#almost done with your request by the way!! i think.

[darnell-la]

Request if you’re taking any!?

Enemies to smut. You finally cave in one night and you both settle things in bed but you’re like a massive brat not letting him dom but you give in everyone in the mansion hears then you have to deal with everyone’s comments the next day

note: young Logan Howlett can be a feral man when it comes to his women talking back. He secretly loves it, but everyone knows.

———

“Maybe if you took your claws out of your ass, you’d work better in the field!” Y/n yelled at Logan who had complained about her messing him up in recent missions they’ve had together.

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe if didn’t worry about putting on makeup and dressing like some fuckin’ whore of the night, you could be more prepared before the mission! You barely know what we do on missions because you’re late!”

“Oh, fuck off,” y/n flipped the man off as she walked away, from the professor's room. “Fuck off? No, you fuck off! Always fuckin’ up but can’t take the consequences. I’m done working with you!” The man yelled as he followed behind her.

“Great! Maybe now I can breathe and have fun!” The young lady kept waking away from the man, having had enough of him already, and she had just woken up.

“You kill the fun! Always bitchin’ and talkin’ about me!” Logan said, making her laugh. “Ian a fan of old men, baby,” she said, now heading up the stairs. He followed.

“You sayin’ that like you’re not all over me when you’re drunk,” Logan was cocky, and she knew it. She liked it, but he pissed her off so much, she couldn’t stop arguing back.

“See how you gotta get me drunk to be on you?” Y/n said, making the man groan loudly in annoyance. She always had something to say back. He loved it but had to keep arguing.

“I could get you sober, Bub, and I know it. You fuckin’ know it,” he said, so close to her, but He had made it into her room and shut the door in his face, ignoring his true comment.

“Open the fuckin’ door,” Logan said low, still angry, but didn’t want to seem like he was begging. “Aww? Are you mad I don’t give a fuck about your scenarios with me?” Y/n fake pouted.

“They ain’t fake if you rub your ass on me anytime you get a pinch of liquor down that pretty throat of yours,” Logan was furious, yet she felt comfort from his wording. Pretty throat of yours…

“You wanna get me drunk, baby? So I can give you attention?” Y/n asked as she opened her door with a smirk to get him upset. Before the door was even fully open, he pushed through, grabbing her neck and slamming the door behind him.

“Like I said, Bub,” Logan slammed y/n against her room wall, causing a yelp to escape from her mouth. “Ion needa get you drunk to have that cunt leaking,”

Y/n would argue, but once she thought to herself and remembered he had enhanced smell, she almost wanted to shut down.

“Talkin’ all loud and big, makin’ me seem like I’m horny for you, yet, you’re soaked. Fuckin’ leaking your panties,” Logan said as his hands forced their way through her right jeans.

“So fuckin’ wet, I could end dehydration,” Logan teased her as he rubbed all over her pussy, fingers running through her slit as thumb swollen around her bud.

“Y-You can’t fuck me,” y/n was willing to bet. “At least not before I make you cum,” y/n used her strength to push Logan off. They grabbed his belt and dragged him towards the bed before pushing him down.

“No chance-“ Before he could finish, y/n gave him a well-deserved punch to his face. Logan was too surprised to realize she was pulling his jeans down. “Did you just punch me?” Logan asked, too shocked to think straight.

It was hot, yet he wanted to kill her, and by killing her, he meant her insides when he pounded into her squirming form.

“And what are you gonna do about it? Cum? Because that's what it looks like,” Y/n laughed at the man, having his cock in her hand, and the sight of him was unbelievable.

She hadn’t said one nice thing about him, yet he’s leaking am begging to release it all.

“That it-“ Before he could say anything, he stopped, freezing just as the words in his mouth. Y/n almost had all of him in her mouth. She tried to fit everything she could.

“F-F-F-“ Logan couldn’t get out as his eyes crossed and hands curled in his hair. “Mhm hmm?” She hummed in his cock, seeing how his eyes didn’t know what to do.

Y/n giggled at the man’s length as she bobbed her head, slurping him with slightly hard sucks. She couldn’t help but let out small moans and whines while she was at it.

“Fuck, pretty — Ain’t know you could get down like this — This fuckin’ good,” Logan’s breathed heavily as his hands placed in her hair. “Mhm hmm, right there, baby. Keep goin,” Logan gripped y/n’s hair to guide her.

The young lady began to slap at his arms, wanting him to later do what she wanted, but all he did was chuckle at her struggle.

“Thought you’d be gettin’ what you want?” Logan asked as he shifted on her bed and began thrusting his hips upward. “Think just because I’ll come before I stick it in that cunt, that I’ll just stop right then?”

“Oh, Bub, I can go forever. I’ll fill you up more than you could count,” the man told no lie. Y/n was angry, yet turned on that the man wanted to fill her multiple times.

“That’s it, keep gaggin’ — I’m so close,” the man growled as he looked directly into her eyes. She tried staying strong, but she ended up softening her eyes as they rolled back.

“Look so good, Bub — You always do,” he said, gaining a whine from her. “Mhm hmm, that’s it. That’s my girl,” the man chuckled, knowing she hated him, he loved him at the same time.

“Down, down,” Logan groaned, pushing y/n all the way down onto his cock, forcing his tip to graze the back of her throat as he spilled into her. Y/n cried, gagged, and scratched at the man, but took it all just how he wanted.

“C’mere, pain in my ass,” Logan pulled y/n off of him so rough, she almost slipped when he pulled her to her knees and pushed on her the bed. His cock still spilled out cum, as he wasn’t finished cumming, but he didn’t care. He needed to be in her officially.

“Stop! Let me at least-“ y/n tried pushing Logan to the side so she could get on him, but he wouldn’t allow it. “You don’t get what you want anymore. You’re gonna lay the fuck down and shut the fuck up,” Logan had gripped the girl's neck tightly to warn her to calm down.

“You’re an asshole — that cums fast,” y/n grinned, knowing he wouldn’t like her comment. “You're funny, you know?” Logan said with a soft voice but didn’t mean it in the slightest.

The strong man forced y/n on all fours before he ripped her jeans off. “Logan!” She yelled, instantly getting her face forced into the sheets. “Shut the fuck up, before I hurt you. And I know you’ll like it. You’ll like anything I give you,”

Logan slapped at the girl's ass before he ripped her panties off, taking a quick sniff with an eye roll before stuffing them in his jean's back pocket.

“Hey, those were my favorite pair!” Y/n yelled. “Thankfully, I don’t give a fuck,” the man cussed before he pushed into y/n with full force, trapping a loud scream she wanted to let out.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ slut,” Logan pulled y/n back by her hair with one hand as the other wrapped around her neck. “You fuckin’ like that, huh? Like me being an asshole? Like me using you like you mean nothing!?”

Logan snapped his hips hard, forcing her ass to clap right back into his pelvis. The noise made the situation better.

“Oh, but you are somehting, Bub. My girl. My pretty girls who’s gonna run her mouth, talk shit, and get tough a lesson,” y/n whined as her walls clenched around him.

He wanted her. She didn’t care how rude he was to her, at least she knew he wanted her.

“You know how many people are gonna laugh at you? Seeing how fucked up I have you when we leave rooms? So damn dumb, and fucked out,”

He was even willing to let people know he wanted her. She couldn’t stop pulsing around him.

“You’re gonna be my girl, and keep runnin’ that mouth. I like it. Like it so fuckin’ much, it just makes me wanna ruin this pussy even more,”

Y/n finally came with a loud cry as her body shook and gave out on her. “Thaaat’s it, baby,” Logan dragged as he kept y/n up, forcing her body to take more than she could.

“Maybe I should so then right now. Show them how fuckin’ limp you get on my dick,” Logan teased the girl as her hands scratched at her arms, needing some kind of slowed-down rhythm of his, but he wouldn’t give it.

“L-Lo,” y/n couldn’t stop her crying as another orgasm washed over her body. The man growled, feeling his cock twitch as he gave the young lady a few more slaps to her ass.

“Might wanna keep it down, baby. Don’t want them knowin’ you fuck with your enemy, eh? You should know I don’t care by now. I’ll fuck you at our meeting tomorrow,”

“T-Too much,” y/n cried all night, needing a break, but he didn’t care. She’s talked back to him too many times, started too many fights, and can’t keep her mouth closed. She’ll learn tonight.

[robinsfilm]

TOUNGE TIED

PAIRING: jason todd ✗ reader ;

SYNOPSIS: hidden away in a library, you bask in seeing that pink hue on jason's cheeks ;

ANON ASKED: " Reader teasing Jason over his blushing. You can decide whether they're in an established or pre-established relationship. " ;

WORD COUNT: 0.9k ;

NOTES: took a while to get this request done, not because the writing took some time, it was just because this is my first ever time getting actual requests, so i am all over the place with this. in this work reader and jason aren't in a relationship yet. thank you anon for the request <3 cross posted on my AO3.

♯ MASTERLIST ; NAVIGATION.

A SUBTLE TINGLING OF THE BELL SHIMMERED IN THE AIR. The old smell of book pages spreads through the small library. Its rusty brick outside, snuggled between two towering buildings, had caught Jason's eye during patrol a few days ago.

He contemplated asking you if you'd like to visit the little, small haven he had found. Every time the thought crossed his mind, a warm feeling spread through his body; his cheeks felt hot and his hands shaky.

Weird, but now that doesn't matter.

What matters is that somehow you both were in the doorway of the said library.

Your eyes darted around the room laid in front of you, curiosity obvious in your gaze. The library had truly had a homey, cozy feeling to it. Your hand grazed Jason's as you pointed out a decoration on the wall next to the two of you, though Jason's mind was preoccupied by the small touch of your hand on his.

Was it silly, he thought, that even a single graze had him tripping over his words?

The same warmth spreads through him now as it did then when he thought of ways to bring you here; what do I say to them? Should I label this as a date? Or is that too soon?

He remembers mentioning the small library when you piped up and suggested both of you visited the place.

“C’mon, Jaybeans! It’ll be fun. You and me.” You and me.

You took the words out of his mouth, literally. Answer, goddamn it!

“Yes!” he says, a bit too loud. You tilt your head, a smirk appearing on your face.

Oh, he wanted to wipe that smug grin off your face. With a kiss, preferably. You'd have a field day teasing him for that as well. He can’t really seem to mind; a kiss from you seems worth it.

He's forced to snap out of his daydream when he hears your melodic voice ring out in his ears.

“Earth to Jason,” you quip, not before raising a brow, “what's got you all quiet? You seem nervous.”

Goddamn you and how well you know him and his tells.

“Nothing,” he stammers as he answers, “now, let's go in.”

The warmth of the library makes both of you feel the unforgiving cold of the Gotham weather. The freezing hands hidden in pockets slowly peeking out, faces hiding under scarves poking out.

More accurately, his face pokes out from the scarf wrapped around him. Your scarf, he should add on that.

He almost stopped dead in his tracks when you turned to him and wrapped the fluffy, crocheted by hand scarf around him.

You scolded him about dressing appropriately for the weather. He should have been listening; god knows he hangs onto every word you say, but at that moment every sound was lost on him.

The saccharine-intoxicating smell of the fabric engulfed him wholly.

You eyed him a moment then, eyes squinting as if taking every detail of him, before you muttered just for him to hear.

“It looks good on you.”

Jason feels his cheeks grow hot—too hot, his palms grow sweaty. God, when did it get so hot?

The last thing he remembers seeing is your face breaking into a proud smile.

He hopes you won't ask for the scarf back, he thinks as he gathers both of your coats to set on the rack.

The book shelves fill the entire library so much that there's barely any space for the two of you. You don't seem to mind, he notes, as you drag him down the shelves, bodies close.

He runs his hand through his hair nervously, black and white steaks getting caught between his fingers. He has styled it. Did you notice, he thinks? Does he want you to notice?

Yes, he concludes, he does.

“Hm,” you hum, “I’ve been planning on reading Emma since you mentioned it.” You remembered that? He thinks as you look through the books to find your desired one.

‘If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.’

He remembers that single quote; it rings over in his mind repeatedly.

Get it together, Jason, he scolds himself.

“It has ‘the I-am-going-to-scoop-my-heart-out-with-a-spoon level romance of Pride & Prejudice’” he muses.

“It better not be like Mansfield Park,” you puff. “Jane, I'm not mad; I’m just disappointed.”

His laugh slipped out, low and warm. You take in the sight in front of you: his laugh; his smile, his eyes smiling alongside with it; the scrunching of his nose.

It’s truly a heavenly sight.

Oh, only if you could tell him.

“You should laugh more,” you simply say. It’ll do for now; it’ll do until he gives you the okay, the okay to tell him all of it.

You'll bask in his blushes and stutters as he tries to gather his thoughts.

“What?”

“You should laugh more,” you contemplate for a second, “and blush more.”

“You—” he huffs, “just get the book.” He tries to turn his head away from you, though the red on the tip of his ears is telling you all you need to know.

You'll wait; he'll wait as well.

Because all of this is worth the wait.

© ROBINSFILM ﹕ I do not give consent for my writing to be posted or used on any other platforms without my permission and proper credit.

[waywardxrhea]

Better Late Than Never - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Detective!reader

Your teamwork with Daredevil to take down a dangerous gun trafficking gang leads to your life being on the line more than once.

word count: 6,280

content: hurt/comfort, two idiots in love, canon typical violence, guns, blood, car violence, forced sedative use, binds and gags (not the fun kind lol), beating as an interrogation tactic, knife use

a/n: this was done for an anon request! i was given lots of free reign with this one so this is what i came up with for the request of Reader getting captured and Matt/Daredevil has to attempt to rescue!

ps idk why, but i pictured Tom Ellis as the face and voice claim of the gang leader? not the intention, but it just kinda happened lol picture whoever you would like!

“Thank you for your time, and again, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding,” you said to the young woman you had arrested the week prior as she walked out of the precinct, shooting you a dirty look on her way through the door. 

You had found her in possession of a weapon that was unregistered and untraceable, so you took her in and had the gun run against the database to confirm your suspicions about the weapon. Captain Mahoney had recently assigned you to work on a case of an organized crime gang who were trafficking guns, so you were on high alert for any weapons that matched their MO. Turned out your hunch was right and the gun matched up with the weapon used in a murder a few weeks prior to her arrest. The detectives on the case were having trouble tracking down who the killer was, so when the gun’s tool marks matched up exactly, everyone was happy to have someone in custody for the crime. 

The woman never once swayed from her story of innocence though, so naturally, she lawyered up. Her innocence was proven just hours before by a pair of talented attorneys from the law offices of Nelson, Murdock, and Page. You looked up to see one of her lawyers coming toward you with a smug look on his face as he approached, the rhythmic tap-tap-tap of his cane not unfamiliar to you at this point. “I guess you can’t be right all the time, Detective,” Matt Murdock said to you as he came to a halt mere feet from you. 

You looked out at the bustling New York sidewalk where the woman had been moments before, and told him, “I’m just glad she didn’t go away for something she didn’t do. She ended up having a solid alibi and we found grainy footage of some thug slipping the gun into her purse the night I arrested her. I don’t think we would have known to look if it wasn’t for you and Foggy.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said, a small smile teasing the corners of his lips. There was a moment of silence before Matt spoke again, telling you, “Nice job, by the way, taking down that serial mugger last week. The streets already feel safer because of you.”

“Oh, you heard about that?” you asked curiously. Truthfully, it had been such a cut and dry case, you never followed up on what happened after the arrest.

“Yeah, when he hired us as his lawyers. Obviously, he was guilty, so we got him to take a deal,” Matt replied with a quiet chuckle. You watched as an almost cocky smirk curled up one side of his lips before he added quietly, “He said you were a little rough with the handcuffs?”

You leaned casually onto the wall beside you, crossing your arms loosely with a cheeky smile plastering your lips as you asked, “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you, Murdock?”

Before he could respond, an older officer who was wandering past barked out your last name and said, “Hey! What are you doing fraternizing with the enemy? He’s the reason so many of my arrests walk, you know!”

“Are you encouraging her not to listen to serious concerns from a constituent in her jurisdiction? I was just telling her how safe I feel now that she's on the case and taking serial criminals off our streets,” Matt said to him, his quick defense of you and the lawyer-speak making your heart flutter in your chest. He straightened his tie with his free hand not holding his cane and added, “Maybe if your arrests would actually hold up in court, they wouldn’t walk.”

The other officer stalked off, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out, but you guessed that Matt could judging by the way his jaw was working in frustration. Wanting to take his attention away from the stressor, you quietly cleared your throat and told him, “You look really nice today, by the way. The tie really flatters you.”

His gaze finally tore away from the man when you said this and the muscles in his jaw relaxed, a smile returning to his features as he said, “Well, I’m glad it isn’t horribly obscene.”

“You could wear the gaudiest of hats and a neon orange tie and you’d still look amazing, Counselor,” you told him, a playfulness in your tone as a smile teased your lips. 

Matt leaned in toward you slightly, his voice lowered and almost with a sultry quality to it as he asked, “Are you flirting with me, Detective?” 

The gesture and his proximity made your heart start pounding in your chest, the sound reverberating loudly in your ears as your eyes quickly darted down to his lips before focusing back on his eyes behind his red lenses. Your voice sounded foreign in your own ears as you breathlessly said, “And if I-”

“Okay you two! No more puppy eyes at each other! You’re cut off for the day!” came Foggy Nelson’s voice as he approached with Captain Mahoney beside him. Both you and Matt straightened up in response to his interruption, the space between you growing once more to one of more professional standards as the two men approached. 

Captain Mahoney playfully tsked at the pair of you before telling Matt, “Come on, Murdock! I need her sharp for the case we’re working on! I can’t have her daydreaming about you the whole time!”

“I don’t daydream…” you mumbled, averting your gaze to the ground in the hopes that the furious blush now taking over your cheeks would be less obvious that way. 

“And I don’t need you to start now,” Captain Mahoney said, a quiet chuckle leaving his chest. You glanced up to see him giving Foggy a pointed look before telling him and Matt, “Now, you two get out of my precinct! And don’t come back unless you have to!” 

“Don’t worry, we’ll be back with cigars for your mom soon!” Foggy said as he and Matt turned to leave the building. 

“Oh, no you won’t!” Captain Mahoney shouted back. 

“They totally will,” you said with a quiet laugh as you watched them disappear into the bustling crowd on the sidewalk. 

Before you could return to your desk, the Captain’s voice caught your attention as he asked, “When are the two of you gonna finally go on a date?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you told him, shocked that he was discussing this with you. 

“Uh-huh, sure,” he said, not even trying to hide his smirk. 

Wanting the conversation to be off of your painfully obvious crush on Matt, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you get a team together to head to the potential drop site with me tonight?”

“Yeah. It’ll be you, Stewart, Greene, and Campos,” he replied, relenting on his teasing, at least for now. “I had to make it a small team so you won’t be so obvious. You’ll go in plain clothes with bulletproof vests underneath. The four of you will have body cameras on at all times and I’ll be nearby in a van watching the feed with backup in case you need it.” 

“Sounds good, do the others know yet?”

“No, I was just about to find you all,” he said. “Meet me in my office in ten and we’ll discuss the full plan.”

That night once the sun had set and things were settling down as much as they could in New York City, you and your team of officers were making your way to the site where you were told the latest shipment of illegal guns was coming in. Dressed in plainclothes, the four of you ambled toward the site, Greene’s arm slung around your shoulders as she pretended to drunkenly stumble down the sidewalk while you brought a water bottle in a brown paper sack to your lips and took a long drink before pulling a face as if the contents tasted like cheap liquor on your tongue. Campos and Stewart flanked the two of you on either side, both of them also pretending to be unsteady on their feet as the four of you made your way toward the docks. 

Once the four of you got to a mostly hidden spot near where the shipment was supposed to be delivered, the act was dropped and you all crouched silently as you stared at the dock. The boat was scheduled to arrive in the next thirty minutes. As the time got closer, Campos leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“This is where my source told me they would be,” you told him. 

Stewart, a slightly older officer, scoffed quietly and said sarcastically, “Yeah, Daredevil? Look, I know that after what happened with Fisk, Mahoney trusts him, but me personally? I think-”

“You should really listen to the detective in charge,” came the gravelly voice of the man in question as he perched on the structure across from the four of you. “Ghallagar got spooked since you’ve been onto his trail, so he moved the shipment a few docks down. If you hurry, you’ll be able to make it before the sale’s done.”

“And what’re you gonna do, huh?” Steward sneered. 

“Let New York’s Finest do their work,” Daredevil replied. “All I came here to do is make sure you can do your job.”

“Thank you, Daredevil,” you told the man in red graciously. He simply nodded before silently turning and making his way in the opposite direction. “Well, you heard the man, let’s go!” you told the others before gesturing for them to start getting up and heading in the direction of the new stakeout location. Before you could head off though, you spoke aloud so Captain Mahoney could hear, telling him, “The shipment’s being dropped off a few docks down. We’re heading there now. Control van can stay in place, it shouldn’t be too far from the original location.”

“Control van staying put, copy,” came the captain’s voice. “If you need backup just call.” 

“Will do,” you said before creeping your way to the front of the small pack. You had your service weapon drawn and pointed to the ground, but it was ready to be used at a moment’s notice. 

When the four of you arrived, the van for transport had just pulled up and you saw three men get out, heading over to meet with three more emerging from a small boat anchored at the dock. They were all armed to the teeth. It was clear that Ghallagar was not messing around. Before the guns could exchange hands, you motioned your crew forward. Staying slightly ahead of them, but fanned out, you raised your weapon and shouted firmly, “NYPD! Put the weapons down! Now!”

“Shit, we gotta go!” you heard one of the men from the boat crew shout before turning tail and running back to get the boat started. 

“Stop running! Put your hands where I can see them!” you shouted, firmer yet, as the four of you slowly creeped toward the men. 

“Get the guns! Now! We’ll hold ‘em off!” one of the gang men roared while gesturing for the shippers to grab their boxes. 

“Weapons down!” you warned. 

“I don’t think so!” the man in charge of the street crew snarled before opening fire. 

“Get to safety! I’ll provide cover!” you shouted at the other officers who quickly obeyed your command and hid behind shipping containers. In case Captain Mahoney hadn’t heard the gunfire, you shouted, ”Shots fired! I repeat, shots fired!” You heard more gunshots firing off from your side and watched as one man from the boat who was still on the dock got shot, a crimson spray of blood misting the air as the bullet made contact. 

Before you could make a move to back up and into an area of cover of your own, a rapid spray of bullets came flying toward you! You barely registered it as a second man from the street crew who had taken the heavy artillery weapon out of the van before the wind was knocked out of you completely and you were knocked onto your back. As you lay on the ground struggling to breathe due to the impact of so many bullets on your kevlar vest, you saw a blur of red dash past you and toward the dock. 

You barely registered the shouts of, “Officer down! Officer down!” from Greene as your heart pounded in your ears. Adrenaline rushed through your veins, but rather than pushing you up like it normally would, it froze you to the ground. 

When you were finally able to turn your head to see what was going on because you could no longer rely on your hearing, you saw the red-clad figure of Daredevil standing over a bloodied man who had crumpled to the ground. You saw his shoulders moving up and down as his chest heaved with the effort of the fight, his fists clenched at his sides as he stood menacingly over the body. His head jerked up as the van peeled away from the dock without their fallen man and the boat zoomed away into the water. 

Closing your eyes, you breathed a sigh of relief to know the fire fight was over. “Take care of him,” you heard Daredevil’s voice bark to the other officers. It sounded like he was getting closer to you. You attempted to take a deep breath, but groaned in pain as you did, earning a concerned, “What hurts?” from Daredevil as he came to crouch beside you on the cold ground. 

“Ribs. Stomach. Bullets to kevlar,” you managed to get out between shallow breaths, squeezing your eyes shut as more pain burst forward with every word. 

“I’ve got-” Daredevil started to say, but stopped abruptly. When he did, your tightly closed eyes were suddenly engulfed by light before more excruciating pain radiated throughout your body as you were lifted up and into Daredevil’s arms. As you moved through the air with your eyes snapped shut, you felt Daredevil nearly lose his balance as a blast of air jostled him. Opening your eyes for a brief moment, you saw the gang’s van flying past you, missing the pair of you by mere inches!

You came to a crashing halt right into his armored chest with a cry of pain a few moments later, your knees buckling under the weight of your body and the pain. “I’m right here, you’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, pulling you gently back up into his chest, his gloved hand supporting the back of your neck as he did. 

Through the ringing in your ears, you barely heard your name being called out as officer Greene and Captain Mahoney made their way over to you and the masked man. “Are you okay?!” Greene asked exasperatedly. “Those guys are maniacs! Santos barely got out of the way before he got hit!”

“I’ll-” you tried before groaning in pain once again. 

“Greene, make sure that bus is on the way and get an ETA, I can handle this,” Mahoney told her before you felt another set of hands on you to give support as you were peeled away from Daredevil’s chest. “I can’t believe they tried to hit you!” he grumbled. When you were able to open your eyes for a few moments you saw the deep scowl on his face as he shook his head, mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out through the cotton in your ears as your heart continued to pound relentlessly. 

It felt like mere moments before you were being put onto the gurney and being stabilized by the EMTs as you guarded your midsection while they worked. Glancing over, you noticed that since you were out of his arms, Daredevil was about to leave. Not wanting him to go without an acknowledgement of being the reason you were still alive, you managed to get out a weak, “Thank you. For saving me.” In response, he offered you a nod before sprinting off, leaving you to be taken to Metro General to be checked over. 

A few hours and exams later, you were released by the doctors at the hospital, being cleared of any breaks or concussion. You were simply sent home with massive bruising and told to take it easy the next few days with some pain killers. And although you protested, Captain Mahoney benched you for the next few days, telling you to stay home and heal up before returning for desk duty at the end of the week. 

It was understandable, being told that you would come back for desk duty after what happened, though. You were shot at by a heavy weapon and almost mowed down by a van, for Pete’s sake! You cheated death. Twice! But it still felt like a punishment. Riding the desk hadn’t ever been your style, and you hated to start now…

Reaching over to the nightstand near your bed in your apartment, you felt around for the bottle of Advil that had become your best friend the past couple of days. When you finally made contact with it, you opened the lid and turned the bottle in order to drop a couple pills into your hand, but nothing came out. Groaning in pain and frustration, you realized that you were out and hadn’t bought any before coming home after the hospital visit… Shit. You would have to go to the bodega down the street and get a new bottle.

Getting dressed was a task, and it took you a long time to get your sweats and t-shirt on in order to go to the shop. You didn’t even bother with sneakers, slipping into a pair of slides sitting by the door as you grabbed your purse off the hook and began making your way out of your apartment building. The walk was slow going and painful, the constant bustle of people around you on the sidewalk not helping as they shoved past you, your tender ribs and bruised abdomen taking hits that had you wanting to scream. 

The bodega thankfully had the medicine you were seeking. After paying for it and a bottle of water, you were taking the pills as you left the store, not wanting to wait a second longer for the pain relief you desperately sought. Before you could close up the pill bottle though, from the alleyway beside you, a pair of arms reached out and grabbed you! The pills scattered all around as you struggled to go into a defensive move you knew by heart in order to get out of the attacker’s grasp. But almost as if they knew you had bruised ribs, they squeezed your midsection, igniting your whole body in a searing pain that had you seeing stars. Taking a deep breath to scream turned out to be fruitless as only a weak cry tumbled out when your expanding ribcage violently protested the intake of air. 

“Gotcha,” said a gruff voice, their breath hot beside your ear as they spoke. After he did, you felt a needle enter your arm as he muttered, “Night, night. The boss can’t wait to see ya, Detective.”

When you came to, you blinked hard a few times, thinking that maybe it was all just a pain-induced nightmare. Reality hit you though when you tried to move your arms but couldn’t because they were tied behind you as you slumped over in an uncomfortable chair. Trying to remain as still as possible so as to not notify your captors of your conscious state, you took in your surroundings. 

You were shoved into a corner of the room, so you had a pretty good view of the space around you. Lining two of the four walls were crates upon crates, each marked with the symbol of the gun runners you had been tracking. So, that confirmed your suspicions about who had snatched you… On top of each box was a display of what gun was inside, small spotlights illuminating the weapon as if it was an art piece in a museum. Two men stood guard near the boxes with guns of their own holstered to keep the product safe. Another man sat in a chair nearby on his cell phone. Because of his proximity, you assumed he was supposed to be keeping an eye out for you to wake up.

There was a musty smell that permeated the air and the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. It was a narrow room with a slightly rounded off ceiling, which you thought was odd. There was graffiti on the wall that seemed vaguely familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on where you had seen the tag before… The far wall looked like it had collapsed long ago, and it held the only entrance to the area that you could see. It didn’t even have a door, it was just an opening in the collapse. Something more promising though that clued you into where you may be located was the unfinished rail tracks peeking out from under the collapsed rubble and the unused tracks that had been used as makeshift barriers to protect the guns. 

You must be in the tunnel where the city had tried building an additional subway line a few years before, but it collapsed before they could get too far. Neither you nor Daredevil had been able to figure out where the gang’s base of operations was located, and now it made total sense. The area the city had accessed to get into the underground area was sealed and forgotten about by the population at large. You didn’t even know where the entrance was, although you had your guesses. Any time you would chase a group of troubled teens you caught harassing a street vendor or tagging the window of a business, they would just disappear into thin air near 45th and 9th. That was where you knew the graffiti tag from! There must be an entrance into this place somewhere near there! Not that knowing where you were particularly helped you at the moment, but… If you made it out of here somehow, at least you knew the best way to get to safety. 

“Hey, look who finally decided to wake up,” said the man near you. A shiver zipped down your spine as you realized that it was the same voice that spoke in your ear when you were taken. “Thought we overdosed you there for a little while. Guess I’m not as good at calculating drug doses as I thought. Oh, well.”

“What do you want with me?” you tried to ask firmly, but your voice came out broken and scratchy from lack of use over however long you had been out. 

“You’re asking the wrong guy questions,” the man said in a bored sort of tone. “Hey, Reg! Call the boss-man and tell him she’s awake. He’ll want to talk to her.”

“That he will,” came a new voice. Your head turned toward the opening in the collapse and saw a man in a white button up and pressed slacks walking in, flanked on either side by burly looking men who you assumed were his guard. 

“Ghallagar…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at the man you had only ever seen in pictures from the original brief you were given on the case. The whole time he had been in the Kitchen, the man was practically a ghost, so this was your first time getting a good look at him. 

“Detective,” he said with a certain smugness in his voice as he approached you. He held your gaze for a few moments before asking his men, “May we have the room? I need some time alone with the detective. There are buyers coming in an hour. Make sure we have materials to hide this section of the space. We don’t need them to see what I’m about to do. Bad for business.”

“Yes sir,” one of the burly men replied before turning away and gesturing for all of the men in the room to follow. 

When it was just the two of you again, Ghallagar rolled up his sleeves as he said, “I bet you’re wondering why I had you taken.”

“The thought may have crossed my mind,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. What did he plan on doing to you? What did he-

A sharp slap across the face pulled you out of your thoughts. “You seem to have something I want.” Another slap in the other direction nearly toppled you out of the chair before he snarled, “And I intend on getting the information out of you.”

“What do you want?” you asked through gritted teeth, trying not to show any weakness to the man standing tall over you. You may be in the compromised position, but there was no way you were going to let this man break you. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. 

“Tell me Daredevil’s identity,” Ghallagar said as if it was the most simple question in the world. As if he was asking the name of the cashier at your favorite bodega. 

“I don’t-” you tried, but stopped to let out a cry of pain when he sent a kick into your bruised midsection. 

“You’ve worked with him for months! Trying to find me, finding the gang whose place I took, taking down that mugger together. I could go on with all of the cases you’ve figured out with his help, Detective.” Before you could contain your emotions, your eyes widened momentarily, and that reaction caused a smirk to twist Ghallagar’s lips. “Yeah, that’s right. I know your case files. I have a folder with the names of every criminal you’ve taken down since you got out of the Academy.” He circled around to stand behind you and dug his thumbs into painful pressure points in your shoulders as he said, “You got to do your homework on me, I got to do my homework on you. It’s only fair, isn’t it? And it’s also fair for you to tell me who you’ve been working with since you’ve been such a thorn in my side!”

When he said that last part, a white-hot pain seared over your shoulder as he ran a knife over the skin there. You tried to bite your cheek to muffle your scream of pain, but only drew more blood than was already trickling out of the wound on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath to control yourself only made things worse and you let out another groan of pain as he circled back to stand in front of you. “I don’t know-” you tried again, but were cut off when he shoved the whole chair over with you in it. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” he shouted as he sent another kick into your ribs, causing more pain to rock your already battered body. “The way he saved you that night on the docks! He made sure to go to you! The way he held you when he saved you from my men’s van! You know who he is, and it’s just a matter of time until I get it out of you!” 

“She was supposed to get back to work today, I haven’t seen her though. Not like her to be late…” was Brett’s response to Matt’s question about where you were. It was the morning you were supposed to be back after the incident at the docks, and Karen had suggested bringing you flowers. He didn’t hear you inside the building on his way there, though, so he hadn’t grabbed any before heading in to speak with a new client. 

“Have you tried calling her?” Matt asked. 

“Straight to voicemail. I was thinking of doing a welfare check myself here in a little bit if she doesn’t show up by noon,” Brett said with a sigh. A quiet chuckle left his chest before he added, “Don’t worry, I’ll get a hold of her, Lover Boy.”

Matt shook his head and laughed light-heartedly at the joke, telling Brett, “I appreciate it,” before he and Foggy left the precinct and headed to their office for the afternoon of case file sifting. 

Running his fingers over the braille case file in front of him, Matt had been fully engrossed in the complexities of this case for hours. Foggy had already called it quits for the night and went home, but he and Karen were still there, working to find an angle they could win this case at. “What if we played up the jury’s-” came Karen’s voice, but Matt tuned her out when he heard your name mentioned in the police chatter from a nearby cop cruiser. 

Officer missing after welfare check. Cameras show the officer’s last known location outside of a bodega before disappearing into an alleyway. Three days ago. 

Matt was out of his office chair and hurtling toward the door before Karen could even ask where he was going, calling over his shoulder that there was an emergency that he needed to deal with. He didn’t even bother with the cane as he ran, he and Karen were the only ones in the building anyway at this hour. He needed to get to his suit and he needed to get to it now. Your life may well depend on it. 

You weren’t sure how long the beatings went on for. There was no light that got into the collapsed tunnel so you couldn’t tell day from night. There didn’t seem to be any patterns on when guards entered or exited the room. There was no specific time when Ghallagar came in or out to beat answers you didn’t have out of you. And there was no use shouting. You felt doomed.

The only reprieve from the onslaught of pain was when buyers came in. When they were there, you were gagged and concealed from sight by a room divider, left to bleed and suffer in pain before more was inflicted when they were gone. Besides the pain, the only thing you knew for sure was that you didn’t have the information he wanted. You didn’t know who Daredevil was. No one did. You just worked with him on the recommendation from Captain Mahoney. That’s all. The way the masked vigilante saved you that night and held you to his chest made you feel safe, yes, but why that made Ghallagar think you knew his identity was beyond you. You wished there was some way for you to prove that you were telling the truth. Some way for him to know- 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the loud sound of gunfire in the front of the room. The enclosed space made everything louder and you squeezed your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to shut everything out. You were afraid of the ricocheting bullets making their way over here. Although, if one hit you, this could all be over… You wouldn’t have to endure anymore pain. There would be no more pain. And boy, did that sound great right now. 

The sound of fighting got closer and closer, Ghallagar’s voice barking orders before suddenly going silent along with the rest of the room. The only thing you heard was the sound of fists hitting flesh and groans of pain from the victims of whoever was dealing the blows. Already conditioned to fear the punches of your captors, you cowered inward as much as you could, a weak and unintentional whimper leaving your throat as you did. 

Within seconds of making the noise, the pounding of fists stopped and you heard a thud as a body landed on the floor, their skull hitting the pavement hard. Your heart pounded in your throat as you heard heavy footfalls approaching you and you wished the person away with all your might. Your wish didn’t come true though as the room barrier was shoved aside, causing you to tuck your head down to be as small as possible in the eyes of the unknown person in front of you. 

Your name was whispered in a gravelly voice, and you shook your head in some sort of attempt to deter the person from you. Instead of another beating that you were accustomed to though, suddenly your hands were free of their confines and you were being hauled up and into the embrace of the person now standing in front of you. You were too weak to fight, but when you felt the texture of the armor adorning the person holding you, you let out a sob and tightened your arms around the man. Around Daredevil. He came to rescue you. He saved your life again. 

“I’m here. I’m right here. You’re safe now,” he mumbled as he held you as gently as he could. With one arm still wrapped around you, you felt one pull away before he spoke again a few moments later, saying, “Tell Mahoney I found her. Collapsed subway tunnel near 45th and 9th. Ghallagar and his men are incapacitated. Get an ambulance here, now. She’s in bad shape.”

It was as if your body instantly switched out of survival mode when he ended the call. The moment you knew that an ambulance was on the way and you were safe in Daredevil’s arms, you collapsed. Every muscle fiber in your body gave out and your joints folded under all the weight and suddenly everything went black once more. 

When you began to regain consciousness, you instantly knew you were in a different environment. Rather than the sound of dripping water and gruff men speaking, there was the occasional beeping sound and soft spoken voices. You were in a somewhat comfortable bed with pillows surrounding you in an effort to soften the mattress and your hands weren’t bound behind you. There was no steady trickle of blood leaking from your body. You were in the hospital. You were safe. 

Your eyelids fluttered open when you heard movement from beside you, and you realized that one of the soft spoken voices was coming from right beside you in the form of Matt Murdock praying. Looking down, you realized that one of your hands was grasped in his as he prayed, and a deep blush creeped onto your cheeks - the moment was far more intimate than any you had shared before. “Hey,” you whispered once he said amen. 

“You’re awake. Thank God,” he said, the emotion obvious in his voice and smile. “You had me scared there for a few days.”

“A-a few days?” you asked, eyes widening. 

“Yeah. It’s been three days since they brought you in,” Matt replied, squeezing your hand gently. “Brett and Daredevil took care of Ghallagar. He and his men are going away for a long time.”

“Good,” you said, your voice breaking with emotion as you remembered what you endured at his hand. Wanting to change the subject off of the man in question, you looked at the gorgeous bouquet of flowers on your bedside table and asked, “Did you bring those flowers?” 

A bashful smile made its way onto Matt’s lips as he nodded, telling you, “I was hoping you’d wake up before they wilted. Was I right?” 

“Yeah. They’re gorgeous. Thank you, Matt,” you said, voice wobbly as you spoke. “And thank you for coming to see me. I- You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted to,” Matt replied softly. 

“Oh hey! You’re awake!” came the voice of Foggy as he peeked into the room. “I hate to break up this happy little reunion, but we gotta go, buddy. Client needs us, like, yesterday.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Matt told him. 

During the whole exchange you were left staring at yours and Matt’s intertwined hands and got to thinking. Why hadn’t you ever just made a move with him? Before, you were convinced that he was just playing along with your flirting. That he didn’t have feelings for you like you did for him and that he just didn’t want to be rude. But now, frankly, you didn’t care about your overthought reasoning. After the last week, you realized how fleeting life was and just how lucky you were that you were still alive. So, before Matt could stand up and say his goodbyes as Foggy stepped out of the room, you leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. 

The gesture ignited pain in your battered body and a furious blush on your cheeks as you relaxed back into the mattress. The boyish grin that lit up Matt’s face made your heart flutter, and you swore it almost stopped when he asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

“Yes,” was your instant response in a breathy tone with a wide smile on your lips as well. 

The kiss was brief and gentle with both you and Matt unable to hold back your smiles as it happened. You felt rays of happiness flowing out of you and couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips when he pulled away mere moments later. He squeezed your hand once again as he said, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize…” 

“Better late than never,” you replied, a content smile on your lips as you remembered his soft ones on yours, already craving the next. You hoped that this would be the start of something magical with Matt.

big shoutout to my beta readers in the tuna tank for helping me out with this, especially @sunflowersandsapphires for some of the dialogue pieces as well as @justvalkyrie and @thornbushrose for help with plot points and clarity!

ps: the flirty comment with the handcuffs made me giggle so much! it happened very organically too (even though i am a terrible flirt and needed to ask for help in the server for inspo) also the bit at the end with Matt holding Reader's hand and praying?? i teared up, whoops!

as usual, likes and comments are appreciated! xo, brooke <3

taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

dividers by @firefly-graphics as always!

[msschemmenti]

one year down, forever to go

emily prentiss x reader

monday morning guest— part two

a/n: i’m actually very surprised how much y’all enjoyed the first part of this because it was in fact a crack idea i came up with randomly !! but here’s a second part and i apologize if it sucks i really had no clue where this was going <3

a/n to the a/n: also my requests are open if y’all wanna request something :)

“you’re married?!” garcia was the first to exclaim and emily sighed in exasperation. she eyed her chosen family and knew she wasn’t getting out of answering this. at all. 

“Technically i’m divorced now.” emily grimaced as she watched garcia’s face contort further in confusion.

“How can this be? How did you get married and divorced within the hour? You know I thought we were done with secrets after you faked your death but i see I was wrong and you actually don’t love me.” garcia grumbled as she threw herself on the couch in disdain. 

“Uh- Penelope, this is not the same thing. I found out at the same time you did.” Emily scoffed as she ran a hand through her hair. She lowered herself behind her desk and made to pick up a file, hoping the team would take the hint. Wishful thinking.

“Oh no, none of that. Spill.” Tara grinned as she perched on the arm of the couch expectantly. Everyone follows her lead in getting comfortable. 

“Aren’t there some case files out there you should all be working on?” Emily groaned, nodding toward their desks in the bullpen. 

“Sure, but this is far more interesting.” JJ grinned with a shrug. 

“Yeah, if I recall correctly it was only a little while ago that you were hyperbolically recounting my wives. And low and behold, you’ve got a wife of your own.” Rossi goaded. 

“How many wives are you at?” Luke asked, easily distracted but ever happy to be included. 

“Not the point, Newbie. Stop distracting. We’re here to learn about Emily’s secret wife, not Rossi’s 6 wives.” Garcia chastised, turning everyone’s attention back to Emily. 

“God, I’m not getting out of this am I?” Emily asked, and when everyone shook their heads her shoulders slumped, and she accepted her fate. 

-

backpacking through Europe may have been her best idea yet, or so she thought at least. y/n didn’t seem to agree. they were nearing the end of their spring break and as beautiful and adventure filled as the days had been— the younger woman was ready to get to a hotel.

“em, if we take one more turn you’ll be carrying me back to civilization.” y/n groaned.

“back to civilization? there’s like 60 people hiking the same trail we’re on.” emily rolled her eyes.

“okay and? i haven’t seen a mall in days. i’m going through serious withdrawals.” y/n sighed as they did in fact take another turn.

“oh stop your whining, we’re almost at the hotel. i told you, we could spend half the trip backpacking and the other half in the lavish luxury you dream of so often.” emily smiled over her shoulder, reaching for y/n’s hand to pull her down the trail.

“i just don’t understand. your mother damn near begged us to use her hotel and resort recommendations and you want to be outside. in nature’s home. couldn’t have gotten that from your mom.” y/n lamented, putting up very little fight as emily guided her further through the park.

emily listened to her complain for most of the days they’d been out but she really couldn’t think of any other person she’d want with her. meeting y/n had been rather serendipitous. she’d just started her mastered at yale and moved into this astronomically expensive apartment in georgetown. and she was hell bent on supporting herself. so she’d found a restaurant looking for waitresses and put in an application. on her way out the hostess had changed and she’d rather dumbly stopped at the station with the application in her hand.

“hi?” the woman chuckled, eyeing the brunette curiously.

emily’s cheeks reddened under the woman’s gaze and she cleared her throat. “uh, hi. they told me to give my application to the hostess but i don’t see her anymore.”

the woman leaned against the hostess stand with a chuckle and reached her hand out to accept the paper. “that was nina, she works mornings. i’m the evening girl.”

emily nodded disjointedly and handed the application over, “morning girl is nina. so that makes you?”

the hostess grinned and leaned a bit further toward emily, “that makes me y/n,” y/n looked at the top of the application searching for a name. “emily.”

emily smiled and rubbed the back of her neck, “nice to meet you.”

y/n smirked as she eyed emily, “you’ve never had a job before have you?”

emily’s cheeks reddened instantly and she grimaced, “is it that obvious?”

“yeah sweet. it’s real obvious. but you’re cute, so i’ll put in a good word for you.” y/n shrugged and headed back through the restaurant with the application. emily’s cheeks felt like they were on fire but it only worsened when y/n sent a flirty wave over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bar.

and from that day on they’d been inseparable. y/n was working her way through law school and even after emily had been rightfully fired from the restaurant, y/n had become her favorite person. somewhere during the first year of them knowing each other they finally gave into the ever present flirtation and got together.

that’s how they ended up in europe anyway. emily was graduating in a few months and this was set to be her last big hurrah of freedom before diving head first into work. she’d sold y/n on the beauty of europe and also her company.

“i don’t know if i ever told you. but anytime mother and i were in france, i spent most of my time with my grandfather up in his cabin in the french alps. there was a 10-year stretch where he didn't come down off the mountain. he had no electricity, no running water, and his food supplies came from the land. those were some of my fondest memories.”

at emily’s explanation, y/n quieted a bit and leaned in to kiss her lips sweetly. “well i guess it’s not that bad then. as long as i can get you drunk tonight?”

“i guess. not like i can say no to you.”

“not like you ever have before. if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

and drunk they did get. so much so that they woke up with little to no memory of the night before. rings on fingers and heads pounding. they were married.

-

“So what, now you’re like Rossi? A profiler with a hot ex-wife?” Tara asked as Emily brought the story to a close. Emily glared at the woman but shrugged a little in defeat.

“well she didn’t seem too upset when she left. if anything she seemed eager for something…” spencer pointed out.

“that’s right boy genius, she thanked me. a scorned ex wife wouldn’t have done that!” garcia nodded frantically, pinning emily with a glare.

“well we are divorced. i signed the paper but while she’s in town, she’s agreed to let me make up for the twenty years of marriage i’ve missed out on.” emily replied, cheeks flushing as everyone cheered and whooped.

“when? where? what’s the plan?” garcia pestered.

“i don’t know penelope, she only just left. plus with our work load who knows when i’ll be able to actually take her out.”

garcia shook her head in determination, “mark my words, i will make sure this happens. i can smell a second wedding already.”

emily looked at the tech analyst in disbelief and jj seemed to get the hint. “alright cupid, let’s leave emily to ponder her date ideas.” emily gave jj a grateful look as she watched her corral everyone out of her office.

second wedding was a bit extreme but she really did hope between her and garcia’s wishful thinking that she’d be out with y/n very soon.

-

“took you long enough. i thought you might’ve changed your mind.” y/n grinned as the hostess brought her over to emily.

emily stood with a sheepish smile, it had been 3 weeks since y/n had popped back into her life and as much as she wanted to get their date on the books— serial killers really stopped at nothing. “trust me, if i’d had it my way we would’ve been doing this far sooner. but alas, serial killers don’t care about my social life.”

y/n laughed softly pulling emily into a hug, “well i’m glad you could pencil me in. between solving your murders and jetting all over the US.”

“you make it sound so glamorous.” emily chuckled, pulling the seat out for y/n and taking her own seat.

“well there is a sort of luxury involved with having a jet.” y/n replied with a shrug.

emily rolled her eyes affectionately, “sure, when you’re not on your way to a gruesome crime scene.”

“well you got me there, you always did have a stronger stomach than me when it came to all that criminal stuff.” y/n smiled as she pulled the menu open.

“you know me, compartmentalizing at its finest.” emily shrugged opening her own menu as well.

“ah ah ah, i was there when you invented that excuse. it didn’t work then and it won’t work now.” y/n tsked.

“you really haven’t changed.” emily smiled with a content sigh.

“you know what i always say, if it not broke—“ y/n started.

“don’t fix it.” emily finished just as the waitress returned to take their order. with orders placed, a bottle of wine poured they both settled into a familiar volley.

“so you seem to know everything that’s happened to me in the last twenty years but i’m a little in the dark.”

“well i only know what your mother knows, which im sure isn’t much considering it’s your mother. but i’ll bite. after you graduated, i finished out law school. i think by then you’d started you undercover work though. started working and haven’t stopped since.”

emily nodded, “right right, and you got engaged while you were married to me.”

y/n scoffed with a laugh, “hey! you’re one to talk, miss i had to be resurrected. my engagement— while short lived was a big mistake. i was young and tired of being alone. but as i said before finding out i was still married was the least of my worries then.”

emily nodded sadly, knowing the pressures of loneliness very well. “loneliness will do that. also can i just explain my whole death arc, so you’ll stop holding it against me?”

“absolutely, be my guest.”

“so there was this super evil guy, i went under and he kinda fell in love with me—“

“fell in love with my wife?”

“shh! yes unfortunately he did. well obviously he went down for his crimes but he escaped prison and came after my team. and he really wanted me dead and impaled me with a chair leg.”

“a chair leg?! you can’t be serious.”

“yes a chair leg, and he got away. so it wasn’t exactly safe for me to be living and that led to me faking my death. and spending my recovery alone in paris.” emily explained.

“well where the hell is he now?”

“dead. my team was very adamant about avenging my death.” emily smiled watching the younger woman nod in approval.

“good. nobody murders my wife and gets away with it.” y/n glared before winking over at emily.

both women talked over their food, flirting like old times, and really just enjoying each other’s company. once their plates had been cleared, a waitress brought out a slice of pie with the words “happy anniversary” drizzled across the plate.

“well well well, you weren’t kidding when you said you wanted to make up for those missed anniversaries.” y/n smiled, holding a spoonful of pie out for emily to eat. she accepted the offered sweet treat with a furious blush, but couldn’t help to think just how whipped she still was for this woman.

-

emily sighed happily, pulling y/n through the streets of dc. one of y/n hands was wrapped in her own while the other held a bouquet of flowers emily had purchased no their post-dinner walk. when they made it back to the parking lot, they reluctantly walked over to y/n’s car together.

y/n grinned as she leaned against the hood of her car, emily’s hand still in her own. she watched as a smile curled on emily’s lips and at the sight of that dimple y/n pulled her as close as she could out in the parking lot. “well em, i must say this was a rather enjoyable belated anniversary celebration. i can only think of one thing to make it perfect.”

“oh really, and what would that be? you know i’ve always strived for perfection.” emily asked, eyes flickering between y/n’s eyes and lips.

“you always were an overachiever. glad to see that’s still the same.” y/n grinned, pulled emily into a kiss that lit their bodies on fire. if there was one thing emily prentiss could do, the woman could kiss. and 20 years seemed to only add to her skills. y/n held out for as long as she could but when could feel her heartbeat in her ears she reluctantly pulled away to breathe. emily looked down at her smugly and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. boy did she miss that.

“next anniversary is on me?” y/n whispered against emily’s lips.

“well i sure like the sound of that.” emily agreed easily.

one anniversary down, only about 19 more to go.

[tragedy-of-commons]

PUNCHES A HOLE IN UR WALL AND POKES MY HEAD IN. HI GWENNIE!!!!! major congratulations on ur milestone u lit deserved it sm thank you for everything uve done IM SO PROUD OF YOU ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

may i please request romantic w dan heng + "ive spent my whole life building walls around my heart, yet somehow, you managed to slipped right through them." feel free to tweak it however u see fit!!! <3

"I've spent my whole life building walls around my heart, yet somehow, you've managed to slip right through them."

Your confession is candid, whispered through a thick haze of tears. The heaviness of your statement doesn't escape Dan Heng entirely, but it's overshadowed by the weight of your head lolling against his shoulder.

The thing you're accusing him of sounds like a grave sin when you put it like that, but then again, maybe it is one. Maybe the unintentional fondness he harbors for you is meant to stay that way - meant to stay a secret.

For a long time, it was his one guilty pleasure, loving you. But now, as you cry and shatter just out of arm's reach, Dan Heng finds no solace or reprieve.

He doesn't know what to say or what to do; he hadn't meant to endear himself to you at all. Quite the opposite, in fact - only speaking to you when necessary, guarding his cards just as close as you guard yours.

However, the smallest of cracks plague even the largest of dams, worsening day by day until all the water bursts from its reservoir, engulfing everything in its wake.

Both of you are drowning.

Dan Heng says nothing, still as a statue. You continue, much to his relief and his distress.

"It's weird, right?" you hiccup. "That… that we both wanted to stay strangers, but we ended up like this anyway."

Trembling further, you nuzzle against his side. It almost seems like an invitation for him to provide comfort, but you know him well enough. He doesn't trust himself to assuage your pain, and even if he tried, you'd just shut down. Is your bond that superficial? And if so, why does his heart pang so forlornly at the notion?

The best thing he can do is let you get this out of your system. Despite how he's been floundering to form a response all this time, Dan Heng speaks without thinking. "I'm sorry."

He is. He's sorry that he let you get this close. He's sorry that you won't let him wipe your face clean with a cheap tissue. He's sorry that you're just a little too much like him.

You laugh, devoid of mirth. "Platitudes are r-revolting. Will you kiss me?"

"No," he whispers, stroking your hair awkwardly. His fingertips prickle like he's been toying with sewing needles. "You don't… you're vulnerable--"

"You're the one shaking."

Dan Heng kisses you.

It didn't take much of his strength to gently but desperately maneuver you to sate his hunger (wicked self-restraint), getting lost in the plush of your lips that taste of salt. For a fleeting moment, he registers that the thing responsible for the flavor are the tears rolling down your cheeks.

It doesn't explain the dampness of his own, though. A man like him hasn't cried so viscerally in years, not when everything he loved had rightfully been ripped away prior to his rebirth.

He came into this world with nothing but the weight of his previous sins on his back - and now that he has been made to care about something, no, someone - Dan Heng is reminded that he is not absolved of his crimes.

He is not absolved of his love for you.

You return the kiss with equal fervor, confirming this sentiment. Between the melding of mouths, you pile insult on top of injury, the sting heady and aware.

"I love you…"

An appropriate reply comes to mind, taunting and eager. Dan Heng doesn't stop it from flooding out, teeth gnashing against yours while he chokes on the words.

"I'm sorry," he repeats.

Both of you drown.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: anddd... that's a wrap! um, sorry for the angst, rennie. i wanted to go out with a bang. thank you for your request and for making this event so special for me <3

event post here

[raineandsky]

Hello, I was wondering if you could please write something where Villain thinks they are under a love potion slipped by hero’s allies. After every moment they see hero they feel they are in love with them. But when they confront the teammate they find, to their surprise that they gave them a ‘speak your heart’ potion to get them to confess their crimes and never expected them to have feelings for their friend. Coming to the shock and realization that they had indeed fallen for hero but had been ignoring it/suppressing it. Now they are at the point where they can deny it no longer. Thank you for your consideration and for reading this! I hope you have an absolutely lovely day! 💕

this was.... such a cute idea??? i liked writing this one, i hope you enjoy reading!! thank you as always for the request!!

Heroes are liars. The villain knows this well. They’ll lie, cheat and bribe their way into anything that might mean another villain in jail, another victory under their belt.

There are telltale signs of lying, of course. Looking away, shifting about, smiling awkwardly. The villain has learnt all of these, because they know that heroes are liars, but also tend to be bad liars.

This hero, from the villain’s deduction, is either an incredibly good liar or telling the truth. God, the villain wants it to be the former.

“Love potion turns blue,” this hero is saying. “When I poured the heart-speaker in your drink it went orange.”

The hero’s looking right at them, stock still, face blank except for what seems a little like horror. Liar, surely. He’s just a damn good one. “Bullshit. You’re— You’re fucking with my head.”

“I’m not doing anything!” the hero cries. “I’ve been following you around with a recorder because I was hoping you’d admit to your crimes! I wasn’t expecting any of this.”

The villain turns away from them—a mistake most villains know not to make, not that the villain particularly cares right now—and heaves a deep sigh. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Does it?

The villain is no stranger to love potions and their effects. How they noticeably warp their victim’s perception of reality, of who they can trust. The villain, subject to one such potion for one of the supervillain’s strange experiments, noticed that everything felt different, that their feelings on certain people had inexplicably changed. The effects also wore off after a day.

The villain’s been feeling like this for a week. Loose, almost detached, like honesty is the best policy even though their colleagues would scream for them to stop talking.

They’ve seen their hero more than once this past week. Carefully stamped-down, begrudging respect has blown up into desperate infatuation. Their hero says some well-practised lines about taking them down, the villain stutters out some of their own about never being caught, and then they fight, the physicality of it entirely overwhelming sometimes.

That’s more than a simple love potion has ever done to the villain.

Their hero is— how long has the villain been calling them that? That hero isn’t the villain’s anything except their nemesis. They need to get out of their own head before the heart-speaker drowns them in their own emotions.

“How… how long does it last?” the villain asks faintly.

“Well,” the hero says, “at least a week.”

“Oh my god. You don’t even know.” The villain scoffs in offence. “Jesus, I— I can’t see [Hero] again like this.”

“You’re freaking out, [Villain],” the hero butts in carefully. “You’re recognising your own feelings for the first time. It’s a lot. I get it.”

The hero doesn’t get it. The villain feels like the world’s about to end. “What the hell am I meant to do?”

“You could tell them.”

“Are you insane? No!” The villain wrings their hands, pacing thoughtlessly. “No, this isn’t right. The heart-speaker will wear off and everything will go back to normal. It’s fine.”

“I mean…” The hero glances down at the little audio recorder in their hand. It looks ancient, as most hardware does that comes from the agency. “I still have a ton of free space on this thing.”

“I’m not saying it out loud and I’m certainly not letting you record it.”

The hero shrugs, the lightest smirk weaving its way onto their stupid face. “I didn’t think you would. I do have some heart-speaker left. Enough for… someone else.”

On any normal day, the villain wouldn’t care too much about knowing what their hero thinks of them. But this day isn’t normal, and with this goddamn potion working its magic on them, the villain is painfully, embarrassingly desperate to know every little detail of their hero’s thoughts.

The villain squints at the hero to make it clear they’re not agreeing to this immediately, although their body language probably suggests otherwise. “Okay, well, it’s not your worst idea.”

The hero nods sagely. “I think I know which idea of mine you think is the worst. I’ll make sure this one isn’t to your detriment, though—it’ll be fun working with you, partner.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why, saving it for someone else?”

The villain wants to snap back at them for the tease as the hero laughs, but they can’t deny what the heart-speaker is forcing them to admit.

Yes.

[kozumesphone]

✮⋆˙ 𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

⤷ leo valdez x daughter of poseidon!reader

masterlist | event m.list

♡ fandom | the heroes of olympus

♡ includes | songfic (sort of), daughter of poseidon!reader, leo and reader both have glasses in this fic (YES i’m fulfilling my own delusions, leave me alone), ALL CHARACTERS INCLUDING READER ARE 17-18 pls don’t come at me for getting them married 🙏, leo x reader wedding, pre-established relationship, fluff, comfort, beautiful no nonsense kissing and happiness, tbh this is retribution for my previous emercy angst, HAPPINESS, third person pov for like five seconds, not proofread

♡ in which | leo and reader get married <3

♡ a/n | ok shiit. this was supposed to be a newlyweds prompt, but I wanted to write a wedding scene before that, so I completely missed the prompt that was requested ☹️ I still hope this fluff makes up for it a bit, and i'll try to work on a part 2 for a newlyweds drabble (tho I can't promise i'll actually end up writing it, sorry 💀)

♡ wc | 1.3k

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

“i’m way too nervous, my hands are shaking and what if I drop the ring? he’ll think i’m stupid! and he’ll leave me right there!”

“n/n? respectfully? shut up,” annabeth sighed.

“this is leo we’re talking about, man, and if there’s one thing I know for sure about him, other than the fact that he loves marshmallows, it’s that he’s whipped as fuck for you,” will’s voice rang out, walking into my cabin.

“trust!” piper’s voice came out of my closet, where she was looking for something decent for me to wear.

“okay… but, now I don’t have anything to wear. that’s another problem,” I whined.

“you could walk out there, and get married in your camp clothes, and it’d have the same effect on him either way,” piper rolled her eyes. “his mouth would like, hang open, and he’d make heart eyes at you—”

“shut up,” I grumbled. “what am I going to wear, pipes?”

“don’t you worry, darling, I got you,” she said, and winked at me, and handed me a denim-leather jacket.

✮⋆˙ leo’s pov

“what if I trip and fall in front of her? will she leave me—who am I kidding, of course she’ll leave me!—”

“she loves you, stop crying about it,” jason said, rolling his eyes.

nico walked in with a red tie and black leather jacket in tow, and told me it was one of the other kids who lent it to him (clearly not).

“oh. thanks,” I smiled.

“yeah, sure. uh, listen, valdez,” nico started. I narrowed my eyes at him. “if you ever hurt her, or make her cry, or anything, I will know. and I will come for your blood. and your organs, because the market is amazing for livers these days—”

“same here,” percy said. “if I see my little sister sad because of you? you’re done for, fire boy.”

they walked over to me, throwing their arms around my shoulder. “got it?”

“obviously,” I rolled my eyes. “and if she’s ever sad because of me, I think i’d kill myself.”

✮⋆˙ 3rd person pov

percy walked with his hand in y/n’s. she walked down the aisle in a black crop top below her unbuttoned white shirt, and a denim-leather jacket strung on top. in that moment, leo could only comprehend how much she looked like herself.

she was fidgeting nervously with her belt while walking towards him.

she looked up, shocked, to see him almost matching with her: white shirt, red tie, black leather jacket, and even the playboy grin.

I like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings…

uh huh, that’s right…

watching him smile at her melted away her anxiety.

he wouldn’t leave her, of course not. they were in this together, forever.

a lopsided grin creeped up her face, setting his heart on fire.

she would always love him, he realised. never would she even think of leaving him.

darling, you’re the one I want, and…

✮⋆˙ y/n’s pov

percy let go of my hand so I could walk further towards leo, leaving me a thumbs-up.

“hey handsome,” I whispered, stopping in front of leo.

“hey beautiful,” he whispered back, still smiling at me.

“even after so many years, you know how to get my brain to stop functioning, it’s unfair,” I groaned, as he chuckled. his hand slipped into mine, lacing our fingers together. his thumb stroked the back of my hand as we turned to chiron, who was officiating our wedding.

he asks all our friends—dressed in shades of either blue or orange—to take their seats. we watched the youngest demigods, who were less than ten years old, walk around the chairs, giving out flowers to everyone.

“dearly beloved,” chiron reads out of his pocket notebook. “we are gathered here today to witness my two little kids join together in holy matrimony.”

everyone laughed and then quieted down.

“you can do your speeches or vows,” he prompted.

I exhaled and started first. “mia cara, thank you. I can’t believe today’s, well, finally here. I remember the, um, first day we met. we were both caught planting something for a prank in coach hedge’s bag, and spent a day in detention together,” I laughed and went on. “well, that was pretty much the day I fell in love with you. i’m so happy I have a boyfriend—well, almost-husband—and a best friend, both in the same person. so, I guess what I want to say is… I love you, leo.”

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this…

uh huh, that’s right…

his eyes were glossing over, and a tear escaped down his cheek. I wiped it away, and smiled at him.

“oh my god, that was so sappy,” he rolled his eyes at me.

I hit him in his shoulder, and he laughed. “anyway, I think I never told you this, but I knew you before that day.”

I gasped a little bit and my eyes widened.

“it was the day you transferred to that wilderness school, probably around a month before we met. you were wearing the same jacket you’re wearing today, and your hair was in tiny braids, and oh my god, I remember thinking, ‘if I don’t talk to that girl soon, i’ll never forgive myself’ but I waited a whole month because I was too nervous.”

I laughed, “you were nervous for a month?”

“shut up bro,” he groaned. “you were just so beautiful and I thought you looked smart, which, I mean, you are. but then, I found out you were planning some prank for a bet, and I figured that was my chance.”

darling, you're the one I want…

“who knew that the first pranks we pulled would bring us to get married, huh?” I chuckled.

“I knew,” he said, “that was obviously why I did it. anyway, I wanna end this speech or whatever by saying what I thought of you the first day we met: I love you, y/n, and you’re stuck with me for life!”

“I better hope so, you’re not allowed to leave me ever, anyway,” I rolled my eyes.

chiron laughed at us, and called the ringbearers. “it’s time for you to exchange your rings.”

an eight-year old apollo camper and his twin brother walked up to us with matching boxes. each one gave a box to one of us.

we opened the boxes, got the rings out and held them.

leo pulled our interlocked hands up and let go, to slip his ring on my finger. I grinned at him, and placed mine on his finger as well. he smiled when he realised they were the first rings we had bought together after we snuck out of camp for the first time.

“with the power vested in me,” chiron started. “I now pronounce you man and wife. you may kiss the bri—”

before chiron could even finish, leo’s hands were on my waist, bringing me closer, our mouths colliding.

in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams…

oh, you’re the one I want…

our glasses hit each others’ twice, but neither of us cared. his hands were squeezing my waist, as if it were the end of the world if he let go. my hands wrapped around his neck, and I pulled him in closer than humanly possible.

his kisses were rarely soft and sweet, so today wasn’t a surprise.

tongues colliding, my hands in his hair, and grinning against each others’ lips.

“till death do them part!” a voice rang out from the crowd, everyone else laughing.

“even death won’t do us part, mi vida,” he pulled back, smiling and whispered.

[hw4-l1z]

can i request a minho x male reader where minho thinks reader is straight and kinda avoids him when reader became really close to a female idol bc minho has feelings for him. reader confronts him since they used to be close, and now their conversations are so short. Angsty till minho confesses and reader accepts. and it would be awesome if you could make reader physically bigger than minho (taller and broader). if you want nsfw, thats completely your choice. Ill love it regardless <3

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I'm gonna swallow him whole

Lee Know x Male!Reader (fluff)

Cw: none tbh other than a little angsty and kissy kissy// ig dom!reader but there's no smut

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You've noticed for past few weeks that Minho's been fairly distant with you. He used to give you alot of funny flirtatious remarks and would always be by your side chatting away at anything and everything. But everytime you pass by him, expecting him to stop and talk to you for a bit, he just sends a little smile your way and quickly walks by almost as if your somewhat strangers now.

You missed him. You really did. You missed him being so close to you, pulling those silly disgusted faces when you 'jokingly' flirted with him, his hand constantly being on your butt as he looks at you with a big smirk on your face and you miss cooking together. You had grown feelings for him, loving how you both had such a strong connection with eachother and how you could be yourself around him.

You wanted thay back more than anything so you decided that you would go on a hunt in hopes to find him somewhere in the company building. You checked in with chan to ask if he's seen him anywhere and he suggested that he may be in the practise room. And of course, he was there. You knocked on the door as you slowly opened it and saw him sitting there on the couch along with a few of the other members sprawled out. You poked your head round the corner and signaled for him to come with you with your hand. He gave you a little confused look before standing up and following you out the door. You softly wrapped your hand around his wrist and pulled him into the nearest empty room.

You pulled him down to sit with you on the couch as you begin to speak, "are you okay? Is somthing going on? Did I do something wrong?" You asked turning your body to face him. He just gives you another confused look "what? What's this about? What makes you think that?".

"I don't know...you've just seen very distant with me...Min...if I've done something wrong I need you to tell me so I can fix it" you furrowed your brows at him. He shakes his head before speaking "no what? You haven't done anything wrong I promise" he looks away, signing before he continues "it's not you I promise...it's me, I'm probably just overthinking it all" he says looking back at you.

"About what? From what I know everything was perfectly fine...until it wasn't" you say, string deeply into his eyes, trying to read his expressions. "I don't know...just maybe that you wouldn't wanna speak to me much anymore" he shrugs. "Why wouldn't I wanna speak to you anymore? I never showed signs of that did I?" You're sitting there so confused, just wanting nothing but to get what you had with him back.

"I know but..." He can feel himself begin to tear up, trying to hold it back, not wanting to seem vulnerable in front of you but he just feels so small right now. Your gaze is quite intense, you're eyes haven't left him since you entered the room and it's a bit much for him to handle. "...you just seemed like you were really really close with *idols name* and...thought since your eyes were on her that you wouldn't be interested in anyone else but her" he says only able to look down. He's scared that if he looks at you then he might break and that's the last thing he wants.

"Min that's silly...why would I not be interested? We had such a strong connection and suddenly it disappeared, I miss being with you" you say. His cheeks go pink as he thinks to himself 'he misses me? He misses spending time with me?'. "Do you think I have a crush on her?" You ask him, confused at the fact you thought he knew you were gay. He nods his head slowly before looking up and into your eyes. He instantly regretted it at his bottom lip begin to tremble and tears fall from his eyes. Your eyes widen as you see him sit in front of you, trying to wipe away his tears as he starts to sniffle.

"Oh my god min, don't cry, why are you crying?" You say a little panicked. You move closer as you pull him into your arms, his head buries into your chest as he sits there and cries into your shirt. You can't help but notice how small he really is compared to you, he fits perfectly in your arms and it warms your heart. "Min...I don't have feelings for her, I'm gay I don't like girls" you laugh a little. He could feel the butterflies that from in his stomach as you admitted that. He pulls away looking up at you "you...you are? I thought you were straight".

You laugh out loud, finding it funny that he actually thought you were straight. "What?! No no what?! You really thought I was straight? I thought I was quite obviously gay, why else would I have flirted with you?" You give him a confused/shocked face as his face lit up a little. "You were ACTUALLY flirting with me? It thought it was a joke...did I read this whole thing wrong?" He asks feeling stupid that he never picked up the signs. "Clearly you were yeah" you chuckle, as he hangs his head shakes it side to side, a little smile forming on his face. "I mean...I have a huge crush on you so it kinda sucked to think you'd never have any sort of feelings for me but.." He trails off before looking you in the eyes again, "I was just an idiot I guess" he let's out a breathy laugh.

"Yeah your are...but you could be my idiot" you smile lovingly at him. He nods his head before speaking "I'm your idiot" he smiles fondly at you, still feeling like an fool for not reading the room earlier.

"Hey look at me the now...you have something on your face" you say as he looks at you unknowingly. "Let me get it for you" you say as you lean closer, pretending like your about to blow it off his face but instead planting a soft kiss to his cheek. "Ah it's just beauty" you smirk as you cup his face in your hands as he just sits there shocked and flustered before he let's out a laugh and slaps your arm playfully "YAAAA" he shouts loudly. You cover your ears with your hand as his loud voice rings though your ears "my god pipe down" you say laughing.

"You missed my lips idiot" he smirks at you before making his cute little kissy face at you. You can't help but smile in awe as you cup the side of his face with one hand and lean forward. You plant a quick soft kiss to his lips before pulling slightly back, he un-puckers his lips before leaning to kiss your normally. Your lips melt into eachothers so perfectly, his ears burning red as you feel the heat creep up your neck and spread onto your cheeks. The kiss is so soft and delicate, you both just sit there for a few minutes soaking in the feeling.

After a while you both pull away from eachother, just sitting there looking at eachother with flustered looks on both of your faces before yous break into a fit of giggles, leaning into eachother as you laugh away. You both sit there for a spilt second after calming down before you speak up and break the silence.

"Is it too early to say I love you"

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[buckgasms]

Hi, I have been absolutely loving your blog, mostly the Daddy!Bucky & Princess stories (but let’s be honest who doesn’t love Bucky 🥰😂!) and I was wondering about something..

I had my birthday recently and was wondering how the 2 of them would celebrate? U can make it as fluffy or smutty as u would like, and it’s okay if it takes a while for u to write, I have one every year so it will be close enough to each of them 😉

Keep up the good work and I cant wait to see more of your stories and imagination come to life 🥰

First of all @nicoline1998enilocin I am so sorry! This request is so old it's probably almost your birthday again 🫣 but I kept it in my inbox because I really love it and I wanted to do it justice, which hopefully is done for you today.

And also, happy birthday 🎂🎈 thank you for preempting my uselessness and for sending in a lovely ask!

So let's start with Bucky's birthday:

- You try your absolute best to wake up first so you can give him birthday head but I feel like he would also be happy at waking you up too.

- Either way it's an X-rated morning lol.

- You managed to sneak out of his arms long enough to rush out to the kitchen and grab the pretty cakes you made the day before.

- He appears in the living room to find you sitting amongst his presents, a little cupcake and a candle lighting up your pretty face.

- Kneeling down he looks at you for a moment before blowing out his candle. He cups your cheek in a warm hand and pulls you in for a kiss.

- I'm not sure what you'd get for a criminal CEO who has everything but you manage to get him some lovely gifts.

- Stationery is always good, and some books. Maybe a nice watch? Shirts? Sunglasses?

- Plus you have a few little bags filled with pretty lingerie and toys that you figured he would enjoy.

- The present unwrapping ends with him cuddling you and kissing you all over, snuggling up as he thanks you for all the wonderful gifts.

- But you are the best gift he's ever had.

- I feel like there would also be an unspoken agreement that any time the birthday boy wants to have his princess, he gets her.

- Doesn't matter where you are, or what's happening. He just grabs you, pins you down or presses you up against a wall and takes what's his.

- Without knowing when it's happening you spend the day in a state of giddy excitement and desire.

🎂

- Daddy is the kinda guy who does big parties, but actually hates them when they are happening.

- He spends a bit of time chatting to his friends, opening some gifts and eating delicious canapes, but his mind is preoccupied.

- Because of you.

- You have dressed up in a little pink dress that looks exactly like a ribbon on top of a present. And he wanted to unwrap you right then and there.

- And perhaps in fact you told him that he could? As a special birthday treat?

- He'd managed to resist so far, but now he just wants his pretty present.

- He sidles up behind you and wraps his arms around you, pressing kisses to your shoulder and neck. You giggle as he tugs gently at the end of the bow.

- Much to both of your surprises it falls off quite quickly and drops to the floor. Some of the guests notice and clap, as you giggle twirling around and pressing yourself into Bucky's chest.

- "Much better I must say" he mutters into your ear and brushes his nose along yours before stealing a kiss from you. He deepens it as your arms wrap around him, holding you close.

- People actually sigh and swoon.

- Maybe you dance a little or maybe he just waves his guests goodbye as you walk with him up the stairs to the bedroom.

🎂

Now let's talk about Princess' birthday:

- He wakes you up with kisses and surrounds you with presents on the bed.

- I also think he would get you a tiara because you are a Princess.

- All the presents are so perfect, he gets you all those little things that you have mentioned over the past few months.

- Maybe some nice jewellery, books, dresses, colouring books, a new phone? New supplies for arts and crafts? Teddy bears?

- Also he's taking you to Italy...

🎂

- He spends the day pampering you, pleasuring you and treating you like the princess that you are.

- I think he would take you out for lunch, but he'd make sure the whole restaurant was booked so you weren't disturbed.

- He's gonna fuck you right there as well because you look so beautiful and happy and he can't resist you.

- I think you have permission to come anytime you want on your birthday. All you have to do is say, "Daddddy" and bat your pretty eyelashes and he'll be there to make you feel all better.

🎂

- A similar party ensues, although probably a smaller crowd because you prefer it that way.

- You take your time opening presents, giving big hugs to all of the gifters and showing Daddy what you got.

- Despite a whole day of sex on tap, you still feel a hit desire for him. He just looks so divine and delicious.

- And he knows you are dying for him so he asks Natasha to give you your present as he drags you into his lap, pretty skirt of your dress covering your lap.

- You squeak as his hand slides up your thigh and into your underwear, rubbing and sliding into your soaked heat.

- "Just can't get enough can ya? I can feel how swollen and used this pretty cunt is Princess, and still you want more hmm? Such a good girl. God I'm so lucky..."

- His whispering all this filth in your ear as you unwrap your present. You do your absolute best to thank Natasha and focus on what she's brought you, but his fingers are curling and pressing into that magical spot inside that sends your brain into a fog.

- You basically stay like that until the party ends. Everyone gives you a birthday kiss before they leave and you smile and wave as they go.

- Leaning back on Bucky's chest you let out a little whine, as he continues to make a mess of you.

- "Ready for your last present?"

🎂

- Much like his birthday the evening will end with something very special.

- I think he'd purchase something really kinky for his birthday, and something even kinkier for yours 😂

- I also like the idea of it all being a bit silly. Like you have to sing happy birthday to him as he spanks you, and if you get distracted he starts again.

- Ooh what about those candles you can use in the bedroom?? He'd turn you into his little birthday cake, eating you out but you have to stay still otherwise you get wax on you?

- Or instead of a gag he puts a cupcake in your mouth and you have to hold it tight without eating it.

- Frosting.

- I feel like these would work for both your birthdays because let's face it, being Daddy's plaything is as much a treat for you as it is for him 💞

- But always ending in cuddles, a nice bath and a reminder of how much he loves his Princess, how his life is better with you, how lucky he is and how he wants every birthday, every day spent with you 💞

[lovendermist]

You know how Hange is sometimes called Hans? I feel like reader finds it attractive and uses Hans to call Hange instead of the usual coupley ones

Can i request scenarios with this idea? I find it so adorable

Darling, what did you just call me?

Come again?

Type: Scenarios, fluff, Hange being called Hans

WC: 1,696

Pairing: Hange (or dare I say Hans) x Reader

A/N: Hnggg this is so cute. Thank you so much for requesting this! Also, I wrote this down (like, pen and paper) during my vacant time in college, which I thought was really interesting because I didn't think I would actually make something I'm happy with considering how sleepy I am during those vacants! I'm kind of proud of myself for that. Only the part by the end is the one written on google docs, and of course I edited some of the sentences online, but still! Hope you enjoy!

hange masterlist

Hange being called Hans :)

It took you a while to realize that Hange tried their very best not to make it as obvious that most of your actions and words had such effects on them, driving them wild with desire and with love.

It always starts in the smallest of things. A slightly different style in clothing or even a different earring, but of course, Hange never fails to shower you with all the affection they can give you. They just keep it at a certain level as to not overwhelm you, because god knows you won't ever be able to leave the room if Hange was in the mood to show you just how much they love you, how much the slightest change in appearance is enough to make them swoon and be all overprotective.

But it doesn't end there. What you've noticed is that what seemingly affects them the most is when you call them. Whether it's verbal or by gesture, you name it. Once, you stood patiently by the doorway, calling Hange over once their meeting was done, and you swear, you could almost see them squirm as they went to you, the glint in their eyes betraying their nonchalant stride.

The moniker "Squad Leader" and simply their own name "Hange" would make them smile. Or even if their lips didn't feel like returning your smile, it would be their eyes doing it rather sweetly back at you. Hange swears that the way you say their name is a sedative of its own, by the way the moment your voice reaches their ears, their shoulders loose a bit of the tension in them, their eyes soften, their entire demeanor turning gentle. Hange endlessly loves the sound of their own name rolling from your tongue. They don't say it out loud, but Hange wishes there were more excuses just for you to say it.

"Hanji", you called them one time, a slip of the tongue, but Hange -- or should we say Hanji, loved it. You suppose it's just the cost of having such a unique name, and you tease them about having so many names, which they giggle at. Hange especially loves how the "ji" part sounded; it was a little fast and desperate, they said. It always caught them off guard whenever anyone but you said their name like that. It was a rare pronunciation to hear from you, but god did they love it, and they'll never ever complain.

"Hans" finally slipped out one day, and neither of you expected it. Your tongue had messed up between saying their name and saying something else entirely, hence the amalgamation of such a name. Though weirdly enough, you didn't dislike the sound, and neither did Hange. And just as odd was how Hange immediately knew you were calling for them. They really do have a lot of names, don't they?

"Sorry," You shake your head with a smile at your own mistake, but it’s almost like your mind scrambles just as quickly to find another excuse to say the rather attractive nickname once more. "I meant Hange. Can you get me the spice over there please?"

Hange tilts their head to the side cutely, taken aback by the slip-up.

"No, no" They chuckle, keeping the spice you were looking for in their hand, eyes squinting rather charmingly. "Say it again."

"What?" You return their playful and amused smile with one of your own. You definitely heard them loud and clear, but it was bewildering how Hange was offering you the chance to say the name again just like that.

"You know what." Hange runs their free hand by your cheek, gliding their thumb up and down before finally settling by your chin, "My name, how you just said it." Hange squeezes your chin gently twice, smiling down at you.

You chuckle, turning soft at the gentle gesture before complying with their request, "Hans. The spice, please?" It's only been the second time, but the way it feels coming out of your mouth feels so natural and familiar already. Hange finally sets the spice by the counter beside you.

"Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" You grow disappointed by the way Hange lets go of your chin as they reply, but your smile doesn't waver.

"Hans." You say it again quietly. You find yourself growing fond of the new name, and so was Hange. Or should we say, Hans? "Do people call you that often?"

Hange ponders your question for a moment, "Hmmm. Maybe once or twice, but it's the first time I've heard it again. And I have to say, it was definitely better to hear it from you, even if it was accidental."

You lick your lips, considering the option of making it a new pet name for Hange. You certainly liked the sound of it, and if Hange's not averse to being called this name, then why not?

"Looks like your tongue has a mind of its own, making that name without even knowing people called me that before," Leaning against the counter, Hange's eyes glint as they look at you, "It's quite unique, isn't it?"

"It is,” You say to yourself more than to Hange, and you can see them perk up at the mention of their name again, “Hans, huh…"

You were certainly going to use this as Hange's new nickname.

One night, Hange was being particularly stubborn and refusing to leave their work, using your very own desk and spending more time with their work and research than with you, the very opposite from what you two intended to do in the few days that they had a break. Hange's brows furrowed, eyes glued to the pages in front of them, a hand up their messy hair as they try to make sense of whatever's on the pages. Your patience was thinning, and yet all you could do was watch and call for them at random intervals.

"Hange." You called out, leaning against the doorway of your own place and watching as your own partner worked themselves away in the night.

"Just a few more pages, darling."

"You said the same thing like 3 pages ago."

"Give me some more time, alright?" Hange's tone remains stern, their eyes never leave the paper in front of them, and that's all it takes for you to walk over and press your hands firmly on the desk. Yet even with your presence in front of them, Hange's eyes are infuriatingly glued to their work.

"Hans." You called out at last, and to hear Hange's pen drop felt like a victory on its own. That, and the fact that they finally looked you in the eyes after what seemed like hours was enough for you to claim your silent success.

You smirk at their reaction, knowing very well how much of a hold that nickname has on both of you. Hange leans back on the chair after noticing your smug expression.

"You're unfair, you know that?"

"Not as unfair as you, working away like that and ignoring me completely." You walk over behind them, arms wrapped around and face snuggled deep in the crook of their neck, "Come on, snuggle with me in bed, Hans."

"You know, I don't know why, but..." Hange sighs deeply, lost in thought, yet a hand caresses your arm regardless, "That name has such an effect on me. I hate it."

"What name, Hans?" You start kissing the soft skin of their neck, to which Hange shivers at.

"That. Exactly that." Hange sighs yet again before finally standing up, twisting their body to face yours, hand lingering by your arm, "You're having way too much fun with that nickname of mine, aren't you darling?"

"Well, I mean," You let go of them, shoulders gesturing a shrug, "It's kind of attractive."

"You know," Hange says again, grabbing your hand and leading you slowly to your bedroom, "One of these days, I'm going to make you say that in bed–"

"Hange!"

"Oh?" A chuckle escapes Hange’s lips, noticing the switch up, "Why the sudden change of names, hm?"

"You’re so mean to me."

"Maybe. But you make it so fun to tease you."

Soon you settle down in your bed, but not quite done in saying the name once more, almost like a mantra in itself. 

"Hans," You whine, reaching out to Hange who was still looking down at you with amusement in their eyes as you lay comfortably on the bed. Hange soon joins you in bed chuckling at your sleepy demeanor.

"Better be careful and not say that too much in public." A kiss was pressed down your forehead, "It'll ruin the magic, hm?"

“I know, I know,” You snuggle closer to Hange, “It’s a… hot nickname, okay? Get used to it.”

And Hange does, as the days drag on. You’ve both taken a liking to the nickname, and Hange couldn’t be more happy to hear it being said almost every single day. They don’t tire of hearing it even after being used as a last resort when they’re feeling particularly stubborn and impossible to deal with. In fact, they find it endearing. Endearing for the reason that you’ve got them wrapped around your little finger and they can’t quite bring themselves to let go.

They don't dislike the fact that ‘Hans’ is what you usually call them instead of the usual, couple pet names either. They even think it’s more special that way, because you both know it’s just for them. You use it sparsely

You use it when you’re feeling needy, to which Hange will always melt at.

You use it when you’re reunited after losing them in the aisles of the grocery store, to which you’re unaware that Hange strays away from you intentionally just to hear you say that name again.

You use it when you’re sleepy and dazed and can’t be bothered to say their whole name (even if it’s just two syllables). Hange doesn’t mind.

But sleep in peace with the knowledge that whatever name you call them, just know Hans will be running straight into your arms at the end of every day.

[dabisbratz]

kissy kissy mwa mwa mwa smooch oodmroming i slept well

r u hexing me. what is that.

[silverskyeline]

'messy' 18+

oneshot (request) - logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words) pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags - established relationship, fingering, petnames: babygirl, baby, good girl, praising, kind of overstimulation, squirting, lots of squirting, a little rough, he talks reader through it, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, logan makes reader taste themselves.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're splayed out on his lap on the sofa just how he likes you to be, nestled on top of his plush, firm thighs. your knees are bent with your ankles resting over either side of his legs, your back flush with his warm chest, your whole body exposed, open, for him.

logan's thick, calloused fingers lazily stroke your clit, earning soft mewls from your lips as your head tilts back over his shoulder. his other hand is ensuring his middle finger pumps in and out of you at a slow pace, your body craving those broad digits stretching your tight walls.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're moaning, gripping his arm for dear life as you squirm in his lap, rolling your hips instinctively. it was beautiful, the way he could make you sing for him, the way he could make your body move for him with just a few simple strokes, almost like a puppet, pulling your strings. he would never consider himself your 'master', but god, you'd let him control you whenever he liked.

he smirks, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into the side of your cheek, his lips finding their place at your ear, "that feel good, baby girl?" logan asks, his voice a deep purr. he already knows the answer.

you gasp at his low-toned voice, gruff like gravel but sweet like honey, "yes. . ."

"mh, that's what i thought. . . think you can take a little more though." he huffs, slipping another finger inside.

your walls clench around the sudden new presence and you moan, loudly, craving the feeling of being filled by him in whatever capacity he's willing to give.

"that's it," he coos, picking up the pace, "good girl, gooood girl. . ." logan loves how easily he can slip inside of you, how he'd always find you dripping, cunt aching, core throbbing for him. his sensitive ears perk up at the sweet sounds of your wet pussy taking his fingers in, the wet schlick sounds filling the room.

your cheeks flush, looking down at the way his fingers are making light work of you, your shirt hiked up to expose your breasts. with the pace increasing, and the way he's so sweetly purring filthy words into your ear. . . you feel a sensation start to build.

it's. . . new, almost uncomfortable but not quite. not the same as an orgasm but almost. it pools low in your belly, just a little out of reach.

but his fingers pick up again, slamming deep inside of you, curling just enough. his fingers circling your clit remain slow in contrast, creating a dizzying combination of sensations that have you clenching around him and calling out his name over and over in some desperate plea. desperation for him to continue, for the building feeling, for him, full stop.

the feeling returns. fuck, it almost feels like you need to piss. your cheeks flush, eyes rolling back as you fight back the feeling, but he's rubbing you and touching you and fucking you too good for you to hold anything back.

"logan," you gasp, arching your back, "l-logan wait-"

but it's too late, before he even has the chance to slow down, you squirt. your juices coat his hands, his fingers, dripping down along his arm and onto the sofa below earning a gasp from both of you.

his eyes widen, stopping his movements immediately causing you to whine at the sudden lack of friction.

then there's silence, save for the lewd wet dripping from the sofa onto the hardwood floor.

your head is reeling, did. . . did you just squirt? fuck, you'd never done that before. heart pounding, you swallow hard, instinctively wanting to apologise for the mess, "shit, sorry i-"

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers shakily before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "where were you hidin' that from me?" you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day as he talks into your ear.

"what?" you whisper.

he smirks, kissing your ear, "you didn't tell me you could make cute little messes like that, baby."

"i didn't know i could. . ." you admit, biting your lip as you feel the cool air of the room brush against your dripping sensitive core.

logan's eyes widen, the implication of your words nestling deep in his brain, and groin. he was the first ever to make you squirt, the first to make you feel so good that you couldn't help but make a mess for him. pride swells in his chest, manifesting in a low rumbling smug chuckle at the back of his throat.

". . .think you could make another mess for me?" he hums, his fingers on your clit slowly resuming their movements.

you whimper, the new sensation you experienced was foreign but surprisingly welcomed. you had no idea it felt that good, that you could ever do that. but logan has a way of coaxing everything out of you, cock and fingers playing you like an instrument he's mastered.

"don't know. . ." you mumble, suddenly feeling skittish.

it's then that his fingers start fucking you again, gliding in and out easily, your fluttering hole welcoming the movement. "you can, i know you can." he encourages, nibbling at your ear, "you'll be a good girl, you'll make another mess for me, won't you?"

fuck, his words. his fucking words. every single time they had you acting crazy, letting out sounds you didn't know you could make. and he drinks them in, drinks up all those sweet little sounds from that pretty little mouth of yours that he loves so much.

you simply nod, feeling his digits pumping rougher, curling to find that sweet sweet spot once more. you're not sure if you can even do it again, but logan seems pretty fucking set on making him gush for you at least once more.

he scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you, the motion making you whine with pleasure. but when he pushes in a third finger? that's when you really start screaming for him.

"that's more like it, huh?" he grins, breathing deeply through his nose from how hard he's working you, "just needed a bit more, cus' i know you like it thick baby, don't you? like it thick like my cock?"

you want to gasp, to react to his words, but your eyes are rolling back again, mouth stuck open in an 'o' shape as you feel that sensation build once more. your body is tensing, thighs clenching, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. subconsciously you hold your breath as if that'll help. he's got you right where he wants you, right where he knows you want to be.

seconds later you're gushing, more this time - it lands on the hardwood below with a crude splash and coats his hands nicely. logan laughs, a deep dirty laugh as you writhe. he gives a gentle slap to your clit, then a firmer one, causing more to spill from you along with some squeaks.

"there we go, good girl, what a good girl. . ." you can hear the smirk in his voice, the wide grin he's wearing, the smugness lacing every word that leaves his lips, "feels good to make a mess for me, doesn't it?"

you're breathless, panting, overwhelmed in the best way. and then he speaks again.

". . . i think you can handle one more." logan purrs, movements suddenly fast and hard. his fingers fuck deep into you, curling to hit your g-spot with each calculated thrust. the fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing in practiced circles sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.

you want it too, you'd give it to him over and over again, create messes all night long if your body let you.

god you'd do anything for him, especially in that moment, and how could you not? the way his fingers play with you, toy with you, slide into you. . .

"d-don't know if i can!" you admit, huffing, trying to get more air.

but he shakes his head, "yes you can." is all he says, firmly.

and he's right. moments later you feel it pooling in your belly once more, the accompanying orgasm approaching that threatens to throw you overboard. you're lost in a sea of sensations, stars in your vision, his voice in your ear the only anchor you have to reality. you let it guide you, until you're drenching his fingers and jeans once more, voice ringing out within his bedroom as his voice coaxes and praises you softly.

his fingers on your clit come together to slap down against you, each smack against your sensitive bundle of nerves causing more to spray. you're making such a big mess, his jeans are damp. he doesn't care. this is what he wants, and fuck, if you don't feel the best you've ever felt in your entire life. . .

he keeps going, his fingers steadily pumping into you roughly, desperate to get every last drop as he feels you clamp down around his fingers. you're moaning, gasping, gripping onto his arm for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. it's too much, but it's also perfect. logan watches on in deep satisfaction as you writhe on his lap, his bulge pressing against you above him, cock twitching and rock hard just from touching you.

as your body relaxes, so do his movements, slowing down. he glides his fingers in a few times, enjoying the slick sounds they make before pulling them from your still-fluttering hole. he lazily drifts his damp digits along your tummy, leaving a trail of wetness up to your chest until it finds your mouth.

you part your lips gladly, turning your head to look up at him through hooded lids as you take his fingers in your mouth. diligently, your tongue laps at his fingers, reeling at the taste of yourself on him, dripping from him.

"good girl, you're always so fuckin' good for me. . ." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he watches you, his free hand resting on your tummy. you enjoy the feeling of his large palm against you, making you feel comforted whilst also grounding you after that whirlwind of release.

you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, instead kissing along his fingers and down across the sensitive skin of his knuckles. a silent thank you, for making you feel so good.

logan watches keenly, growling quietly at the stirring in his groin. his eyes flash with something. you'd call it mischief.

your eyes flit up to his, knowing what he's thinking before he's even said it.

"wonder what else you can do. . ." he smirks, "keeping any other secrets from me?" logan asks as he rolls his hips against you, prompting you to feel how hard he is for you and you exhale, relaxing back against him.

it was funny, how he could always push you right to the edge when you think you're spent.

and yet have you craving more. . .

you grin, biting your lip, "wanna find out?"

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

So Much Love in Oklahoma

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.

a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies

also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33

masterlist | twisters masterlist

What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.

(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)

Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.

So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.

It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.

Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.

You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.

"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.

"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"

You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.

"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.

"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.

"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."

With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.

"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"

You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.

If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.

"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.

"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."

I got you.

You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.

You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.

He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.

You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.

And then suddenly - there's nothing.

It disappears within seconds.

There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.

You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.

"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."

He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.

You don't move an inch.

You can't move.

You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.

The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.

"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."

You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.

You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.

And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.

"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.

He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.

You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.

Empty.

"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.

"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."

You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.

You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.

You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.

All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.

"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."

The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.

"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."

"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."

He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.

"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."

He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.

Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-

"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:

"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"

His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.

"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.

"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?

He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.

"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.

It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.

You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.

Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.

You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.

"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.

"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"

Ah, right, that part.

Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.

"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."

"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.

"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."

You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?

The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.

"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.

"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."

More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.

"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.

He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.

"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.

"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."

You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.

"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."

...

A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.

You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.

"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.

"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.

"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"

He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.

God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.

"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.

"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"

...

Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.

Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.

"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."

She glances down at your bare legs.

"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.

"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.

"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.

You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.

"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.

"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."

Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).

"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."

...

Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.

Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.

In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.

You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.

"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"

"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."

She shakes her head and waves you off.

"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"

...

It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.

"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.

"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.

"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"

"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."

"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."

You have to snort at that.

"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."

...

When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.

"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.

"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.

"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.

"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."

They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".

You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.

But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.

"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.

"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."

"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.

...

The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.

A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.

You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.

"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.

"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."

She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.

"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."

"Really, mom?"

You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.

"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.

...

The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.

Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.

It's Tyler.

Tyler Owens.

"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.

You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.

"Hi", you echo.

His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.

Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.

"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.

"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."

Tyler chuckles.

"Seems like a great guy."

"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."

Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.

"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.

"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.

Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.

"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.

"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."

...

Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.

You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.

"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).

He looks almost bashful for a second.

"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."

Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.

"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.

"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."

...

It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.

You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.

"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.

"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.

"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."

So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.

"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."

You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.

"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."

You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.

You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.

"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.

"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."

You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.

"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.

"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.

"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.

Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-

You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.

You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.

"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.

"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."

"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."

When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.

"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.

"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.

It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.

And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.

Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.

"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."

"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.

It lasts maybe another two minutes.

"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.

"Thanks", you mutter.

"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.

"She likes you too."

It's the truth.

Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.

"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.

"Yep", you say.

That's it for that conversation.

You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.

"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.

"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."

You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.

You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.

Right into your kiss.

Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.

And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.

[lovelybucky1]

Oooohh i have a request!:

Playing “never have i ever” or something like that with logan and wade (maybe along the lines of a boring friday night with nothing else to do) and you admit to never having an orgasm by anyone but yourself

Flash forward you’re in logan’s arms and wade is eating the fuck out of your pussy, and then they switch 👀👀

i’ve written something similar two the second part here, but i love the never have i ever idea! // divider from @strangergraphics

boredom isn’t something heroes are used to. there’s always something happening somewhere, someone needing to be saved. but tonight, everything is quiet. the three of you were suspicious at first, but you checked every police scanner, news outlet, and all of your contacts and came up with nothing. the bad guys had decided to take an evening off, and now you were stuck with nothing to do.

you, wade, and logan all sit around in the living room with bottles of beer. you and wade stare at the mindless gameshow on tv while logan rests his eyes. you’re definitely bored, but wade is restless. it’s like he’s itching for something to do, like his body is physically unable to handle the inactivity.

“why don’t we play a game?” wade asks, startling logan awake.

the two of you look over at wade. “what kind of game?” you ask.

“i don’t know, ‘never have i ever?’”

logan rolls his eyes, then shuts them again. he’ll deny any “old man” comments, but he really is one. you elbow logan in the side and he opens them again.

“come on, it’ll be fun,” wade pleads.

“it’s not like we have anything better to do,” you say to logan. reluctantly, he agrees.

you reposition yourselves in the living room. you sit on the couch, leaned against the arm with your feet in logan’s lap, who sits on the other end. wade sits on the floor by the coffee table, his beer on the table without a coaster next to him.

“this is your game, wilson. you start,” logan says before taking a sip of his beer.

“no, don’t drink! you only drink if you’ve done the thing i say,” wade scoffs. how can logan be so old and still know nothing about fun? “okay, okay. never have i ever… gotten arrested.”

you furrow your eyebrows at him while logan takes a drink. you’re almost certainly wade has been arrested before. “i don’t think you’re playing this game right,” you say. “you have to say things you’ve never done.”

wade scoffs. “i haven’t been arrested, thank you very much. all the cops who’ve tried have mysteriously ended up with broken noses.”

you roll your eyes at him. “my turn now? never have i ever… cheated on a partner.”

both of them take drinks, wade with more shame than logan. ugh, men.

then it’s logan’s turn. “never have i ever worn a dress.”

you figure it’s targeted at you, just because logan’s a dick, but to your surprise, wade drinks too. logan raises his eyebrow at him, silently urging him to elaborate.

“you wish you saw that, huh, peanut?” he taunts instead. logan makes a face at that.

“i’m thankin’ god i didn’t have to.”

you play a couple more rounds, all three of you exchanging stories and sipping from your bottles. it takes a lot to get them drunk, but you’re starting to feel it. there’s a collection of empty bottles, mostly beer, but halfway through the game, wade decided to up the ante with some liquor.

it’s wade’s turn again and he says, “never have i ever been with two guys at once.”

he means it as a joke. he doesn’t expect anyone to drink. there’s no way logan would do something like that, and you’re too innocent. that’s why his eyes practically pop out of his head when you throw back the shot.

the game turned sexual a few rounds ago, but it was pretty mild stuff. talk about doing stuff in public, kinks, freaky shit like that. nothing as interesting as this.

both wade and logan turn their full attention to you, eager to hear this story.

“what?” you play dumb.

“two guys at once?” wade asks. you shrug.

“it wasn’t anything.”

“nah,” logan says, sounding interested for the first time all game. “you gotta tell us.”

you sigh. “it was a while ago. i met this couple at a bar and they said they were looking for a third. i had nothing better to do and they were both hot, so…” you trail off, shrugging again.

“give us the gory details. how’d you do it? daisy chain?eiffel tower? double cowgirl? triple spooning? come on, tell us,” wade rambles.

“you’re a fucking perv,” you tell him and he doesn’t deny it. “it was just normal dp.”

logan raises an eyebow. “that stands for double penetration,” wade tells him.

“i know that. i’m just wondering how you took it all,” logan says.

you’re used to this kind of talk from wade. the man thinks with his dick so much that you question if he even has a brain. you’re not, however, used to this from logan. he’s no prude, but he usually doesn’t participate in these kinds of conversations with wade.

“must’ve been a tight fit,” logan adds on.

you look between the men and their interested faces. you’re still pretty bored, the game having grown stale a while ago, and now you’re a tipsy. you want something exciting and right now, you’re feeling bold enough to persue it.

“do you wanna see?” you ask them.

wade and logan share a glance, but it only takes a second before they’re replying “yes” in unison.

[seumyo]

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ✰ 5:48

Bakugou’s in his third year of high school when he finally invites you over to his house. The reason? To finish a calculus project.

You’d think that after surviving through the hardships of being a hero-in-training together for three years, saving each other’s lives (more often you were the one being saved than doing the saving, really), and whatnot, he would’ve invited you sooner to his home (one could dream).

But this was Bakugou, after all.

And he knew that something was off the moment he left you to share a conversation with his mom while he went to get his books from his room—the greatest mistake he could have ever done because by the time he’s making his way back, Bakugou could hear you snickering to yourself.

Not a good sign.

“I’m not going to lie; you looked hideous when you were a baby,” you say, reading through Bakugou’s baby album.

Bakugou froze. He had absolutely no idea why his mother would cave in and give you the godforsaken album from when he was young, but of course she would’ve agreed with your request to see it if you did so much as mention it.

He dropped the books he’d grabbed from on top of his desk on top of the living room table before whipping his attention towards you, an indignant scoff escaping through his nose before he took a few slow, but heavy stomps over to you—practically snatching the album from your grasp when he’s within reach.

“Stop looking through those stupid pictures.”

“Hey! I wasn’t finished,” you reply with a frown. “You’re lucky my phone’s battery just died, or else I would’ve taken a billion photos.”

Bakugou’s jaw clenched slightly as he grumbled curses under his breath, trying to flip through the album in his hands to make sure you hadn’t managed to sneak a photo out—a small sigh of relief rolling off of his tongue to find that, luckily, it was still how his parents had done it.

He shot a glare over towards you, stuffing the album back into its original spot on one of the bookshelves, his nose crinkling as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Don’t care; tell anyone what you saw, and you’ll drop dead,” he tells you.

“Oh, but how could I not? That photo album’s like hitting the jackpot—so many super ultra rare photocards of you,” you gushed, blatantly disregarding his usual threat. “Come on, I wanna see the rest!”

“Absolutely not.” 

Bakugou knew the damn photos were in the back of the album. There were probably a handful of the ones where he was in the bathtub, butt-naked—a common photo in most photo albums he’s seen, at least. Other photos include when he was three years old and wore an All Might onesie for his birthday, pictures of him during his school recital where he was the prince, him with a bald haircut, and so much more blackmail material. 

It was humiliating, for goodness sake! And he knew you’d just tease him mercilessly if you saw it.

You’ll never let him live it down, so it’s best to deprive you of it.

“Don’t come at me for saying this, but I was the cutest baby in our village back then,” you told him proudly. “Had the roundest cheeks and brightest smile, trust.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, a huff of air forcing itself past his lips. That was one thing about you that he couldn’t stand; you were so full of yourself most of the time—you’d always been like that, and he absolutely loathed it. It could be that it reminds him of himself, so the competitive meter on his head just flares whenever he’s around you.

“I doubt you were even 1% of how adorable I was as a baby.”

“Have you seen me?” you gestured to your face with your hands to emphasize your facial features. 

“I’m still as cute even now. And no offense, Bakugou,” you giggled, “you looked like a wrinkly raisin on your first few days on this Earth.”

Bakugou’s smirk dropped. He’d almost forgotten that you had seen the stupid pictures already.

“Shut the hell up. It wasn’t that bad.” He muttered quietly, his hands balling into frustrated fists. His parents always assured him that he was a cute kid when he was small—but to hear that YOU of all people, are in disagreement with that is just aggravating.

“Fine, fine. Quits it is,” you hum. “Let’s do that calculus project so I can get home before sunset.”

Bakugou grumbled something inaudible under his breath, reluctantly nodding his head in agreement. There was no point in arguing about something so idiotic—after all, both of you were there to get a project done, not to sit around and bicker about his past.

He took a few steps over to the living room table before plopping down on the polished floor ungracefully, yanking out his notes before he gestured his hand over towards the free space next to him.

“Sit down. Let’s just get this thing done and over with already.”

Bakugou had already started working silently by the time you sat down; his hand was writing almost furiously as he copied equations onto his paper. He kept his attention focused on his notes, trying to stay quiet as he focused completely on completing the project.

He eventually stopped writing for a moment, turning his gaze over to glance at what you were doing before clicking his tongue at the sight. Bakugou could already see a few mistakes you’d made with your work.

“You’re doing it wrong,” he says.

“Wait, I’ve barely turned on the calculator, jeez.” You shook your head, solving the equation through your calculator.

“And that’s how I know you’re doing it wrong.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his own head in disappointment. 

“Formula first before adding 1.3.”

He pulled out a pen and began scribbling down on his own paper, glancing at yours every once in a while to compare the work. He knew from his experience that you were decent at math (he’d rather die than tell you that), but this was just pitiful even by your standards.

“Have you been dozing off during Ectoplasm’s class?”

“Ouch. Do you have a personal grudge against keeping the not-so-nice stuff from leaving your mouth?” you sigh. “You’re hurting my feelings— I’m devastated.”

He had a feeling you’d say something like that, and he was prepared to ignore your attempts at gaining sympathy from him.

“Unfortunately, you’ll fucking live,” Bakugou says, scribbling down the last of his work before turning it towards you. “And learn how to solve equations too, while you’re at it.”

“I know how to do it; calm down.” You huff, rewriting your solutions.

Bakugou raised a skeptical eyebrow, his head tilting with a hint of disbelief. Even if he knew you were capable of doing math, you had a bad habit of missing even the smallest details, like the operation to be used in your work, leading to the wrong answers.

His eyes scanned over the work you’d written on your paper before letting out a small huff. “Looks right. Are you done with your half?”

“Yep, yep. Are you going to write it down on our answer sheet, or should I do it?” you offered.

Bakugou glanced down at the answer sheet set to the side before picking it up and nodding. He was already holding a pen while you were still using a pencil, so it would make more sense for him to be the one to write it all down.

He began copying down the answers slowly and carefully, each number being written out with ease as his eyes flicked back and forth from the worksheet to the sheet of answers.

With him busy jotting down the answers, you occupied yourself with taking in the interior of his living room. It was beautiful, neat, and just screamed rich—not really what you expected (you really didn’t know what to expect, honestly). “Y’know,” you mention, glancing around. “You have a nice house.”

Bakugou hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes remaining focused on his task. It kind of took him by surprise to hear you say something out of the blue—about his house, no less. He’d fully expected you to talk about something else, like school or that new show you’ve been begging him to watch.

It went against what Bakugou had originally thought, which led him to look over at you from the corner of his eye, silently raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a nice house,” he said casually, his pen continuing to move over the paper. His penmanship was neat, and Bakugou hears you in awe. 

Bakugou continued to finish writing down the last of the answers, his eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed you looking around his house. It was obvious what was happening, but he decided to ignore it in favor of just getting the godforsaken project done.

He finished soon enough, his pen rolling back with a click before he leaned back a little and let out a small huff. “We’re done. Finally.”

“Nice, nice.” Glancing at your watch, you concluded, “I should get home.”

Bakugou was silent, rolling his shoulders and neck before glancing out of the nearby window. The sun had already begun to set over the sky, the day quickly slipping away into the night.

“Yeah, whatever. You need me to walk you home or something?” He asks gruffly.

“Nah, I’m good. I need to say goodbye to your parents, too.”

Bakugou watched as you packed up all of your belongings, a scoff rolling off of his tongue. It felt almost weird to be civil with each other, neither of you having taken jabs or making snarky remarks to taunt one another. 

“Alright, fine,” he finally said, standing up from his seat and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Let’s go find my parents then.”

He led you down the hall and into the kitchen area, his ears vaguely picking up the sounds of his mother and father talking amongst themselves about… something. He couldn’t tell what exactly, and frankly, he barely even cared.

“Mom, Dad.” He spoke up, capturing the attention of his parents. 

Mitsuki looked over at him, a smile spreading across her face. Masaru looked in the same direction, a warm smile forming on his face as well.

“Thank you for having me, Mr. and Mrs. Bakugou,” you said in gratitude. “I’ll be going home now before it gets too late.”

His parents shared a hum in acknowledgment, with his mother being the one to speak up first. She had a knowing grin on her face as she clasped her hands together, her eyes flickering over to her son.

“You’re welcome. You should come over more often,” Mitsuki said enthusiastically, her voice taking on a slightly smug tone.

Masaru laughed as he nodded in agreement. He gave a knowing look to his wife before he looked back over at you. “You should join us for dinner; we already made enough for you to join us.”

“I’d love to, sir, but my folks are waiting for me at home,” you answered sheepishly.

Bakugou noticed the glance his parents exchanged and immediately knew what they were thinking. He almost grumbled in frustration, already knowing that they’d ask him about you later after you left.

His mother spoke up once again, her smug grin growing wider. “You’re always welcome here,” she repeated, her eyes flickering over to her son as her voice came out teasing. “After all, Katsuki’s always in a ‘better’ mood when you’re around.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it, ma'am. I’m a joy to be around, after all,” you lightly joked, though you still maintained a respectful tone.

His parents were easier to get along with than you thought.

Bakugou’s eye twitched in annoyance at your words, almost making him want to quip back at your cocky behavior. However, it was the sound of his mother’s sudden laughter that stopped him from doing so.

Mitsuki mother put her hand up to her mouth briefly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she continued to chuckle. The expression on her face was elated, and it was pissing him off even more, knowing what’s to come. 

“I like this one,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

Masaru added, “And clearly, so does Ka—“

“All right! They need to get going to catch the shitty train.”

By the time Bakugou accompanied you to the door, he had this obvious scowl on his face. “You’re never comin’ back here again, dipshit.”

“Wha— no fair! Why am I getting banned from the Bakugou residence when this is my first time here?” you replied.

“Shut up,” he grunts. “I could do whatever the hell I want because it’s my house, too.”

“Too bad I have your Mom’s number—“

“Delete that.”

“Hey— wai— no way!”

It was not the last time you were ever invited to the Bakugou residence.

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[imaginedisish]

I'm Not In Love (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: Okay, so this if my first fic in over a year, and it's also my first Wolverine fic...so please be kind. I'm just getting back into the groove. Expect it to possibly be a little rough. This is big time inspired by "I'm Not In Love" by 10cc. This fic is also thanks to a request I got from an anonymous user! Thanks for the idea, anon! Hope it's okay! Enjoy guys.

Summary: After harboring a crush on Logan for months, things finally come to a head while on an overnight mission.

Warnings: SMUT. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. There's like no plot here just smut, Unprotected PIV sex (wrap it up), Oral (f!receiving), AFAB reader, Sizekink!(this was a specific size kink request, and so the reader is therefore described as being smaller than Logan/his shirt being big on her), cursing, praise kink, OOC!Logan (just putting this out there because I haven't seen the X-Men movies/read X-Men comics in forever and I'm probably giving him terms he doesn't use/having him act in ways he might not typically), feelings, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan, one bed muahaha, probably grammar errors, think that's it?

Word Count: 3,162 I got carried away

He was driving you absolutely crazy. Logan. Logan fucking Howlett, with his cocksure attitude and self-satisfied smile. Maybe it’s the way he thinks he’s always right. Maybe it’s that stupid stubbornness, that prowl he does when he walks across a room to meet you. To mock you. His whole being towering over you—his musky, pine-scented cologne filling your lungs. He’s everywhere—and not just metaphorically—literally and physically. His giant frame shadows yours, and you can’t help but admit that there’s something about it…something about him. 

You want him. Bad. And although you won’t admit it, you’ve wanted him for months. And so, as of lately, he’s not so much a nuisance as much as he’s a distraction. 

You just had to be sent on this mission with Logan—this ridiculous two-day stake-out that you could have done on your own. You’re certainly strong enough; your telekinetic powers and regenerative abilities are enough to handle any situation. And yet, here you are, walking up to a motel with Logan fucking Howlett. 

His frame practically consumes yours as he stands behind you on the sidewalk. You swear you can feel the ghost of his fingertips against your waist, impatient and ready to guide you forward. You silently wish he would—wish he would grab your hips and take you down that alleyway and—

“You okay, darlin’?” His voice is gruff against the shell of your ear. “You seem awfully distracted.”

You swallow your embarrassment and hope he won’t pick up on how fast your heart is beating. “I’m fine, just tired,” you mutter, lying straight through your teeth. You can feel his smirk against the side of your head. He has to know what he’s doing. He has to know how much you want him. 

He chuckles and his chest vibrates against your back. “Too tired for the mission, bub? We’re almost at the motel, don’t worry.” The condescension in his voice is palpable. He knows exactly how to get under your skin. You’re putty in his hands. 

He steps out from behind you, and before you can mourn the loss of the contact, he grabs your hand and leads the way through the doors of the motel. “This okay?” He whispers in your ear, his massive hand giving your smaller one a squeeze. All you can manage is a nod as you approach the front desk. You know it’s just to support your cover—you and Logan are posing as a married couple—but you can’t help but hope it means more. You need it to mean more. 

God, you are so fucked. 

You’re so distracted thinking about how close Logan is to you that you almost miss the moment when the worker at the front desk says the only room left has just one bed. 

You crane your head to look up at Logan, who you find is already looking down at you. 

“That’s perfect,” he says, his eyes still on you. His stare doesn’t budge as the man behind the front desk slides the key towards the two of you. Logan grabs the keys and finally breaks the moment. His hand is still holding yours as he navigates the two of you toward your motel room. 

The room is…small. There’s one queen bed in the center, a bathroom on the other side of the room, and an old box television resting on an even older-looking oak dresser. On the bright side, the place appears to be clean. 

“I should freshen up,” you say, taking off your shoes. Your hand slips out of Logan’s as you pad over to the bathroom with your bag. 

The bathroom isn’t horrible either. Dated, but clean. You brush your teeth and wash your face before undressing and searching for your pajamas in your bag—which, naturally, you forgot to pack. 

“Ah fuck,” You mutter louder than you meant to. 

You hear Logan stirring in the other room, his footsteps quickly approaching the door. “You okay?” You can sense the concern in his voice, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Yeah, just forgot to pack something to wear to bed.” There’s more shuffling on the other side of the door. You hear Logan’s bag zip. 

“You want my shirt?” He asks, standing just outside the door now. 

“I’d feel bad, then you—” Your protests are ignored as he opens the door just enough to toss his Calgary Flames t-shirt onto the bathroom sink, closing it tightly once the shirt lands. You smirk as you walk over to the shirt and put it on. The hem lands at the middle of your thighs. Logan really is massive, you think to yourself. 

You take a deep breath, slowly twist the knob of the bathroom door, and head outside. Logan is lounging on the chair next to the dresser, his eyes on you as you place your bag down on the floor at the foot of the bed. 

“Th-thanks for the…” You stutter, trailing off as you nod down to the shirt. 

Logan smirks as he pushes himself out of the chair and makes his way toward you. You think you see him take you in, look you up and down, but that can’t possibly be.

He shakes his head as he stops at your side. You swear you hear him mutter a low fuck under his breath. “You look good.” But he doesn’t stop for long. He pushes forward and into the bathroom. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he mumbles as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Let’s just share the bed,” you shout back, unsure of where the confidence to say that came from. But there’s no response, just the running of water from the sink. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for what feels like forever, but Logan doesn’t take long at all. After a few minutes, you hear the sink shut off and the door creek open. 

You shake your head as you stand from the bed to face him. “By the way, you’re not sleeping on the floor, don’t be ridic—” You’re too stunned to say another word. You’ve seen Logan shirtless before, sure, but not like this. Not in just his boxers. Not in a room with him, alone, for an entire night. You need to relax, to calm down, but there’s nowhere else to go, and nothing else to look at. You know he can your heart beating out of your chest now. 

 He steps toward you, engulfing you with his presence. You stare up at him. “Am I really that scary?” He closes the distance between the two of you. 

You try to play dumb. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Every time I get close to you, that little heart of yours practically explodes.”

You swallow roughly. “I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, Logan.” But your shaky voice gives it away. You know exactly what he means. 

His arms snake around your waist, resting on your lower back. “Yeah, you do, darlin’,” he says. “You afraid of me or something?” God he is so fucking cocky, you think to yourself. 

“’M’not afraid of you,” you whisper. “Could never be afraid of you.” 

He smiles and walks you to the edge of the bed, your knees threatening to buckle under the pressure. “What is it then, hm? You like how big I am? That it?” Your eyes frantically search his face for some sort of excuse, some sort of denial. But he can read you like a book. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” He’s towering over you, caging you in. 

“It’s more than that,” you admit. 

He cocks his head to the side. “Oh yeah? What?” He won’t let that be enough—you know he won’t. He’ll tease it out of you. His presence is dizzying and distracting. You’re not even sure you can form another complete sentence. 

“I-it’s just you,” you finally choke out. 

But it’s not enough for him. “What about me?”

Everything, you want to say. You want to tell him how you feel. “Logan, I…” But you can’t. I’m not in love, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself of for months.  

“Go on, say it. What’s got you going?” He tightens his grip around your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently along your back. He leans down, his lips brushing against your forehead. “Use your words, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes flutter shut, and you take a deep breath. He’s everything and he’s everywhere. He’s in your head and in your hands. You can smell the musk and the pine and a hint of mint and that extra thing that is just distinctly him. He’s warm and his breath ever-so-lightly tickles your ear as his forehead rests against yours. 

And then finally, it comes out.

“I want you, Lo.”

You open your eyes and immediately notice the change in his expression. That cocky grin is gone. He isn’t teasing anymore. This is something else. Want. No, stronger than that. Desire. Adoration. Longing. Like those four words undid something in him. Untangled some knot that had been there for far too long. Almost like he thought you maybe wouldn’t want this. That maybe someone wouldn’t want him. 

So, you say it again. “I want you, Logan.” 

He shuts his eyes. “Fuck.” 

And then he’s pushing you down onto the mattress. His lips find their way to yours, crashing like the world is about to end. You can feel his hunger, his desperation. He rests one hand next to your head for balance and slips his free hand underneath the shirt he lent you. He’s exploring the curves of your body, the dips and turns, eventually pulling the shirt up and over your head. 

He comes up for air as his fingers play with the clasp of your bra. You watch his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. “This okay?” He asks, waiting for your approval. You nod and the hooks are immediately undone. You arch your back so he can slip the bra off. “Fuck, pretty girl,” he mumbles. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands find their way to your chest, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing you, pinching lightly. 

“Lo, please. Need you,” is all you can say. 

He trails a line of kisses down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, the center of your chest, his mouth traveling achingly slowly until finally landing on one of your tits. He kisses your nipple before taking it into his mouth, biting lightly and licking the hurt away. 

“Please,” you beg again. 

He comes up for a moment. “Please what?” He asks before moving on to the other side. 

“Need you so bad,” You whimper. But he doesn’t stop. “N-need you to touch me.”

He pauses again. “Think I’m already doing that, darlin’. Gonna have to be more specific.” 

“Fuck me, please.”  

He shakes his head. “Wanna make you feel good first, pretty girl.” 

You sit up a bit, ready to protest. “But you are. You’re making me feel so—” You’re cut off by the sight of him staring up at you as he trails kisses down your stomach, stopping at the top of your panties. He grabs your hips and pushes you further into the center of the bed. His fingers slip under the hem of your panties, waiting for your approval. You nod, and he practically tears them right off you. 

Logan kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly charting a path toward your core, his thumb tracing circles on the other thigh. You’re already squirming under his touch. “Lo,” You whimper. “Please—Fuck!” Without warning, his tongue licks a long stripe up your folds to your clit. His lips lock around it, sucking softly, his fingers suddenly teasing your entrance before slipping a finger inside.

“So tight darlin’. Gonna feel so good,” he mumbles against you, the vibrations of his deep voice sending a jolt up your spine. 

He’s taking his time, tasting you, savoring you. His tongue laps at your cunt, licking slow circles as his finger pumps in and out. You need more.

“Lo,” You call out, your back arching in pleasure. But he doesn’t answer. He keeps going as if he’s gotten lost in you, as if there’s nothing that can possibly be said to bring him back. “Lo, please,” you moan again. 

He chuckles against your core. “Please what, pretty girl?” He mumbles. You can feel his smirk against you.

“M-more,” you beg. You can feel his smirk grow wider as his motions stall. “No don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

He looks up at you, his finger buried deep inside your cunt, his lips just inches from your clit. “Wanna take my time with you, darlin’.”

“Y-you c-can,” You stutter. “W-whatever you want. Just need more.”

“More?” He repeats, arrogantly tilting his head. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Yes, please.” But you know by the look in his eyes that you’re getting more than you bargained for. 

He adds another finger, pumping in and out faster than before. His lips latch onto your clit, sucking roughly. It’s overwhelming, and you know he isn’t going to let up. His tongue draws circles around your core, flicking harshly before ruthlessly sucking again. You can feel a third finger prodding your entrance before slipping in and stretching you out. 

“This what you wanted?” He teases.

“Lo, I—” It’s too much, you can’t speak. 

“I’ve got you darlin’. I’m right here. You’re doing so good for me.” His words by themselves practically send you over the edge. 

“’M’so close Logan,” You whimper, spurring him on. His pace quickens; his circles become harder. You can feel your walls tightening around his fingers. 

“I know, pretty girl. Wanna feel you come on my fingers. Can you do that for me?” 

You can’t even speak anymore. All you can manage is a hum that passes for an affirmative. He pumps in and out of you, still alternating between sucking your clit and circling it with his tongue. 

“Look so beautiful like this darlin’. So fucking beautiful,” He husks. And that’s all it takes to make that liquid heat, that tension building in the bottom of your stomach, cut like a knife, pouring out of you. Your vision blurs as you let yourself go. You chant his name like it’s a prayer, a spell, something otherworldly. He finally slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm. 

He pulls out and away from you, crawling up your body so that he’s on top of you. He’s absolutely huge; his arms rest next to your head, caging you in. “You alright sweetheart?” He asks, one hand coming up to cup your cheek as he presses a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

“Hm,” You hum. “Like you like this.”

There’s that cocky smirk again. “Like what?”

“O-on top of me,” You admit freely now. Your arms come up to wrap around his shoulders, but he quickly pins them above your head.

He smiles widely, his forehead coming down to rest on yours. You can feel his erection press against your core through his boxers. And—fuck—he’s big. “Gonna fuck you like this then, okay pretty girl?”

“P-please,” you stutter. 

He sits up, pulling his boxers down, revealing just how big he is. You swallow harshly, sitting up and watching as he casts his boxers to the side. He doesn’t let you watch for long. He pins you down again, one hand keeping your hands above your head and supporting his weight, while the other guides his cock to your entrance. His slides against your folds before slowly sinking inside you. You can’t help but arch your back to meet his chest. 

Everything is slow. He’s taking his time again, letting himself feel every inch of you, giving you the chance to adjust to the size of him. His free hand reaches in between your bodies and finds your clit, drawing slow, gentle circles. 

His forehead rests against yours as he thrusts into you. “Wanted this for so long,” he confesses, his thrusts growing faster. “Always wanted you, darlin’.” You can feel your heart burst in your chest as his lips meet yours. You can feel his hunger, his desire. 

“Wanted you too,” You whisper against his lips between kisses. 

His cock rubs against your walls, hitting that sweet spot every single time. He’s massive, stretching you out with each pump. He builds speed, his thrusts growing rougher as his fingers circle your clit faster. 

He whispers praises in your ear. “You feel so good, pretty girl. So fucking tight. Need you, darlin’. Always.” 

Always. 

It’s all too much. The words, the vulnerability, the feeling of him rutting into you with no end in sight. The promise of something else, something more. 

“Logan, I’m gonna…” You trail off, your walls tightening around him. It’s all so overwhelming. But if you’re being honest, you never want it to end. This. This feeling. Him inside you. Him around you. 

He curses under his breath, his thrusts becoming sloppier and faster as he chases his orgasm. “I know darlin’. Wanna feel you come on my cock.” He keeps his fingers steady on your clit, circling roughly, chasing your orgasm too. 

“Lo,” You mumble. “It’s so good. Y-you’re so good, so b-beautiful.” You’re a bumbling mess, but you want him to feel good too, to know what he’s doing to you, to know that he deserves this. Deserves to be wanted. 

You feel wetness on his cheeks as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Always wanted you,” he whispers again against the shell of your ear. “Always gonna want you.” 

The tension snaps, and you feel blaring white heat ripple through your body. Logan somehow buries himself deeper inside you as you come, your walls squeezing him tighter. 

“F-fuck,” he groans. “Where do you want—”

You cut him off this time. “Inside, please,” you pant. “Safe.” He curses under his breath and calls out your name as he fills you up. 

“So perfect,” he whispers. “So fucking perfect.”

His thrusts slow down as he finishes, and he slowly pulls out of you. But he doesn’t pull away. He keeps you close, moving you both towards the headboard. It takes a minute, but he manages to keep you close to his chest as he undoes the covers and gets you both inside them. 

Logan holds you tightly, peppering kisses against your temples every now and then. 

He’s the first to speak. “When I said always…” He trails off. You brace yourself for the worst. It was just the heat of the moment, bub. ‘M’sorry I said it. This shouldn’t happen again. It was a one-time thing and I—

“I meant it.”

You look up at him, eyes wide. He smiles. But it’s not that cocky smile, not that self-satisfied shit-eating grin. It’s that other thing again. Longing. 

“I meant it, too.” 

tags: @cypherpt5fttaehyung