thing. Makes me worth more I guess."

He cringes at the ugly picture you paint with those words.

The group of you continues walking, footsteps being the only sound in the hallway. Your tail had started wagging again which makes him feel a little better about not offering anything in terms of reassurance. But when you reach the room where the other victims had been, your tail comes to a halt and droops between your legs.

A party of men is spread throughout the area. They walk around scanning the now empty space, visibly incensed at their captives being freed. You slide yourself against Logan's back again, but you don't try to peek at them like you did with Scott and Jean. It doesn't take much to figure out that these are the ones who kept you in that cage.

They hear the team and you approaching and turn to face you. Despite your efforts to hide, they spot you before you're completely concealed behind the bulk of Logan's muscular frame. The one closest scowls at your attempt.

"I'm guessing the three of you know what happened to the things we had in here?" he says, sarcasm lacing each word.

"You could say that. And those people are long gone by now, so it's probably best you move on," Scott answers. His fingers rise to his temple in preparation to operate his visor.

The men don't seem to be threatened. The amalgamation of them tightens, forming a more crowded cluster.

"Yeah, you're probably right. But you're not leaving with that one," the same one says and gestures to you hiding, "She stays here."

"Not gonna happen, bub," Logan responds so quickly it surprises even himself.

His teammates also look interested in his seeming budding attachment to you, but they know better than to squabble in front of adversaries.

You are the only one the words don't strike in any sort of way, but that's because you didn't totally hear them. You're too busy trembling, hoping with everything you had that Logan wouldn't force you in front of him again and then kick you into the group of guys.

But obviously, that doesn't happen. There's more arguing that you don't hear because you choose to tune it out. You can sense Logan becoming more agitated and the air around everyone becoming more tense. Your body grows more rigid, your ears glued back to your scalp. You just want this to be over.

As these thoughts whirl through your mind, the arguing comes to a head, and Logan launches away from you. You feel naked without his large body shielding yours.

Scott and Jean aid him. Your first inclination is to turn the other direction and just try to stay out of the way. You weren't confident in your combat skills. If you could seriously fight, you probably wouldn't have gotten snatched up. You didn't want to be the reason any of these people who were trying to help you got hurt.

But then you see someone coming up behind Logan brandishing a knife. It's out of your control, the way your muscles go taut and your lip curls back. You'd only ever been in a real fight once before in your life, and you don't remember feeling this vicious. You spring up behind the man, finding where his shoulder meets his neck and biting down hard.

The cries of agony and grunts of anger seem to go on forever. The smell of blood invades your nostrils as you deal with your target. He'd fallen to the floor when your teeth sunk into his flesh. You feel him thrashing underneath you as you rip and tear, but you don't stop until he's gone still. You then pull off and wipe your mouth, twisting around to sit on the abdomen of your incapacitated enemy.

Logan also had no difficulty dealing with the men coming at him. There were just more of them, so he took a little longer. After one last thud of a body crumpling to the floor, only heavy breathing sounds through the warehouse.

Jean and Scott seem fine. They stand there checking each other over, and you see them share a brief kiss. You glance over towards Logan next and decide to return to his side.

He's alone. The sounds of panting are mostly coming from him. His body glistens, muscles lightly coated in perspiration. His scent is stronger to you now, and it only grows more overwhelming as you approach him. Men lie at his feet with pools of blood around them, presumably the same crimson liquid that stains his hands, wrists, and forearms in streaks.

You make your next move without thinking. Coming up to his side, trying in vain to avoid getting your ratty socks soaked with blood, you press your cheek against his bicep and snake your arms around his.

He then looks down at you. His eyebrows raise at the blood that coats your mouth and chin and trails down your shirt. You hadn't seemed like any type of predator before. Your presence was more akin to a puppy that'd be torn apart by wolves than anything that could do anyone harm.

"How'd you do that?" he asks.

Your finger rises and hooks under your upper lip, pulling it back to reveal your canines, sharper than a normal person's.

He nods and watches you with some mixture of curiosity, irritation, and fondness.

"Pretty good," he says simply.

You beam at the praise, blood-stained lips parting into a wide smile. He feels your tail wag harder and brush against the back of his leg.

The touch is nice. It makes him more conscious of the way you're still holding onto him, your hand curled around his muscle and your hip against his. He's not sure what it is. A silent thank you, a note of understanding, or a pledge of loyalty.

But he doesn't need a thank you, someone to understand him or devote themself to him. He's just doing what he's supposed to.

He slides his arm out of your clutches and gently pats you on the head.

"C'mon, let's get going," he says and starts walking towards the exit.

You trot wordlessly behind him, which he's grateful for. But more than that, he's just happy Scott didn't have anything to say about your sudden bond to him.

Once the jet picked you up from the extraction point, the trip back to the school was a breeze. You mostly keep to yourself while trying to stick close to Logan. He sits you next to him and cleans up your face, but you sleep for most of the actual traveling time to the destination.

You hadn't realized how tired you were until the seat hit your back and the buckles of the seat belt latched over your chest. With that manifestation of security, your eyes began drooping and your head was drifting to your shoulder like it was your center of gravity.

Logan's voice is what wakes you up. It's unclear to you how much time has passed, but that doesn't bother you. You feel him gently jostling you before unbuckling the straps across your chest. He calls your name a few times until your bleary eyes open and focus on his face.

"There you are," he says, "C'mon. We're here."

You still watch him without saying a word. Your hand rubs over your face to try and pull yourself closer to being awake. He watches you before offering his hand.

"I'm not carrying you, so you need to get up," he says in a tone you were becoming familiar with. It sounded irritated but not directly at you. Like this man was just in a constant state of being pissy about something.

You take the offer regardless and let him pull you to your feet. The two of you exit the jet together, him helping you out to ensure you don't trip on the gap between the ramp and the ground.

Once you're out, your eyes widen. You expected a boarding school to be pretty fancy, but this was nicer than any place you'd ever been. The walls stretched up the sky, crafted with bricks and decorated with large glass windows. The path there was paved and bordered with kept plants. You could see beyond that though. The large expanse of the property. So much space to run and do things.

Logan watches your reaction with amusement. "It's a lot to take in when you first get here," he says.

You nod, and your eyes continue to dart around and absorb the sight of everything. Storm and Jean lead the others who were saved off to another part of the building to be reunited with their families or taken back to their lives or even given verifiable resources. But you don't want to go with them.

You grab Logan's hand and look up at him, shaking your head.

His first reaction is to try and pull his hand free of you, but you have a tighter grip than expected. "What? What's the matter?" he asks you while still trying worm his hand out of your finger's lock.

You don't know how to articulate it because what you want is very simple. You want to stay with him. You want to stay here. You don't want to go back out to the world where people point and laugh at you or turn you away from everything. You just don't know how to say that without it seeming weird.

Luckily for you, Scott gives you a bit of help. You're not sure if that's his intention or not, but either way, you're grateful for the help.

"Maybe we should take her to the Professor. He might want to see about her mutation or ask her about that stuff back there," he tells Logan. You can tell from the way Scott speaks that he doesn't really like him too much.

Logan thinks about it for a moment before nodding. Before leading you there, he uses his other hand to pry your fingers off of him. You frown at the loss of connection and shoot him a glare. That brings an actual smile to his face.

"Follow along, pup. Don't need you getting lost," he says as he turns to guide you down the halls of the school.

The sun hadn't even risen, so not too many people occupied the common rooms. You catch sight of a few. They stare back at you, but unlike what you're used to, they don't look at you with disdain or mocking. It's simple, innocent curiosity. The only thing that seems to worry them is the bright red stain going down the front of your shirt.

Inside the room had been an older guy in a wheelchair. The professor talked the nicest out of all the men you'd been around today. When he looked at you, you felt like he understood you. He didn't even seem perplexed like Scott or Logan had. He'd merely said you were "interesting."

He talked to you for a while. He asked similar questions similar to the ones you already answered, but the third round of them got even deeper than the last two. Once he revealed that he could enter your thoughts if he wanted, that made a lot of sense.

Though he didn't really need his ability to understand you. Your experiences were written all over your face, practically sewn into the seams of your clothes.

He could see how, like every mutant, you led a life dominated by rejection. But in a different way than most others of your kind, you were vaguely familiar. Seeing someone with a tongue ten feet long or with blue skin or claws was jarring. It was weird.

But you - you look like a cute puppy. You walk the line between disturbing and endearing.

Charles can also see how you long for belonging even deeper than most. It's as if your mutation gives you the drive to seek out affection, for someone to devote yourself to. He can tell this by the way you linger around Logan.

If he moved an inch, you followed in the same direction. If he looked away, your eyes followed along. You were only settled if he was looking at you, not in danger of leaving your vicinity.

After talking to you for a while, hearing about your abilities and getting to understand your personality, he offers to let you stay at the school. He tells you it might be beneficial for you, and if you don't like it, you're welcome to leave anytime. It's only meant to give you a chance to understand your gifts and learn to control them and use them for good.

Of course, you accept. It wasn't even a question.

"Wonderful. Scott, show her to the extra rooms she can stay in and the shower so she can clean up a bit," Charles says. He watches as your eyes flit to Logan and then Scott. He also sees Scott's uncertainty as to why he was given this job.

But he nods and gestures for you to follow him, which you reluctantly do.

You trail him silently up the stairs, and he gives you a little guide to where everything is. He gestures at the direction of the student wing and the staff wing and then takes you to the latter. He points out the different bedrooms and grabs you a change of clothes on the way to the bathrooms.

He's nice to you. A little stiff, but he still smiles and laughs softly at quips he makes or your skeptical reactions to things. You want to ask him about his sunglasses, but you figure that'd be rude so you refrain. When he leaves you at the bathroom door, he tells you to just call if you need anything cause he's right down the hall.

Stepping inside, you peer around the expansive room. You'd never seen a bathroom so large. It was nice like everything else was in this place. The counter was spotless and smooth. The tile was sleek with a soft mat beneath your feet at the door and waiting for you in front of the shower.

You undress yourself quickly and turn on the water, waiting for it to heat before stepping inside. There's some products on the shelf inside that you use. You lather the soap on your hands and rub it over yourself fast. It felt really good, especially since you hadn't had a proper shower while being held captive. But you still work at a sped up pace. Although the novelty of everything had impressed you at first, you were beginning to yearn to be by Logan again. It wasn't a need that would make you lose control, just a little itch like a bug crawling up the path of your veins.

Downstairs, Charles kept Logan behind in his office so the two could talk. They briefly recap the mission before moving to the subject that was the true reason for the extended conversation.

"It seems she's quite taken with you," the older man starts simply.

"I guess," Logan responds, his voice unamused with the idea.

Charles huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. He goes to say something else, but the other man carries on the conversation himself.

"She'll get over it. She's like a little duck following around the first person she sees," he says and crosses his arms.

"I think you underestimate her intelligence, Logan. She's not a helpless animal-"

"I know that," he interjects quickly.

"She's one of us. She's formed an attachment to you for whatever reason. I would like her to stay here for at least for a little while to examine the traits of her mutation. I've never seen any that so closely mimic an already existing animal," he explains, "But I want to know that you're ok with that."

Logan scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be? That doesn't have anything to do with me."

"While she's here, she's most likely going to want to be around you. I just wanted to make sure that's not something you're wholly uncomfortable with."

"Please. I can handle it," he dismisses.

Charles watches him, ever-entertained by how hard he tries to present the idea that he's unaffected.

"If you say so," he says, "Just try not to scare off too quickly."

"I'll play nice," he says.

A few more words, and he's dismissed. He turns on his heel and heads out the same doors he entered. Just as he does, you glide down the stairs into his field of vision, tail wagging lazily behind you over the waistband of the sweats Scott gave you.

When you see him, it swishes a bit faster and your ears perk up. His eyes narrow.

"What are you doing down here? Didn't Scott show you where to go?" he asks.

You nod and prance down the remaining steps. Truthfully, you'd been seeking the man before your eyes, but you couldn't just say that.

"Am I not allowed to look around?" you ask.

His eyes remain hard on your face. "Aren't you tired? Mauling that guy didn't take anything out of you?"

A subtle pout forms on your lips, and you consider retreating back to the bedroom you'd been given. He clearly wasn't in the mood for you right now.

Logan sees the reaction his words brought on. He feels that little sliver of guilt shifting around inside him. Maybe his phrasing hadn't been the best... but then again why did he give a shit?

"How about we just get you back to bed? I'll show you around more tomorrow," he suggests.

You take what you can get and nod, your features slightly elevating at the form of peace he offers you. He retraces your steps up the stairs and down the hall with you on his heels. He spots the room Scott had picked for you. The door was ajar from how you'd left it to go find him.

He leads you inside but remains in the doorway himself. There really wasn't any reason to stay, so he should probably be leaving...

"Have you been here a long time?" you ask suddenly.

His eyes land on you again. You were perched on the end of your bed that was still fully made up, the comforter tucked in and everything.

"What?" he asks.

"Have you been here long? Scott said he's been here since he was a teenager," you say.

"Oh. No. Only a little while," he says. "I'm still pretty new here too."

That makes you happy, it's obvious from the hope that gleams in your eyes. "Are you like a teacher too? Or... something else?"

"What would that something else be?" he asks with a smirk, taking a few steps into the room with you, "Having a hard time picturing me teaching?"

"Well I just mean-" you try to justify before laughing a little, giving in, "Yeah. I can't really see it."

"Me neither. I'm not a teacher. I just help out sometimes," he says.

He walks even closer to you, causing your head to tilt up to look at him. Now you really looked like a puppy.

This close, he was all you could smell. You could see every individual hair on his forearm. It felt as though you could hear the strong beat of his heart. His eyes pierced into you from above, and you wondered if he was observing you in a similar manner.

"You gonna sleep on top of these blankets?" he asks.

The mention of something else besides him snaps you out of your little Logan-centric daze. You look around at the bedding and then back up at his head. The two styled points of dark hair look like he has two ears of his own mirroring yours.

"No. I'll fix them," you say and stand up to tug them free, "I don't need you to tuck me in."

"I wasn't offering to. I just don't want you getting up and trying to 'look around' again. Don't need you getting lost and wandering to my bed."

The idea brings heat to your cheeks and neck. It sounded nice for so many reasons. But the bed you had now outmatched the hard bottom of the cage you'd been sleeping on, so you weren't going to try and swing for more.

Once the comforter and sheets are peeled down, you climb back on the bed and sit against the pillows. There's a small pause. A puddle of silence pooling between the two of you. You don't know what else to ask, but you feel if you don't say anything he's gonna leave. So you pull out the first thing you can think of.

"What is your actual mutation?"

His brows rise with interest, and he closes the gap between you by sitting on the edge of your bed. Curiosity shines from his eyes onto you, silently questioning why you wanted to know.

"I know you're not actually a robot, but I can still smell the metal and stuff. What does it do?" you ask.

"The metal isn't my mutation," he says.

He raises his fist about a foot away from your face. His fingers are balled up tight against his hand. You cock your head, wondering what he's showing you.

Before you can ask any questions though, three shining metal claws emerge from between his knuckles. They come out slowly, a pace prolonged enough to be considered teasing. Your eyes widen at the sharp points and you scoot back, smooshing the pillows against your head board. All you can wonder is if he didn't take them out earlier or if you really had missed something so monumental.

His laugh rises in volume. "Relax, I'm not gonna cut you."

The claws come to a halt when fully extended. You wait just in case something else is going to happen, but nothing does. You bring your finger up and poke at the hard surface. They were so beautiful but unnatural too. You'd never seen anything like them.

"But I didn't see anywhere for them to come out?" you say softly.

He flexes his hand and extends his fingers, retracting the claws much quicker than they appeared.

"There is no place for them to come out of," he says and offers you his hand.

You frown at the little cuts the sharp rods left in their wake, but like little zippers, they close up. You blink at his hand. All evidence of his mutation was gone.

"So you can heal? And you have claws?" you say more to yourself than him, "Does it still hurt when they come out?"

He nods and watches you examine his hand.

Upon seeing his confirmation, you can't even help what you do next. You pull his limb a little closer and kiss each spot where a claw had emerged. Every phantom cut gets a soft smooch left where it would soon reappear.

"What are you doing?" Logan asks, her arm tensing up on instinct.

You glance at his face before releasing his hand. "Oh... sorry," you say and shrug sheepishly.

To your surprise, he doesn't scold or chastise you, doesn't get up to leave in a hurry. He simply pulls his hand back and gives you another look before saying good night.

"Get some good sleep. Like I said, I'll show you around tomorrow," he says.

You slip down in the bed, resting your head on the plush pillows and pulling the blanket up over your form. He heads out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

A deep exhale leaves his lungs. He shakes some of that tension loose. What had he been doing? It almost felt like some different person had taken over him in there. Another version of himself that didn't have to be reminded to 'play nice.'

The few weeks you're supposed to stay at the school stretches out into a longer timeframe. It'd now been a few months since that day he found you in the cage and set you free. Though that month or so you'd spent locked up turned out to be worth it because you now had a place that made you happier than anywhere you'd lived before. You had a family.

You had Jean and Storm who were helping you train so you could one day go on missions with them. You had the Professor who taught you more about yourself than you had ever thought to ask. Scott was there too.

And of course, you had Logan.

Logan. As much as he tried to seem reluctant, to appear uncaring and nonchalant, he had grown to enjoy your company more with each passing day that you followed him like a shadow.

It was irritating at first. Before, he'd been able to drift through the school relatively unnoticed. Now, every single place he went, he was trailed by whoosh whoosh whoosh. The sound of your tail going back and forth. Anything he tried to do was accompanied by the feeling of two glimmering eyes trained on him. He'd tried to brush you off, but you didn't waver.

"Don't you have anything better to do than stalk me?" he'd ask, shooting a side eye your way.

"No," you'd respond.

"Well, find something."

"I don't wanna."

And who was he to argue with that?

In a way, the bond you seemed to have formed with him was flattering. It seemed like he could do anything, and you'd never view him as anything but the greatest creation to grace this earth. So he just lets you follow him around. He assumes after a while, you'll see him for what he is and lose interest, or you'll just grow bored of him and find something else to be the object of your obsession. Though so far that day hadn't come.

After a while of you always at his side, he started to cave and include you in his little routines.

One day he was doing sit ups at the foot of his bed while you sat nearby. His body rose and fell, abdomen kissing his thighs in regular intervals. But every time he came up, he found himself looking over at you.

"Hey, pup," he said, the nickname he developed for you coming out effortlessly, "C'mere for a second."

Your ears perked up. You weren't usually involved in what he was doing. You scoot over to him and kneel at his feet, awaiting a command. You could be so obedient sometimes it nearly made him feel guilty.

"You wanna help me with something?" he asked. As he expected, you nodded right away, so he continued, "Just hold my feet down. These only work if your feet stay flat. So just make sure they do."

You gave him another dutiful nod and got in position. Your hands held his feet down as he worked out just like he asked. Each time he came up off the ground, you looked at him with a big goofy smile.

That was just the first thing. From then on, the two of you actually did stuff together rather than just going about your things nearby one another. He'd help you train, and you'd help him clean Scott's bike when he finished using it.

Tonight, exhaustion aches in your bones after running around all day. On top of that, you'd had so much stuff to do yourself that you'd barely even seen Logan all day.

When the sun's finally down and the students have all retired to their bedrooms, you find him in the living room. He's leaned back into the couch, nursing a bottle of something. You assume it's not beer since you're at a school, but with how often he lamented about that limitation, you wouldn't put it past him to sneak one in.

You hop over the arm rest and curl up on the opposite side of the couch from him. He looks over at you, not displeased with your presence.

"There you are. I thought you finally got tired of me and found someone else to bother," he teases.

"I could never do that," you reply with the same playful cadence. You scoot a little closer. "I was just super busy today. The Professor was having me talk to some of the students, and then Scott needed me to grab something for him from the shed. It was really hard to find, so it took a while. Then I had to do my own training, and Jean made me try on some sizes for my suit..."

As you chatter on about your day, Logan finds himself nodding along, even occasionally reacting to what you say. He's not rolling his eyes or telling you to leave him alone. It's weird, but he can't say he wants to feel differently.

"Sounds like they're working you like a dog," he says when your story has reached an end.

Your face darkens like it had on the day he met you, shooting him a quick glare as a reminder not to say the forbidden d-word.

"Right, sorry," he corrects, "It just sounds like they're running you ragged. Don't let 'em work you too hard. Scott can get his own shit."

He still didn't understand your hang up about that word. He could call you pup, puppy, or any variation of that, and you'd react with nothing but joy. But utter d-o-g in your vicinity, and he felt like he was at risk of getting his throat chomped on. Luckily, it only takes his small apology for your normal demeanor to make its return.

"It's ok. I don't mind helping. I like having stuff to do," you say and shrug.

"I thought your 'stuff to do' was watching over me," he jokes and leans forward, placing his bottle down on the table.

You're not sure why, but you take that as an invitation to scoot even closer to him.

"I thought you wanted me to find better stuff to do."

"Fair," he chuckles, "Maybe this is one of those things where I'm not gonna realize I miss something until it's gone."

He brings his hand up from the back of the couch to massage the base of one of your ears. The soft fluff feels almost luxurious against the rough pads of his finger tips. He knew you loved the sensation. It had been an accidental discovery, something he did one time as a joke. But the way you melted into the touch had been more than just funny to him.

You lean into it now and nuzzle his palm.

"It was just one day. It's not like a permanent new routine."

"For now. Then soon enough, I'm gonna catch you trailing somebody else with hearts in your eyes," he says and gently tugs your ear.

You laugh at the tug and the stupid words. "You will not. Plus, I don't have hearts in my eyes for you."

"Oh really?" he teases. He leans in, his face hovering a couple inches away from yours. "I think I can see some now."

The two of you stay locked in a stare for a few lingering seconds. He'd never been this close to you before. You'd never heard his voice lower in that way, sounding almost desiring. Heat starts to crawl up from your belly through your chest to your neck. Before it can reach your cheeks, you turn your head to face the tv.

"Shut up," you huff, choosing to play the interaction off as a joke.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his grin. He chuckles and his arm returns to its place behind you, above your shoulders. Quiet blooms between the two of you, kept from being total silence only by the hushed noises of the tv set across the room. It doesn't feel awkward though even with the sudden shyness he'd brought over you.

You angle yourself and lean in so that you're sitting against his side. No words come from him, he simply lowers his arm to sling around your shoulders and keep you there. His thumb idly pets back and forth over the smooth skin of your forearm.

The heat of his body radiates from his side and into you. Makes you feel safe and comfortable. Like you're where you're supposed to be. It's easy to sink into him further and tilt your head to rest on his chest. Before long, your eyes feel a little droopy. Blinking feels sticky, and your mind just wants to retreat to the soft embrace of sleep.

Logan can tell. He's not sure of the feeling this knowledge brings him. Pride? Contentment? Affection? Instead of thinking about it harder, he just pulls you a little closer and lets you drift off. He considers saying something, letting you know he doesn't mind and that you don't have to try and stay up. But nothing comes from him and the quiet continues.

He watches you slowly slip away. Your neck loses the wherewithal to stay upright, and your breaths soften, blowing in and out in a thoughtless rhythm.

The feeling that flows through him takes him by surprise. Pure endearment towards you, not a hint of anything else. He lets you sleep there for the next hour or so. When you're still out cold after that time has passed, he's unsure of his next move. He doesn't want to wake you and shatter the peace that had settled over the room, but he had to head to bed himself and wasn't going to leave you stranded on the couch in the common room.

The light of the tv glows across the two of you as he mulls over his options. When he finally decides, he grabs the remote and shuts the device off, cloaking the room in darkness, spare the distant blinking lights that could be seen through the windows. He rises from the cushions that had molded to cradle his weight, making sure to keep a hand on you to prevent you from slumping over.

This time he doesn't shake you or offer a hand. He reaches around and tucks an arm under your legs. His other supports you across your shoulder blades as he lifts you into his arms. He traverses the furniture with caution, making sure to avoid bumping into a stray corner or tripping on a catch in the rug. Then he moves up the stairs. Your limp body bounces with each step.

He nudges the door open to your bedroom and takes you inside. Your scent seemed to fill the entire room. Every time he took a breath, he got a lungful of the heady smell. Your bedroom was so you now. The way you'd decorated it and splashed your personality over every inch, it'd be hard to believe that just a few months ago it had been so sparse.

What had been a blank bed, covered only by a plain duvet and thin pillows, now held your extra fluffy cushions, a nest of blankets, and your steadily-growing collection of plushies. Trinkets lined your shelves and tables, and you even displayed a few posters over the walls. It was you, all around him.

He walks the few paces to the edge of the mattress before laying your body down on the foamy surface. He drapes a nearby blanket over your form. Even though he's technically accomplished what he meant to, he doesn't leave yet. He lingers like he can't seem to help doing around you.

You're still fast asleep, unaware of the change in locations. He watches a haphazard swallow move through your throat before you settle into the familiar setting.

He finds himself not wanting to go back to his room. He'd been at the school longer than you and never made his own so nice. Really, he didn't think he could make it as nice. But that was just because nothing about him was as nice as you.

When the resolve to leave finally surfaces in him, he reaches out and rubs the base of your ear.

"See you in the morning," he murmurs. Unlike before, the rest of what he wants to say doesn't get tangled up in his throat. "My little puppy girl."

That night won't leave your head for the next week. It almost feels like a dream. You'd woken up in your bed the next morning, assuming that's what it was. The undeniable change in location was the only thing that made your mind accept it as reality.

In the following days, things stayed the same for the most part, though you would have sworn, Logan acted a little less grumpy around you. Only by a microscopic degree, but enough for you to note the shift.

Nothing that big happens though. You don't even repeat the cuddling incident again. You kind of just assume that it was a one time thing. A nice experience, but not one to be repeated.

The memory of it floats through your mind often though. The pulse of his heart beating against your cheek, how you could hear it in your ear clear as day. Your stomach flutters at the thought of him actively pulling you closer, wanting you that close. You can feel your dedication to Logan blossoming into something more. It was already rooted so deep inside you that you didn't think it was possible, but you could feel it. The branches of reverence spreading in your chest and growing into something closer to adoration.

You could feel it now, sitting next to him on the bench in the school's spacious yard. He'd been tasked with watching some of the students for the afternoon, so of course, you tagged along. Shade speckled his face with alternating blotches of sunlight and gray. The stray beams of light made his eyes glow, and his hair shine all pretty. The sounds of the students practicing their abilities clouds the background of your focus, and they become even more distant when he suddenly turns to you.

"You're staring," he teases with that little smirk of his.

Your eyes flutter at the accusation. "No... I was not."

"Yeah you were. Even worse than usual."

"I just was thinking and zoned out," you defend, turning to face forward.

He hums in acknowledgement, obviously not believing your excuse. "Were you thinking about me?"

"You wish."

"I don't have to wish, puppy. You're not a very good liar."

You really weren't. Your tail swished with each beat of this little back and forth. Your ears pinned back to your head, folded over by the guilt of being caught. Everything you were feeling was made apparent by your supposed 'gifts.'

"Well whatever. Even if I was, it's none of your business," you say. A smile pulls at your lips. Your tells weren't solely from your mutation.

"If you say so," he taunts, one last jab before he returns his attention to the kids he was supposed to be supervising.

Nothing he said hinted at anything more than playful banter, but the way he spoke had them wrapped around your heart like unbreakable restraints. The way he said them made you feel like he wanted it this way. Wanted you to hear that smug cadence in your mind for the next few days. Maybe he found you entertaining. Maybe your emotions were a new game he discovered he liked to play with.

Hours later, you're curled up in your bed, by yourself as per usual. Everyone in the school had gone to bed, you and Logan had parted a while ago yourselves.

Sleep weighs you down to the mattress, but your ears perk up automatically when they register a distant sound of distress. It's faint. If it happened alone, you would've just assumed it was part of your dream and not done anything else. But more follow it.

Your eyes crack open, still glazed with drowsiness as you come to. You listen for the sounds that disturbed you. For a moment, there's nothing. Just the gentle breeze outside your room and the crickets chirping in the cut grass in the yard.

Then it happens again. A normal person wouldn't be able to hear these sounds. They were reserved for you with your enhanced senses. It sounds like grunting and groaning though you can pick up the pained undertone of fear. The worst part of it to you is that immediately you know it's coming from Logan.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, freeing them from the fleece warmth of your blankets. Padding out of the room, you cross the hall to his. You open the door in the specific way so that it doesn't creak and then shut it behind you. Your feet are gentle on the hardwood as they bring you closer to the source of the noise.

Once you're in, it's no mystery. Logan lays on his back in the center of his bed, shoulders twitching in agitation. He mumbles to himself, different words you can't make out. Your head cocks at the sight.

Approaching the side of his bed, you just watch him for a few more moments. When he doesn't wake up, you feel the urge to intervene. It felt wrong watching him suffer. Something pulled at your insides to help him.

You reach out and nudge his bicep. There's no effect. You do it a few more times but still nothing happens. Finally, you actually grip his shoulder and shake him gently, whispering into the darkness a simple "Logan."

That wakes him. No mistake about it. He gasps and snaps up. His claws come out from his hands without a second thought and slash at you. You hop back right away, tripping over your own feet and crashing onto the ground.

Your pulse thunders in your ears. The adrenaline coursing through you wasn't so much out of fear but rather confusion. Your mind was still a bit bogged by sleep itself, and at this moment, you're less concerned with Logan's reasoning and more so the logistics of a potential fight with him. Even though you had been training for the past several months, you had absolutely zero belief that you'd be able to beat him in a fight. Or even really compete for that matter.

Fortunately for you, it doesn't come to that. His eyes recognize you not long after his fists took the swing. You watch as his face morphs into a handful of different emotions in the span of about five seconds.

"I- what- how- I didn't-" he starts before getting a handle on his ability to speak, "I'm sorry."

Your body starts to come down from the brief high when it's clear he's not going to attack. You feel less wound up and let out a sigh. Your eyes remain inquisitive while gazing at him though. What did he dream about that made him freak out like that?

You guess it's not the best time to ask, so instead of pushing your luck, you push up off the ground and get your footing back. You step up to him at the edge of the bed and stand between his thighs. You plan on asking him if he's ok, but his arms reach out and yank you to his chest before you have the chance.

His hold is tight on you. The little half-hugs he'd given you a couple times before didn't compare at all. His arms were locked around you like they never intended to let go. You could hear him panting in your ear, and you could feel his heart thundering against both of your rib cages like it wanted to be released from its chamber.

"You're not hurt, are you?" he whispers.

You shake your head and wrap your arms around him too. The gesture relaxes him a lot, you can feel the tension seep away.

"Are you ok? I didn't mean to bother you, you just sounded like you needed help," you say at the same volume.

"You didn't bother me. I'm ok. I'm sorry. You don't have to worry about me like that."

His skin is warm and clammy against your own. You gently pat his back as some form of silent reassurance. Even if he wasn't as distraught as he had been a few minutes ago, you could tell the events that occurred were gnawing at him.

One of your hands drifts up, and you thread your fingers in his hair. It's like pulling a lever. He exhales deeply and pushes his face more against your neck.

"I'm sorry, pup," he murmurs.

You nuzzle the side of his head, and your heart nearly stops because he reciprocates this gesture with a few of the softest kisses you've ever felt, placed on your throat.

"I'd never hurt you on purpose. You know that."

You nod. Of course you knew that. And you would never say this to him out loud, but you felt so deeply for him, you weren't sure that your perception of him would have changed had his claws landed the strike on you.

Pulling back your head a little, you nudge his so you can see him. Both of your eyes connect for a moment before you lean in and kiss him. His lips are softer than you'd expected. His scent permeates your senses, but it's not one of booze or the brand of cigars he smokes. That's there, but your nostrils sense deeper. You could smell his essence. The way his blood runs hot as your tongue swipes into his mouth.

The kiss grows deeper. No words are said. Neither of you need them. Your fingers tighten on the dark locks of brown hair, and you climb into his lap. His hands land on your hips almost instantaneously. The only sounds between the two of you are sharp exhales and shallow inhales.

"What are you doing, bub?" he murmurs against your lips, breaking the silence. Despite his questions, he wasn't stopping you. Not at all. His fingers dig into your flesh and pull you a little closer.

"Wanna make you feel better. And show you that I know."

You weren't sure what you and Logan were after that night. Boyfriend-girlfriend, friends with benefits, or maybe simple companions. You didn't really care because regardless of the answer, you were happy.

Kissing was the only thing that transpired that night, but that was ok with you. It didn't dampen your outlook on your relationship with him in the slightest. You'd made out for a while, tangling up with each other and the sheets before he pulled back. He didn't want to go further when you both were coming down from all that emotion. And you agreed. You didn't need more. You felt elated from receiving that much affection in the first place. Your tail whacked against the mattress as you curled up to his side and put your head on his sternum to rest.

The next morning though, he had been ready for more. Once he fell back asleep, his dreams had been much more pleasant. He woke up stiff and aching for you, and you were more than happy to provide some relief.

You alleviated that throbbing between his legs multiple times that morning, and you'd been taking care of it at least once a day every day since then.

The team could tell something was going on between the two of you, a deeper bond than your initial affinity for Logan. You walked with a faster wag in your tail, and he seemed less jagged at the edges. Others were less likely to get cut now if they reached for him the wrong way.

Each of your steps also came with a small jingle now since Logan had given you his dog tags. You'd been lying against his side, basking in the afterglow of one of your escapades when he dangled the metal chain between the two of you.

"Want you to have these, pup," he rasped.

You'd looked at him with curiosity swimming in your eyes. Excitement mingled there too though.

He chuckled at the look before boosting your head so he could put them on you.

"I know my pretty puppy doesn't want to wear a collar for me yet," he teased, getting a pout out of you, "I just want you to have something of mine. You don't even have to wear 'em if you don't want to."

You'd worn them every moment since he gave them to you. Wouldn't take them off for anything. The physical representation of your attachment stayed secured around your neck at all times. The way it made you feel had you thinking a collar would be a pretty nice next step.

It'd been just over a month since you became something more with him. Your tail zips back and forth as you clean up the training room, thinking all of this over. A little smile rests on your features too. Jean helps out nearby, laughing gently at your mood.

"You have it bad," she teases.

Your head turns, and you grin, exposing those elongated canines. Shrugging, you prance over to help her finish the area she was tidying up.

When the two of you get everything back into shape, you head out into the sleek hallway back towards the main part of the mansion. Your shoes squeak against the tile as you bound towards the doors.

Entering the primary floor from the rooms below always brought a bit of adjustment for your eyes. The lights downstairs shone bright, fluorescent white. Coming back to the soft lamps of the common rooms had you blinking while your pupils scanned the room for Logan.

You catch sight of him standing near the two large doors that acted as entrance to the school. Right now, you can only see him from behind, but you spot Charles next to him. It looks like they're talking to someone, though the former's bulky frame prevents you from seeing who.

Your legs carry you over to the pair. You come up on the side of Logan that Charles doesn't occupy. Tucking yourself under his arm, you look up at him first before your eyes land on the other person speaking.

The sight of her makes your head tilt to the side just the slightest. Every feature on her embodies beauty. Her red hair, similar to Jean's in color, sits slicked back on her head. Deep blue coats every inch of her body. Seductive yellow eyes flit between the two men she's conversing with, and now that you had appeared, they cast to you as well.

You'd seen her before around the mansion once or twice, and you didn't really trust her. She didn't seem like a bad person, but she worked opposite the team. Even though Logan had assured you she was just offering some information about a common goal, you didn't feel confident that Mystique's motives were of such pure intent.

Still, you don't interrupt the in-progress discussion. You stay quietly pressed to Logan's side, tail coasting against the back of his leg. He doesn't wrap his arm around you as tight as normal or rub between your ears like he often did, but he gives you a little pat on the shoulder to acknowledge your presence.

Mystique finishes listening to Charles' point before directing her full attention to you.

"I knew you all wore uniforms, but you two didn't tell me your team had a little mascot too."

You bristle at the comment but try to remain composed. You were better than a thoughtless animal that snapped at a little poke. Charles hadn't even noticed your presence. He looks over at you and realizes what Mystique's quip referred to. He introduces you briefly.

"She's new to the team and is still training, but she's not a mascot," he concludes.

"So more like a stray then? Cute. I never would have guessed you wanted a pet," she says to Logan.

Tension creeps up your spine, and you stand up straight, pulling away from Logan's side.

"I'm not his pet," you huff and look at her. Your pouty way of asserting yourself probably didn't do much to project the image of independence you wanted. "I'm-"

You go to continue, but she cuts you off.

"You really should teach your dog not to bark, Logan. It's not polite."

That sparks a small growl in your throat before you can shut it down. Her eyes widen in amusement which only makes it feel worse for you. The most humiliating part is that you know all of this is inauthentic. She's doing it for the purpose of riling you up, getting you upset and making you feel bad. You know this, but your reaction gets the better of you.

Before you can do anything regrettable, Logan's hand curls over your shoulder. He keeps you rooted where you stand, quelling the flames of conflict before they have a chance to spread.

"Back off," he says, quick and curt with Mystique. He turns to Charles next, still keeping his voice firm. "You don't need me to hear the rest of this. I think I'll let you wrap it up."

Charles nods, knowing it would be better for him to focus on removing you from the potentially volatile situation instead of being another observer for some intel.

Logan guides you away from them, hand moving from your shoulder to the back of your neck as he takes you upstairs. The anger inside you melts away with the growing distance between you and Mystique. Only the stain of embarrassment remained.

"I'm sorry," you say. Your words sound compressed, the weight of your shame hanging off them.

"Don't be. You didn't do anything wrong. She wanted you to get upset, so that's what she got."

The pair of you move through the rest of the hall without another word. You go into your room. Once the door is shut and it's just the two of you between the four walls, you stomp over to the bed and flop down onto the mattress.

Darkness clouds your vision while your face rests against the blankets. Your tail rests against your thigh limply. You hear him coming over and then feel his hand rubbing your leg near the lifeless appendage. The mattress dips as he sits next to you.

"C'mon. You're ok."

You shuffle around so your head is resting in his lap. "I looked pathetic."

He sighs. One of his hands rubs your back while the other pets your head. "You did not."

"Yeah I did."

"No. You didn't," he says, "You didn't do anything that bad. No one's gonna think less of you cause you got a little mad about someone talking shit to you."

You know he's right. Everyone here had an experience like that. It's how most of them ended up here, reacting even worse than you had. It still doesn't make you feel any less dumb. A deep exhale seeps from your lungs.

"I just don't understand why everyone looks at me like that. We all get it bad enough from humans, but then some of the others look down on me too. I'm the same as all of you. I don't say Mystique looks like a smurf cause she's blue, so I don't see why I have to get called a pet," you huff.

He smiles a little and scratches your ear, letting you vent.

"Even you guys looked at me different at first. I know you did. I'm not the only mutant with physical stuff. Why does it have to be a whole thing with me?"

"You're just a little different, bub. You confuse people, but it's not your fault. Nothing about you is less than any other mutant. Mystique doesn't even think that. She was trying to get under your skin."

"Yeah..." you say with a little dejection in your tone, "I still just wish people would treat me like normal. Or at least normal for a mutant."

"I know you do, baby," he hums and pats your arm.

By this point, you're far enough away from the harshness of what happened downstairs. You sit up and scoot closer to him crawling into his lap. He wraps his thick arms around you and rubs your back.

"There's my girl," he murmurs and pecks your temple.

You nuzzle him like a puppy seeking more affection from its owner. Your backside rests on his lap, your arms snug around his abdomen.

"I'm just curious though, pup. What's the big thing with being called dog? It's not that different than puppy," he says, a hint of caution in his voice. He figured now was as good a time as any to ask. He knew it was the main part of what Mystique said that set you off.

You don't react with anger or defensiveness which pleases him. Instead, you shrug.

"Cause. Puppy sounds cute. Dog is just so... bleh," you say, "It makes me sound like a gross animal that someone has to wrangle."

His eyebrow rises. You can see the amusement in his eyes, but he successfully kills his laugh before it leaves his throat.

"Mmm. Makes sense. Can't have anyone thinking you're gross."

"Exactly," you say and kiss his cheek, "You get it. I just... I don't wanna be your pet, I wanna be yours."

You breathe out the words and push yourself closer on his lap. He appeases your desire for less space and pulls you to his chest.

"You are mine. You don't have to worry about that," he says.

"And I still wanna be your little puppy."

He chuckles. His head ducks down to your neck to lay a few kisses there. One of his palms drifts down to gently knead the dough of your ass.

"You also are my little puppy. My little puppy that follows me everywhere. Mine to hold and love on. Mine to play with. Mine to deal with when she gets bratty."

The last word comes out teasing and brings a happy sound out of you. "I wasn't being bratty before. She started it," you say, playing along.

"Hmmm, you're right. Maybe fussy's a better word," he mutters and nips at the soft flesh of your neck.

"Nuh uh. I was being totally normal," you say and nudge at his face with your nose, getting a little squirmy on his lap.

He responds by flipping you over onto your back. The mattress creaks with the bout of pressure and a squeal leaves your throat. You can feel his length against your hip, half-hard already from how you had wiggled on his lap.

"Oh please," he says, "Why do you think I brought you up here? I can tell when my pup needs to calm down. And I know just how to do that, don't I?"

You whimper and nod. He grins before returning his lips to your neck. He nips a few love bites onto the delicate area, drawing little whines from you. His hands hold you in place and move with your body's wriggling. He gropes at your hips and waist, paws at your tits, and slides them around to massage your ass.

"Such a good girl. So responsive for me," he coos.

The condescending affection sends a pulse down to your clit, and your hips roll up to meet his. One of your legs hooks around his waist to pull his body closer.

"Logan. Don't tease," you pout.

Your whiny plea doesn't garner any sympathy from him though. He laughs against your neck and pulls back to smirk down at you.

"My little puppy needs to learn some patience. You think if you don't get my dick in seconds that it's teasing," he taunts.

You whine again and press your leg down on him. He doesn't make any move to pull his cock out though. One set of his fingers comes up to your jaw, directing your lips to an angle where his can land on yours. He kisses you nice and deep, swallowing up any bratty urges that were springing around inside your head. His tongue is warm and soft, gentle against yours.

Meanwhile, his freehand does start to slide down below. It travels beneath the waistband of your bottoms. His warm fingers glide over the plush skin of your pelvis and slot between your lower lips to find your swollen nub. He flicks at it, instantly getting a mewl from you.

You can feel his smug smile against your mouth, but you don't have much time to react to it before his middle finger starts swirling around your bud. Your leg releases his body as it squirms with your other on the mattress. You moan into his mouth and boost your hips into his touch, wanting more of that blissful friction.

"Sweet girl," he coos. The words are muffled by your skin, but you could pick those syllables out of any lineup. "That's your favorite spot, isn't it? Always gets you wriggling for me like a little puppy."

"Mhm," you whimper with a faint nod.

Your heels dig into the mattress to give you some leverage to push your hips up so he can tug your pants off. He takes the opportunity and flings them off the bed. With you bare to him like that, he leaves your lips and moves down. He pulls your top off next and smooches between your breasts and over your tummy before landing between your legs.

He kneels on the floor at the edge of the mattress. His hands hook around your thighs and pull you in his direction.

"C'mere, baby. Give me that puppy cunt. Gotta get it all wet, so it can take my cock."

With that, he buries his head between your thighs. You gasp and throw your head back. Your hands fly to his head to grab at the two dark points of hair.

Logan gives his all to the task of pleasuring you. Whether it was his cock or his mouth, you were never getting anything less than his best. That's obvious right now as he eats you out like it's all he has to live for. He laps at your poor little clit before sucking it into his mouth. It gets some good suction from his lips before he pulls away and licks a broad stripe over your cunt.

He prods his tongue at your entrance, pushing the soft appendage against your hole. You whine more, and he feels your heels dig into his back as they had the mattress. Little expletives float from your mouth into the air as you experience such a rush of euphoria.

"Taste so good, pup. So fuckin' sweet," he mumbles. His lips open and close over your pussy, making out with it.

You rock your hips back and forth, essentially humping his face. He groans and only works harder. Your cute reactions only spurred him on. He twists his tongue just how he'd learned you liked and uses the perfect amount of pressure to get you gushing for him. Your arousal begins to coat his chin, his dark facial hair glistening with your wetness.

"Nice and wet. I'm just gonna slide right in, huh baby?"

"Yeah," you pant. Your hips buck when his nose bumps your clit, but he keeps you held in place.

He kisses your clit before dragging his tongue over you anymore. The soft touch pulls a whimper from you. Your brain starts to get all muddled and hazy. The dreamy feeling always took over when he had you like this. He knows it's coming on too. He can tell by the sudden softening of your movements. You're less jerky and more fluid in how you fidget.

"Oh, that's it. I think my pretty puppy's ready for me," he says, voice smooth on your ears.

He wags his tongue over your little bundle of nerves a few more times before standing to undress himself. His shirt comes off first, dropped to the floor with your garments. His pants are next to go, crumpled on the ground and kicked off his ankles.

Crawling back on top of you, his larger figure boxes you in on the soft surface. His cock is fully hard by now, red and angry, leaking desire from the tip. He guides it to your center and rubs it through your soaked folds.

A soft grunt leaves him as your nectar coats his shaft and drips onto his balls a little too. He only slides it against you a couple times, not wanting to waste the stimulation humping when he could be nestled deep inside.

He brings his tip down to your hold and pushes it in. Your walls accept the familiar intrusion and he groans at the comfort of your velvet walls contracting around him. He pushes his length in all the way until he bottoms out.

Then, adjusting himself and gripping at your hips, he starts to thrust. The motions start as gentle rocks. Taps of his pelvis against your ass. You flutter around him. Moans leak from you, and he smiles at the obvious pleasure coursing through your body.

He fucks you deep, just how you always asked for it. You weren't concerned with whining for harder and deeper right now. This was enough. The feeling of his cock buried in you soothed you like nothing else. Your eyes roll back and puffs of air come from your nostrils.

"Fuck, honey. Feels like I can barely last with you," he grumbles.

"Can't even think when I'm with you," you babble.

Your arms come up to pull him closer, and he lets you. He presses his body into yours, in-turn, shoving his cock as far into you as physically possible. You cry out with the pressure. It was the best kind. Deep and satisfying. To the point that you can feel it in your tummy every time his belly pushes on yours.

"You may not be my dog, baby, but one day you're gonna be my perfect breeding bitch," he grunts.

Your jaw goes slack, eyes drooping with lust. Your head tilts back and he leans into yours more.

"Gonna have you full of me forever. Always gonna be mine."

You can't even respond. Your mind isn't coming up with any coherent response. All you can do is whimper and whine like the needy pup that you are.

"This is what you need sometimes, puppy. Need me to stretch you out on my cock. Get all those thoughts out of your head. Cause puppies don't have to think. Not when you have someone like me taking care of you."

Your thighs start quivering, a sign you were reaching your peak. He knows this and drills into you harder. His balls slap against you every time he pistons his hips. His heated skin rubs against yours. He occupies all your senses, overloading you with him.

"Logan... gotta... gonna cum," you whine.

"Then cum for me," he mumbles simply, "Cum all over my cock, and I'll be right behind you."

You nod. Your back arches up. It takes you a little more, but when you get there, you crash into the throes of release. A sharp yelp bursts from you. Your feet kick a little and your legs press against his sides in an attempt to shut him out.

You get so fucking tight when you cum. Your hole clenches around him, calling out to him to spill every drop of his seed inside your wanting orifice. He growls and drops his head in your neck. He feels it building between his hips. The pressure grows until he can't take it anymore. It snaps and the flood gates open.

He bites at your neck, not hard enough to break the skin but with enough need to leave a little mark. Hot, sticky cum shoots out of him in thick ropes. Warmth fills your insides and you feel like you're sinking into the mattress below you. Both of you are panting with the intensity of the high.

You've already come down by the time he's starting to. After he nuts, Logan tends to get a little sappy. His arms pull you in tighter and he pecks at your neck a few times more muttering something unintelligible about his baby puppy.

"So what do you think?" you ask and twirl into the room, showing off your new outfit.

It matched his. Black leather snug on your body, lined with the same gold on the seams of Logan's. The bold X that shown on his belt could be found on the zipper of your top, dangling against your chest.

He smiles at you, standing from the bed to walk over and get a better view.

"Looks pretty good," he says upon approaching, "Seems a little tight though. You got room for your tail in that thing?"

You laugh at his joke and spin around again, showing the back where the suit had accommodated for your tail to poke through. It whips back and forth before you turn to him again.

"Just perfect for you then," he says and pulls you close, patting your ass and kissing your forehead, "Look at you. An official member of the team."

You nod and struggle not to bounce all around the room with the excitement vibrating through your cells.

"We're gonna be like so totally cool together," you say.

"Yeah. Totally," he imitates affectionately. He cups your jaw, watching your cheeks squish in and your lips puff out. Leaning down, he puts his mouth on yours in a soft kiss. "You're gonna do great."

The words come out as a whisper against your lips. One of your canines slips over your bottom lip as you take it between your teeth. But the display of timidity only lasts a second.

"I know," you beam.

Locking your fingers around his palm, you drag him to the door and out into the hall. Your arm makes his swing as he walks along behind you. He rolls his eyes lovingly at your confident display, but he can't keep his gaze off your happy self. He lets you pull him without resistance.

Now it would be his turn to follow you.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fluff #wolverine x reader #wolverine imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine x you #wolverine smut #marvel x reader #marvel smut #ch: logan howlett 💌

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jaysbaefie · 4 months ago

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perv | lhs

synopsis: in which you’ve finally had enough of heesungs lack of action, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

genre: high-school classmates to lovers ?

pairing: loser!heesung x afab reader

warnings: perv!heesung, sub(ish)!heesung, softdom!reader, dubcon(sort of), up skirt picture taking, grinding, panty stealing, panty sniffing, theft lol, oral (f. rec), masturbation, riding, p in v (unprotected), titty sucking. i think that’s it…

wc: 2.9k

a/n: thank you for 150+ followers and all the love on my fics. ‘inmate 1697’ has almost 1000 likes and i couldn’t be more grateful. i’ve been posting a lot more shorter fics with 3k or less word counts but that’s because i have a bigger one coming soon! it should be out in a weeks time from now maybe less! for those of you who have been asking for pt2 for ‘noona’ and ‘inmate 1697’ they are works in progress don’t worry i see you lol.

anyways, enjoy <3

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a smirk graced your lips as you slowly drop your hand from the desk and onto his knee. your smirk widening when you feel his leg twitch at your touch.

you could feel heesung stare down at you, his breathing getting heavier as his heart stutters in his chest.

you pay his looks no mind as you continue to stare up at the front, keeping your eyes glued to your teacher who was discussing who knows what on the board.

you slowly trail your hand up from his knee, inching towards his prominent bulge that his school slacks seemed to emphasize greatly.

you feel your thighs slacken when you realize how big he was, never noticing prior that he was hiding something much bigger than he let on.

"w-what are you doing?" he whispers harshly, his hand coming down to grip at yours, preventing it from moving up any further.

"what are you talking about sungie?" you whisper back innocently, now deciding to look up at the boy. you felt your breath hitch when you took in his state, his cheeks flushed a soft pink and his pupils dilated. he had his teeth holding his bottom lip hostage, his face having a slight sheen of sweat.

his face morphs into one of desperation, "you know what your doing, __. this isn't okay," he almost pleas, you could feel how sweaty his hand had become on top of yours which only made you feel giddier—he was nervous.

"and you staring down my shirt isn't? hm? or how about all the up skirt pictures you took of me? or my gym clothes that seem to go missing and end up in your locker instead?" you toss back, biting your lip to hold yourself from laughing when you see his face drop in shame.

"i-i'm sorry, i'll stop! i promise," he begs softly when he realizes that he had been discovered. he hopes that you don't take him to the deans office, he didn't want to be expelled for being a pervert.

"but what if i don't want you to?" and with that your gripping his bulge, a low whimper leaving his mouth before his eyes go wide—slapping his hand over his mouth. this catches the attention of the teacher who looks at the boy with concern, "are you okay, heesung?"

you squeeze him harder, stroking him through his pants before your thumb finds his tip—rubbing firmly against his slit. he shuts his eyes tightly at the feeling, his body twitching as you fasten your pace.

heesung shakes his head, "may i be excused, miss?" he barely musters out when he feels you stroke him over his pants harder. the teacher nods hesitantly, concerned for his well being.

heesung springs up from his seat, a small laugh escaping your lips as he looks down at you in shock. his hands immediately go to cover his hard on, before he's running out of the classroom.

this isn't over.

········

it in fact wasn't over, you had him cornered in the men's rest room. soon after heesung had made his grand exit out of the classroom, you too asked to be excused.

you hummed carelessly as you opened the door to the bathroom, you peered in making sure that no one else was in the room. after determining if it was clear to go in, you step in and close the door—jamming a wooden wedge in the door so no one would be able to get in.

"sungie.." you sing, walking down the aisle of stalls while you open each door you pass by. "i know your in here."

you hear a small gasp, your mouth stretching into a grin as you near the handicap stall. "the longer you play the game the harsher i'll be on you," you threaten softly as you stand in front of the door of the stall.

you peer through the crack, seeing heesung pressed against the wall with his hand against his mouth. you 'tsk' before your using your nails and pressing into the groove of the bathroom lock—twisting to open the stall.

heesung lets out a gasp when he sees the stall door swing open, pressing himself further into the tiled walls. you walk in slowly, your mouth pulled in a smirk as you lock the door behind you—stalking over to the quivering boy.

"sungie," you coo, now standing right in front of him with your hands on his chest. "why are you running away from me? i thought you liked me," you fake whine, your hands now running up and down his chest as you feel him shiver against your touch.

"i-i do like you," he stutters, his cheeks a bright pink as he lifts his hand to push his sliding glasses up.

"then why are you hiding from me?" your body pressed up against his so you could feel his dick push against your tummy.

when you don't get a response from him you decide to push harder, your hands now yanking his tie so he was leaning down with his face right in front of yours.

"answer me," you demand, your voice hardening as you stare him down. he swallows harshly, "b-because you m-make me nervous.." he finally answers, his voice cracking at the end.

your smirk widens at his confession, "i make you nervous? but not nervous enough to stop your perverted actions, right?" he grimaces at your words, "i-i'm sorry, __. i won't ever do it again.. i-i promise!" he exclaims his hands joining together as he pleas for your forgiveness.

"really? you're sorry?" you ask, a small pout on your face as you twirl his tie in your hand—looking up at him with big eyes filled with faux innocence.

the look you gave him was enough to make him cum in his pants, his dick twitching in his pants as he stares down at you.

heesung nods his head quickly, "i-i'm really sorry, __," he repeats, his tone genuine. "so you'd do anything to make it up to me?"

he nods his head again, "anything."

oh heesung, you fucked up.

that's how heesung found himself on his knees in the bathroom stall, his face under your skirt with one of your legs hitched over his shoulder.

"never done this before?" you ask, cocking your head to the side as you. he moves your skirt out of his face, shaking his head 'no'. you get a strange feeling of satisfaction at his answer, "it's okay sungie, i'll teach you."

with that your hooking your panties to the side, exposing your aching and dripping cunt. heesungs breath hitches, his phones camera wasn't able to catch what his eyes were.

he thought he was slick with the way he'd take up skirt pictures of you, standing close to you in hallways or on the bus with his phone blindly taking photos of what he could. he was getting tired of using his imagination.

what he didn't know was that you were aware of his antics. heesung, to put it simply, wasn't the most subtle when it came to being a pervert. he was sloppy, obvious and a nervous wreck.

at first when you discovered his actions, you were disgusted. you were going to give him a piece of your mind and maybe drag him to the principles office, but soon decided against it. you discovered how cute he was, how flustered he looked when he'd be near you and how he seemed to follow you around like a lost puppy. it was easy to tell that he had a crush on you, so you let it continue.

however, you soon grew tired of his lack of action towards actually touching you. it was all staring and the occasional blurry picture, you needed more—and you knew he did too.

you started to push yourself up against him on the bus on purpose, your body moulding right into his. you could feel his hard on against your ass, or how he held his breath in when the bus would drive over a pothole or swerved to quickly—resulting in him grinding against you.

when you realized that he wasn't taking advantage of the situation, you changed your ways.

so, you began to leave your locker open in hopes of catching him snooping, but instead he shocked you even more. you watched him rummage through your gym bag, stuffing little trinkets into his pocket as he whipped his head around to make sure that no one was witnessing his act of theft.

at first he had started off fairly innocent, taking your lip balm or your hand lotions—but then he grew bolder.

you saw him hold your gym shorts up to your nose, scrunching the fabric in his large hands as he inhaled your scent. seeing this, you decide to test something else—you began to leave your panties in the bag.

heesung looked almost ecstatic when he saw the cotton or lacy material in your bag, biting at his lip before pulling the fabric up to his nose. he even slipped a few pairs into his pockets, shutting your locker and walking away as if he hadn't stolen your undergarments.

with all of this, he still hadn't made any moves to touch you—and you were getting impatient. you knew you had to take matters into your own hands, so you did.

"take a picture, it'll last longer," you snicker as you take in heesungs awe struck expression. he snaps out of it at your words, "can i?" he asks innocently, referring to touching your cunt. it was almost ironic that he was asking permission to touch you. you nod in response, jutting your hips out closer to his face so you feel his breath fan against you—a slight shiver raking your spine.

he sticks his tongue out to do an experimental lick up your slit, a small sigh escaping your lips as you lean into the wall. seeing your expression heesung assumed he was doing something right, so he repeated his actions.

"yeah, just like that sungie," you coo as you rut against him.

with each swipe of his tongue, his actions got firmer and faster. you bite at your lip to hold back the moans threatening to escape your mouth, peering down to see heesung already looking up at you. his big eyes stared up at you as he flattened his tongue against your clit, his fingers gripping into the fat of your thigh.

you do a double take when you notice that his other hand with preoccupied with something else. heesung had managed to unbutton his pants and was stroking his dick while his tongue dipped into you—making out with your pussy.

"you pervert, beating your pretty cock while you eat my pussy? do you like this? huh? like me using your mouth like this?" you grit out, your hands now weaving into his thick locks as you control his head. heesung nods against you, well, tries to.

he moans into your cunt when you tug and pull at his hair, his nose rubbing against your clit as he begins to stroke his cock quicker.

your hips twitch, "f-fuck, why are you so good at this?" you stutter out, feeling your high near. heesung hums into you, basking in the praise as he feels his own high approach dangerously quick.

"m'gonna cum, sungie," you squeak out, feeling the boy lap at your cunt like he was starving—desperate to taste every inch of you. "f-fuck, you want me to cum, yeah? cum all over your pretty face?" you moan out, grinding against his face.

heesung nods, moaning out desperately in response. "o-oh f-fuck..m'gonna cum," you squeal as you reach your high,your hips moving wildly as your grip on heesungs hair tightens.

heesung lets out a deep moan against you as he too cums, his hand stuttering when he feels his cum spurt over his fingers and thigh.

it felt surreal to him that any of this happened, here he was with his face between the thighs of the girl he had his eye on since the beginning of high-school.

your laughter makes him snap out of his thoughts, "you did good sungie, strangely good," you point out, your eyebrows furrowing. the thought of heesung having done the action with another girl sours your mood, "are you lying to me, sungie? have you done this before?"

heesung shakes his head quickly, his clean hand coming up to wipe his face shyly. "n-never."

you suddenly lean down, tilting his head upwards with two of your fingers under his chin so he's looking right at you. "better not have, you're only allowed to touch me. okay?" you instructed firmly.

he nods like a eager puppy, "y-yes, only you," he agrees.

you smile, "good," you look down to his cock still out and hard. you crouch down so your knees hit the bathroom floor, ignoring how dirty it probably is. heesung swallows harshly when he follows your gaze, seeing you stare intently at his dick.

"let me help you take care of this," you murmur, lifting yourself up so you were now sitting on his lap. you felt his dick brush against your sopping cunt, grinding your clit against him as you let out soft moans.

heesung watches you in awe, unfolding his legs so you could sit with more comfort on his lap. his hands holding him up as he watches you grind down on him, one of his hands moving up to plant itself on your waist.

his jaw drops when you begin to unbutton your school shirt, your baby pink bra on display. you smirk when you see his awe struck expression, "you want to do the honour?" you ask.

wordlessly, his hands lift up to remove your shirt—letting it drop onto the floor. he swallows harshly when he sees your breasts spill over the cup of your bra slightly, fingers twitching as they near the straps.

he pulls the straps down, shimmying down the bra so it was at your waist—leaving your tits exposed. your nipples harden when exposed to the cold air of the room, heesungs eyes zeroing in.

he silently asks for permission with his pleading eyes, almost letting out a moan when you nod. his lips attach to your tits instantly, sucking and nipping at your nipples.

you let out small moans when he alternates from side to side, moving your hips against his length causing him to gasp against you.

you lift yourself up for a moment before your lining yourself up, slamming down on him. your eyes roll back in your head as you try to accommodate to his girth. heesung on the other side had to hold himself back from cumming right then and there.

he lets out a deep groan when he feels your walls flutter around him, his eyes turning white as he puts all his weight on his elbows to hold himself up.

slowly, you begin to move. his thick cock dragging against your walls as you cry out in pleasure. your hands land on heesungs chest as you slam yourself down on him, "f-fuck, your dick s'good," you slur out, your head lulling back as you continue your movements.

heesung feels as if he was in a dream, his crush was fucking herself on his dick—what else could he want in life? he hisses when he feels you clench around him, "holy shit," he moans out, his mouth pulled into an 'o' shape as moves his hips to match up with yours.

eventually, heesung grows tired of not being able to touch you due to his hands being used to hold himself up. 'fuck it,' he thinks to himself before hes letting his back touch the floor—his hands coming up to grab at your waist.

he lifts his lower body up to pound up into you, a squeal leaving your mouth as you let yourself go on top of him. "sungie," you mewl, your tits bouncing wildly as he fucks up into you while he holds onto your waist to control your movement.

"m'gonna cum, shit," you squeak out, your body shaking as you feel your high approaching quickly. heesung feels his lower body tighten as he feels his own orgasm approach, his thumb coming down to rub firm circles on your clit as he watches you fall apart on top of him.

you drop down from your original position, your hands on either side of his head as your tits smothered his face.

"cum for me, pretty," heesung urges as he gasps, feeling you clench around him so hard that his one high came rushing along with yours. you feel his warm cum shoot into your cunt, mewling at the feeling of being filled up to the brim.

his hips stutter as his thrusts slow down, pumping you full while he takes one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth.

your body twitches as you slowly come off your high, occasionally clenching around his cock causing heesung to let out chocked moans.

"that was.." you trail off, slowly sitting up again causing heesung to twitch inside of you—giggling when you see his face flush red.

"..really good," you finish off, the compliment turning his face a darker shade of red as he tries to look anywhere else beside you.

before he could say something that would make the situation awkward, you interrupt him, "take out your phone, i'm going to give you some actual beat material."

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

#enha imagines #enha x reader #enhypen #jaysbaefie #smut #enhypen heesung #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #heesung enha #kpop bg #heesung imagines #heesung smut #lee heesung #enhypen smut #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader

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vintagebishx · 1 year ago

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FOR THE FIRST TIME theodore nott

PAIRINGS: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

WARNINGS: fluff fluff fluff, use of she/her pronouns!, i used all lower caps.

SUMMARY: in which, the usual womaniser finds himself in love with a girl who doesn’t even know his name…

“ITS JUST LIKE SEEING HER,

FOR THE FIRST TIME,

AGAIN…”

“The first time you caught my eye

it was not love at first sight.

Instead a quiet curiosity was

planted in my chest and i knew

it was only a matter of time before

you sunk beneath my bones and

nurtured this deep seated familiarity

into a love so fierce that

i would question if i had

ever been in love before”.

THOSE WERE THE words that theo scribbled down in his journal as he sat in the middle of the courtyard amongst other students on the hot and surprisingly toasty day in Hogwarts. he finally dropped the pencil in his hand as his eyes averted back over to the sight before him, y/n.

theo wasn’t normally one for poetry but ever since the first time he had ever saw her, it was all he could think about.

he found himself in a never ending cycle of writing, constantly writing his feelings and thought down whenever she crossed his mind which was all the time.

it was like she had unknowingly helped him discover a part of himself that he was unaware of.

his gaze stuck to her face that was glowing due to the sun hitting her perfect caramel skin. she sat peaceful on the green grass with a big book opened in her hands, one that seemed to capture all of her attention.

his eyes then traveled down to her hands, her hands that were decorated with multiple rings and her wrists that wore a few bracelets.

she wore a sleeveless v-neck jumper on top of a long sleeved shirt as her yellow tie was tied perfectly. she wore two necklaces which hung and rested against his the tie.

he watched as the slight breeze in the air blew into her brown, perfectly curly, and volumed hair which also had a sunflower tucked into the side of her hair slightly matching her yellow, Hufflepuff tie. he wanted so badly to talk to her, to get to know her, to be near her, but he instead found himself gawking from afar and silently hoping that she would at least turn and look his way.

but wether he talked to her or not, even him just being able to look at her was enough to fuel his slight obsession with the girl.

she was special.

she was like the coffee he needed to energise him in the morning, or even the warmth he needed on a cold and gloomy day.

she was the sunshine that could light up any dark room.

with every minute he spent staring at her, he grew even more curious by the second. he wanted to know everything about her.

he wanted to know why she always wore that one bracelet, why she always seemed to read books published by the same author, why she always played with her hair while reading or even why she always came to the courtyard alone at the same time everyday and sat at the same spot too.

he was intrigued by her, she was different.

he didn’t want to say it in a corny way, but she wasn’t like all the other girls in Hogwarts. she kept to herself, had friends but never minded being alone, was always sweet to everyone, and didn’t care how others viewed her.

classic Hufflepuff.

if you had asked him a year ago today if he thought a hufflepuff would ever had him feeling this way, he probably would’ve laughed in your face. what made it worse was that he was presented with so many chances to go and talk to the girl but instead, he froze up and got lost in all of the words that he wanted to say which was nothing like him.

it was like she had casted an irreversible spell that only pulled him closer and closer to her.

“are you okay?” a voice suddenly spoke, causing him to break from his deep gaze.

he looked away from the girl and looked up which finally revealed mattheo, “oh- yeah, yeah!” he spoke as he cleared his throat and silently hoped that his slight infatuation with the girl wasn’t too obvious to his best friend.

mattheo furrowed his eyebrows as he looked down at his friend who was sat alone, “really? cause if you ask me, it looks like little miss Hufflepuff has you distracted…” he spoke with a small smirk.

“what? no!” theo quickly denied as he jerked his head back at his friends’ words.

matteheo took a moment to look down at the notebook that was sat on theo’s lap as he took notice to all the words written down that he struggled to read due to how far it was, “and what is this?” he asked as he suddenly knelt down to pick up the notebook, and got back up on his feet.

a sudden feeling of panic took over theo’s body as he hadn’t told anybody about his recent passion for poetry that was fuelled due to y/n.

“the first time you caught my eye it was love at first sight,” mattheo began as he read out of theo’s notebook. theodore was quick to stand up in attempts to grab the notebook from his friends’ hand but failed as mattheo continuously swerved his attempts.

“i knew it was only a matter of time before you sunk beneath my bones?” mattheo continued with a surprised tone at what he was hearing.

he had never heard theodore speak ever so passionately before.

“into a love so fierce-” “give me that!” theo interrupted his words as he finally grabbed the notebook from him.

his cheeks were tinted with a light red pigment as a small feeling of embarrassment grew inside of his system.

“your in love?” mattheo spoke with a laugh, “your in love with a hufflepuff?” he continued.

theo rolled his eyes at his words, “can you stop?” he spoke with an irritated tone.

“she’s more than that…” he began, “she’s special, s-she’s like a breath of fresh air in a world filled with copies of each other.” he spoke, his words filled with love as he brought his gaze back to y/n.

her peaceful presence finally bringing back that safe feeling in the pit of his stomach.

mattheo just stood there with his mouth slightly agape, realisation finally taking over him. his friend wasn’t just in love, he was deeply in love.

“wow… it’s worse than i thought, your infatuated nott.” mattheo said in a shocked tone.

he took a moment to look at theo, who put his head down in defeat as his friend uncovered his hidden feelings.

there was a reason as to why he had never told his friend about his liking towards the girl and it was simply because, he wasn’t used to it.

he wasn’t used to liking somebody, at all.

he wasn’t used to constantly thinking about somebody every single moment of the day, or having your heart beat faster at not only the sight of them, but the sound of their name. he wasn’t used to only being happy if he saw a certain someone, or not being able to sleep because of somebody disrupting his thoughts. he just wasn’t used to any of it.

he thought that y/n was just another girl that he would’ve liked for at least two days then gotten over her but no, the past three weeks of non-stop thoughts about her made it clear that it was more than just a crush and that he had to talk to her.

at first he was a little mad at the innocent girl as he wanted to know if she had put a spell over him, but he realised it was all him.

he craved her.

“why don’t you go talk to her, i mean you are theodore n-” “no!” theodore quickly interrupted his friend.

just the thought of her even looking at him made his nerves come to play.

mattheo took a moment to analyse his friends’ body language before letting out a loud laugh, “there’s no way,” he began, “are you… nervous?” he laughed out.

theo rolled his eyes due to it probably being mattheo’s tenth time laughing at him.

“i-i’m not, i just don’t know what i’d say to her.” he explained himself, “since when have you had trouble talking to girls nott? your clearly nervous.” mattheo laughed a little more before stopping.

“you know what?” mattheo spoke which caused theo to listen, “your gonna go over there and just speak whatever comes to mind.” he said.

theodore’s eyes widened at his words, he wasn’t prepared to even be near the girl let alone talk to her.

“what? no i’m not-” his words were interrupted by mattheo who grabbed the boys’ arm and began pulling him towards where the girl was peacefully sat, “yes you are!” mattheo spoke, simply ignoring the boy who was trying to rebel and pull away from his strong hold.

“no i’m not, now fuck off!” theo spoke harshly as he began using his strength to try and pull away but mattheo wasn’t having it.

“yes you are!” mattheo protested as he let go of theo before giving him one final strong push, pushing him right in front of the girl and causing him to drop his notebook onto the floor.

the commotion and sudden figure blocking her from the sun was enough to make y/n finally bring her head up from her book, she looked up to find the brunette boy staring right at her which slightly had her confused.

he looked a little anxious, as if he had been scared.

an awkward smile took over the girls’ face, “um, hello…” she said hesitantly as he did come from nowhere, “can i help you or?…” she continued.

but theo just stood there, like an idiot.

what am i doing, say something. he told himself mentally as he knew how stupid he looked, this was seriously unlike him.

“uhh, i-um,” he muttered out, “no!” he finally spat out as he finally moved out of his frozen state that he was once in before.

and there it was. the usually cool, and laid-back theodore nott was not tripping over his words and struggling on how to even form a sentence.

“oh…” y/n spoke, not really knowing what to tell him as she just continued to look up at him.

her eyes left his as she began to look at the grass, noticing a random, and unfamiliar notebook beside her.

“is this yours?” she asked him before she picking it up, “um yeah.” theo nervously spoke.

just then, y/n’s eyes scanned the page that was open. she quickly realising that it was a poem, her eyes lit up as she looked back at him.

“wait, did you write this?” she asked him as she stared right at him, waiting for a response.

theo’s eyes grew wide at the fact that she looked at the poem that he had made about her, his heart beats sped up due to a little embarrassment.

“y-yeah, but i’m not really a writer so-” “are you kidding me? i love poems!” she exclaimed, interrupted his words.

she took a moment to look a with a wide smile, the smile that made him want to melt.

“why don’t you sit down?” she offered which made him become shocked, “i mean unless you don’t want to then-” “no of course i do!” he suddenly spoke before walking a little closer to her, kneeling down, and sitting right next to her on the grass.

theo turned around and took a moment to look at the girl, this was the closest he had ever been to her and definitely the longest, and the first time, he had ever talked to her.

he took a good and long look at the girl, she was even prettier when closer.

her shoulder lengthened curls captured her face perfectly as they were as healthy as ever, she had a few small brown freckles on her face which is something he had never gotten to notice until now, he also didn’t notice how high her cheekbones were either. her full straight eyebrows were what made her face even more perfect as her almond shaped eyes topped her look off. his eyes then flickered to her her full, succulent lips which were as soft as ever. to top things off, her beautiful skin glowed ever so gently as the sun bounced off her face.

she was perfect… no, ethereal.

her smell too, she smelled addictive.

her sweet vanilla, tonka bean, red berries and mandarin scent was what drew the boy crazy. it made him want to be near her forever and ever.

“do you mind if i read this?” she asked him nicely before turning around and looking him looking him right into his eyes, “uh, sure.” he spoke as he quickly got out of whatever trance he was in.

it wasn’t like she would know it was about her anyways, he thought to himself.

y/n’s eyes went down the page as she read the poem, his writing style completely had her drawn as if it were written about her.

“oh my gosh, this is so beautifully written.” she complimented as she still looked at the notebook, she couldn’t believe how well he had managed to portray his feelings onto the paper.

she turned to look at him, “i-i mean, you sunk beneath my bones and nurtured this deep seated familiarity into a love so fierce? beautiful.” she recited his words as she continued to stare at him, impressed by how poetic he was.

theo’s eyes widened at her sudden compliments, he felt his cheeks heat up.

“thank you…” he muttered as a small smile came across his face, “who is this about?” she suddenly asked him.

theodore cleared his throat, “um, p-pardon?” he nervously asked even though he had heard her perfectly, he was just caught up by her question and did not know what to say.

a smile took over the girls’ face as she let out a breathy laugh, God that smile…

“i said, who is this about? i mean it’s so deep, there has to be someone because this isn’t something you can just make up…” she explained to him, and she was right. there was somebody who had inspired him to make the poem and it was her.

but he couldn’t tell her that.

how was he meant to explain to her that he wrote her a whole love poem, and many more, that a wife’s own husband could probably never make up if he tried.

how could he explain that for the past three weeks, she had been running endlessly through his mind?

how could he explain that every time he saw her, it felt like seeing her for the first time again?

how could he explain that in a world full of chaos, she was the peace in his presence?

he felt himself choke up due to nerves, he really did not know what to say to her. he was confused. he was confused on how this girl had so much power over him without even realising.

“a girl.” he managed to finally spit out, “it’s um, it’s about this girl.” he continued.

his eyes wandered her perfectly crafted face before opening his mouth to speak some more, “there’s this one girl who is beautiful. s-she’s sweet, kind and has been stuck in my mind almost everyday.” he spoke, “but the thing is… i haven’t talked to her yet”.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows, “well if you haven’t spoken to her before, then how do you know she’s all of those things?” she questioned curiously.

“because for three weeks i’ve been sat there like an idiot gawking at her, watching her interact with others instead of being a man and attempting to talk to her.” he explained, “there’s just something about her, she’s absolutely perfect.” he rambled on.

a smile that spread on her face exposed her pearly whites to him, “sounds like your in love!” she said excitedly.

“why can’t you just try and speak to her?” she asked curiously.

theo chucked as he brought his head down before bringing back up and look at her again, “because she makes me nervous, and i never get nervous around girls.” he said.

“but she’s different… she’s not like the rest of them, she’s even better.” he said as he was now getting lost in her beautiful brown eyes that seemed to have more colour due to the sun, “s-she’s special.” he muttered as he dropped his eyes to her lips.

it took everything in him to not just take her in his arms and give her the biggest hug ever, but he stopped himself.

y/n examined the boy and his body language, it was really no secret that he was in love. she had seen many of her friends fall in love so she was pretty good at detecting when somebody was undergoing symptoms of the contagious disease of love.

just as she was about to respond to his words, a voice interrupted her words.

“y/n? y/n!” a voice spoke causing them both to turn their heads, revealing a blonde girl in hufflepuff uniform that theo had recognised from one of his classes, her name was scarlett.

“oh hi scar!” y/n exclaimed happily, her eyes lighting up as she saw her dearest friend.

“i’ve been looking for you everywhere, everyone has!” she said excitedly as she got closer to the duo sitting down on the grass.

“we need to go, it’s girls night tonight and we need to start getting ready remember?” scarlett reminded her friend which caused y/n to gasp, “oh my goodness, how could i forget?” y/n questioned herself.

she grabbed her tote bag and shoved her book in there before standing up. scarlett held her hand out, which y/n took happily and began to walk with her.

however, y/n’s movements came to a halt.

theo watched as y/n mumbled a few words to her friend before turning back around and making her way back over to him, causing him to smile a little.

“i’m so sorry, i never got your name.” she spoke, “so incredibly rude of me.” she rambled on which only caused theo to look up at her and smile due to how cute she was.

his was also slightly shaken at the fact that she really didn’t know who he was, he believed that he had made quite the reputation for himself so it shocked him.

he stood up from the ground, his tall frame now meaning that she was the one looking up at him.

“theodore, theodore nott.” he informed her, holding his hand out in hopes that she didn’t deny his request.

his nerves died down as she accepted his request and shook his hand, “i’m happy i met you theo.” she smiled. her smooth hands felt like something he had been missing his whole life.

“wait can i call you that?” she asked frantically, she didn’t want to offend somebody she had just met.

theodore smiled at how cute she was being in that moment, “of course you can… you can call me whatever you want.” he said, slightly regretting what he last said as he didn’t want to embarrass himself even though it was probably too late.

but y/n just let out a laugh. not one that was degrading, but one that made him realise that she found what he said funny which honestly calmed him down.

y/n finally let his hand go before giving him a heart warming smile and walking off as he just stood their and watch her skip over to her friend with a smile planted on his face.

“you see, now that wasn’t hard was it?” mattheo asked his friend cockily as he came out from his hiding spot behind the tree.

but theo didn’t hear him.

instead, he continued to watch the girl walk further, and further away as his stomach did somersaults.

poem made by: Lyra Wren

border creds: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

AUTHOR SPEAKS! i kind of based this off of an unpublished draft so if i post something familiar to this, it’s cause i described the character in the same way as the draft

i hope you guys enjoyed this though!!

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott masterlist #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys #slytherin #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #lorenzo zurzolo #lorenzo zurzolo imagine #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x you

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venmondiese · 1 year ago

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A Cure For A Bad Day

Summary: Aemond has one of his worst days ever, nothing seems to go right. At night, at least, he gets the company of his new wife as he bathes.

Based on Ewan Mitchell's and TGC 'Scene Reactions' when he says "When we did that scene, when he had the rain machine going in, the dye on the eyepatch... it just stained the wig"

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, bath sex, breeding kink, overall very sweet, aemond discovering feelings. ✧Word Count: 5.2k ✧ Ao3 link: here ✧gifs: by myfandomprompts

Aemond is known for many things. He is fierceless, perfectionist, well trained with the sword, and bold. Those things he was proud of.

And all those things, he was not today.

He trained by morning, and Criston Cole was waiting for him. The sword felt slightly different on his hand, weird, but he just took it that he slept badly and that's why his arm felt numb.

Now, after losing his eye, he had to learn things differently. He had a considerably big blind spot, and so he learned how to keep it aware of his surroundings as training with the sword. Yet, those things do not have in mind the little rocks on the ground, which he stepped on and twisted his ankle as he tried to defend Ser Criston’s attack.

And with that, he twisted his ankle and slightly cut his hand.

He was annoyed, but he tried not to pay attention to it. A silly mistake. The rock was on his blind side, how could he notice? It was a rookie mistake, and it burned his cheeks to remember it.

By the evening, after eating, he decided to ride Vhagar. His girl liked long rides, not so fast but more calm, and prowling around the crownlands skies.

He did not anticipate the rain.

For some reason or another, Vhagar was as grumpy as him, and she did not seem to want to go over the clouds in the rain. No, she wanted full on take a bath on the rainfall.

And Aemond had to bear it. But what was worse was when he realised that his eyepatch had dyed his hair. He just picked the worst eyepatch today.

His hair was slightly silver auburn, and just in some parts. He hated it, and it made his day ten times worse as he realised the eyepatch had been too tight, and it had been suffocating his scar without him realising.

He had trouble with the sensibility on his left side of his face, and just today he put his eyepatch too tight. It made him furious.

And he decided to make it everyone’s problem.

He was laying in the bathtub, next to the fire as he had a horrible headache. He came in, demanding a bath as the servants had to rush to get him hot water.

He took his own clothes off, kicking his boots away, refusing any servants touch as he undoes his own leather jerkin, he unties his breeches, grunting and mumbling in frustration, hating each instance of this day. He thinks a bath will help him to relax even a bit. He just wanted to sleep, and end up with this horrible day.

His scar itches, and it drives insane. It was as if the itchcame from the deep parts of his cheekbones and it drove him mad. He was at the edge of peeling his own skin to scratch his damn scar.

Only in his undergarments, he ignores the chilling cold from the chamber, and he walks barefoot as the servants fill the bathtub with hot water. As hot as possible. He walks over the chimney, and throws the eyepatch in, hoping it burns in hell.

His loose hair, tinted with the dye of the eyepatch. If he only knew who was the mastermind behind it, who decided to spend coins on it; he would kill them. And they better hope this stupid dye can get off with the bath, or head will start rolling.

The water was hot, but he paid no mind. He liked boiling hot, and he sat against his as he let the attendant boy prepare scents and the oils to put on the water, and to wash him. Aemond didn’t allow him to wash him; yet. He wanted some moments of peace in the hot water, so he remained a good amount of time still.

“Bring me the ointment that Maester Orwyle prepared for my eye” Aemond’s voice is low, yet demanding as the boy gets out, not without bowing to the prince.

He waits, pinching the bridge of his nose as if that would calm his nerves, his headache. He believes it works, so he is focused on it, as he accommodates his legs on the water, trying to be relaxed.

Time is a bit dizzy, and when he hears the door open, he can hear the servants speaking hushedly, as if wanting him not to hear. Good, because he didn’t want to listen to them either.

He can hear the little taps that the shoes do as the maid leaves the oils for his hair on a near table, and takes his hair on her hands, gently. He doesn’t turn to face her; he just wants the damn dye to get off.

Hands wash his hair, and if he wants to relax, this is making it impossible. The little tugs and the awful way that scrubs his hair to take the dye off, and the weird caresses on his neck from time to time.

“You are not doing correctly" he grumbles to the servant with closed eyes as his migraine is persistent. "Learn how to wash a prince's hair" he adds, sharply.

“Apologies” The voice comes as a murmur, a bit strained if even, as the hands go to his neck, and all the way up.

“My prince” He adds sharply, he cannot believe his luck today. “When you address a royal member of the Targaryen House, you use their title. My prince” he says, patronisingly and even angry.

“Yes, my prince” a little cough at the end, he either thinks the maid is trying to hold back a laugh or embarrassment. Not that he cares, as he has his eye closed and a hand on his temple, his head resting on his hand, that caresses his forehead trying to get that awful headache away

Aemond's face was scrunched up in pain, as his eyes were closed. "Are you new at this? I swear... I am starting to believe that they are just sending me incompetent maids to attend to me..." the young prince groaned.

His body stiffens, as arms go to wrap his neck from behind, and before he can sit up properly, he feels the maid kiss his cheek lovingly as she giggles. “Apologies, my prince…”

The voice is clear as day, and if his hand was going to fetch the little dagger on the table by his side, it stops.

He turns his head to his right, seeing your wide smile as you wait for his reaction. He groans, rolling his eyes, which causes you to laugh loudly.

His new wife, she always liked to tease him and cling to him, always hugging him, taking his hand in hers or kissing him all over. He didn’t mind; he always allowed her even at court. But he won’t admit that he likes it too.

“Wife” he greets you as he sighs, and he feels your hand rubbing circles in the back of his neck.

“I know, I do not know how to wash hair. You’ve made it completely clear”

“I thought you were a servant” he says, looking at her. “You are a highborn lady, you don’t need to know how to.”

“True…” you say, moving some of the wet hair out of his face, and squeezing it so it isn’t dripping. “I heard that my prince had a horrible day, and he was in a bad mood. Servants do talk, you know…” you say looking at him with a smile “Wanna tell me about it?”

Aemond sighs and looks at you, as you take the sponge to wash his body. He sighs as you pour some of the water in his chest and start scrubbing softly.

“"A terrible day... I stepped on a rock, and twisted my ankle and cut my arm in the process... Then i wanted to relax with a ride on Vhagar, but it started to rain, the fucking dye of the eyepatch got all over my hair and eye.. I have the worst migraine now..." his voice is rough, and he seems annoyed at the memory of it. “And I haven’t seen you as much as I’d like”

It wasn’t the worst day he has ever lived. Maybe. When he lost his eye it could be the top one. He won Vhagar, at the cost of his eye. It was an amazing thing, traded for the worst thing that has ever happened to him. He was still living the consequences of it today, as his scar stinged on his skin.

“Not your best day, I see” you say softly, scrubbing his chest. He enjoys it, as he looks at you, leaning back in the bath as you scrub his chest. “I’m sorry to hear it”

“I don’t need pity”

You chuckle “It is not pity” you say softly, looking at your husband. “What can I do to make you feel better?”

Aemond stays silent. He is not used to someone caring about him like this. Sure, his mother cared for him, and so did Helaena But not like this.

“Be by my side”

The silence is a bit comforting, as you wash his body. He looks at you deeply, and he cannot help but think how stunning you are. You didn’t find any discomfort in washing him, in caring and tending to him. You never once seem disgusted by his lack of eye, by his empty eye socket, or his ugly scar. Never once you discarded him.

It was more than often that you placed the ointment prepared by maester Orwyle on his eye, his scar, where his nerves were permanently damaged and they brought discomfort to him. You never once complain.

“You look different” he says, looking at you in the dim lights of the room.

“Different how?” you ask, as you finish brushing his hair, making sure the dye is almost completely getting off his wet hair. He has little curls, which makes you smile like an idiot.

“I do not know. Shining. Radiant. Lovely.” He murmurs, moving one of his wet hands to tickle a strand of hair on your ear. “Different”

“So I usually do not look radiant or lovely…”

“Not what I meant” he groans and you chuckle softly. “You were sick. Now you look much better in… spirits.”

“You look different too” You say looking at him with a smile. Your eyes fall to his chest, and you smile. He notices how you get flustered at the sight of his nakedness.

“More wounded” he says ironically, leaning back with a sigh.

“Stronger” you correct him smiling. “More… mhm. I’d say more… Hot”

“You think I am hotter when I'm wounded?”

“Not what I meant” you say chuckling under your breath, “I meant… I like seeing you like this... Leaning back is so... manly, and hot…"

“Oh, do you?” he asks slightly amused, leaning back still as he looks at you, nodding and smiling. Aemond frowns a bit, and he hisses then you accidentally hit his new wound on his wrist.

“Sorry, love” you say, kissing his hand, and smiling. “You know, when I was little they cured my wounds like this. With a kiss”

“Did they?” He asks, trying to remain interested even with his headache.

“Yes. Like this” She says kissing near his wound, a very feather-like kiss. “See? Does it feel better?”

You look at him with an adorable expression, as if you truly think that this would make him feel better. Aemond blinks, as he looks at you.

It ticks him the wrong way that you care about him. Why would you? Perhaps it is a womanly thing. He wasn’t so sure. Perhaps as his wife, it is your burden, having to make a maimed man feel better.

The prettiest maiden in court, chained to a maimed man, deformed and always wounded, stuck in the pain of his eye to see beyond. Wasting your best years with him.

And he cannot decipher why.

“Aemond?” You ask as he trails off.

“Yeah” he clears his throat, awkwardly, and he moves his legs a bit. “I guess so”

“Where else does it hurt?” You ask sweetly.

He sometimes hates how kind you can be, he doesn’t know what your upper intentions are, but after all, you are his wife even if he can’t decipher you.

“Well, my eye, obviously…” he says a bit embarrassed “And… my left foot, I guess. And my arm, because I slept on it… and…”

You nod, looking at him as he speaks. He is intimidated, he realises. You make sure to hear all of what he has to say, with your sweet eyes.

You move to the end of the bathtub, and move to kiss his ankle softly, no complaints, no hesitation. Nothing… odd, about it. Only out of tenderness. You kiss his shoulder, and his left cheekbone, softly, to make sure it doesn’t burn on his skin. He just lets you, because it makes you happy, thinking that it helps.

And he doesn’t realise that it actually helps him, in a way. The smile on your face makes him smile too, and he sighs.

“Better?”

“Mhm” he hums in agreement, looking at your face. “Better when you're with me, yes”

He is utterly head over heels for you, even if he isn’t good with feelings. He loves you, even when he seems slightly annoyed by you.

“And you?”

“And me?” You ask curiously.

“You were sick. Coughing like crazy, and all your body ached.” he says softly, “in confinement, away from me… Do you truly feel better?”

“I am better. Lady Westerling got all of us sick” you say with a slight smirk. “my body still aches a bit, but it’s…” you hesitate a bit, slightly nervous.

“Then join me” he interrupts, moving to try and get you in the bathtub with him. "The hot water will do good to you..."

"It will burn my skin, I hate how hot you take these baths..." you protests, moving his hands off your waist as he tries to pull you in.

"The Blood of the Dragon, wife" he says smugly, smirking. "It is cold, anyways. It is barely warm"

"You like it boiling hot" You say smiling to him, and he presses a kiss on your jaw.

"I do, indeed." He admits "Come on, get in with me"

“Aemond, my nightgown…” you protest, and he rolls his good eye.

“You have others, let it get wet” You seem to give in, as he helps you get in, holding your hand as you enter the bathtub. “It will do good to your aches.” He insists, taking your waist in his hands to place you on his lap.

“I think it is an excuse” you say, blushing a bit as you accomodate on his lap.

“A good one, you must admit” he says looking at you, and he passes his hands all the way up to your back. “But an innocent one, I must admit” he says, and you tilt your head as if asking him to elaborate “I don’t think I am up for anything, I am too tired for it”

You hum, his still wet hair made him look almost cute. His little curls...

“The dye came off” you say, as he leans to kiss your neck a bit. “I can go to the tailor and ask them to make another eyepatch one for you. More fancy. With real leather. Maybe add some fancy dragon scales in it”

“Hm. Fine” he says looking up at you, smiling at how delicious you were. He places a kiss on your hand, and he smiles. “What is bothering you?”

You stay still, blinking a bit. “Court. Ladies… at court. They don't seem to like me much. I mean, they like me but I always feel excluded. Like I am doing too much for them to like me”

Aemond looks at you, a bit surprised by it. He places his hands on your waist, and he certainly was thinking about how to comfort you. He wasn’t a court charmer either, so he hummed.

“I thought you had friends.”

“I do… I guess. They just never seem to think of me when doing things. They do not hate me, no… I am the new one…, and so they just…. Don’t include me”

“I’ll include you” he states nodding. “I’ll bring you with me everywhere. Training, riding Vhagar, in the library, all of it.” He proposes softly.

“Hm. It would be pleasant.”

You smile softly, your hands, now wet and in the water, move from his abdomen all the way up to his chest.

Your husband was well fit. A prince of the realm, training with the sword since he was little. He practised almost every day, and was very detail-oriented in his field. And that paid off, as he was lean; yet muscular.

You two were still newlyweds. Maybe three months since you two married, and things were a bit awkward still. You tried to decipher his odd behaviour and he tried the same with yours, starting to know each other personally, yet there was a bond, a silent affection you both shared for the other.

His body felt warm. He had stayed at the bathtub for Gods know how many hours, and he was all wet and shiny. You hand caressed his muscles, going up from his abdomen to where his wispy chest hair were.

“What is in your mind?”

You hum, and smile “How handsome my husband is” you murmur “How good he is to me…” you add “How much I truly like you…”

Aemond raises his eyebrows, and he looks at you as your hand caress his torso up and down, slowly, as if you were tempting him.

“Oh?”

You nod softly, and even if he doesn’t know you too well; he knows this face.

You move to kiss his neck, your arms wrapped around his torso as you leave little kisses all over his skin. He chuckles a bit, at your little desperation for the demonstration of love, you were such a physical person for him.

“Darling, what are you-”

“I just missed you” You say, and he can see in his head the pout you would form if you weren’t so eagerly kissing his neck.

He chuckles as his hand holds your waist firmly on his lap, and he leans his head back, facing the ceiling as you two spoke. “Very eagerly, I see”

“You are tired. But let me…”

Your arms wrapped around him, holding him as you press gentle kisses there, and he smiles, starting to feel the boiling arousal in his abdomen, looking at the ceiling as if it could distract his mind.

“Very well”

His arms went to the edges of the bathtub, as he felt the fabric of the nightgown against his chest, and he certainly was starting to enjoy the constant nibbling and wetness of your kisses.

Aemond lets out a quiet groan, enjoying the gentle bites at his neck, as he feels his neck a little warmer. “You little minx- Did you just give me a hickey?”

Your giggle tells him all, as you move your lips to the start of his clavicle. His good eye closes as he enjoys the way your mouth feels against his sensitive skin.

“You are simply… delicious” you murmur, your kisses going lower to his chest, before stopping a moment.

“Do not tell me you want to leave a hickey there…” He says, moving his head down to look at you.

As he imagined before, your mouth turns into a pout as you frown; most adorably he must add.

“Oh, please! Let me try” You ask him “It is a way to show you that I missed you” You add, trying to convince him as he chuckles, making a mocking sound.

Aemond rolls his eyes as he feels your eager mouth sucking the skin of his chest, as if he was some kind of… not even he knew. It felt strange. Worshiped and feral. That’s how it felt, at least for him.

Once you separate, you look at your work, your thumb moving along the bruised skin with a satisfied smirk.

“Looks so good on you” you swear, as if it was a matter to be known.

“If it makes you happy” he says, accommodating on his seat, the water moving along with him. “My turn, then?”

You shake your head with a giggle “You always make it a mess!”

That he did, and he smiles a bit, seeing the lack of lovemarks of your neck.

It is you who eagerly kiss him, and press your body to his, as if needing him. He isn’t one to complain, as he feels your eager lips pressing against his and your tongue invading his mouth. Rather bold, to his taste. But he likes it.

Your hands on his shoulder make their slow way down, passing temptingly slow from his chest, to his abdomen. He gasps in the kiss, as if he was some kind of maiden, when he feels your hands underwater on his crotch and touching his cock.

He frowns a bit as he separates, trying to demand an answer. “Wha-” he tries to ask before you shut him up with a kiss, not even letting him speak.

Rather eager, aren’t we… He thinks, but he isn’t one to complain, as your touch is like magic to his dick. In the water is odd, he has to admit, but his member thinks otherwise as he gets aroused from your eagerness.

You smooch him with kisses, and he feels… intimidated, in a good way. You don’t even allow him to breathe without going for another kiss, desperate. Feral.

He has a feral wife, it seems.

“Darling, what are you…” he asks amused as you break the kiss, just to move your wet skirts all the way up, but he can’t see much of your pussy in the water, which he dislikes a lot.

“I missed you” you repeat “A lot.”

“It isn’t as if you were confined in a tower for years. It was barely two days. And I visited you-”

“I need you, husband” you state impatiently, as your knees move to the sides of his hips. “so, if you are tired, I’ll do it”

He blinks, surprised and taken aback. He is rather amused and aroused, at his bold wife.

“Alright” he says, looking at you as you can do the work alone.

He isn’t tired for sex, not at all. He can certainly get the energy, maybe not perform as usual, but he’ll do it if you ask. You didn’t even need to ask for it. But seeing you in control is better than that.

You rode him once, for later to admit that it wasn’t your favourite position, because you grew tired quickly. He didn’t mind, but now he thinks he’ll have you riding him at least once a week.

The way your dick enters your body is slow, as you slowly lower yourself on it. He can see your face contoured with pleasure, how you shut your eyes, and your hands grip on his shoulders as you whimper on it, you open your mouth and he leans to kiss your neck a bit, as if wanting to give back the affection you give him.

More than bounce on it, you find it more practical to grind on it. Your hands, that move between his waist and his shoulders, as if you didn’t know where to hold him to help you grind against his cock.

“That’s so good…” you whimper as you grind on his cock.

The water moves around, the harder you grind, the harder it moves on the bathtub. He is even sure that some of it has overflowed the bathtub, as he looks at your pretty face, as you moan needily. His hand moved to pull down your nightgown, just enough to expose both of your tits in the firm fabric. He pulls it down to expose your shoulders a bit, and it is a sight that only arouses him more.

“It’s so good, baby?” He asks looking up to you, and he leans his head to kiss your nipple, gently.

He knows you missed him. You are not rough, or a mess on his cock. You are doing it so prettily, so sweetly, he knows that you truly have missed him and his touch.

“Yeah, so-so good.” You babber a bit, nodding as he kisses your other breast softly. He does not hold you, he has his hand on the back, trying to keep him firm as you ride him.

His right hand holds your waist, as he notices. Your arms are on his shoulders as you whimper and moan, grinding him, not even minding the water around.

He has to admit, in the bathtub isn’t as comfortable as outside of it. The water doesn’t help to be smoother, if anything, he has the impression it does the contrary. It may be just him, as you don’t say anything against it.

“So eager, baby…” he says amazed, and now he feels like the one worshipping you. He just adores you, he realises, as he sweetly talks you through it “You just needed me, this badly?” He asks, kissing your jaw.

The little nods you give him are enough to get him moving his hips slowly up to meet your little grinds and bounces.

He kisses your breast again, and the other, and the other. He adores you, how the little mewls from your mouth are so arousing for him as you clench your pussy around him.

“Aemond…” you whine. “Feels.. amazing, so good...” you repeat, as if you couldn't think of anything else, as he looks up to you.

He is just surprised you have gotten this far without begging him to take control. They way he’d take your waist and flip you around, to make you hold the other edge of the bathroom, just to take you from behind, again, and again, and again. The water would overflow the bathtub completely, and his seed would be securely in your womb.

But you don’t ask him, and he doesn’t do it. He likes the sweetness of it. He likes how you look at him needily for both of your lips to meet on a kiss, passionate as your bounces and grind are slightly weaker.

“My special girl…” he murmurs, kissing you again and again, not minding if they are pecks or if he has the opportunity for his tongue to play with yours. “I love you”

You nod, whimpering and whining as you say it back. I love you, I love you, I love you. Again and again, as if it was some prayer.

“Aemond” you moan into his mouth,

“I know. Can you feel how good you take me?” He asks softly, kissing your chin, as he holds your waist to help you bounce on his cock. The splash of the water amuses and arouses him, and he groans at the sight of your nightgown fully soaked, glued to your figure.

“Mhm. Yes, yes, Gods, yes” you said, probably numb and already cockdrunk, just enjoying the feeling of his cock so deep inside.

“You want me to fill you, hm? To make you round with my seed, baby?” He asks, looking at you, moving to kiss your neck.

He is also rambling at this point, as you squeeze him in the perfect way, asking to be filled with cum. He ignores how the water splashes his chest and back, how it is practically soaking the carpet under the bath, and making a mess. He has to remember how wet it might be so you two don’t slide on the floor.

“Aemond, I… oh, Gods, Aemond!”

You little moans are music to his ears, as he holds your waist to move you down to his cock, to his taste. Not as rough as usual, but certainly desperate enough to want to cum.

“Will you cum for me, darling?” He asks, as he feels your hips grinding more desperately on him, and he throws his head back on the edge as he feels his balls tighten as well. You did wonders on him. “Cum for me and I’ll fill you up as you so much like” he promises, almost feral for you to cum.

Your release made him moan, loudly, as he held you tight on his cock as he cums as well. He looks lazily at you, panting and whimpering still, which only serves to fuel the last remains of arousal on his abdomen, filling your womb with his cum. He hopes it takes root and to see you grow pregnant as moons pass by.

“Thank you” you say, breathless against his chest, kissing his cheek sweetly.

He smiles a bit, by how pleasure drunk you obviously were. He moves you slightly, to pull out from you and accommodate you on his chest, which you take comfort in. “Nothing to be thankful for. I thank you. Having sex is rather… good for when one had a bad day” he says smiling.

You smile, and look at him, caressing his chest as you remain in this position, calmly breathing as he tries to stop panting.

“Have I made it better?” You ask, softly, looking up to him.

He chuckles softly, almost amused by how ridiculous the question was.

“Just by having a sight of you, you make my day better” he says.

Even if he was new to this whole marriage thing, even if sometimes he didn’t know you that well as your ladies-in-waiting and sometimes just allowed you to be even if it bothered him. He didn’t understand you most of the time, but he certainly adored you, very dearly.

“I can make it even better” you say almost proudly, and he raises his eyebrow, looking at you laying on his chest. The water wasn’t even hot anymore, but more cold than he could bear.

“Oh, how so?” He asks amused. “Did you claim a dragon? Only that can top the amazing moment that we just-”

“I am with child” you say simply, looking at him with a smile.

He stops on his tracks, and looks at you as he takes in what you said. He blinks, looking at you, and you smile awkwardly at him. Was he happy? The prospect always puts him in a good mood. But maybe it wasn’t as you thought? One thing was words, and other actions.

You watch his eye as he seems to have hundreds of thought per second, his face slight confused as he frowns a bit, before his lips turn into smile full of disbelief.

“Are you joking?”

“No... Maester Orwyle informed me this morning” you say softly. “He says that probably our wedding night was fruitful. I don't know. I don't look that pregnant, after these months. We have to figure it out in these days, so we can see when the birth is due... It's funny, because at first we thought it was from the sickness, that I got the worst part… but I just happened to be sick and pregnant”

That's why Maester Orwyle looked at him with a slight smirk as he helped desinfect his arm after training. You probably asked him to keep the secret so you could tell him.

That's why there was something off about you. He couldn't get exactly what, but something was off. It made sense, how nervous you were and how you tried to tell him before, but he was a fool to not notice it.

“Oh, my love…” he says, as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly to him. “Oh… I don’t… I... What can I even say to that?”

He is surprised, and he can’t believe it. You were pregnant. You actually were. His little offspring, growing in your womb right at this moment. Your stomach was not firm by any mean, he couldn't decipher it even if he liked so.

“That is… That is the best thing anyone has ever told me” he admits, chuckling a bit in surprise. “You are going to be a mother. And you are going to make me a father”

"We are, indeed" You say smiling to him. "In some months, it will be me, you and a weeping babe"

He can feel his nose burn as he smiles, the image on his head as he forces himself not to cry of happiness, a weird chuckle comes out of his mouth.

"You are right" he says looking at you. "So, you are definitely moving to my chambers now, aren't you? No more personal chambers, no more confinement when sick. You are not leaving my side, not you or our little dragon" He states nodding, not for discussion. He can't have you just wandering around without him near to protect both of you.

He smiles, as you giggle. His day certainly got better, all thanks to you. His hands caress your back soothingly, as he is just... happy. He forgets about his horrible day, how his ankle still hurts or how his scar stings on his cheek and forehead as he smiles. What is that compared to the joy of knowing that he will be a father? A father to your children as well?

“Now, how come Lady Westerling got my pregnant wife sick?” he teases you as you roll your eyes. “She is in so much trouble, who does she think she is? Both my wife and my sweet baby? Oh, she is not going to see sunlight ever again-”

“Aemond!” you giggle, but he smooches your cheek with kisses that only makes your giggles grow louder.

#aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader smut #aemond modern au #house of the dragon #aemond smut #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x you #aemondtargaryen #aemond targaryen #ewan nation #aemond the kinslayer #hotd #prince aemond #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell

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saintrosalyn · 7 months ago

Text

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths.

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep.

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him.

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room.

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself.

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine.

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge.

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift.

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside.

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you.

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst.

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate.

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels.

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver.

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence.

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him.

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in).

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone.

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again.

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong.

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.”

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments.

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head.

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall.

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach.

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #Simon is such a meanie #He's gonna give reader an ulcer fr

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thargelalia · 8 months ago

Text

Comrade Red Hood

jason todd x fem!reader

patriarchy sucks, thankfully your doting nerdy boyfriend is there to show you support

-> 3k words

-> fluff, hurt/comfort, tiniest bit suggestive

-> warnings: talks of v!olence and crime (c'mon, guys, it's Gotham); mansplaining (not by Jason); reader is a little mean, but she's only human; Jason is a serial kisser and we love that for him

“Are you upset?”

“Yes.”

“…is it something I did?”

“Not everything’s about you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a low whistle at your sharp words. “Damn. I thought I was supposed to be the broody one here.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine sometimes is good.”

Silence.

“Sure you’re not mad at me?”

“I’m beginning to.” You let out a deep frustrated sigh, massaging your temples in a futile attempt to stop the incessant throbbing headache. “What do you want, Jason?”

“I was just—is there anything I can do for you?” He asks, shifting weight between his legs. “You seemed a bit off over the phone earlier, so I decided to drop by.”

“I just want to be alone.” You sound less passive aggressive this time as exhaustion seeps into your words. ”My head is killing me right now, so I just had an aspirin. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” Since it’s dark and your eyes are glued to the ceiling, you’re unable to take in the dejected look on his face.

Seeing you’ve got no objections — he kind of hoped you’d change your mind and ask for cuddles — Jason leaves the room wordlessly. It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air. A well-known skill amongst all bat-family members.

Even so, he’s surprisingly light on his feet for a big guy. But then again, we’re talking about a walking deadly weapon. A vicious vigilante. The prince of Gotham. Red Hood.

Or at least that’s what he usually is when he’s not sulking in the living room for being a victim of his girlfriend’s sour mood.

Aside from the sound of a car or two passing by down below, and police sirens echoing distantly on occasion, your place is engulfed in a comfortable silence — this a relatively quiet neighborhood. Moonlight filters through your half-open curtains, a soft welcoming breeze swaying them gently to the side.

At some point, your eyes flutter open. You don’t even remember falling asleep. There’s a dryness to your throat, prompting you to move around and reach for a slim water bottle on the nightstand. Next to it, the digital clock reads 2:17 AM.

A five hour nap. Nice.

Fortunately, the pounding inside your head has subsided.

Tsking in disappointment, seeing the bottle is empty, you detangle your legs from the sheets, begrudgingly getting up and dragging yourself to the kitchen.

The lights in the living room are still on, making your eyes squint when you approach the entrance. You’re confused to discover Jason still lounging on the couch with a book in his hands, legs spread deliciously wide. One of his feet is propped against the edge of the coffee table.

“Thought you were still out on patrol.”

He looks up, and blinks, not expecting to see you up. “Just got back, actually. About fifteen minutes ago or so, I think.”

You hum in response and take a moment to really observe him.

His hair is still indeed damp as it falls over his forehead. He’s also shirtless, only dressed in gray sweatpants. Took him quite a long time to feel comfortable enough to show skin like this around you. Likewise, despite the smile that your reassurances bring to his face whenever you thank him for ‘blessing your eyes with such a delectable sight’, sometimes he still gets antsy if they linger too long on his scars. So, you try to respect his limits while also making sure he knows he’s incredible and beautiful.

There are also beads of sweat accumulated on his bare chest and neck. Despite having just showered, his body is still overheated from Red Hood’s intense activities, you notice.

No injuries in sight tonight, thank goodness. But if there were, though, he probably wouldn’t be here. He’d still rather agonize in pain alone in his apartment than letting his medical resident girlfriend tend to him. You’re still trying to ingrain into his stubborn mind that his health will never be a disturbance to you. He will never be a disturbance to you.

Hm, though he kinda was a little bit earlier before. However, that wasn’t his fault. Nor yours, for that matter.

As if on cue, his question breaks you out of your reverie.

“Feeling better?” You nod in affirmation and he gives a sweet smile. “Good. You should eat, baby. I got you something on my way back. It’s in the kitchen.”

You mirror his smile and resume your steps to the kitchen where there’s a white medium-sized paper bag sitting on the counter.

Dismantling crime and wreaking havoc around Gotham, just to later on pick up food to appease his moody girlfriend back home.

Isn’t that so cute?

After drinking your fill of cool water, you grab the food bag, a plate – to avoid crumbs dirtying the floor – and return to the living room to eat in Jason’s company. He’s still engrossed in his book. Or rather, yours. Your small library is now his, but so is his yours. It’s an unspoken agreement.

“I didn’t know Mr. Abdul’s place stays open so late.” You say thoughtfully, munching on a falafel. Jason also got you a fattoush salad, hummus, and some pita bread. Yummy.

You’re sitting on opposite ends of the couch, legs on a pillow in his lap, while his forearms rests on top of them. He’s hunched forward in concentration on the pages in front of him.

“It doesn’t.” Without looking, Jason steals one falafel from the bag and pops it into his mouth. “I broke into his kitchen.“

You choke on a piece of pita bread. “What the f-”

“Relax. I left the money on the counter.”

“Are you fucking kidding me??” He talks about it so casually. Almost like he’s done this before. “Wait. So, the cookies from Elena’s last time…”

“Well, that one’s obvious.” Successfully blocking a pillow chucked at his face, he rushes to defend himself, “BUT I never forget to pay, so technically I’m not stealing! Only billionaires are harmed here, I swear.”

You both know which particular billionaire he has in mind.

“Right. Keep telling yourself that, Robin. Hood.” You scoff, picking up the fattoush salad box, opening its lid and picking through vegetables with a plastic fork. Jason’s mouth opens in surprise. “Pun intended, by the way.”

“Whatever.” He huffs with an eye roll, trying to conceal his amusement. To make a point, he raises the open book to his face and blocks your view of him, ignoring you completely.

As you silently chew on radishes and lettuce, you take a minute to inspect what he’s reading. It’s a considerably thick book. Zeroing in the letters of the cover, your eyes widen in shock as you swallow.

“Jason, is that—you’re reading The Capital?”

“Yeah, why?” He questions back, nonchalantly, lowering the book just past his eyes. “You think I only read fiction?”

“I guess… but I only asked because I think it’s an odd choice of reading given your night.” You explain, gathering the empty food containers, placing them inside the paper bag and setting it aside on the coffee table. “Aren’t you supposed to be tired?”

“Of fighting against oppressive systems? Absolutely.” He quips, a playful smirk on his face. “This guy just gets me, you know?”

Seeing the unimpressed look on your face, his smile dies down and he places the book down on the armrest. “I got an extra adrenaline rush while chasing Penguin’s goons this time. There were dozens of them ‘cause he was closing an important arms deal at a warehouse tonight.. Remember that time when we were watching a documentary about wolves, and it was showing how packs tend to slaughter entire flocks of sheep when they’re unable to escape from a confined space?”

“Is that your way of telling me you were in a… kill frenzy?” You swallow hard, trying not to sound too alarmed, but the distant look in his eyes accompanied by his eerie tone and word choice is unsettling. Even though you're well aware he doesn’t pose a danger to you.

Jason seldom shares the details about his gruesome Red Hood business with you. One, because he knows you already see too much violent shit while working at the hospital.

Two, he knows you worry about his safety.

Three, there’s also the fact that he’d like to keep a sense of normalcy at home.

Four, and most importantly, he believes it’s best if you don’t access his dark side, but sometimes – like right now – he’s unable to conceal it. At the end of the day, he’s only someone fighting their shadows like any other.

Although, his are evidently a bit more obscure and jarring.

There’s a pregnant pause before he finally breaks out of his trance with a shake of his head. Taking in your tense posture and concerned face, he softens his demeanor, reaching for one of your hands. One, two, three kisses delivered to the tip of your fingers and he’s pulling you to sit straddling his legs. Calloused palms start rubbing the top of your thighs in reassurance back and forth.

“Don’t worry, baby. I didn’t shoot to kill..uh, mostly.” There’s no way of telling if he’s being sincere, and, frankly, you’d rather not think about this. As usual, he’s attuned to your senses, and tries to lighten the conversation up. “Anyways, I was still feeling charged when I got back. That’s why I picked one of your brainy books to help me wind down. Since your Sociology shelf was right in my line of sight, I decided to give it a try… Oh, I just remembered I forgot to bring you my French copy of Madame Bovary again.”

“Hm, it’s fine. I’ll borrow it next time I’m at your place. But, back to my books. Why do I feel like this isn’t a first time thing? I did find some of my Sociology books misplaced a couple of weeks ago,” you complain. “Glad you’re having fun tackling dialectical materialism as a post-vigilante workout, but please make sure you put my books in order once you’re done.”

“So bossy.” He playfully tuts, adding a nip to your shoulder. Then you feel his lips trace a slow path up to your neck, leaving a slow deliberate kiss there. “And so pretty, too.”

He smiles mischievously, lips still attached to your skin, as you shudder.

Devious bastard.

Crossing your arms, you try not to blush and keep your voice steady. “I mean it, Jason.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll mind your precious organization.” He follows his promise with a chaste kiss, this time to your lips. “But seriously, you do look pretty.”

“What, out of a sudden?” You raise your eyebrows in amusement.

Jason prides himself in being a skillful liar. It often comes in handy.

But he most definitely is not the type to give empty compliments.

Especially not to the most precious person of his life.

And you’re aware of that. His eyes don’t lie.

There’s that deep candid warmth swirling within those mesmerizing irises that just captures you whole. They remind you of the ocean, colors of a fine line between blue and green, like teal. Sometimes calm and serene, sometimes agitated and raging.

One thing is sure. You’re the only person who gets to soak into the tranquil waters hidden amidst the windows of his soul.

Because you’re the only one capable of bringing them out.

“Nah, I always think that when I see your face.” Comes his reply.

At that, more kisses ensue. Obviously.

First one is yours, molding your lips to his in an instant as you try to return his incessant devotion with eagerness. He wastes no time in reciprocating, mouth slightly parting to welcome your tongue inside. It makes your head fuzzy all over. Every single fucking time. This type of intimacy took almost as long to construct as the display of his body. You’re never taking his trust for granted. Never. Soon enough, Jason discovered himself to be a great fan of kissing. You. He’s done it before with other people, sure, but it didn’t make him feel like this. Yearn like this. As if he depended on it to survive. And he might as well do. Your fingers find their way to his scalp, tangling in silky locks and pulling while trapping his lower lip between your teeth, eliciting a soft groan from him. As a result, he grips your hips harder, drawing you impossibly closer. The heat from his bare muscular chest is scorching, almost too much to bear as it seeps through your shirt – his shirt.

You two only break apart because he decides to now trail his lips downward, leaving you panting, eyes sealed shut in pleasure, as he works his mouth across every other available patch of your skin. From jaw to neck, and shoulder. And back up.

This time his ministrations are sweeter and more tender, making you melt completely into his embrace.

Finally sated, after delivering a last kiss behind your ear, he whispers softly and a little breathless, “Wanna share now why you almost bit my head off a few hours ago, hm?”

Watching your face fall when he pulls back, his heart equally drops, causing him to backtrack, “S’okay, baby. You don’t have to tell me. I’m sorry.”

You exhale shakily, glancing down to fiddle with the hems of your – his – shirt. A hand cups your cheek, and tilts your head upwards carefully, thumb brushing the soft skin back and forth. Molten blue-green irises coaxing you to relax like the gentle sway of the sea. Telling he’s trusty and willing to listen.

“No, it’s just… ugh…” He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts. “I had to deal with one of my stupid professors mansplaining to me during my presentation today. A subject that I’ve been studying for years now. I knew what I was talking about and he acted as if I didn’t, saying that I didn’t use the concepts correctly like I was a child. Some of my colleagues told me I shouldn’t take his words personally, but it fucking sucked. Still does. I hate it when people, especially men, undermine my intelligence. I just felt so frustrated, I went to the bathroom and cried when the presentation ended. And to top it off, I got a miserable headache on the way home. So yeah, that’s why I was in such a shitty mood tonight. I’m sorry I took it out on you…”

While describing what happened and venting about your feelings, you barely registered the way his arms tensed around you or how a muscle in his jaw ticked. There’s really no mistaking the look on his face now. The dark stormy blue that has replaced the soothing sea green. “Jason, no. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“He upset you.” Your boyfriend states in a clipped tone. “He made you cry.”

“No matter how tempting, you can’t just fuck up every single guy that gets on my nerves.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Jace.” You beg, exasperated. “Please. That’s not what I need right now, okay? He was being an asshole, yes, but the academy, and the whole world, is crowded with them unfortunately. Most of the time, I can handle it just fine. But, today was different. I’ve been preparing for my presentation for days, so he caught me by surprise with his arrogance and my anxiety kinda escalated, I guess. What I mean is I didn’t tell you this because I wanted you to avenge me. I just want to be understood. Can’t you do that for me?” The sight of tears filling your wide eyes dilute his outrage instantly. You’re engulfed in a tight comforting hug.

“Of course, baby. I’ll never feel the same as you ‘cause I’m not a woman, but you must know I’m here for you and I’m sorry you had to deal with this.” He offers, sympathetically, before something darker twists his features again. “I won’t lie to you, though. It’d be easy for me to rip that fucking bastard’s tongue—”

“Jason.”

“—and feed it to his mouth until he chokes—”

“Jason.”

He puts a finger to your mouth to silence you, just to pull back immediately before it gets bitten off.

“—but I won’t do that.” Not today at least, he keeps this last part to himself. “My point is a brilliant woman like you will always be a threat to insecure fuckers like him. Bet he’s just jealous he’ll never shine as bright as you do.”

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face in it with a sniffle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. A lot.” Nuzzling into your hair, he inhales the soft scent of jasmine shampoo. “Feeling okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” You really are. But, then, you sigh wistfully. “I’m thinking if I were an Amazon, it’d probably be easier to deal with this type of situation.”

“How so?” He tilts his head, confused.

“You know… I’d be strong, powerful... intimidating. Stuff like that.”

“You already wield your intellect like the sharpest blade I’ve ever seen. Your words are eloquent and sharp when you stick up for what you believe. Not to mention the way you carry yourself with confidence even when you’re in a room filled with strangers.” He tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, speaking earnestly. “Trust me, sweetheart. You don’t need to be an Amazon when you’re already a goddess.”

“That’s… wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” The butterflies are throwing a fucking rave in your stomach. You just can’t stop grinning, so you playfully hit his shoulder. “Never knew you could be so sappy.”

He catches your wrist delicately, not missing the opportunity to turn it and plant his lips on your knuckles.

“That’s all on you. You turned me into this.” He claims, placing your open palm over his heart, and holding it there. It’s beating quite rapidly. Like yours is. “Take responsibility, woman.”

“Fine,” you concede with a playful eye roll. Guilty as charged, your honor. “But, seriously, thank you. Your words mean a lot.”

“You mean a lot to me. Don’t ever forget that.” One, two, three pecks to his lips. You discover you really love kissing him as well.

Suddenly, he’s covering his mouth with a yawn. Outside, Gotham’s black heaven is starting to get tinged with pink and yellow, announcing the sun’s impending arrival. Soon the streets around your building will have people going out about their day. Unbeknownst to them, one of the guys responsible for their safety sleeps tucked in your bed right around the corner.

“We should probably sleep.” Jason begins, effortlessly getting up in a swift motion while still holding onto you. Your legs wrap around his waist as he walks you two to the bedroom. “I already lost way more brain cells than intended. Gotta save some for Mary Wollstonecraft tomorrow.”

“You’re such a dork.”

“And you need to get woke,” he taunts.

“These are my books!” You counter, indignantly.

“Ours. Don’t be so individualistic, baby. That’s why capitalism—” Not letting him finish, you jump off his arms and go into the bathroom as he trails behind like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, comrade Red Hood. Now shut your revolutionary mouth, and let’s get ready for bed.”

thanks for reading, and please reblog if you enjoyed it <33

feel free to share your thoughts, i'd love to hear them!

this is where i got the dividers

#this is totally self-indulgent btw #jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc fanfic #jason todd x y/n #dc imagine #red hood fanfiction #jason todd loves his gf #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfiction

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spxllcxstxr · 7 months ago

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While You Were Sleeping • J&V

(Gif not mine)

Request: recently discovering your arcane works has seriously made my week, your writing is amazing! if you're still taking reqs, can I pls request a jayvik x they/them reader fic? while viktor and jayce are sleeping soundly at night for once, reader surprises them by coming home unexpectedly. they're also a scientist but travels a lot for work, which leads them to be deeply missed by the two. reader gently nuzzles and kisses them until they realize that they're back! just a very sleepy and loving reunion with these three. I need some healing after the jayvik finale in S2 ;_; thank youu :) — anon

Summary: Coming back late at night from your trip, you didn’t expect to find Jayce and Viktor asleep in your shared bed

Warnings: gn!reader, implied scientist reader, it's just fluff guys lol, no dialogue until the last like third lmao

Word Count: 1.5k

A.N: title is a laufey song 🥴, I hope you enjoy!!!

•

You sigh, heaving your heavy travel bags behind you as you climb up the stairs in front of you. Muttering to yourself, you curse at the amount of things you packed for your trip outside of Piltover. You hadn't gone too far for your research this time, and yet past you decided to pack your entire wardrobe and then some.

The keys to the apartment you shared with your lovers dangle precariously from your pants pocket. At first you thought about heading straight to the lab, considering that was where you would no doubt find Jayce and Viktor, but after days of travel, all you wanted was to be home. The two of them would eventually get home anyway, whether it be just passed midnight or just after dawn, so you determined that there was no harm in settling back in your apartment first.

The lights are off when you enter your apartment, the tick-tocking of the old grandfather clock the only sound echoing in the room as the pendulum swings back and forth. Papers filled with equations and scientific illustrations are strewn across every surface. You huff, rolling your eyes. Your apartment looked exactly as you left it weeks ago. Eyes finally adjusting to the familiar darkness, you also spot a few empty coffee mugs scattered all over and jackets draped across every chair. This was certainly home.

With your bags still in your hands, you continue through your decently sized apartment. You had this place memorized at this point, so walking through it in the dark was simple. You knew exactly where the couch Jayce picked out before even moving in was and where Viktor's oddly shaped bookcase was. The comforting familiarity of your home makes warmth spread through your chest; this was something you, Jayce, and Viktor created together from scratch--it meant more to you than any other place in Runeterra, even the ones vital to your research.

You head straight to your bedroom, the desire to fall into your own bed and drift off to sleep overwhelming at this point.

The room is dark when you enter except for the few white rays of moonlight filtering in through the window. Viktor's cane rests against the nightstand on his side of the bed, metal gleaming in the light.

You furrow your brows in confusion, Viktor being home shocking to you. The lab was practically a second home to Jayce and Viktor. Before dating them, they would spend almost every hour of every day there, tinkering with their inventions. Since starting the relationship, Jayce and Viktor tried really hard to break their habit of spending so much time in their lab, which they were largely successful at. With you away for weeks, however, you knew that they tended to take advantage of it and revert back into their previous mindset.

With the cat away, the mice will play, after all, as they say.

Still at the threshold with you bags at your sides, your eyes land on your two lovers laying in bed.

Viktor is curled up beside Jayce, who softly snores against your partner's hairline. You stop at the end of the bed, the tension in your shoulders easing up at the scene before you. Though two blankets cover them, the tips of Viktor's long fingers peek out from the top, showing that his hand is splayed lightly against Jayce's chest, right over his heart.

In the pale moonlight, your lovers look ethereal. The light drapes them in a silvery hue, the luminosity a stark contrast from the rest of the dark room. Jayce and Viktor, with their skin bathed in radiance, are oblivious to your tender gaze.

Smiling softly you feel your heart melt in your chest. This was what you especially missed on your travels. The beds you always wound up in were empty and cold. No amount of blankets piled atop your figure could mimic the warmth Jayce radiated, nor could any pillow replace the comfort of his chest against your cheek. Viktor wasn’t there to hold your hand in his sleep either. There were no golden or amber eyes brightened by the early sunlight gazing at you when you woke up either. You had grown accustomed to the comforting presence of your lovers over the years that you always forget how lonesome travelling could be.

It was a privilege to be able to travel across Runeterra for your research, you knew that; but the absence of your lovers late at night always made you dreadfully homesick.

Quietly, you move around the room in order to change into something better suited for bed. As you change, bags still abandoned near the door, waiting to be unpacked, your partners continue to sleep.

Changed into more comfortable clothes, you ease into bed, slipping underneath the blankets. Viktor continues to mumble incoherently while Jayce shifts, his snoring easing up like he senses your presence. You drape an arm across his chest, fingertips brushing against Viktor's. With your body pressed close to Jayce's, you place kisses along his jawline, the smell of his aftershave lingering on his skin.

Again, he shifts against you, head turning slowly to face you.

"Wha's goin' on?" Jayce sleepily mumbles, eyes slowly opening. The moonlight must be harsh on his bleary eyes because it takes a moment or two for him to fully grasp his surroundings.

His gaze locks onto your own, eyes widening as a grin slowly appears across his face. That small but noticeable gap between his two front teeth has you mirroring his smile tenfold. His brown hair is messy from moving around in his sleep, loose strands dangle in front of his face as he raises his head from the pillow.

"You're home early!" You can tell that he's just barely containing his excitement--he's hardly whispering and already shifting under Viktor's grasp in order to get closer to you.

Before you’re able to respond, Jayce’s lips are on yours, kissing you like his life depends on it. An arm wraps around your midsection, hand resting against the small of your back, and pushes you impossibly closer to himself. You can feel his heart beat beneath his white shirt.

“Gods, I missed you…” He says after pulling away. His eyes shine as he scans over your face as if he’s forgotten what you looked like in only a few weeks.

“I missed you too, Jay…” A hand rises to gently stroke his cheek, something he leans into.

A disgruntled noise erupts from behind your partner and you both turn to check up on Viktor.

Disrupted from his sleep, Viktor playfully glares at the two of you. To anyone else it would appear as though Viktor was absolutely livid with the rude awakening, but you and Jayce knew him better than anyone else; he was happy you were home safe, happy that he could feel complete once again.

"You two truly are incapable of whispering, hm?" His voice is deeper, accent thick with each syllable.

Viktor just looks tired, his pale skin is accompanied by dark bruises under each eye. It certainly looks as if he's spent every hour at the lab recently.

"Hello to you too, Vik. I missed you very much." You tease, leaning over Jayce to capture Viktor's lips.

"I missed you very much, sweetling..." He huffs, moving closer to Jayce in order to meet your lips half way.

Jayce settles on the bed between you, back pressed against the mattress and opens both of his arms for you and Viktor to cuddle into.

"You'll have to tell us all about your adventures---" Jayce starts, fingertips dancing lazily against your back.

"It wasn't like it was a vacation, Jay, I still had work to do." You cuddle closer to Jayce, the warmth radiating from his body making you yawn tiredly. Viktor, though dressed in a comfortable long sleeved shirt with two blankets on top of him, does the same, hoping to take all his partner's body heat for himself.

"Sure, but you were not stuck in the Academy's dungeon staring at the hex gem for hours upon hours upon hours..." Viktor sleepily trails off, his face already buried in the crook of Jayce's neck.

You pull the blankets up to your neck and place a hand on top of Viktor's, which rests on Jayce's chest. His fingertips are cold as ice, as they usually were. You feel your eyelids start to droop, each blink getting longer.

"Why don't we go to sleep, darling? You can tell us all about it in the morning. Maybe me and Vik could spend the day outside of the lab and get some fresh air." Jayce whispers, sensing your exhaustion.

You hum as he kisses the top of your head. He murmurs something along the lines of "goodnight" and "I love you," but it all becomes a blur as you drift off to sleep; finally in your own bed in your own home surrounded by your partners.

•

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mariasont · 2 months ago

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PRIORITIES & PRETTY THINGS - A.H

your beauty routine is sacred, but so is aaron's favorite way to decompress. looks like tonight you'll have to manage both

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI, smutty smut, kinda free use policy, hotch using u for stress relief, p in v, twinkie (boycotting the name creampie), alexa play CPR by cupcake, AFAB, fem!reader, praise, dirty talk, aftercare, maybe a little breeding kink? talk about kids for like a singular line at the end, also mention of their first kiss which can be read here but not necessary to understand wc: 2.9k

Your love affair with beauty did not have the glamorous, instantaneous sparkle like most people choose to assume. In truth, it began behind a bedroom door barricaded tight against preteen anxieties, something that was constructed by braces flashing in garish shades of bubblegum pink and galaxy purple and bangs unevenly chopped by an overly eager parent.

Yet, somehow, fumbling with frosty blue eyeshadow and watermelon-scented gloss taught you self-expression, how to build confidence from the ground up.

Puberty decided to throw you a bone eventually (thank god), but by then makeup had embedded itself as more than something done for vanity. You would consider it a soul-mate level connection nurtured through midnight eyeliner tutorials, endless afternoons reading magazine spreads, and racking up Sephora points that probably rivaled some small countries economies.

Aaron loves giving you endless grief about your overflowing vanity drawers. Overflowing being his word choice, by the way, not yours. He loves grumbling about the avalanche of cosmetic boxes spilling from your shared closet, loves sighing (dramatically) each time another package lands on your doorstep.

Your face looks perfect without this, he insists regularly, always cupping your cheeks so you’re forced to meet those sincere eyes of his.

But he overplays his hand — all gooey-soft affection pulsing through his pupils, twitch tugging his mouth upward.

He would never actually begrudge something that makes you so shamelessly happy, even if your spending habits are probably sending him toward an emotional breakdown. Therapy’s overdue anyway, in your opinion.

But nothing, absolutely nothing, brings out Aaron’s inner drama king quite like watching you spend approximately a million years applying the very products he loves to call a sparkly money pit.

You’re wrist-deep in said sparkly money pit when Aaron materializes behind you. Not that it fazes you. Your boyfriend-detecting instincts are now advanced to border on psychic talent (and way hotter than being able to predict lottery numbers).

“Hi, handsome,” you greet, flicking your eyes up briefly to gift him your best flirty, mirror-reflected smile.

You hope he’s sufficiently distracted by your lips to overlook the fact that you’re still nowhere near ready. And true to form, Aaron’s eyes drop obediently.

His fixation on your mouth is practically Pavlovian by now, something you first discovered when he walked headlong into a door frame mid-argument simply because you had pulled your lower lip through your teeth to avoid saying something that might’ve gotten you bent over his knee.

Needless to say, the fight was quickly forgotten, replaced by a much more enjoyable, hands-on type of interaction.

“Honey.”

You recognize that tone instantly, hearing it countless times before. It’s his signature prelude, a gentle warning shot before he points out the obvious — that Spencer and his girlfriend are undoubtedly sitting at your reserved table right now, politely studying menus, patiently pretending to understand your stylish definition of on time.

And then, right on cue, will come the entirely fair (but completely predictable) mention of your solemn promise to be ready to go the nanosecond his work call ended.

“Nearly ready, cross my heart. Just two more seconds. Okay, maybe three. But four tops. Five, like, absolutely worst-case scenario.”

Aaron’s fingertips skate possessively along your waist, slipping beneath your robe to reclaim their preferred real estate.

“I’m not particularly worried about being on time right now,” he murmurs into the shallow dip at your neck, nose nudging the sensitive spot just below your ear.

Your mascara wand skips slightly, completely giving you away. Not that Aaron’s much better at hiding it, his poker face vanishes at moments like this, evident both in the rigid slope of his shoulders and (oh, hello there!) in the very prominent, enthusiastic proof making itself known against your ass.

“Yeah,” you giggle, bumping your hips back against him for emphasis. “I can feel how not worried you are.”

You struggle to fathom how he managed stress before you. Occasionally, you entertain yourself by picturing it — Aaron Hotchner being told to inhale deeply through a mindfulness app? Or earnestly attempting downward dog stretches in your living room? (You’d pay good money to see that.) Or perhaps he’d stress bake, an apron hugging his waist, forehead creased in the cutest serious-face as he glares suspiciously at measuring cups.

Each scenario gets progressively more funny and less believable.

Once, in those deceptively ‘innocent’ days before your relationship became official, you suggested Aaron adopt a new workout regime to help loosen that chronic, tightly wound demeanor of his. Admittedly, you were implying something a lot less treadmill-focused and considerably more… horizontal.

He diplomatically chose to ignore your entirely transparent proposition. Outwardly, anyway.

What neither of you anticipated, however, was just how accurate your advice would prove. Because nothing drains Aaron’s tension faster than having you trapped beneath him, diligently working out every ounce of strain against your eagerly receptive body.

Which is precisely why, employing your best bedroom voice, you once generously offered Aaron permanent, round-the-clock access to you anytime the mood might arise. No rules, no red tape. Just full, unrestricted access to you.

In hindsight, you should have anticipated the lengthy, serious discussion that ensued after.

Your easy-going, no rules proposition quickly evolved into an impressively comprehensive negotiation, complete with detailed guidelines and exhaustive clarifications.

His eyebrows had knitted together with that intensity of his, repeatedly insisting that you were always in complete control, and then thoroughly checking — then double-checking, then triple-checking — that your consent was crystal clear, until your cheeks burned hot from the combination of embarrassment and sheer excitement.

Emphasis on excitement.

Knowing him though, you weren’t necessarily too hopeful that he would actually take you up on your offer.

But when he did, it happened so fast, your brain hardly registered the transition from scrubbing dishes to being perched on the countertop, skirt punches around your waist and legs spread.

He’d walked in fresh from a meeting with Strauss, appearing completely unruffled except for the thunderclouds brewing darkly behind his eyes.

Without even a hint of warning, he had hoisted you up onto the island, plunging into you with such sudden decisiveness that all you managed was a surprised little squeak, fingers digging into his shoulders as he split you open in demanding strokes.

Afterward, he casually tucked himself away, tidying his clothes as if straightening his tie after an entirely routine briefing.

He leaned back against the countertop — yes, the one that had been slicked with both your juices — and resumed your unfinished dishes, nonchalantly asking, “Did you do anything interesting today?” like nothing had happened.

Your cheeks run hot at the memory.

“You do realize Spencer will totally freak if we’re late, right?”

“Then you’d better keep working on that makeup,” he murmurs, sliding his hands lower, “and I’ll handle my own priorities.”

Aaron never bothers fully stripping down when taking advantage of this arrangement. And you know that some part of you should be frustrated at that. It should promote at least some token complaint about fairness or reciprocity or whatever.

But instead, the sight of him, belt hitting to floor with a decisive thunk, pants unfastened just enough to take what he wants, well, it melts any kind of objection from your head, leaving only knees feeling more akin to jelly.

You barely suppress a shuddering breath as his cock springs free, hot and demanding against your thigh, marking your skin with a tacky trail of precum.

You attempt to steady your hand, refocusing on your left eye, guiding the wand in patient strokes from base to tip, each swipe sculpting them into perfectly fanned-out strands.

Aaron, however, is far less concerned with patience or perfection. His fingers hook into your robe, tugging it upward to reveal your hips and ass in one movement.

Goosebumps burst along your freshly moisturized skin at the exposure, and even so, you swear the air feels about ten degrees warmer. His right palm flattens between your shoulder blades, tipping you forward, presenting your body like an inviting dessert for ravenous eyes.

He positions himself between your folds, the thick tip of his cock flirting at your entrance before gliding over your puffy clit in sluggish, repeated motions. Your lips fall open on a soft, breathy gasp, eyes blinking dazedly around the blackened spoolie.

A very distant (and honestly not very reliable) part of your brain registers mild surprise at how soaked you’ve gotten. Which is stupid because you should really should expect it by now.

Being with Aaron has transformed you into a creature constantly on the edge, trembling in anticipation, your senses warped in a constant, intoxicating fog of lust.

Living together had only exacerbated that lust a thousandfold. You were constantly surrounded by his addictive pheromones, wrapped nightly in sheets saturated with his heat, body trained to climb him on any remotely available surface — the couch, the corner of his desk, the shower, the bed (obviously), and even once, tipsily, sprawled across the living room floor after a bottle of wine dissolved all remaining inhibitions.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Aaron whispers, dragging his head at your now sopping opening. “Wouldn’t want to mess up your pretty face before dinner.”

“Awh, baby, you know I look even better when I’m —” The retort snaps into a choked-off whine as he pushes into your cunt with one fluid thrust.

Your wrist spasms without permission, sending the mascara wand skidding haphazardly across your eyelid and streaking your cheek in sloppy black lines. Your pelvis crashes clumsily into the countertop’s hard edge, a sharp little reminder that maybe multitasking is apparently not your strong suit.

Aaron’s fingers card through your hair, sweeping it aside to bare your neck and shoulders. His other hand slowly peels your robe downward, exposing inch after inch of bare skin to his warm mouth.

Tender kisses rain softly down your spine as he draws his hips back, leaving you momentarily empty, only to surge forward again, ripping a sweetly startled whimper from your lips.

The spoolie clatters into the sink, splattering the porcelain in the process.

“Guess it’s a good thing I don’t mind explaining to Spencer exactly why we’re late.”

He wouldn’t dare, of course he wouldn’t, but your body still preens at the implication, cunt tightening greedily around him as though daring him to prove you wrong.

Because, lately, Aaron has grown noticeably more brazen, perhaps due to the ease and intimacy building in your relationship, or maybe he’s finally giving into your bad (amazing, really) influence.

You’ve noticed it in tiny habits, like when he purposely rolls his sleeves up, putting those mouthwatering forearms on display after overhearing you confess just how much they distract you. Or how he picks ties that perfectly match his suits in ways you’ve gushed about, enjoying the obvious ways your eyes get stuck lingering in team meetings.

He’s even developed a charming habit of pointedly mentioning how wonderfully rested he feels each morning, making clear eye contact when Rossi wonders aloud why he looks so content.

He drives into you again, deeper, sending your nails clawing over the marble, arching yourself forward chasing every ounce of friction you can get.

But Aaron’s hand snakes around your waist, palm splayed across your stomach, guiding you upright until you’re pressed flush against him, the new angle forcing pleasure to surge hot and fast through every nerve ending.

His voice rumbles in your ear, “Keep working on your makeup, sweetheart. Or I’ll have to stop, and neither of us wants that.”

“Aaron,” you whine, drawing out his name in the most petulant, bratty tone you can muster, “I can’t.”

Instantly, he stills, cock fully seated inside you. You try to buck backward, trying to force your hips back against him, but his fingers clamp down around your waist, gripping with the kind of force that leaves marks you’ll admire later (like really cute, private trophies).

His free hand slips lower, fingertips pinching your clit.

You cry out, writhing against him. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave, just, please.”

Your hand fumbles along the vanity, nails knocking loudly into bottles and compacts until, finally, you find your lipliner.

Aaron rewards your compliance by ramming back into you, obliterating any remaining hand-eye coordination. Your fingers wobble uncontrollably, resulting in an uneven, messy trail of color from your cupid’s bow to who-knows-where.

“That’s more like it. Look at you,” Aaron taunts, “Mouth open, looking so damn pretty.” His thumb lethargically grazes your overly-sensitive nub, causing your lips to part further, deepening your pout. He chuckles softly, clearly amused and more than a little cocky as he studies your reflection, eyes darkening. “Yeah, exactly like that, sweet girl.”

Aaron accelerates his motions, hips snapping roughly, hard enough to send you bouncing onto your tiptoes. Honestly, if his dick was any bigger, you’d need heels just to reach the floor.

Your robe begins to fall away from your shoulder, silky fabric separating to expose the swell of your breast, instantly capturing Aaron’s full gaze, pupils blown wide.

His hand deserts your waist, reaching up to cup your tit, thumb rolling over your nip, coaxing it into a tight little peak. You moan helplessly, eyes mascara-blurred as you attempt to keep your lip color within the lines of increasingly messy lips.

“Having trouble concentrating?” Aaron asks mildly, sounding completely unaffected for someone who’s currently buried eight inches deep inside you.

“I’m — I’m trying.”

He responds by squeezing your nipple a little harder. “So I noticed.”

You squirm wildly beneath him, his chest pressed down against your back, each thrust hitting a spot that makes your brain fizz into pink bubbles.

Your thoughts spin in a dizzy disaster — Oh my god, Aaron, I can’t, wait, no, I definitely can, please keep going, love you, love you, love you, until half-formed thoughts turn into breathless declarations from your lips about how perfect he is, how you’d marry him tomorrow (white dress, cake and vows) if he’d just keep doing exactly this.

His control frays simultaneously, composed grunts fading into needy, unfiltered whispers against your flushed skin.

His words tumble out just as desperate as your own ramblings — how beautiful you are, how he’d buy you anything, give you anything — a ring, maybe even a baby, anything that would bind you to him forever.

The words send you careening into ecstasy, orgasm igniting within you in bright, syrupy bursts more saccharin than you thought possible. Those perfect promises twist around your core like velvet ropes, pulling tighter with every dreamy picture they paint (domestic bliss, pretty nurseries, endless forevers) until you’re seeing stars and giggling between gasping moans.

Your spine bows as you pulse around him, waves of pleasure radiating outward, turning you both into a trembling mess of sweaty, feverish harmony.

You feel Aaron spill inside you, and for one fleeting, impulsive second, you catch yourself wishing your birth control would magically fail, just this once.

He slowly eases out of you, legs immediately trembling in complaint, his cum trickling down your inner thighs. You slump against the counter, breath uneven, as Aaron grabs a washcloth to dampen it.

The mirror does not go easy on you. Mascara in streaks across your eyelids and cheeks, lipstick color smeared, well, everywhere. You shoot him a half-hearted glare. He has the audacity to return a proud smirk.

“What?” he shrugs, biting back a laugh. “I think it’s a good look on you.”

You wiggle impatiently, trying to escape Aaron’s hold, your overstimulated body shivering and twitching at every careful wipe of the cloth.

You glance at the clock. “Spencer is so going to hate us forever.”

“The reservations got pushed back.” He tightens his grip, one strong arm cinching around your waist. “Spencer texted, they’re running late, something about forgetting stuff at home.”

You spin quickly in his arms. “That is literally the first thing you should’ve told me!”

“And miss watching you get flustered? Not a chance.”

You stick your tongue out defiantly, because that’s obviously the mature, adult way to handle your boyfriend teasing you.

The reward, though, is immediate — a soft, genuine laugh bubbles from Aaron, warming every little corner of your heart and fluttering down to your toes.

He reaches past you, plucking a packet of makeup wipes from the counter, and his touch, as he gently presses it to your cheekbone, is stupidly gentle, dabbing at your face in a lazy, affectionate path.

You melt right into his palm, almost feline in your contentment, purring with how sweet it feels to be touched like this.

“You know what I’m thinking about?” Peering up at him through your lashes, you flash a smile, “Our first kiss.”

“Funny, so was I.” Aaron’s whole face shifts, eyes crinkling at the corners, the tenderest smile spreading openly across his mouth. “You know, after you fell asleep that night, I sat awake for way too long, worrying you might wake up in the morning regretting it,” he admits softly. “I had a whole speech planned, this overly formal, completely unnecessary lecture about workplace ethics and chain of command. You would’ve rolled your eyes so hard.”

You giggle, sliding your arms snugly around his middle, tipping your head back to look up at him.

“You and your speeches,” you tease. “Lucky for you, I was already planning how to seduce you the second I woke up.”

His mouth finds the corner of yours.

“Well, you’ve always had much better instincts than me.”

You tap his chest lightly. “So, um, did you happen to mention something about giving me a baby earlier or was that just my post-orgasmic delirium talking?”

Aaron laughs. “I might have gotten carried away.”

“No baby, then? Just empty promises?”

“Who said anything about empty?” He smirks, fingertips dancing along your spine. “I just thought it’d be polite to give you my last name before we start creating miniature versions of ourselves.”

“Careful, talk like that will earn you all kinds of privileges.” You reach up, pinching his cheek.

“Good.” He grabs your wrist, kissing the inside of it. “And just so we’re clear, I plan to extensively take advantage for the next, oh, forty or fifty years.”

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