#but he was so kind with her and she settled so well after that

[dahlibae]

COME HOME WITH ME.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — Wanda brought you home to meet her parents for the first time this Christmas, but for some reason, the woman is unable to keep her hands off you.

warning(s) — christmas drabble: age gap couple, alternative universe, mistletoe kisses, older!wanda, smut(?), nipple sucking, teasing (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The windshield wipers swiped rhythmically against the steady drizzle of snow as Wanda drove down the winding road towards her childhood home. The air inside the car was warm, the scent of fresh pine from a little tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror mixing with the lingering aroma of cinnamon from the hot chocolate you shared at the last rest stop. Wanda sat beside you, her gloved hand that wasn’t focused on driving the vehicle occasionally pointed out landmarks from her past—a diner she swore made the best cherry pie, the park where she and Pietro used to sled down the biggest hill, and the bridge where she'd once dared him to climb to the top… all for him to fall off and break his arm.

Her voice softened when she spoke about her parents. “They’ll love you.” She said, more to herself than to you, but you caught the edge of nervousness in her tone. She hadn’t brought home a partner since Vision – her ex husband – and you were, well, nothing like him. For one, you were a woman and her parents weren’t even aware of their daughter’s sexuality. And two, you were quite younger than her. You reached over, resting a hand on hers. She gave you a quick smile before looking back out the window.

The sky dimmed as she turned onto a long, snow-covered driveway lined with bare trees. At the end of it stood a cozy two-story house, its windows glowing golden against the winter evening. A wreath decorated the front door, and string lights framed the roofline, casting a cheerful, twinkling light over the yard. Wanda inhaled deeply as she parked, then turned to you.“Ready?” She asked, her voice almost teasing. You nodded, though your heart thudded nervously.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The warmth of the house embraced you immediately as you stepped inside, the scent of freshly baked cookies and coffee filling the air. Wanda’s mother - Iryna - greeted you with a hug that was surprisingly strong for her petite frame, her Sokovian accent making her words feel like a soft melody. Her - Olek - father shook your hand firmly, his eyes kind yet probing. He was staggeringly tall, even taller than her twin brother who must’ve been over six foot. It was clear Wanda took after him the most. Pietro wasn’t far behind, slapping you on the back with a grin that matched Wanda’s when she was up to something mischievous. You had met him before. He had came over to Wanda’s house one day, not expecting his sister to have anyone over, but found you… underneath her.

In no time, you were sat on the couch, a little overwhelmed but charmed by Wanda’s mother after she had led you deeper into the living room, already firing off a million questions. Wanda was sitting next to you, her hand occasionally brushing against yours as she joined in on her mother’s conversation with you, before she was whisked away, leaving you defenceless against her mother.

Pietro had been mischievous all evening. Every so often, you’d catch him whispering to Wanda or their dad before smirking in your direction. You figured he was just enjoying teasing his sister about bringing someone home for the holidays, and him being the only person in the room to know prior to Christmas.

You had finally settled in once Wanda had made her way back to your side, when Pietro suddenly appeared, a gleam in his eye. In his hand was a sprig of mistletoe, held high above you both. "Look at this!" He announced, drawing everyone’s attention. "A little holiday magic, right here!"

Your face went warm immediately, and you caught Wanda's eye. She looked equally surprised, her cheeks flushed. Her parents chuckled softly, sharing a knowing glance.

"Pietro.” Wanda warned, her tone half-amused, half-exasperated.

"But, sis, it’s tradition!" He declared, unapologetic, holding the mistletoe steady above the two of you. "You wouldn’t want to break tradition now, would you?"

You glanced at Wanda, unsure of what to do. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the noise of the room seemed to fade. Then, before you could think too much, she leaned in. Her hands cupped your cheeks, and her lips pressed softly against yours. The kiss was gentle but sure; family friendly and yet still managed to send warmth spreading through you like the glow of the fire.

When she pulled back, her eyes lingered on yours, a mix of shyness and confidence in her expression. Around you, the room erupted in playful cheers, Pietro’s laughter loudest of all.

“Guess you really like tradition, sis. He teased, earning a glare from Wanda that only made him laugh harder.

Her mother chimed in, her voice warm. “It’s good to see you happy, my love.”

“Thank you, Mama.” Wanda voiced before reaching for your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours as she leaned closer, ignoring Pietro’s continued antics. “Sorry about him,” she murmured, her voice just for you, “he lives for chaos.”

You smiled, squeezing her hand. “I don’t mind.”

She tilted her head, studying you for a moment before breaking into a soft smile. “Good,” she said, her voice almost a whisper, before she placed another quick kiss to your lips.

Afterwards, dinner was a whirlwind of laughter, clinking glasses, and stories that made Wanda groan and bury her face in her hands. You noticed how her family’s teasing only made her more endearing, her cheeks permanently flushed pink with a mix of embarrassment and affection. A reaction you’d rarely see with the older woman. By the time dessert was served, you felt more at ease, the initial nervousness melting away as Wanda reached under the table to squeeze your hand.

Later that night, after the dishes had been cleared and her family had gone to bed, you found yourself in Wanda’s old room. It was smaller than you expected, the walls painted a soft lavender and adorned with faded posters of bands and movies from her teenage years. You wouldn’t admit it to the woman but some of these bands you had no clue of. A small Christmas tree sat in the corner, its ornaments mismatched but charming, clearly a collection built over the years. She sat cross-legged on the bed, watching you with a soft smile as you took in the space. “It’s weird being back here,” she admitted, “so much has changed, but this room... it’s like time stood still.”

You nodded, moving to sit beside her. “It’s nice,” you said honestly. “It feels like you.”

Her smile widened as she leaned against your shoulder. The house was quiet now, save for the faint creaks of the old wood settling, the muffled sound of wind outside and the series coming from her brother’s room. For a moment, you simply sat there, soaking in the stillness, the glow of the little tree casting a soft light across the room. “Thank you for coming,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It means a lot to me.”

You turned to her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Baby, no, stop, we’ll get caught.” You whispered, voice barely audible over the TV show playing in the background. Your hands hovered over her waist, unsure whether to pull her closer or gently push her away. Now, she was straddling your lap, her warm breath fanning against the crook of your neck. Her lips, teasing as usual, trailed wet kisses down to your collarbone, sending shivers coursing through your body. You bit your lip to keep from making a sound, every nerve in your body screaming at you to give in to her touch.

“Wanda.” You pleaded again, though your voice lacked conviction, and your hands had finally settled on her waist, fingertips brushing against the soft material of her open blouse. She chuckled softly, the sound low and sultry, vibrating against your skin.

"What’s the matter, baby?" She murmured, voice dripping with mischief. She nipped at your pulse, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to make your breath hitch. "Afraid someone will hear?"

You tilted your head back against the headboard, your gaze darting toward the door. It was closed, but the faint sound of her brother’s TV reminded you just how thin the walls were. "We’re in your parents' house.” You hissed, though your grip on her waist tightened as she rolled her hips into yours again.

"And?" She teased, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. Her green ones sparkled with a mix of amusement and desire, a smirk playing on her lips. Her red hair was slightly tousled, and the glow of the fireplace painted her cheeks a soft pink.

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling under her gaze. “And you know I can’t keep quiet.” You pouted, hoping to win some sympathy from her - it usually worked.

“Aw, that’s okay.” She leaned back and you thought you had won, until you noticed her reaching for her remote to turn the volume of her TV up. “I can just help you keep quiet.” She leaned in once again, brushing her nose against yours, her breath warm against your lips. Before you could protest further, her lips claimed yours in a heated kiss - much more intense than the last. Your hands moved of their own accord, sliding up her back and pulling her closer as her hips rocked harder against yours.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Look at me, princess.”

You were laid on your back. Your clothes and bra long forgotten as they were flung from your body and onto the floor next to hers. You felt Wanda shift from beside you, her body no longer pressed against yours, as her hands began to push your legs apart, placing herself between them. It didn’t take long for her fingers to find you, making slow circles against you through your soaked panties. “Is this what you want?” She asked, but you couldn’t respond, too wrapped up in the pleasure of her fingers and the sight of her breasts pooling over her bra.

She took your silence as an answer.

“No? You don’t?” Her fingers slowed, now trailing up and down, just missing your clit.

“No, please!” You cried out, hips bucking into her touch. “I mean, I- please, Wands.”

She shushed you, leaning over to place soft soothing kisses against your lips. “It’s okay, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Need you to touch me.” You replied without a breath, no longer concerned if her family heard you or not. She pressed her lips firmer against yours, tongue softly stroking against yours as she hummed her approval into your mouth.

“Okay, princess. Remember to stay quiet, okay? We don’t want to wake anyone up.” You felt your body clench at her words, as her head ducked, tongue swiping against your nipple, she has sucked between her lips.

“My good girl,” she mumbled, your nipple pulled from between her teeth as she switched to the other. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” You managed to say between whines.

Wanda rewarded you by pulling your panties down, fingers rolling tight circles around your nerves until you came with her name spilling from your lips, and into her curls, as she held you in her arms.

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

[hvbris]

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"Oh, you can laugh if I fall," she replied with a little wink, "that's how sure I am that I won't fall." It was a big tree, but it had a lot of branches, and she had climbed bigger and taller trees before. "I'll teach you how to climb trees if you want, city boy." A final grin, and with that she started her ascension.

It was indeed relatively easy, though she was of course careful -but only because she couldn't fall now. Killian would never let her live it down. And after the crossbow fiasco, well, she was eager to show off a little bit. Once she was up on the right branch, she waved in his direction -she was just a little bit smug about it. "Maybe I should join your crew, Robin Hood."

Yes, Violet thought that Sloane would have made a good teacher. Not just because he was a great actor -though he was. But he was also patient and kind. He listened and praised her, and made her feel confident about her own abilities. No wonder her dad had seen him as a mentor. It was so easy to trust him. He was like an oak tree -big, strong, and reassuring. But Violet remembered a story her brother had told her once. The oak and the reed. The oak seemed indestructible, but in the face of a storm, it snapped in two.

She turned a brighter shade of red as he praised her more. "We made a good team," she concluded with a shy smile. "You're right, he probably feels good now. And he was very nice." But the Sloane she knew would probably not have bothered -or cared- about making this man feel good about himself, about doing a good deed. He would have stolen the key, perhaps even killed him. She Sloane she knew had already snapped in two.

"Should I go to your office to get the crossbow, and then get settled in the room?" She supposed he would be joining Killian and Samantha, now. The sun had set, it was time.

Killian left Samantha with some space but he was sure to look to her patiently when she sat down and dried her eyes. It must have been horrifying but in a way he felt moved that she had told him in the first place. At least now he knew and if needed knew what to look out for in case it was an especially difficult mission for Samantha.

It was back to business fairly fast though and Killian nodded as she gave her instructions. Looking up to the tree she was talking about and to that first branch. Looked easy enough, right? He was quietly glad when she said she would climb though, he didn't want to embarrass himself if he couldn't climb it, he'd never live that down.

"Sure, you get yourself up there, I'll watch and promise not to laugh if you fall." He smiled but knew she would be fine, Samantha was good at such things after all, he didn't think it would be much of a bother for her. Meanwhile he went to collect one of the pullies to be ready.

The continued rouse was only made stronger with Violet's reply and Sloane was very pleased she knew to keep it going. What an incredibly bright young lady! They were finally able to break character and she was blushing at the praise. "Ah, I think I would have been well suited to such a career," Sloane agreed for his prospects as a drama teacher.

"But I can only reflect the energy of my co-star and there was much of that which you improvised and made much better." Further praise as they walked back towards his office. "He probably feels like he has done a good deed too," Sloane thought out loud with a glance back in the direction of the admin office. "I think if we can do little things, like cheering up such people under these circumstances, it will make a difference. Not to mention help us out if we need another friend if things get a little tough." A man with all the keys was a good friend to have!

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 2

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization

Author's Note: My gorl, @lostintransist, needed more so I'm gonna write more.

"I'm so sorry, sir, but we don't allow full face coverings on the property," the beta female worker - Jenny, according to her name tag - informs Simon.

"I'm not wandering around without a mask of some kind," he grumbles in response. When the woman doesn't back down, but keeps smiling weirdly up at him, he sighs and rolls his shoulders. "Fine," he conceeds.

Without another word, he turns while fishing a black surgical mask from his hoodie pocket. He swaps his balaclava for the surgical mask as quickly as he can then turns back around to face her. Jenny looks ready to protest again when another beta worker - male this time - rests his hand on her shoulder.

"I'll take it from here, Jen. Go check on the omegas in the medical wing. New arrivals," he smiles warmly at her and nods.

Jenny's smile falters for a moment but it returns and she nods then walks off.

"Nice to meet you, mate. I'm Frank. Welcome to Salvation's Whitestable location. What can we do for you?"

After going through the legalities and paperwork, Simon was able to set up an appointment to meet the omegas in the facility. The soonest they were willing to schedule such was the following week. Something about not wanting to "overload the omegas since so many are curious about them and want to take them in."

It made sense on the surface, but it didn't settle quite right with Simon. Nothing he could truly do about it, though, so he signed what was needed and waited until the agreed upon day.

It'd been about a week since we'd had any visitors - which tracks, by my timing, since it seems we only get them about once a week. I find visitors annoying as all hell. They're just alphas sniffing around for a desperate omega anyway. Most of the omegas who leave are likely better off in this hell hole anyway.

At least while omegas here their needs are respected. For the most part.

When we're called out to the yard for "fresh air", I knew it was just visitors. They have us on a strict routine and don't let anyone see us inside. Claim it's too dangerous, too many places to hide and find trouble.

It's a nice day, I guess. Not super cloudy and definitely not raining, sun's out even if it gets tucked behind the clouds once in a while.

Gods, I can already smell the alphas.

My nose wrinkles and I toss an annoyed look towards the gates where the alphas are waiting for entrance. When the gate opens I roll my eyes and look away, focusing on the book in my hands instead.

"Why don't you ever engage with them?" a voice whispers from over my shoulder.

"I'm busy, 1211," I tell the younger omega flatly without looking up.

"But the alphas are here. A few of us might get to find a mate today," she exclaims excitedly before something catches her attention and she darts off.

I sigh softly and close my book. She'll likely leave today, being so close to her heat. It makes her more desirable, even if she's still loopy as hell. I pity her, honestly. This place may be weird, but at least it's known and familiar.

Well... it is for me. I've been here since they opened this facility. If I'm calculating correctly, I've been here for a full year as of today. Most omegas are out in one to two months.

"Any reason why you're camped out under a tree and not... interacting with literally anyone else?"

I jump at the sound of the man's voice and my book falls from my hands. Before I can react and save my book from the ground, a gloved hand shoots out and grabs it.

"Didn't mean to startle you," he says as he walks to stand in front of me.

My book gets turned in his hands and I slowly follow his hands up to his partially covered face. Jesus, how tall is this guy? I'm tall for an omega but this guy might as well be a damn tree! He's even as wide as one.

"Tolkien, huh?" he asks as he hands my book back.

I stay quiet but nod and accept my book. No way in hell he's not one of the alpha visitors - never seen a beta built like this - but I can't smell him.

"Not a talker?"

"Not really," I finally say.

His eyebrows twitch upward for a moment before returning to the neutral expression he's been wearing since he stepped in front of me. Probably wasn't expecting me to be American.

"Me either," he says after a moment. "Probably why I'm here, huh?"

I give him a look of confusion at that.

"I don't socialize much so I'm- nevermind," he sighs. "Mind if I stay here for a bit? There's just too much going on elsewhere right now."

"Isn't that why you're here? To find a high energy, cuddly, and loving omega?" I ask dryly. "I know a few of the girls would be ecstatic to go home with an alpha like you."

"Yeah... maybe. Until they realize what my job is and just how often I'm away from home because of it," he scoffs.

"And what is your job?" My eyes narrow as he speaks.

"I'm military," he says simply. When I don't respond, he sighs. "I'm gone a lot. Many missions require minimum or no communication. There's no rushing home from work or random phone calls."

I glare up at him, considering what he's saying. Then it hits me and I start laughing.

"Oh, man! You're a decent actor, I'll give you that. How much did they pay you? Is this a script they gave you or did you just come up with this on the fly? Bonus points for doing it on the fly, if so. I knew they were itching to get rid of me, but damn-"

"The hell are you on about? I'm not an actor."

The genuine offense in his voice makes my laughter fade.

"You weren't paid to tell the 'stupid omega who can't figure out she's an omega' that you have a lifestyle that she would fit into nicely?" My arms cross over my chest and I give him a look of disbelief.

Rage seems to filter into his eyes for a moment.

"Simon," he says, offering his hand.

My eyes fall to his hand and I hesitantly accept it.

"Nice to meet you, I guess, Simon," I test his name. "I'm known as UK-009-0013 or 13 around here."

And never anything else.

Masterlist | Part 1

Tag list: @lucienofthelakes

[lee-laurent]

Running For My Life -- Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke's gonna propose, Aria would rather runaway and change her identity

content: fear of abandonment, angst, fluff, kissing, implied smut but no explicit smut, arguing

wc: 6.5k

notes: another one from my list!! enjoy! and joyeux noël!!

Aria Carson didn't believe in fairytales or happy endings like her mom read to her as a kid. She used to, once. Before she understood what "happily ever after" really meant--it was a placeholder, a pretty bow slapped on a mess to make it look pretty.

Her parents' marriage unraveled when she was four. She didn't remember the details, just the shouting and the silence that followed. Her dad left their small house with a suitcase, and Aria watched from the window as he promised her mom he'd come by every weekend. He didn't. Not always.

At first, she waited. She sat on the front porch with her favourite stuffed animal tucked under her arm, staring down the driveway like it would summon his car. But over time, waiting turned into resenting, and resenting turned into expecting the worst.

By the time she was a teenager, she'd built a fortress around her heart. She wasn't the girl dreaming of love stories or matching tattoos with her high school sweetheart. Instead, she made rules--her own personal guide to relationships:

Rule #1: Keep it fun. (No big romantic gestures. No flowers, or candlelit dinners) Rule #2: Keep it light. (Don't share too much. Vulnerability is a weakness) Rule #3: Don't fall in love. Ever

The rules worked. Aria became the girl people warned their friends about--the one who could break hearts without blinking. Not because she wanted to, but because she knew what love turned into when the magic wore off.

That was the plan, anyway. Until her second year of university. Until Luke Hughes.

It started like most things in her life did: messy and impulsive. She'd been at a hockey house party, surrounded by sweaty college guys who thought Coors Light was peak luxury. The music was loud, the air thick with cheap cologne, and Aria had already turned down three awkward attempts at flirting when she spotted him.

Luke noticed her first.

She stood in the kitchen, laughing with her friends, tall and effortlessly confident, her dark hair seemed to shine every time she tossed it over her shoulder. She was wearing a Umich branded bikini top under a pair of blue-and-maize striped overalls, one of the straps hanging loosely at her side. Her tan skin glowed under the dim party lights, and Luke, clutching a red solo cup, couldn't help but stare.

"You've got no shot, man."

Luke turned, startled, to see one of the older guys on the team staring at him. It was Owen, one of his friends that seemed to have an opinion on everything.

"What?" Luke asked, blinking.

Owen nodded toward Aria. "Her. Don't even think about it."

Luke frowned. "Why not?"

"Because she's not the 'settling down' type," Owen said, leaning casually against the wall. "She's got rules. No attachments, no strings, no promises. Or something like that. She'll break your heart before you even know what hit you."

Luke glanced back at Aria, who was gesturing animatedly as she talked, her smile contagious.

"Well, I'm not looking for anything serious either," he said, shrugging.

Owen laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Sure, kid. Tell yourself that."

Luke rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop watching her. There was something about her--so self-assured, so unbothered by the chaos around her. She looked like the kind of girl who lived by her own rules.

And Luke? He wasn't a rule breaker.

But as Aria's gaze flicked across the room and met his, he decided maybe he could break some... if he had to. Her eyes lingered on him, her lips curling into the faintest smirk, sending him a wink before she turned away.

"Yeah, good luck with that," Owen muttered, shaking his head as he walked off.

Luke didn't answer. He was already moving forward, his drink forgotten.

~~

Luke had lied. The second he spoke to Aria, his 'not looking for something serious' turned into 'finding the love of his life.'

And for three long weeks, he followed her around like a lost puppy, trying to prove himself.

"She's going to think you're obsessed," Dylan said one night, lounging on his bed with a Playstation controller in his hands.

"I'm not obsessed," Luke mumbled, sitting cross-legged on the floor with his laptop. He was supposed to be finishing his econ assignment, but his screen had been on the same blank document for the last twenty minutes.

"You showed up the coffee shop where she studies at 7:30 in the morning."

"I like coffee."

"You don't drink coffee."

Luke ignored him, slamming his laptop shut and flopping back onto the rug. "Do you think she's into me?" he asked, staring at the popcorn ceiling.

Dylan paused his game and shot him a look. "Dude, she hasn't said yes to a date yet."

"Yeah, but she hasn't said no, either."

"Sure, man. Keep telling yourself that."

Luke groaned, covering his face with his hands. He wasn't used to this--chasing someone, putting himself out there and not knowing if he'd actually get anywhere. Hockey game naturally. School? He worked at it, but it made sense. But Aria? She was a puzzle he couldn't solve, a challenge he wasn't sure he was winning.

And still, he wouldn't stop trying.

~~

Another win, another hockey party. And Luke had decided to shoot his shot... for the fifth time.

The house was packed with familiar faces, but Luke barely noticed anyone. His eyes found Aria the moment she walked in with her sorority sisters. She moved to the living room, leaning against the arm of the couch, her long legs stretched out in front of her. Her Umich themed outfit from last time had been replaced by a crop top and some jeans, but she looked just as hot.

"Dude, don't," Owen warned, grabbing his arm as Luke made his way over to her and her friends. "You're just embarrassing yourself at this point."

Luke shrugged him off. "Thanks for pep talk, Power."

Aria spotted him before he reached her, her friends giggling as her lips quirked up into a smirk.

"Hughes," she said, crossing her arms. "Should I be flattered or concerned that you managed to find me so quickly?"

"Flattered," he said, grinning. "Obviously."

Her friends snickered, and she rolled her eyes. "What'd'ya want?"

"A chance," he said, stepping closer. He thought he might've been having a heart attack but he forced himself to maintain eye contact. "One date. That's all I'm asking."

Her smile didn't falter, but something flickered in her expression--curiosity, maybe. She tilted her head, studying him like a math problem she hadn't quite yet solved.

"And what makes you think you've earned it?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. Her friends all watched on, shoving each other and whispering about the scene in front of them.

Luke grinned, feeling the same rush of adrenaline he got during games. "I haven't," he admitted. "But I'm hoping you'll give me one anyway."

Aria stared at him, her friends now on the edge of their seats. Then, to Luke's surprise, she laughed. It was soft, almost reluctant, not the same laugh he'd heard her make before.

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. "One date. But don't get your hopes up, Hughes."

Luke's grin only grew, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he'd just won something.

~~

Aria had always been good at knowing when to leave.

Most people made it easy for her. They showed their flaws upfront, made mistakes she could cling to as excuses when things got too serious. But Luke was different. He didn't push her or make her feel guilty. He was patient in a way that should have made him boring but didn't.

And that scared her more than anything.

The first time she tried to end things, they'd been dating for a few months. The familiar itch started small but grew--like a whisper in the back of her mind, telling her it was time to go. Things were getting too serious. Too real.

It wasn't that Luke had done anything wrong. If anything, he'd done everything right, and that was the problem. He was steady, thoughtful, and maddeningly perfect. He talked about her like she was someone worth staying for, and Aria didn't know how to handle that.

She stood outside his dorm, her heart pounding as she rehearsed what she was going to say. It had to be quick and clean. No room for negotiation. Luke deserved someone who believed in forever, not someone who was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Taking in a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

"Come in!" Luke's voice called from inside.

When she pushed the door open, she was met with a sight that made her carefully rehearsed speech falter. Luke was cross-legged on the floor, a textbook open in front of him. Beside him was a bowl of her favourite food--mac and cheese with bread crumbs on the top--and a bottle of water balanced precariously on his notebook.

He looked up when she walked in, his face breaking into an easy, crooked smile. "Hey, you. Thought you might stop by."

The words she'd practiced seemed to vanish from her mind. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice quieter than she meant it to be.

"Studying," he said, gesturing to the mess of highlighters and notes around him. "And bribing you to take a break with me. You're way too hard on yourself, you know that?"

She blinked. "I--I didn't come here for food, Luke."

"Well, I'm not letting you leave until you eat," he said, reaching for the bowl and holding it out to her like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Aria stared at him, her stomach twisting. How could he be so calm? So sure? Didn't he realize that she was a flight risk?

"I was actually..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

Luke raised an eyebrow, waiting. He didn't pressure her, didn't say a word. He just... waited.

The silence stretched, and for a moment, Aria wanted to scream at him for making it so hard to walk away. But when she looked at him again--his hair falling into his eyes, his crooked grin he always wore--something inside her softened.

Her shoulders sagged, and she let out a long breath. "I hate you," she mumbled, grabbing the bowl from his hands and flopping down onto the floor beside him.

"No, you don't," Luke said, his smile growing as he nudged her shoulder.

She didn't. That was the problem.

~~

When Luke got the call-up to the Devils, everyone seemed to know what they were going to do next--except Aria.

He'd been drafted before they met, but that had always felt like a distant "someday." They were still in university, still figuring out their rhythm together, and for Aria, the future was an abstract concept she avoided at all costs.

But the day Luke walked into her apartment, his face lit up with an excitement he could barely contain, the abstract became real.

"I'm going to Jersey!" he said, his words slipping out in a rush. "They called me up!"

Her stomach dropped, but she forced a smile. "That's amazing, Lu."

His grin widened, and for a moment, she thought that would be the end of it. That he'd go, and she'd stay, and the distance between them would slowly untangle whatever they were building together. But then he looked at her, so full of hope, and said the words that made her panic:

"I want you to come with me."

She froze. "Luke, I--"

"Not right away," he added quickly. "I know you've got school and everything. But you could transfer or do classes online. Just think about it, okay?"

He kissed her before she could answer, and just like that, the conversation was over.

Aria thought about it--too much. She told herself it didn't make sense to uproot her life for someone who might not even be in it a year from now. But every time she tried to convince herself to stay, she imagined Luke walking off the ice in his red-and-black jersey, smiling at someone else the way he smiled at her.

So, she packed her things.

~~

Living in New Jersey wasn't as terrifying as she'd expected. She did her classes online, found a coffee shop she liked, and even learned to navigate the chaos of Preudential Center on game nights. Luke made it easy, too--he never pushed, never asked for more than she was ready to give.

But he kept dreaming out loud, and that was what scared her.

"One day," he said one night, his arm slung over her shoulders as they lay on the couch, "we should get a place with a big backyard. Enough room for a dog and, y'know, kids."

"You hate dogs."

He laughed. "Not the cute ones."

She forced a smile, but the room suddenly felt airless. "Yeah, maybe."

Luke didn't seem to notice her deflection, but Aria did. She always noticed. Every time he mentioned the future--a house, a family, a forever--she found herself scrambling for a way out of the conversation.

She wasn't ready for forever. She wasn't even sure she believed in it.

~~

The second time she almost ended things was when Luke invited her to Brady Tkachuk's wedding.

"End of the next month," he said, scrolling through the invitation on his phone. "Should be fun. My family will be there."

"Fun," Aria echoed.

"It'll be good for you to meet some of the guys and their wives," he added, glancing at her with an easy smile. "You'll love it."

She barely heard the rest of what he said. The word wives stuck in her head like a broken record, looping over and over until she thought she might scream.

What if Luke wanted that? What if he proposed one day? What if he asked her to be something more than she knew how to be?

She planned to end it the night before they left for the wedding. She sat in their apartment, rehearsing the words like she'd done before, feeling the familiar itch of escape crawling under her skin. But when Luke walked in, grinning and holding a garment bag with his suit inside, she blanked.

"Can you believe we're going to a wedding?" he asked, leaning down to kiss her. "I mean, Brady's getting married. That's like fucking insane."

He was so happy, so genuinely excited, that she couldn't bring herself to ruin it.

So, she didn't.

~~

The wedding was everything Luke had said it would be--beautiful, extravagent, and... absolutely terrifying. Aria spent most of the night nursing a flute of champagne, smiling at the right moments and avoiding any conversation about the future.

But then came the bouquet toss.

She hadn't planned to participate, but somehow she found herself dragged to the dance floor with the other women. Brady's wife stood in front of them, laughing as she prepared to throw the bouquet. Aria stayed near the back of the group, silently praying the flowers would land far, far away from her.

They didn't.

The bouquet soared through the air and landed squarely in her hands, the room erupting into cheers.

She froze, the flowers feeling heavier than they were. Her eyes darted to Luke, who was grinning at her from across the room, and her heart sank to her stomach. He looked so happy, so full of hope, and all she could think was, "What if this is what he wants? What if he expects this from me someday?"

Her hands shook as she set the bouquet down on a nearby table, slipping away before anyone could say anything.

Luke found her outside, sitting on the steps of the venue. The cool night air did little to calm her nerves, but she forced a smile when he sat down beside her.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"Yeah," she lied, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. "Just needed some air. So many people."

Luke didn't press. He never did. Instead, he reached for her hand, his touch steady and grounding.

And for now, she believed that was enough.

~~

The lakehouse.

Aria had been before. She knew what she was getting into when Luke suggested they spend a few days there with Trevor and his brothers. She knew the loud nights filled with beer and laughter, the competitive games of cornhole on the back lawn, the way Jack and Trevor couldn't go more than an hour without arguing over something stupid.

She also knew the peace it offered--the calm mornings by the lake, the golden sunsets that made everything feeel simpler. But this time, the peace was harder to find.

Aria could feel it--something hanging in the air between herself and Luke. He'd been quieter than usual, more thoughtful, and every time he looked at her, it was with an expression she couldn't place, one she hadn't seen before.

She told herself she was imagining it, but her nerves didn't listen.

Which was how she ended up in her and Luke's room, rifling through drawers and suitcases in search of the phone charger Luke swore he'd packed.

"Where the hell is it?" she muttered under her breath, yanking open another drawer.

That's when she saw it.

A sleek black velvet box, tucked under a stack of folded t-shirts.

For a second, her brain didn't connect the dots. It was just a box, no different from any other forgotten thing people shoved into drawers. But as she reached for it, curiosity winning out, a sinking feeling bloomed in her chest.

She flipped it open.

The ring glistened in the soft light--a delicate, dainty, sparkling thing that looked as out of place in the lakehouse as it felt in her hands. Her breath hitched.

No. No, no, no.

Her hands started to shake, and she snapped the box shut, shoving it back into the drawer as though it burnt her.

Luke was going to propose.

The realization hit her like a slap.

She stumbled back, her heart pounding as the walls seemed to close in around her. He was going to ask her to marry him. To promise forever. To be everything she didn't know how to be.

Her phone was on the bed where she'd left it, and she snatched it with trembling hands.

"Hello?"

Her best friend's voice came through the line, muffled by the faint sound of music in the background.

"Hey," Aria said, her voice cracking. "D'you have a minute?"

"Ari? You okay?"

"No." She paced the small room, one hand gripping the phone and the other pressed to her forehead. "I'm not okay. I think--no, I know--Luke's going to propose."

The music cut off, replaced by silence. "Wait, what? How d'ya'know that?"

"I found the ring," she blurted. "It was in the drawer, just sitting there under some shirts like it's not the most terrifying thing I've ever seen in my life."

Her best friend let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's... huge."

"Yeah, no kidding," Aria snapped, before immediately softening. "Sorry. I'm just--I don't know what to do."

"Do you want to marry him?"

The question hung in the air. Aria's throat tightened. "I don't know. I mean, I love him, but..." She stopped, sinking onto the edge of the bed. "Forever is a long time. What if it doesn't work? What if I ruin everything?"

Her best friend sighed. "You guys have been together for two years. That's practically forever in your world. Doesn't that like count for something?"

"It's not the same," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"Because once it's official like that, it can all fall apart." Her grip on the phone tightened. "You don't get it. Forever isn't real. It's just a word people use until things go wrong."

"I think that you're overthinking this."

Aria let out a humourless laugh. "Of course I'm overthinking it. That's what I do."

"Okay, but have you considered not freaking out until he actually asks the question? Maybe he's not proposing yet. Maybe he's just, I don't know, planning ahead."

Planning ahead. It was such a Luke thing to do, and the thought only made her panic more. "I can't do this."

"You don't mean that."

"I think I do."

Her friend sighed again, but before she could say anything else, there was a knock at the door.

"Hey, Ari? Baby?" It was Luke's voice, muffled but unmistakable. "You okay in there?"

Her stomach dropped. "I have to go," she said quickly, hanging up before she could get a response.

Luke knocked again, and she scrambled to look put together, smoothing her hair and forcing a shaky smile onto her face as she opened the door.

"Hey! What's up, Lu?"

Luke frowned, looking between her and the room behind her. "I was just checking on you. You've been in here a while."

"Yeah, I was just...looking for the charger." She stepped forward, closing the door behind her and blocking the drawer from view. "Found it. All good now."

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Instead, he reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We're gonna start the bonfire soon. Come join us?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile wavering. "I'll be right there."

Luke nodded, leaning in to kiss her cheek before heading back down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, Aria leaned back against the door, her whole body trembling.

She didn't know she was going to deal with this in the slightest.

~~

From the moment Aria found the ring, everything changed.

It wasn't intentional--at least, that's what she told herself. She wasn't actively trying to avoid Luke, not exactly. But the thought of being alone with him, of giving him the perfect opportunity to ask the question she wasn't ready to answer, made her chest feel tight.

So, she avoided.

Every time Luke suggested they go for a walk by the lake or watch a movie together, she found a way to include someone else. Jack and Quinn were easy distractions, always up for a game of pool or a boat ride. And Trevor? Trevor was a one-man circus, the kind of person who made it impossible to have a serious conversation.

"Hey, you guys wanna join us?" she'd ask casually, barely glancing at Luke as she extended the invitation to the group.

Luke didn't seem to mind at first. He loved his brothers, loved Trevor, and he didn't question why Aria suddenly wanted them around all the time. But the moments he tried to catch her alone grew more frequent.

"You sure you don't wanna skip the bonfire tonight?" he asked one evening, his hand brushing hers as they stood by the dock. "Just the two of us?"

Aria swallowed hard. "Come on, it'll be more fun with everyone there."

Luke's expression faltered, just for a second, but he nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

It wasn't just the group activities, either. She dodged every kiss, every touch that felt too intimate. She started turning her head at the last second when Luke leaned in, brushing her cheek instead of her lips.

And then there was the night he was sliding his hand under her t-shirt, pulling her closer, squeezing her thigh.

"Not tonight," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Luke froze, his forehead pressed against the back of her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just... tired."

He didn't argue, didn't push. He just rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling as Aria pretended to fall asleep. But she knew he wasn't convinced.

The next morning, Luke's patience finally cracked.

Aria was in the kitchen, fussing with the coffee maker and trying to act normal, when he came up behind her.

"Okay, what's going on?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

"What do you mean?" she replied, not turning around.

"Don't do that." He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm. "Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Luke, I--"

"You've been weird the last few days," he interrupted her, his brow furrowed. "You won't kiss me, you barely look at me, and I can't remember the last time we had a meaningful conversation. Did I... do something wrong?"

The hurt in his voice was like a punch to the gut, and Aria's chest tightened with guilt.

"No," she said, spinning around to face him. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then what is it?" His eyes searched hers, his worry plain as day. "Aria, talk to me. Please."

She opened her mouth, desperate to say something, anything that would fix the cracks forming between them. But the words got stuck in her throat. How was she supposed to tell him the truth? That she was terrified of the future he seemed so certain about? That she wasn't ready to be anyone's forever?

"I'm fine," she lied straight through her teeth. "Really."

Luke stared at her, sucking his teeth with a click. "Okay," he said finally, his tone carefully neutral. "If you say so."

But the look in his eyes said that he didn't believe her for a second. And Aria wondered if she was really about to lose him.

~~

The tension finally snapped on the third night.

Luke had given Aria space, hoping she'd come around, but her avoidance hadn't stopped. If anything, it got worse. She barely spoke to him, flinched every time he tried to touch her, and spent more time with his brothers and Trevor than with him.

It was after dinner when Luke cornered her in the living room, his frustration finally bubbling over.

"Aria, can we talk?" his tone was clipped.

She froze, her eyes darting between Quinn and Jack, who were setting up a game of cards. Trevor was flipping through TV channels, oblivious.

"Maybe later," she mumbled, turning toward the kitchen.

"No," Luke said, louder this time. "Not later. Now."

His voice cut through the room, drawing everyone's attention. Jack and Quinn exchanged a glance, their game forgotten, and Trevor paused mid-click.

Aria's stomach churned, but she nodded stiffly, brushing past Luke as she headed toward the hallway. He followed her into their room, shutting the door behind him.

"What the hell is going on with you?" he demanded, his voice low but full of frustration.

"Nothing," she said quickly, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

"Don't lie to me, Aria." He stepped closer, his eyes searching hers. "You've been acting like you don't even want to be here. Like you don't even want me around."

"That's not true."

"Then what is it?" His voice cracked, and the vulnerability made her feel sick. "Because I'm trying here, and you're shutting me out. You won't even fucking look at me."

"Luke, I--"

"Tell me the truth. Whatever it is, I can handle it. Just... talk to me."

The words spilled out before she could stop them.

"I'm scared, okay?" Her voice broke, and the emotion she'd been holding back for days came rushing to the surface. "I'm scared, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Scared of what?"

"Of this," she said, gesturing wildly between them. "Of us. Of the future you keep talking about like it's already written. I... found the ring. And I can't--I don't know how to be what you want me to be."

"I'm not asking you to be anything. I just want you."

"But what if I can't do forever?" Her voice rose, her fear spilling out unchecked. "What if I ruin it? What if you wake up one day and realize I'm not enough? Or worse, what if you leave? Just like my dad, or everyone else I've ever trusted?"

"Aria--"

"Don't," she said, cutting him off. "Don't tell me it's going to be okay, because it's not. Love isn't supposed to be a trap, Luke. And that's what marriage feels like. A trap I can't get out of."

His face crumpled, the weight of her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. "You think I'm trapping you?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know anything anymore."

For a moment, the room went silent except for the sound of their breathing.

Then Luke's voice broke the stillness, quiet but raw. "You're the only person I've ever wanted forever with, Aria. And you're standing here telling me that's a bad thing."

"I'm sorry," she choked out. "I'm sorry, but I can't do this."

Luke stared at her, heartbreak written across his face. "What does that mean?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

The door slammed behind her as she walked out, leaving Luke alone in the silence.

The others had heard the argument, of course. It wasn't like they had a choice.

Quinn and Jack exchanged tense glances as Aria hurried past them, her face pale and her eyes rimmed red. Trevor stood frozen by the couch, his remote forgotten.

No one stopped her as she grabbed her bag and slipped out the front door, her steps quick and unsteady.

Luke emerged a few minutes later, his expression hollow as he scanned the room. Jack opened his mouth to say something, but Quinn nudged him, shaking his head.

Luke didn't speak. He just walked out onto the porch, staring out at the dark lake as if the answers to all his questions were hidden somewhere in the still water.

And for the first time in their relationship, he wasn't sure if Aria was coming back.

~~

Aria didn't know where else to go.

After leaving the house, she drove aimlessly for hours, trying to clear her head. Eventually, she found herself pulling into the driveway of her childhood home. The porch light was on, casting a soft glow over the familiar brick exterior, and suddenly she felt like she could breathe again.

Her mom answered the door within seconds, her face softening when she saw Aria standing there with tear-streaked cheeks and a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Hi, Mama," she said, her voice trembling.

"Come in," her mom replied without hesitation, stepping aside.

They sat at the kitchen table, two mugs of tea between them. Aria stared down at her hands, tracing invisible patterns on the worn wood, while her mom watched her with patient eyes.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?" her mom asked gently.

Aria hesitated, the words caught in her throat. But then the dam broke, and it all came pouring out--Luke, the ring, the argument, her fears. Everything.

When she finally stopped, her chest felt hollow, like she'd emptied out every thought and feeling she'd been holding inside.

Her mom took a long sip of her tea before setting the mug down with a soft click. "You're scared he's going to leave you," she said, not a question but a quiet truth.

Aria nodded, her eyes welling with tears again. "Everyone leaves eventually. Why would he be any different?"

Her mom reached across the table, covering Aria's hand with her own. "Because he's not your dad. And you're not me."

The words hit Aria like a jolt. "What?"

"I made mistakes, Aria," her mom said, her voice steady. "Your father and I...we didn't handle things the way we should have. And I know that left scars on you. But you can't let those scars dictate the rest of your life."

"But what if I screw up? What if I'm not enough for him?"

Her mom's grip tightened. "You're already enough. You always have been. Luke sees that, even if you don't. And from what you've told me, he's the kind of person who would move heaven and earth for you."

Aria looked away, the lump in her throat growing. "I'm just so scared."

"I know," her mom said softly. "But you're not me, Aria. You're your own person, with your own love story. And Luke? He sounds like the best thing that's ever happened to you."

The words settled over Aria like a blanket, heavy but comforting.

"He is," she whispered, her voice cracking. "And I'm running from him. I'm running from the one person who's never let me down."

"Then stop running."

~~

That night, Aria lay in her childhood bed, staring silently at the ceiling.

You're not me. You're your own person.

Luke loved her--not the idea of her, not the version she tried to present, but the messy, imperfect, scared girl underneath. And she loved him too. She loved him enough to fight for them, even if it meant facing her fears head-on.

For the first time, she let herself imaigne a future with him. Not the polished, idealized version he sometimes described, but one that was real. Messy. Flawed. And maybe, just maybe, perfect in its own way.

Aria knew what she had to do...

~~

Aria stepped out of the car, her heart pounding as she approached the door. The sound of laughter and music that normally spilled out of the lake house was missing, replaced by a heavy silence that made her stomach churn.

Jack was one who opened the door, his brow furrowing when he saw her. "Aria?"

"Is he here?"

Jack hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. "Yeah. He's out back."

Quinn appeared behind him, his expression unreadable. Trevor hovered awkwardly by the couch, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Thanks," Aria said, brushing past them and heading toward the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard.

Luke was on the dock, feet dangling over the water and his head bowed. He didn't look up when she approached, and it wasn't until she was only a few feet away that she realized how broken he looked.

His shoulders were hunched, his usually bright eyes dull and rimmed red. He looked smaller, like the weight of their fight had crushed him.

"Luke," she said, her voice cracking.

He didn't turn around.

She took a deep breath, stepping closer until she was standing right behind him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. "For what, Aria? For running? For not trusting me? For making me feel like I'm not enough?"

The words hit her like a slap, but she didn't flinch. She deserved them.

"All of it," she said, sinking to her knees beside him. "I was scared. I am scared. But it's not because of you. It's because of me. Because I don't know how to believe in something this good, this real. And instead of facing that, I hurt you."

His jaw ticked, but he didn't respond.

"I talked to my mom," she continued. "She told me I'm not her. That I don't have to let the past define me. And she's right. I've been so scared of losing you that I started pushing you away. But I don't want to do that anymore."

Finally, Luke turned to look at her, his eyes searching hers. "What are you saying, Aria?"

"I'm saying I'm ready," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm ready to trust you. To trust us. I love you, Luke. I'm so in love with you. And I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if you let me."

His expression softened, the anger in his eyes replaced by something still raw, but full of love.

"Aria..." he let out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his face. "I love you too. But you hurt me. Like really fucking hurt me. And I... I need time to forgive you for that."

Her heart clenched, but she nodded, wiping her tears. "I understand. Take... take was much time as you need. I just... needed you to know."

He reached out, his finger brushing hers. "I still want forever with you, Aria. But when I ask you to marry me, I want it to be a moment we both remember for the right reasons. Not something rushed or overshadowed by all this."

She nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

For a while, they sat in silence, their hands loosely intertwined as the lake stretched out before them. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't a clean fix. Finally, Aria felt like they were on the same page, moving forward instead of apart.

~~

The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of the TV. Aria was curled up in bed, her head resting on Luke's chest as the glow of the screen flickered across the room. They'd seen the movie before--it was one of Luke's favourites--but she barely paid attention, too comfortable and warm to care.

"This is the best part," Luke murmured, his arm tightening around her as the scene shifted.

"Mhm," Aria replied, half-asleep.

Luke chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

A few minutes later, he started to shift beneath her.

"Where are you going?" she mumbled, her eyes still closed.

"Be right back," he said, gently easing her off him.

Aria groaned, flopping dramatically onto her side. "But you're warm. And I still wanna cuddle."

Luke didn't answer, and when she opened her eyes, he was already out of bed. She frowned, glancing toward the bathroom, but the door was open and the lights were off.

"Luke?" she called, propping herself up on one elbow.

That's when she heard it--a soft, deliberate clearing of a throat. She turned toward the sound, and her breath caught.

Luke was kneeling on the floor beside her side of the bed, his hair slightly messy and his expression equal parts nervous and determined.

"Are you--" She sat up, her voice catching. "Are you serious right now?"

He grinned, pulling a small black velvet box out of his pocket. "I told you I'd surprise you, didn't I?"

Aria gasped, scrambling off the bed so quickly that the blanket got tangled around her legs. "Luke Hughes, if this is a joke, I swear--"

"It's not a joke," he said, his smile softening. "I love you, Aria. I've loved you since the day I laid eyes on you at that party. And I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else. I know forever scares you, but it doesn't scare me--not when it's with you."

Tears blurred her vision as he opened the box, revealing the same ring she'd found all those months ago. It sparkled in the light of the TV, but she couldn't look away from his face.

"So, Aria Carson," he continued, his voice steady despite how red his face had become. "Will you marry me?"

She didn't hesitate. "Yes," she said, her voice breaking as she threw her arms around him, nearly knocking him over. "Of course, yes."

Luke laughed, holding her tight as she buried her face in his shoulder. When she finally pulled back, he slipped the ring onto her finger, his hands trembling slightly.

It fit perfectly.

Aria stared at it for a moment before letting out a soft, incredulous laugh. "You proposed to me when I'm dressed like this?" she gestured to the boxers and t-shirt she'd stolen from him.

Luke smirked, hands gripping her waist. "I told you I wanted it to be unexpected. And this seemed like the least likely moment."

She rolled her eyes, but her smile didn't waver. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"And you love my anyway," he leaned down to kiss her.

"I do," she whispered against his lips.

As they sank back onto the bed, the movie forgotten and her fears finally gone, Aria realized she'd never been more certain of anything in her life. And neither had Luke.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Flames of Sapphire [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories

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Summary: Born in 110 AC as the youngest daughter to King Viserys I and Queen Alicent, you felt a strong bond with your older twin brother, Aemond. You always told each other you were bound in fire and blood, however the strings of fate had other plans for you…

Warnings in this chapter: None.

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Chapter I

110 AC- King’s Landing

A babe’s cry filled the halls of the Keep, Queen Alicent breathing heavily as she watched a wet nurse clean the small body before her hazel eyes went over to the Grand Maester holding onto her first babe. She had given birth to twins- a son and a daughter- but the son has yet to make his first cry.

The Queen’s eyes stung with tears as they laid the daughter in the bassinet, her cries quieting down soon after. “A-And my son?” Her voice was wavering as she spoke.

The Grand Maester took a deep breath. “Your Grace, his breathing is shallow, but-”

“Put him in the bassinet.”

“Your Grace…”

“P-Please.”

The older man sighed but did as he was told. The chambers were quiet momentarily before the son’s loud cries rang out, followed by the daughter’s. Tales called it the twin dragons’ roar, born of fire and blood.

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Ten years later

You winced, feeling the brush roughly go through your locks, grumbling while your mother went through your hair again. She had insisted on helping you prepare for the day of the arrival of Ser Lyonel’s daughter and her twelve-year-old son. You could not fully understand why she was in such a fuss.

“Mother, you’re hurting me,” you whined, having endured the pain long enough.

“Oh, hush,” Alicent scolded, setting the brush down.

“Aegon said Florynce Strong’s son looks like a troll,” you muttered.

“Y/N!” Alicent gasped. 

“Well, Aegon is the one that looks like a troll,” your eldest sister, Madelyne* piped up, walking over with a pair of earrings.

“That is enough, girls,” Alicent said before sighing softly. “I hope you do not act this way in front of Florynce Strong and her son. I am sure they are tired from their journey and wish to settle in.”

Madelyne bent down next to you, smiling when you looked at her. You admired both your elder sisters, Helaena for her kindness and Madelyne for her strength. Each was as beautiful as the other. However, you envied your eldest sister at times. At ten and four, she was the only one allowed to ride her dragon, a she-dragon with glimmering deep blue scales known as Saphira, which she had claimed two years prior.

“We should not be the ones you need to scold to behave, Mother,” Madelyne stated, her brows scrunching in concentration as she placed the first earring in your right ear before moving onto your left.

“You should be worried about Aegon calling the Strong boy a troll,” you added, taking Maddy’s hand when she offered it.

Alicent let out a deep sigh, placing her head in her hands. “Gods save me,” she grumbled before rubbing her face. “Come, my sweets. Your father and siblings will be waiting for us.”

You looked up at your mother with big eyes before you released Madelyne’s. In exchange for hers, Florynce Strong came down from Harrenhal with her only child, Evin*. Your mother explained it was so they could visit with the Hand of the King, but a part of you believed it was something more, seeing as Madelyne will begin her courting party soon.

As expected, your father was gathered in the courtyard with Ser Lyonel on the right and your other siblings on the left; Aegon with a bored expression on his features, Helaena with a bright and beaming smile, the smallest- Daeron- had a mix of confusion and boredom. Then there was your twin brother, Aemond. 

Aemond was petite with wavy silver hair to his shoulders, his deep purple eyes standing out against his pale complexion. You often teased him for his constant scowling, especially when he was around your nephews- the three Strong bastards of your half-sister, Rhaenyra, who seemed to be the only one missing from the welcome party.

You let go of your Mother’s hand to fall into line beside your twin, looking up at him with a cheeky smile. “You can at least put on an act,” you whispered, nudging him lightly. 

“Why would I act happy for a Strong coming to the capital?” 

“Perhaps he will become your new friend.” You hummed and stifled a laugh at the glare he shot your way. “Only a thought, Aemond.”

Aemond scoffed at the thought of being friends with someone of Strong blood as the carriage pulled up. You straightened your back, reaching over to take Aemond’s hand, feeling him intertwine your fingers and give you a gentle, reassuring squeeze when the carriage stopped before the awaiting party.

A slender woman was the first to climb out, her dark curls bouncing lightly as she turned to face the welcoming party, a soft smile on her features. A pale, scrawny boy followed out a moment later, dark curls to match his mother’s flopping in his face.

“My sweet Florynce.” The Lord Hand was the first to speak up, stepping out of line to hug his daughter. 

Your eyes looked over the Strong boy, and your expression was neutral. The deep blue color of his doublet matched his eyes, and he returned your gaze. He stood nervously, like a deer eyeing its killer.

“I don’t see how he looks like a troll,” you told Aemond with scrunched brows, your voice not quiet.

Aegon choked on a laugh, your mother giving you a stern look as she walked towards Lady Strong and her son, holding onto your father’s arm. “Welcome to the capital, Lady Florynce. I hope you do enjoy your stay.” Queen Alicent’s voice was as sweet as honey to hide the truth her tongue holds.

“It is good to be with my family once more. Harrenhal does get quite lonely occasionally.” Florynce smiled softly. 

“And my sons would make your son feel welcome.” There was a slightly stern tone to her voice, as though she was talking directly to her elder two sons. 

Florynce’s smile widened. “I am sure Evin would love that. He doesn’t have many friends back home,” she said, turning to her son, who was still on the children, fear in his eyes. 

You followed his gaze to see Aemond with a stern glare on his face. You squeezed his hand tight and offered him a soft smile when he looked at you.

“Well, let us get you settled in. There will be a welcoming feast tonight!” Viserys announced, him and the Queen being the first to walk back into the castle.

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One thing about your father was that he spared no expense regarding feasts, wanting to ensure everyone enjoyed themselves. You had a soft smile on your lips, watching Madelyne and Helaena dance together. It has been a while since you’ve seen your eldest sister happy; it made your heart swell. Your eyes turned to your twin, and a small smile filled your features.

“I don’t think you’ve stopped scowling since Evin arrived,” you whispered to him. 

Aemond scoffed. “I don’t see why we should have a welcome feast for them.”

You clicked your tongue lightly. “Father enjoys an excuse for a feast, and you know he wants to impress the lords here for Madelyne’s courting party.”

“But it doesn’t answer why he is here,” he spat.

Your eyes went to the curly-haired boy slumped over his plate, his hair draped over his eyes. A hum passed your lips as you examined him. Aemond had a point, though. Evin was considerably a couple of years younger than Madelyne, and her courting party was full.

“Perhaps he needs a friend,” you replied quietly after a moment.

Aemond made a face at that. “Well, he’s not going to find one here.”

You met your twin’s eyes, the same deep lilac color as yours. His irises held a bright burning flame of anger and rage, as though the thought of being friends with a Strong was enough to send him over the edge. You smoothed out the skirts of your deep blue dress while pushing your chair back, standing up. 

“Don’t be so cruel,” you scolded him before descending the steps.

You could feel Aemond’s gaze on your movements as you approached Evin, tapping him on the shoulder. You offered him a soft smile when he turned to face you. 

“I was wondering if you would like to dance with me.”

Evin looked down at your extended hand, stumbling over his words. You waited a moment longer before taking his hand and forcing him to the dance floor. He looked down at you wide-eyed, still searching for the right words.

“Y-you look lovely, princess.” His voice was soft as he looked over your features, his fingers intertwining with yours, his other hand going to your waist.

Your smile widened while he began to take you around, your dress fanning around you. “How long does your mother plan on being in the capital?”

Evin’s throat bobbed. “For as long as she wants, I suppose. It has been a few years now since she’s been here.”

You nodded in understanding. “Will you be joining my sister’s courting party?”

“Sadly, her party was full, but my mother still wanted me to accompany her to the capital. She believed I could try to become friends with the princes…although one has already decided about me.”

His gaze went over your shoulder, and you turned to see Aemond slightly slouching in his chair with a death glare on Evin. A snicker passed your lips, your attention moving back to the boy, moving with him in a circle.

“Don’t let Aemond scare you,” you whispered in the boy’s ear. “He only tries to be intimidating, but he is sweet.” Your eyes flickered past him to meet Aemond’s cold stare. “Perhaps he will warm up to you.”

You turned your gaze back to Evin, taking in his appearance. His eyes no longer held fear as they shined as bright as sapphires; his pale complexion was now a rosy red, his smile small. You didn’t realize the music came to a stop, your hand still in his while the band prepared for the next song.

“Thank you for this dance, princess, but I don’t want to anger your brother any more than I already have.”

You felt your heart quicken as Evin leaned down, kissing the back of your hand before returning to his seat. The heat rose to your cheeks while you returned to your seat, not realizing the look Aemond was giving you. 

“What was that?” He snapped, his eyes narrowed. 

“I was making a friend.”

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“I saw you dancing with Lord Mooton’s son,” Helaena teased your elder sister, causing Madelyne to roll her eyes. The three of you were winding down from a night of festivities and dancing in Madelyne’s chambers.

“It was only because William would not leave me alone.” Maddy scoffed. The distaste on her face quickly changed to a smirk, her attention turning to you. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you dancing with Evin.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you shook your head, looking down at the pillow you had hugged to your chest. “It meant nothing. I only wanted to help him feel welcome.”

Helaena hummed, her fingers beginning to thread through Madelyne’s hair. “Three buds will bloom; while two intertwine and become one, the third will wither away.”

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*Madelyne Targaryen: This story is based off of my own House of the Dragon OC (Adryana Targaryen) and it is intertwined with my bestie’s OC, Madelyne. With permission from @mrsdaemontargaryen I included her in this story. 💚

*Evin Strong: Evin is another original character created by me and my bestie. In Fire and Blood, Ser Lyonel Strong had two unnamed trueborn daughters who came to the capital with him in 105 AC. Evin has the surname Strong because his father died when he was a babe and Lyonel gave him his surname in place.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Can we have Azul being very excited to see his parents again with random dorm members questioning if thats the same Azul that's their dorm leader?

Octavinelle A-kun? Octavinelle A-kun. (Context: Octa A/Kon is my Octavinelle mob student OC asdblasdiabis)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Azul had reserved a slot of time early in the afternoon--before the Mostro Lounge's usual hours of operation--for his parents.

As soon as he swung open the doors, his painstaking efforts were made apparent. Every corner of the eatery had been scrubbed, buffed, dusted, mopped, and vacuumed to perfection. Their best china was out, a vase of freshly cut flowers and romantic candlelight marking the table he had saved. The live band he had hired (no expense spared) welcomed the Ashengrotto family with a soft, jazzy melody.

The music came with a chorus of clapping. Several Octavinelle students stood in lines, giving applause to the VIPs.

Azul ushered his parents inside. "Please, come in, come in! Right this way, esteemed sir and madam," he crooned, gesturing for them to follow him.

They settled into their seats and were immediately provided with menus and tall glasses of water, the ice so clear and free of impurities that one could see right through them. Octa A--Kon--their server, hastily pulled his hand back after delivering the items and bowed. How smoothly everything ran, like an orchestra with a skilled conductor.

"So this is what you've been up to at school," Mr. Ashengrotto murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I must say, it's impressive. Not every 17-year old would be capable of overseeing an entire cafe on top of studying and juggling the responsibilities of a dorm leader--well, perhaps your mother would."

"You really do take after me," Mrs. Ashengrotto laughed, "in more ways than I suspected you did."

"Fufufu. Yes, well... I did learn from the best." Azul straightened, lifting his chin proudly. "As it so happens, I also run a little... side business, shall we say. My peers come to me with their owes, and I do what I can to help alleviate those."

"If only your grandmother could have joined us... I'm sure she would be pleased to hear of your charity work. Perhaps we could pay her a visit on your next trip home."

His stepfather raised his brows. "Seems I've married into a multitalented family."

"Please do not talk down your own abilities. You're quite skilled in your own right, dear stepfather!" Azul wrung his hands together. "Why, I can only hope to match your legal prowess one day!"

“Haha, you’re a sweet talker too. Alright, I’ll take your professional advice. No more talk of business though—let’s decide what to eat.”

“Fufufu, as you wish.”

Kon warily kept his distance, a step or two farther from the table than he usually would. Staring, listening--it was strange, he decided. Never had he heard his dorm leader speaking with such sincerity, with kindness that wasn't laced with hidden ill intent.

Is this... Azul-senpai? He seems a little different around his family. Softer... squisher somehow.

"Pick anything you like off the menu. I'm confident that you will enjoy our dishes, made fresh every day with the best sourced, in-season ingredients possible.” Azul pushed up his glasses with one hand. “If you care for a recommendation, the fried chicken is sublime. It took us a while experimenting with spices to achieve its flavor and texture, but I believe those efforts paid off wonderfully."

“Fried chicken, your old favorite! You hardly touch it anymore.”

“M-Mama…! Er, I mean mother,” Azul quickly corrected himself. “That was back then! Now I am making a conscious effort to mind my health. I ask that you respect that."

“Alright, alright. Point taken.” Mrs. Ashengrotto tapped a finger on her menu. “I’ll take the fried chicken platter appetizer, for old time’s sake. We can split it so you can treat yourself too, dear."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly..."

"One bite can't hurt," his stepfather urged. "Here, let's get a salad as well to balance it out."

"Th-That is not how nutritional intake works at all..." Azul sighed, a hand to his head. There was a pause, then he flagged Kon over. "... You heard them, correct? One fried chicken platter and the garden salad appetizers to start."

"We'll get those out for you right away," he said robotically. A line, rehearsed. "Take however long you need to decide your mains."

The mob student turned to scurry away and pass along the order to the kitchen. A voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“And Kon-san?”

He looked back.

His dorm leader had his legs crossed, looking very authoritative as he sat up straight in his booth. He, the lackey, trembling before the boss.

“Y-Yes, sir?” Kon squeaked.

Azul simply smiled. "Thank you for your service."

The breath he had been unconsciously holding slipped out as a sigh. And he tried to smile back.

"Anytime, dorm leader.”

[razzmatash]

...With You Day 12 - “You are all I need tonight underneath the Christmas lights.” ...Sort of Love and Deepspace Sylus x f!OC 1406 Words Read on Ao3 banner by firefly-graphics

Waking slowly, Calli shifted under the covers, frowning to herself. Something didn’t feel right. Sliding her hand across the mattress, her frown deepened when she didn’t find Sylus. She lifted her head and squinted in the dark but she couldn’t see any lights on from the bathroom. “Sylus?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself up in bed.

He wasn’t in the room that much was clear now. Tapping the beside lamp, she still looked around to confirm he wasn’t. Where had he gone? He’d been so insistent about her going to bed after she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder on the couch. She’d pushed herself too hard, according to him, and he was calling it a night. He’d carried her to bed and tucked her in, climbing in with her when she hadn’t settled down right away.

Except it had barely been ten so he wouldn’t have gone to sleep.

Pushing her hair away from her face, she frowned to herself. Was he out in the living room? Had he not stayed because he didn’t want to wake her up? The clock showed she’d been asleep for a couple hours so everyone else should have been asleep by now too. They’d all stayed so they could celebrate the holiday in the morning and so far as she was aware, his twins were crashing on the pull out couch. Would he go out there or-

Calli shivered as a faint breeze washed through the room and she watched the curtains stir from it. Was he outside? She swung her legs off the bed and scooped up a cardigan she’d tossed earlier to pull on before padding over to the glass doors. Quietly peeking out, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see him on the balcony, leaning on the railing and watching the city below him.

“Sylus?” she said softly, not sure if she should disturb him. He’d clearly gone out here to be alone.

He didn’t say anything but he turned just enough to hold out a hand to her.

Shuffling across the balcony, she didn’t complain about the cold on her feet as she took his hand. He moved her to stand in front of him, tucking her close while he continued to watch the city. She looked at him over her shoulder before looking out as well when he still stayed quiet.

They were up high enough that it gave a wonderful view of everything in the area. Her favourite was the park nearby because the city would always light up the trees and she enjoyed watching them twinkle in the relative darkness. But it wasn’t just them. Other balconies had lights and decorations strung up, some curtains open to show the trees lit up inside for people that were still awake. There were little pockets of holiday cheer no matter where you looked.

“It’s different from what I’m used to,” he said quietly, his voice rumbling through her. “Even if people in the N109 celebrate the holidays, they do it privately. There’s no outward sign that something is happening for fear of it being taken advantage of or ruined.”

Calli listened, her heart aching a little. The Zone was filled with all kinds of people, many who hadn’t asked to be there but were there anyways. Because there was nowhere else to go. She knew she couldn’t fix it even if she tried but the holidays were special to her. With how busy her family had been, it was the one time they had all always agreed that they would be together. No matter what was happening, they would get together for the holiday.

“In all the years I’ve been there, I’ve never celebrated anything. I never wanted to,” he admitted. “There was no reason to. Even when the twins came, they didn’t know what a normal routine was either. They did small things with each other, tried to prank me the first few years, but nothing like this. Nothing like what the last few weeks have been.”

The last few weeks had been hectic to say the least and she suddenly wondered if she should have eased him into it a little more gently. “I’m sorry if it was too much,” she said softly.

He ducked his head, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t too much. It showed me a different side of you I hadn’t seen yet.”

Was that a good thing? Calli smiled wryly. “I don’t know how I should take that. I’ve been a little crazy the last few weeks.”

“Because it mattered to you and you wanted it to matter for me.”

That was true but it didn’t excuse it if she’d crossed a line. The arm around her belly tightened as he inhaled deeply, dropping a kiss on her neck that made her shiver.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said quietly. “I told you you didn’t but you did it anyways.”

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone on the holiday,” Calli protested.

“The holidays don’t matter to me.”

She tried to twist to look at him but he kept her right where she was. “Sylus-”

“They don’t matter,” he repeated. “To me they’ve always been made up days that people use as an excuse to be together. You shouldn’t need an excuse for that. I don’t need an excuse for it. But they matter to you so I wanted to see why. I wanted you to show me why they mattered.”

“They matter because of the people I want to share them with.”

“And you wanted to share it with me.”

“Maybe we had a rocky start, Sylus, but if you think for one fucking second, you don’t matter to me, I’m going to throw you off this balcony.”

He chuckled, deep and low, and moved to press a kiss to her ear. “Odd way to show affection, sweetie.”

“You like it.”

He didn’t deny it and kissed her again. “They still don’t matter to me,” Sylus said after a moment.

She bit her lip to keep from reflexively saying anything. He wasn’t done and if she interrupted him, she wouldn’t get the rest of it.

“But what matters to me is that you shared it with me. You made space in your life, in your rituals, to include me. You went out of your way to do so. That you’re willing to do that for me...that’s what matters to me.” He paused, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “You’re what matters to me.”

Her breath caught as he gripped her chin between chilly fingers and turned her just enough so she could see him. “Sylus.”

“All I need is you, Calliope,” he said quietly. “Nothing else matters so long as I have you.”

She didn’t know what she was trying to say, words jumbled in her throat, before he kissed her. It was slow and deep, his teeth nipping at the plush of her lower lip before his tongue swiped over it soothingly. He slid it against her own, holding her captive while he took his time with her. One hand fisted in his shirt, holding onto him as the world dropped away around her. There was only him.

She managed to get out his name as he lifted his mouth from hers but that was all before he claimed her again. The hand on her chin slid back into her hair, burying in the curls to hold her steady as she began to tremble.

When he finally eased back from her, it was only far enough to press his forehead to hers. His gaze was heavy on her as he watched her gasp for air, taking in all of her. “I don’t need presents,” he said softly. “You are my present.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a small breath. “We’re still going on the trip,” she pushed out.

She didn’t need to see him to know he was smiling before he kissed the tip of her nose. “We’re still going on the trip,” he agreed, his grip around her waist moving to band around her thighs and lift her up. “I’m looking forward to unwrapping my present.”

Not opening her eyes as he carried her back inside, Calli hung onto Sylus and told herself to just breathe. Considering what all she had bought for him to ‘unwrap’, she’d be lucky to survive the trip.

[lvnchh]

Burnt Edges

Abby Anderson x f!reader (with PTSD) 👉🏻original version 👈🏻 Wanted to make another version for my Abby girls so y'all can feel represented too 🫶🏻

I'm a minor and if you want to complain or insult me about it, just don't interact🙏🏻. It's my life, and I'm free to write whatever I want as long as I'm not bothering anyone. Also, please don't judge any grammar mistakes, as English is not my native language. I'm sorry if the whole story isn't that good.

TW: I have PTSD (DIAGNOSED), and what you're about to read is based on my personal experiences. Writing about it is a form of therapy for me. If you are sensitive to topics like violence and domestic violence, please do not continue reading. Thank you🙏🏻

Btw I need more Abby x PTSD reader stories because I want to feel less alone and represented

story below the cut

The WLF base was bustling as usual, soldiers moving in every direction with purpose. It was organized chaos, but the rhythm of it kept your mind just busy enough to not wander too far. You had been here for weeks now, a stray who Abby had somehow decided was worth keeping around. She didn’t talk much about why—just said you seemed “useful” and left it at that.

But tonight, after the day’s drills and patrols, you needed air. The weight in your chest had been building all day, the familiar tightness creeping in. The base was too loud, too crowded, too much like the chaos you used to live in. You found yourself climbing to the roof, the one place no one ever seemed to go.

When the door creaked open behind you, you sighed. So much for solitude.

“Figured I’d find you up here,” Abby said, her voice steady but not unkind.

You turned, finding her leaning casually against the doorway. Her braid hung over her shoulder, and her broad frame filled the space effortlessly. Abby was intimidating at first glance—hell, even second and third glance—but there was something about her that made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t in a long time.

“What gave me away?” you asked, forcing a weak smile as you lit your cigarette.

Abby stepped onto the roof and shrugged. “You disappear when you’re overwhelmed. You’re not as sneaky as you think.”

Her bluntness was typical, but it wasn’t cruel. If anything, it was grounding. She moved to sit beside you, her heavy boots thudding against the concrete as she stretched her legs out.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the distant hum of the base fading into the background. Abby wasn’t much for small talk, and you appreciated that.

“You smoke a lot for someone who can barely keep up on a run,” she teased eventually, smirking as she glanced at you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, well… cardio’s overrated.”

“Not when you’re being chased by infected.”

“Fair point.”

Another silence settled, and you found yourself exhaling a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate into the night. You could feel Abby’s eyes on you, her curiosity barely masked. She wasn’t the kind to pry, but she wasn’t one to let something slide if she thought it mattered.

“You’ve been… off today,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter than usual.

You stiffened, gripping the cigarette between your fingers. “What do you mean?”

Abby shrugged, leaning back on her hands. “You didn’t even flinch when Manny cracked a joke at you earlier. Usually, you’d at least roll your eyes. Something’s eating at you.”

You hesitated, the weight in your chest growing heavier. Abby wasn’t wrong, but the idea of saying it out loud felt suffocating. Still, the look she gave you—patient, steady—made you feel like maybe you could.

“It’s… nothing,” you muttered at first, then winced at her unimpressed scoff. “Okay, fine. It’s not nothing. It’s just—this place. The noise, the shouting, the slamming doors. It reminds me of… home.”

Abby tilted her head, her brows knitting slightly. “Home?”

You took another drag of your cigarette, the smoke burning your throat. “My dad. let’s just say he wasn’t exactly Father of the Year material. Yelling was the least of it.”

You didn’t elaborate, but Abby’s sharp eyes softened, her expression shifting from curiosity to something that looked like understanding.

“Shit,” she muttered, leaning forward. “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, flicking the ash off your cigarette, “it’s not exactly something I put on my résumé.”

Abby huffed a laugh at that, but it was soft, almost careful. She leaned back again, her gaze fixed on the skyline. “That why you’re always so jumpy?”

You nodded, not bothering to deny it. “PTSD’s a hell of a ride.”

She was quiet for a moment, the tension between you settling into something heavier but not unwelcome. “I can’t even imagine what that’s like,” she said finally, her voice low. “But… I get the needing space part. I didn’t grow up with that kind of shit, but since… since everything with my dad and the Fireflies, sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe when things get too loud.”

Her admission caught you off guard, and you turned to look at her. For all her strength, Abby carried a weight too. It was different from yours, but it was still there, etched into the set of her jaw and the faint lines around her eyes.

“Well,” you said, smirking despite the heaviness in your chest, “guess we’re both a little screwed up.”

“Guess so,” Abby agreed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

You took one last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out against the concrete. Then, without thinking, you added, “What can I say? My PTSD made me hotter.”

Abby blinked, staring at you for a moment before bursting into a laugh—a real, genuine laugh that echoed into the night. It was rare to hear her laugh like that, and you couldn’t help but grin, feeling a little lighter just from the sound.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Yeah, but you love it,” you shot back, leaning back on your hands with a smug smile.

Abby rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her expression betrayed her. “Don’t push your luck, rookie.”

[more-than-a-princess]

That was probably wise: anyone wishing to identify themselves as someone protecting a former Remnant of Despair, particularly one so visible as she was, was someone asking for trouble. Sympathy towards her and her friends was not a popular view, even in the Future Foundation itself. Makoto Naegi was only able to command the authority he did, Sonia thought, because he was able to defeat Junko Enoshima and in turn, he was given whatever he asked or got away with whatever he wished. His former classmates, those still alive anyway, followed in his footsteps for that belief. Even Togami.

So where, then, did Yaguchi fit in all of this? As far as she could recall, her classmates had perished in The Tragedy. All of them, and yet she'd somehow survived. Sonia hadn't thought to ask how or why: it wasn't her place, and she doubted it was something Yaguchi wanted to remember.

"If you insist, I will not counter the suggestion of having you accompany me," Sonia told her, unable to keep the fatigue from seeping into her tone or her eyes. Being a midwife for a cat was exhausting enough, but the realization that no one cared about her well-being more than Yaguchi did and that Yaguchi herself didn't seem to fathom the extent of it...well. Maybe it was something between exhaustion and concern. Just like the hopeful future Yaguchi could reach out and grab if she wished, Sonia's own reality would be a blemish upon it. "Besides. If it is not you, I believe the intent is to send someone else very experienced in combat who answers to Togami, who would have to visit far more frequently to assess my progress."

Something she wondered had more motives than one, a thought that made her skin crawl. The world was bigger than the Future Foundation and they both knew it: not even a thwarted Armageddon could alter the familial duties of the rich and privileged. The ones who had survived The Tragedy, anyway.

She nodded at Yaguchi's agreement. For now, that needed to be enough, her vocalized promise to evacuate Novoselic when she was no longer content with her life there. But a part of Sonia wondered if the woman could realize it when she faced it, or if she'd just endure. Her perseverance surely must have kept her alive through The Tragedy, at her own expense. Who was to say it wouldn't surface again?

"Good, that is what I ask of you to accompany me," She replied, leaving no amount of negotiation in her terms. "But my kindness is just...humanity, I think. Or an attempt to be a human again after the monster I was. Or still am, I'm not sure if being a member of the Remnants of Despair is something I will ever be able to truly put behind me. Do not give me too much credit, Yaguchi: I do not deserve it." She didn't deserve to live, even, but Sonia chose not to mention that as she let go of the other woman's hands in order to begin moving the messy blankets and towels off the bed. It was a two person task to move the mother cat and her kittens onto clean, warm blankets for the evening, though Sonia could at least bundle the soiled linens and toss them into a clean laundry bag for someone to retrieve in the morning.

Something she realized too, thankfully. Once they'd moved the cats so not only they'd be kept clean and warm, but Sonia would have a place to sleep as well, it was time to settle in. "I am not too hungry, thank you," Sonia admitted, finally able to stretch her legs out properly in her own bed. Small luxuries: she'd nearly been certain she'd have to sleep on the floor that night in favor of the new, growing family that called her cabin their new home. "But a cup of hot herbal tea would be lovely, if you do not mind preparing it. I have some rose and violet tea sent from home, in the pink and purple tin." She gestured to it. Chocolate was still too bitter or too saccharine for her to stomach but she'd give Novosonian roses a try. Since she'd woken up, she'd found the scent too cloying, too irritating for her nostrils, likening it more to blood than flowers (and for good reason: she'd dipped white ones into human blood to decorate her castle). But she'd try it again, if just in an attempt not to let Yaguchi down in how much of a disappointment to Novoselic, and to her, she'd surely be.

"I'm aware that it doesn't matter to Future Foundation, Miss Nevermind, but it matters to me." Shinobu let out a soft sigh. "I don't wish to make myself out to be your protector, or someone to whom you owe anything." That wasn't how she thought, and it was important to impress that upon Sonia. Shinobu had her vanity and her arrogance still, in some places, but to be so self-aggrandizing at this point in her life was unlike her. "But, if the rest of my organization is indifferent, and the world you're soon to inhabit is against you, then, I'd rather you have at least one person on your side."

Her hands were holding hers softly, and what Shinobu wanted to do was slip one of her own from Sonia's grasp, and gently cradle the side of her face. This was the woman who was so resigned to everything in her future? The woman who believed that she deserved everything awful that happened to her? The woman who looked in the mirror and saw in it nothing good reflected back? Were it not so serious a moment, Shinobu might have found it humorous enough to laugh, in their own fragile way.

No, Sonia Nevermind had always been a good person, and Shinobu had known that from the night they'd first met. What other explanation was there for her attempting to extract such a promise? They were friends, perhaps, but Shinobu knew they couldn't be equals, not so long as she was a Future Foundation agent. If Sonia resented her for her freedom and position, Shinobu could never have blamed her. But instead, she sat beside her, urging her to reach out and take happiness for herself. It was earnest and genuine. The least Shinobu could give her in return was the same genuine sentiment, even if there were truths she couldn't speak.

Softly, she squeezed Sonia's hand as she once again looked at her, gazing into Sonia's cool blue eyes without blinking. Her own eyes were intense, Shinobu was sure, as they always were, but she tried to keep her expression as gentle as she could to properly convey her feelings. "You're kind to care so much about my well-being, and my future. Thank you, Miss Nevermind. Truly." It was a gift for another person to be worried about her, to consider her feelings and her desires, even when they might have conflicted with Sonia's own.

The truth was that there was nothing else she wanted. There was no career that suited them, and no home to return to. The family estate could have been destroyed, and were it not, then her pond was rotten with the corpses of her pets and the winds had scattered the rock garden sand such that it would take days to fix. So many of her friends were long-dead, and both her mentor and her girlfriend had been killed recently too. There was nothing back there for her except an empty apartment too large for one lonely woman.

Not that she'd say as much, of course. She'd told Sonia of her life before, but right now, there was no reason to make her feel guilty due to the state of things. Instead, they just nodded. "Alright, Miss Nevermind. I promise." Still looking at her, they gave her hands another small squeeze. "In the event that I decide that I no longer with to be with you in Novoselic, I'll put in my request to leave immediately." That day would not come - Shinobu was sure of it. It was a promise easy to make with that in mind, secure in the knowledge that the thing she would want most in this world would be to be at Sonia's side.

Only then did Shinobu break eye contact, gently bringing her hand away from Sonia's, and standing up from her seat. "But, it's been a long night, Miss Nevermind, and I imagine we might both be up a while longer with all the excitement that's gone on." The movie was still running, but even if it was quite cute, Shinobu had since stopped paying close attention. She supposed that was only natural when Sonia was being rather earnest and charming beside her, instead. "Can I get you something to drink, or, can I make you something to eat that's a little more substantial than popcorn?"

[vaguely-concerned]

the change in zevran's demeanor from mildly annoyed that you're even speaking to him to straight up beaming gleefully during the scene where you give him the dalish gloves... protect him

[musubiki]

lately ive been thinking about the contrast going on in Early Lime where hes like "tbh im pretty sure i could have any girl i wanted including mochi i mean i guess if she wanted we could give it a shot one day but i dont really care lol" and then very easily becoming completely unhinged for her the second he gets a tinge of romantic affection

[bitchfitch]

help people are mistaking the opening chapter of my psych horror story about a man getting trapped in a demented game of house with a personification of the US Military's rot for a cute gay romcom about veterans relaxing after achieving glory

[webism]

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎HOT ROD !

After getting hooked on your taste, pornstar!satoru invites you and your pornstar boyfriend to shoot a threesome in the countryside.

pornstar!suguru x pornstar!satoru x fem!reader | part one, two

cw; ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎she/her pronouns used for reader, unprotected sex, creampies, oral (m and f receiving), anal (m receiving), mmf threesome, voyeurism.

The sun has barely risen, the typical tangelo orange of a morning sky is yet to develop—instead, you watch a dull pink canvas the sky, turned more of a rose colour through the car's windshield. Suguru Geto, your lover and costar alike, keeps his hand on your thigh as he drives. Occasionally, he'll tap his fingers against your exposed flesh along to the beat of the old niche rock song blaring through the radio. You have the volume up too high—which isn't good for your ears, but is great for the soul—and the windows rolled all the way down. The wind is in your hair, which aids the setting heat of Summer in Japan. It's quite pleasant out here. You're filming at a location you can only reach through an open road that goes right past some very scenic hills, and you're having a lovely time just enjoying your lover's company. Nothing but the two of you. 

That being said—something sits at the forefront of Suguru's mind. You can tell his thoughts are preoccupied, having been with him so long gets you a sweet look into that pretty mind of his. So, when the strings of an electric guitar die out, you turn the radio down and shift in your seat to face him better. 

“Cold feet?” You ask. 

His hair is up and out of his face, save for a stand that falls over his eyes, though it’s pushed back by the wind regardless. He glances at you, smiles, and looks away.

“I don’t get cold feet," he says flatly, looking at you for half a second before his focus returns to the road. “I'm just interested to see if he'll fuck as good with me there, of if the poor guy will get performance anxiety."

Ah, jealousy it is. The flat kind, because your sweet-boned lover never gets openly jealous. You have to settle for half-bitten quips. You smile, "he didn't seem like the type to get performance anxiety."

Suguru hums in a noncommittal way, his lips pulling inwards. He squeezes the fat of your thigh and taps a finger against your skin.  Your skin heats under his touch, it always does. You might earn your living through the most sensual of touches, but none of them quite set you alight like Sugurus does.

Well, except for Satoru. You try to avoid closing your eyes, in fear of being met with the memory of his cock sinking into you rather than the darkness of your closed eyelids. You feel half-guilty, despite Suguru's obvious itch to see you laid out for Satoru Gojo of all people. You know him, you wouldn't be driving forty minutes through the countryside if Suguru wasn't at least a little bit obsessed with the fantasy.

Satoru Gojo, a known name in the porn industry, got to fuck you stupid only a week ago. He had asked you out for drinks after, and though you rejected him verbally, you’re starting to fear that your mind didn’t reject him in the same regard. You had come home that night to your sweet Suguru, and told him all about being hit on by your co-star, to which he laughed.

And oh the irony, that your Suguru was balls-deep inside of you that night when the two of you got an email from Satoru’s agent– an offer, an expensive one. One shoot, a week from then, a threesome between his new favourite love birds and, of course, him.

Suguru remembers Satoru like he was the season prior, like the winter that bled into you, the spring. They did a few films together, Satoru got a little too stuck in Sugurus mind and then, once their contracts were up, they never spoke again. 

The rising sun makes him squint against the road— he almost misses the turn off to the countryside estate you had been told to meet at. The place is nice, big, and you’re starting to wonder just how widely distributed this porno will be if the producer is shelling out so much money just for an estate to rent out for half a day. 

“With how much they’re paying us, I half expected the budget for location to allow for a crack den at most,” Suguru snorts as he pulls in through the large paved driveway. 

“No kidding,” you hum. With this paycheck, you’d just be greedy looking for work in the next few months. 

Suguru parks and undoes his seatbelt with a sideways glance in your direction. “We’re a bit early,” he notes. “But it never hurts to get a feel for the place, talk to our co-star for a minute or two.”

You smile. “Mhm, talk.”

“Ready to get fucked for cash?” Suguru snorts, and opens his door to get out of the car. You follow suit, rolling your eyes at his crude words when your feet hit the ground and you’re closing your door behind you. 

You walk around the car to meet your boyfriend, and he greets you with a pinch to your ass and a kiss to your temple. You’d recognise something poetic in the contrast of his actions if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with thoughts of performing for him in only a few moments. 

Despite both being pornstars, you rarely take scenes together. Threesomes aren’t a frequent venture— this is something relatively untapped for the both of you. And though you’re sure it would never jeopardise your relationship at all, you can’t help but entertain the worries that creep in. Will Suguru really not mind sharing? 

You aren’t sure what’s worse— the thought of him getting overly jealous of Satoru and cutting the scene short, or the thought of Suguru not minding in the slightest as you get fucked stupid by another man. A little possession never goes unappreciated on your end. 

“Hey,” Suguru’s silken voice brings you back to the now. “You okay? We can turn around and speed off into the sunrise if you want to leave.”

You grin. “I’m good. Excited, even.”

Your boyfriend nods and leads the way to the estate's front door. It’s closed, which is a little odd considering the production crew will be coming in and out with equipment and the such. You furrow your eyebrows and realise your car is the only one here—maybe you’re earlier than you realised. 

“You checked the shoot time, right?” you ask. 

“Yes, love,” Suguru makes it to the front door and tries the handle only to find it locked. “Fuck, maybe I should have triple checked.”

He presses a thick finger to the doorbell button and glances to you as the sound of an overly upbeat chime echoes through the estate. Maybe it’s the wrong place, too lavish to be true. Maybe it’s the wrong date, even. Maybe—

The door swings open, and standing to greet you with a knowing grin is Satoru Gojo. 

His eyes meet yours first, and then drop to take in the rest of you. Something soft flashes over his face. Lust, perhaps, or appreciation, maybe both.  His arms cross over his chest, leaning his body weight on the doorframe as he flits his gaze to your boyfriend, and his eyes return.

“Long time no see, lovebirds. Just on time," he chirps, stepping aside to let you in. "Excuse the mess, I just moved in."

It takes a moment for your brain to register his words, and Suguru is right behind you in thought. "This is your place?" he asks, appraising the foyer as he walks in. 

“Mhm,” Gojo replies, and though you expect his lilt to be more cocky, he speaks smooth like silk. “The city is too… busy for me. Plus.. saves a dollar on renting out a house to film in, right?”

You can’t help the smile that pulls at your lips: from the looks of his home you doubt he’d blink an eye at paying rent for a night of filming. Still, you don’t know if he’s just trying to show off, or if he really wants his home to play backdrop for the shoot. But whatever the case, he definitely thinks it’s clever on his behalf to lead the both of you here. It worked, you give it to him, but damn.

You look around, taking in everything that catches your eye – the sleek furnishings, a wide kitchen to the left, and an elegant living room straight ahead. All of it feels clean and welcoming. You wonder, idly, what it's like for Gojo to live in a space like this all alone – if he is alone, that is. The question remains unanswered as Gojo leads the two of you down the hall until you reach another door and slip inside.

The bedroom you end up in is stunning; a double bed dominates the centre of the room with fluffy duvets thrown haphazardly over top, whilst the walls are painted a warm, calming shade of grey. The carpet is plush and dark brown in colour, the curtains hanging at either side of the grand windows allow for plenty of natural light to flood the room. There's a tripod set up with a very expensive looking camera pointed directly at the bed: Satoru points to it and grins at you and Suguru, "our camera crew."

You furrow your eyebrows, but Suguru speaks up before you can. "It's just us?" 

Satoru nods, crossing his corded arms and he flits his gaze between the two of you. "Yes. I did specify it was a private shoot, lovebirds."

Your boyfriend settles in closer beside you than before, you can feel the heat from his body as he crosses his own arms, a mirror of the white haired man in front of you. "I figured it was a private production shoot," he speaks cautiously. "The email I got was from an agent, not you directly."

Satoru looks unperturbed. "'Course," he says languidly. "She handles all my correspondence."

Gojo turns to the dresser and, from the top drawer, pulls out two white envelopes. Your eyes linger a little too long on his slender fingers as he hands them over to you, one each. As you peek into the envelope handed to you, you find an obscene amount of cash neatly sat inside. 

"As agreed, plus... a little extra for the commute," Gojo shrugs. "You can take it and go, if this isn't what you want. If it is, well..." He gestures to the bed. "I'm kinda dying here."

You glance down at his insinuation and find that he's beyond hard. His pants are tight and tented, making his arousal painfully evident. You have to force your gaze elsewhere – to Suguru, who is staring almost shamelessly at Gojo, his brows creased in the middle as he thinks.

The silence is deafening, you can feel the tension rising between the three of you, vibrating off the surface of your skin and permeating the air itself. Suguru seems to have made his mind up, because he turns to you with an awfully familiar look on his face: desire.

"Thoughts, darling?" he asks, and your stomach flips. 

There's no point in pretending that there aren't things wrong with how your mind still reels after Satoru's touch. This entire thing has been confusing and disorientating; you're confused about everything – your feelings, your career, your sexual desires – and now, in your current situation, you’re downright torn. And yet, despite that, despite all the questions swirling around in your mind, as soon as your eyes land on Satoru's again – you know you'd die without another taste of his pink glossed lips. That feeling, the desire, the forethought of how he'd pant and whine after you've fucked him senseless – you'll do anything to achieve it. 

This doesn’t feel like work anymore, not with the way these two men are looking at you. The camera isn’t even rolling yet, and yet you find yourself ready to fuck them both to the brink of oblivion.

So, without so much as a second of hesitation you pull away from your train of thought and turn to press your lips to Suguru's in a searing kiss. The action, so swift, causes Gojo's breath to hitch in his throat at the sight. Suguru kisses you back, of course, the hand that isn't holding his envelope quickly makes its way to your waistline and pulls you flush against him, leaving nothing but your clothes between the both of you. You wrap your arms loosely around his neck as Gojo watches the two of you intently, gaze burning into the meeting of your lips. You can feel him watching you, his spectatorship dizzying, and you bite Suguru's bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up your throat.

“Jeez, didn’t know this was a cuckolding shoot,” Satoru sounds whiney, threadbare with lust. “Though I wouldn’t mind that… another time maybe.”

You place a hand on the planes of Suguru’s chest as you disconnect your lips and turn your head to the white-haired pervert with heart-shaped pupils. Your grin is sweet, sultry - "another time, huh?"

You pull apart from Suguru and move past Gojo, making a point not to glance in his direction, until you're crawling onto the bed and turning to rest with your elbows propping you up. Both Suguru and Satoru standing, your observers - admirers, is a sight for sore eyes. The camera sits between them, propped up and set on you. In spite of it, you feel oddly at home. The same sweet excitement builds within you that you normally feel when it’s just you and Suguru at home. You didn't know the air could weigh so intimately in front of a camera.

It takes a moment of staring at you, jaw slack, for Satoru to finally spring into thought. He steps towards the camera, makes sure everything is looking good, and then clears his throat as he presses record. He almost looks nervous, and if he weren't so cocky in his usual demeanour you'd think he's getting cold feet. But you remember the way his eyes glossed when he pushed into you, how that confidence of his melted into carnal need in just one thrust. You know what you do to him, and god does it seem amplified tenfold with Suguru here.

And your black-haired lover must know it too, because the second Satoru makes a move to speak, Suguru cuts him off with a step towards him and a burning kiss pressed to his lips. Satoru's sound of alarm at Suguru's lips on his is almost enough to send you dizzy, but the true aphrodisiac is the sight of your lover taking charge with him; lips locked onto one another, the lewd noises they make as Suguru cups Satoru's face with one hand and scratches into the back of his hair with the other. Satoru's moans become louder and more desperate, as Suguru's tongue explores the recesses of his mouth, sucking hungrily upon the flesh of his lower lip. When the two break apart they're both breathing heavily, panting as they catch their breath. An undoubted look of longing is etched into every last one of their handsome features.

You feel your stomach roil with anticipation as you watch them, realising the camera is only pointed at you, capturing your wanton expression. But then, it snaps, and suddenly your lovers are pulling apart to instead lay their gaze on you, resting back on Satoru's wildly comfortable bed sheets with a lust-driven smile pulling at your lips.

“You’re a fucking lucky man, Suguru,” Satoru coos, blue eyes raking over you in appreciation. You’re hardly undressed, and yet you feel naked under his gaze. “Don’t know how you can do porn when you’ve got such a pretty thing waiting for you at home. It’d ruin my performance.”

“I know,” Suguru says plainly, truly. "You've never been good at multitasking, have you Satoru?"

"Harsh words," Satoru pouts, giving his best imitation of an overly dramatic frown. "I can multitask just fine, do you need me to prove it?"

Without a word further, he plucks the camera from its tripod and points it at Suguru. "For example," he sing-songs, "I can fuck and film at the same time."

“Can’t do it dressed,” you point out, to which both men turn to find you already stripping yourself of your clothes. Satoru turns the camera onto you, finding it a sin to not capture you revealing yourself with such delicate fingers. You look into the lens, eyes sultry as you’re known for doing, and wonder just how many people are going to slip their hands under their waistbands at the sight of you. 

Once you’ve laid yourself bare, your naked skin feels static with the tension in the air, you reach your hands out and make grabby-hands at Satoru. “Pass the camera,” you hum. “It’s your turn.”

A glance between themselves, and then Satoru is leaning over the bed to slot the camera in your hands. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be, but feels nice and cooling against your otherwise sweaty palm. Satoru’s fingers brush over yours as he hands it over, something electric stills the room for a moment, and then he pulls away with a cough.

He hadn’t realised that Suguru had fallen into place behind him, because when he steps backwards and his back hits your boyfriend's chest, Satoru gasps. You capture the pink blush that speckles at his cheeks, and the beautiful way in which Sugurus hands snake around his body to caress down his chest.

Suguru has always been gifted in the way of sparking intimacy. It’s why the porn he shoots is usually so artistic, he’s sensual. And Satoru, not for the first time, is falling victim to his seductive ways. The gentle traces of his fingers down Satoru’s chest is testament enough to just how narcotic Suguru’s touch is. When he reaches the hem of his shirt and starts lifting upwards, unwrapping his next meal, Satoru can’t help but lift his arms and help move the process along — he’s feeling beyond restless. 

Now exposed, Satoru’s chest and torso are now at the mercy of Suguru’s searing touch. Each trail of his fingers down the white-haired man’s chest, each tweak over his surprisingly sensitive nipples, each rough kiss against the column of his neck, they all elicit the most pornographic moans from Satoru Gojo’s throat. You study them both through the camera’s screen, and watch as Suguru presses his lips against Satoru’s ear.

He speaks in hushed tones, enough so that you know the camera isn’t going to pick up on his words. You can hear them though, only just, they're low and sensual and entirely full of sin. "You're lucky I'm letting you fuck my girlfriend for a second time," he purrs. "You know, she hasn’t stopped thinking about your last shoot. We watched it together the other night, I matched your rhythm, let her pretend it was you. She’s obsessed."

You're almost embarrassed by the confession, a burn sheens your skin, but the way Satoru's eyes darken impossibly further calms you. Suguru grins, catching your gaze from over Satoru's shoulder, and presses a kiss to his earlobe. "It brought me back, too," he says. "To when I got you to myself. You remember our films, hm? You're just like she is." 

Satoru nods, the tips of his ears turning redder. His breathing is shallow, ragged, needy; and in a split second he's turning around and returning his lips to Suguru's. Desperate hands lift at your boyfriend's own shirt, exposing his tattoo-laden skin underneath. His jeans soon follow, and then so do Satoru's pants.

For a moment it's just the two of them, all clothes bar their boxers discarded to the floor and hands exploring bare skin. The warmth of Satoru's fingers digging into his chest, his ribs, his hips, the hard planes of his body, their bodies pressed together as if to become one. Their lips connect again, hungrily, their teeth knocking together with every brush of tongues. Satoru takes Suguru's lower lip between his teeth and bites hard enough to elicit a choked groan from the back of Suguru's throat.

And when they part, it's obvious just how much heavier the air has gotten. Suguru turns your white-haired tryst and pushes him towards where you sit on the bed. "Move your ass before I fuck that too," he deadpans.

Satoru doesn't blush like you expected he would. Instead, he grins. "That would be a big change from last time, don't you think?" he sing-songs, eyebrows raised as he steps further towards the bed. "Or maybe you don't remember crying from how well I stretched you out, I sure do, all pretty and—"

This time Suguru does flush crimson, and you laugh out loud at this revelation. "I didn't know you bottomed for him," you shake the camera a little with your laughter, capturing the way Suguru glares at Satoru from beneath long eyelashes, "that's something I've got to see."

"Hah," Suguru climbs onto the bed and snatches the camera from you, settling on his knees as he points it down at your form. There, his fingers graze lightly against your bare skin, making you arch your back in anticipation. "Tough luck, pretty."

His black boxers are beyond tented, and he slips them off easily enough, allowing his cock to spring free, perfectly poised and ready for your hand. The sound of Suguru's moan as your fingers wrap around his length is paired with the shuffle of Satoru climbing onto the bed too. He hovers above you for a moment, watching you stroke Suguru through the camera, before taking it from him with a grin. 

Satoru returns the camera to its stand and checks its positioning before climbing back onto the bed and settling himself just behind you. You turn to smile at him, and then gasp as his hands tentatively find your shoulders. He peers over you, to the sight of Suguru’s drooling cock in your hand, and presses a kiss to the skin just under your ear.

“You know I’m fucking obsessed with you, right?” He purrs, glancing down to your boyfriend's cock before pressing another kiss to your shoulder. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you. I dreamt of breaking you and your boyfriend up until I found out it was Sugu, here. Wanted you all to myself, pretty thing, but I think I’m happy enough to share now, because god do I want to see your lips wrapped around his cock.”

“Mm,” you hum, turning your head to meet his gaze. “You haven’t even kissed me yet, and you’re making demands?”

Satoru smiles, his lips glossy and so perfect you could cry. “I want to taste him on you.”

His words light a fire in your core that licks through your body, ravenous. You can't help but oblige at his words, returning your gaze to sweet Suguru before dipping your head down and pressing a chaste kiss to the weeping tip of his cock. Suguru and Satoru both inhale sharply when you do so. You wet your lips with your tongue and then meet his cock again, drawing lazy circles across his tip before closing your lips slowly, reverently around the shaft of Suguru's cock.

Satoru's hand pushes down a little on your shoulder, and you're forced forward onto your lover's length. Your moan betrays you and sends narcotic vibrations down his shaft, making Suguru grunt and buck his hips forward a little. Satoru, who remains behind you, gently takes hold of your hips and manoeuvres you into more of a doggy-style position — your fingers splayed over Suguru's thighs to try and find purchase as Satoru leans over you. 

Gojo's chest presses against your back, skin-to-skin intimacy broken by the feverish kisses he presses to the back of your neck, down to your shoulder blades, your spine, His kisses become hotter, wetter, open-mouthed as he moves down to your waist, large hands playing with the flesh of your ass as he kisses a path down. You moan and shift against his grip, moving your hips in an effort to push yourself back against his boxer-clad erection, but Satoru only snaps you forward, and you choke a little as you're forced to take Suguru's cock even deeper down your throat.

"Fuck," Suguru hisses, pretty purple eyes meeting yours as you look up. Drool glosses his length, slick and hot and heavy against your tongue when he finally gives you a moment to breathe. 

Your mouth immediately goes back to work again once your breathing steadies, hollowing out your cheeks and dragging him down, deeper, faster, more desperately. The receipt of pleasure etched into Suguru's tight-wound face is enough to spur on your own needs, but you nearly choke when Satoru Gojo bites into the fat of your ass. Your body arches up and you squirm and whine, but Satoru is relentless, licking over the indentations left behind as Suguru snaps his hips into your open mouth over and over again.

You barely have room to move before Satoru is pushing your knees apart with a strong hand, the heel of his palm firm against your ass as he spreads you open. He takes a moment, heavy breaths fan against your exposed slick, and you’re suddenly all too aware of yourself. You’d protest, tell him not to stare if your mouth wasn’t full with your heavy-lidded lover's cock. You don’t even know why you’re embarrassed — you’re a pornstar, your job is to lie subject to the most intimate of ogling.

Your thoughts melt into the bedsheets, however, when Satoru groans and connects his lips to your pussy. Stupid off the taste of you alone, he whines against your slick heat, enamoured. His tongue flicks over you, circling your clit repeatedly and making your insides burn. You moan, and it comes out muffled and breathless around Suguru's dick.

"You taste so fucking good," Satoru speaks against your cunt. One hand slips between your legs, running two fingers through your folds in collection of your arousal, whilst his other hand tugs down at his own boxers, pulling his cock free and growling against your pussy as he starts to stroke at himself. "Fuuuuuckkk..." He pushes two fingers into you, easy with just how wet you are, and curls them in tandem with each pump of his cock.

Each thrust of his fingers pushes you just that little bit further onto Suguru's length. And you're thanking god that he's there, because without his muscled thighs to hold onto, you fear you’d be fucked too dizzy to keep yourself upright. You figure you must look a mess now, hair mussed and eyes bleary and drool rolling down your chin and all over Suguru's pulsing cock. 

You feel pathetic with how quickly your orgasm crests. Satoru must feel it too, how you clench around your fingers, the subtle tremor in your thighs, because his tongue only speeds up in its assault.  He's still stroking himself, keeping you open and willing as he sucks your clit harshly. Once you're right at the brink, teetering off the edge of ecstasy, Suguru pulls out of your mouth and leans down to crash his lips against yours. 

"Come," he orders into your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. "Come for us, darling, come on now."

You're overwhelmed by Suguru's rakish lips over yours, and Satoru's relentless tongue over your sex. Before you can even try to present yourself for the cameras, you're cumming, hard. You writhe against Suguru, and your nails scrape across his thighs until you can hardly draw breath. The world slows down around you, leaving nothing but pleasure to consume.

"Holy shit," Satoru’s breath comes out in a hitched sort of laughter as he pulls back, not bothering to wipe away the sheen of your lust that coats his mouth and chin. “My head’s spinning, I think I’m in heaven. Do I still have a pulse?”

He makes a show of checking his pulse, despite the way you roll your eyes. You’re still coming down from your climax as Suguru peppers feather-light kisses over your face. Satoru, feeling more hungry than doting, brings his two fingers to his own mouth, licking them clean. Suguru catches sight of the action and gently pulls back from you, something knowing in his eyes.

You assume he’s going to redirect your head back to his cock, let you finish your job, but instead he tuts and nods his head to your shared tryst, who is still diligently working at tasting you some more on his fingers. 

“Think someone’s a little pussydrunk,” Suguru grins, and you do too at the sight of Satoru Gojo so blatantly desperate for more. Your eyes drift down to his cock, long and hard and weeping with precum. 

Though, you don’t want to neglect Suguru, so you turn back to him — “you didn’t finish,” you make a move to reach for his cock, still rock hard and achy-looking, but your lover shakes his head gently. 

“Got other plans,” he nods subtly to Gojo. “How about we show our stalker here just how much better the real thing is?”

You grin, catching onto his drift, and watch over your shoulder as Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes. “You know, I’ve had the real thing, from both of you.”

“You haven’t had both of us,” Suguru shrugs. “And I know you’ve fucked your fist to the thought of it. Don’t lie, or you won’t enjoy this as much as you could.”

Satoru’s loaded remark gets stuck in his throat as Suguru pulls away from you entirely, though not without a gentle kiss to your forehead first. He stands by the bed, rolls his shoulders and nods to Satoru — “go on,” he gestures to you, still on your hands and knees. “Taste me on her lips.”

Satoru would probably blush if he weren’t so dedicated to the promise of a taste, because he’s got a hand under your stomach and is flipping you onto your back with ease in only half a second. You sigh at the reprieve of the strain on your hands and knees, and revel in how soft Satoru’s mattress is, when he’s collapsing on top of you with a strangled growl and his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a strange thing, to taste both Satoru, yourself, and Suguru at the same time. You taste Satoru in the way he kisses, hungry and listless, with knocking teeth and exploratory tongues. You taste Suguru in the remnants of his cock in your mouth, the precum that has coated your tongue, mixed with your saliva that now mixes with Gojo’s. And you taste yourself glossed on Satoru’s lips; your climax, the buildup of pleasure he had gifted you with both his mouth and fingers. 

A strange mix, maybe, but a perfect one nonetheless. You have to close your eyes to stop yourself from growing too dizzy, and also partly to stop yourself from worrying too hard — how were you meant to enjoy anything to its full potential now that you know how this tastes?

Satoru’s cock presses against the inside of your thigh; you can feel the gentle thrum of its pulse — a testament to his aching need. His arms box you in on either side, settled comfortably between your still-shaky legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects your lips to his, and his eyes are darker than you remember. 

“I need to be inside of you, need. You’re fuckin’... god I can’t think.”

As if by instinct, your legs part further, allowing him the access he so craves. It’s a fluid movement, the way he moves one hand down to direct his cock to your slick folds. He rubs himself against you, his tip kissing your clit teasingly. You suck in a shaky breath between parted lips, and when he doesn’t hurry up despite his desperation, you feel like you could cry.

Though, before a complaint can leave your lips, you're watching as Suguru joins you two on the bed, kneeling behind Satoru and running his long fingers gently down the white-haired man's bare back. Satoru's head falls forward at the touch, and as your boyfriends hand runs lower and lower on his back, you realise exactly where this is going. 

"You're gonna fuck her good," Suguru purrs, graceful in his touch. "Because I'm going to help you -- that okay?" He reaches back up, brushing his knuckles from between his shoulder blades, down the curve of his spine until he reaches his tailbone. 

Satoru's eyes are locked on yours as he answers your lover. "Yes," his exhale is beyond needy. "Please, god. Yes."

And from there, things move with practised ease. It feels normal to submit yourself, your body, to Satoru. As Suguru takes hold of either side of his waist and guides him into you, the stretch is searing. You remember just how hard it was to adjust to his size the first time, having to try and keep your face melted neutral for the cameras. You don't feel that same pressure now, despite Satoru still filming, and your nose scrunches up at the feeling of Satoru inside of you.

"You're..." you try, words stuck in your throat as Suguru pushes Satoru's hips into yours a little more. "Please."

Satoru takes control of the pace, his breath hot and heavy on your cheek, his body moving in sync. You moan as he starts thrusting slowly in and out, stretching every muscle in your body as you get used to the feeling. With every thrust, you feel him getting harder and deeper within you, and his mouth dips down to trail along the sensitive skin on your neck.

It's a narcotic, the way he fills you. He's longer than Suguru, though not quite as thick, but he reaches depths that aren't typical for you. As he sheathes himself deeper and deeper inside of you, with the help of Suguru's hands on his waist, You slowly become spineless; relaxing into the pleasure of his sweet push and pull.

Sweat beads at your skin as Satoru quickens the pace, pulling out and plunging back in again with unbridled whimpers as Suguru works on taking his fill. Your boyfriend, domineering though still gentle, starts working your tryst open with one of his fingers.

"Ah- fuck," Satoru's words are heady with need, the initial discomfort of Suguru's fingers pushing into his ass are quickly forgotten, replaced with a deep yearning for more sensation. It sends his hips snapping into yours, bottoming out inside of you at such depths you can't help but cry out. It's a symphony of wetness and gasps of air, each syllable punctuated by Satoru's frantic movements. Your body grows tighter and tighter around Satoru with every pass as he gets worked open so beautifully by Suguru.

Your mind is clouded by everything Satoru has done to you and by the sheer force of him filling you with his cock and all that comes with it. You're completely and utterly lost in the moment, consumed by Satoru, who is consumed by Suguru, who is consumed in the pleasure of serving you both in turn. 

"More," Satoru is barely able to get the word out as he slams deeper and deeper inside of you. "Fuck, more."

And Suguru isn't one to deny a pretty thing like Satoru such pleasures; he's pulling his fingers out of him in seconds and replacing them with the head of his cock at his ass. Suguru is gentle, but unrelenting as he thrusts himself into Satoru in one fluid motion. The pressure is enough to prick tears at Satoru's pretty blue eyes, which you reach up and wipe away from underneath him. 

A moment is shared, a chance for Satoru to breathe the best he can, before he's testing the waters and pushing back a little, onto Suguru's cock, before thrusting his hips forward, into you. 

This is ecstasy incarnate. The two men seem to merge together, their bodies melting as they meet. Suguru fucks you through Satoru, each thrust into him is a thrust into you, into the both of you. It almost hurts, you'd wager, the way your whole body throbs in synchronization with theirs, the way Satoru moans as Suguru drives you both to insanity. It's a weird way to connect with your lover, but one that works nonetheless, the both of you seem to share an awful yearning for the man sandwiched between you, fucked mindless. 

And then he's driving your entire being towards the edge, and you feel the orgasm coming on, the rush of blood to your head, your muscles tightening around Satoru. It's a strange feeling of being connected to something bigger than yourself, a system working in tandem with each other to chase climax, but it's a feeling you're quickly growing addicted to. It's warm, it's comforting, and most importantly, it's yours. This man right here, his body pressed tight between yours and Sugurus, is yours. Even if only for the early morning.

"Gonna cum," you whine, lips ghosting against Satoru's. He nods, eyes locked onto yours. 

"M—fuck—me too, baby. God, you have to let me come inside of you, doll, can't deny me, please. You—"

"You better," Suguru cuts in, his voice biting from behind Satoru. He thrusts sharply into Satoru, sending him keening forward into you, pressing right into your sensitive g-spot as Suguru hits his prostate in a mirrored pleasure. "Wanna watch you claim her," he bears down, "gonna fill you up, you fill her — watch her face, Satoru. Watch what you do to her."

You gasp as Satoru's fingers dip down to rub frantic circles over your clit, pushing you closer and closer to orgasm with each knock of his hips into your, of Suguru's into his. the room is filled with a chorus of moans and whines and desperate pleas for more and more and more. You know you'll never recover from this level of arousal if you don't come soon, but before you can find purchase in your body and begin your descent into bliss, Suguru is first to come undone.

His hips snap forward into Satoru, head craning into his neck, biting down on the muscle of his shoulders for some sort of physical gag — ever the one to stifle those beautiful noises of his. And the feeling of being filled in such ravaging volumes must be enough to send Satoru over the edge, too, because he's knitting his eyebrows together and cumming ropes into you in only moments.

"Fuck," he whines, once again tears prick at his eyes, overwhelmed by the duality of his pleasure, of you and Suguru, so close to you but also never close enough. He wants to be one with you, a complete unit, bound by sex and soul and the sweet sounds of the most powerful orgasm he's ever had in his life. 

You come in tandem with him, it's completely blinding. Your legs fall apart as you cry out, nails scraping across Satoru's bicep as the world melts away and the sensations start swirling about in your mind's eye and the last thing you register is Satoru collapsing forward, breathing raggedly into your ear. 

You catch the salty flavour of him as you suck in a lungful of air and smile in response, fucked stupid and blissful and never ready to give this feeling up. Never ready to give anyone else this feeling- god, you already despise whoever gets to taste Satoru Gojo next. 

Suguru has to pull out of Satoru slowly, and you wipe at his face with the pad of your thumb when it scrunches up in protest of the loss of Suguru’s stretch. Before he can truly call the scene over, though, Satoru leans down and presses the most gentle of kisses to your lips. A myriad of ‘thankyouthankyouthankyou’s spill from his tongue as he does so, each word cut by a kiss to the expanse of your face.

And when he pulls out of you a sickening gush of his cum follows. It spills from your aching pussy and onto the bed sheets beneath you, though Satoru doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He swipes his finger through the mess he’s made of your sex, smiling when you hiss at just how sensitive you are, and brings his cum-coated finger back to his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. 

Your stomach flips at the sight. Great, he’s gone and fucked you lovestruck.

“Satoru,” a clean voice cuts in. Your head constricts in your fucked out daze when you turn to see Suguru standing by the tripod, his eyebrows raised and pretty purple eyes beyond amused. “It’s not even fucking recording.”

Instead of being confused, Satoru looks sheepish. He flops down onto the bed next to you, eyes glossy and cheeks blushed pink. “I…. can explain? I think I’d rather die than share the two of you with the world. But I’d really die if I didn’t get my hands on you both.”

You meet your boyfriend's gaze. Something passes between you, something knowing. In a weird, probably unhealthy way, you both feel the exact same. This was never a scene for the cameras, anyway— not when such strong… feelings are involved.

“I’m not proposing marriage here,” Satoru huffs when he catches onto your shared gaze. “I just, you enjoyed it, right?”

You giggle from beside him, your sweat-soaked skin cool against the air. Suguru chimes in with his laughter, melodic and beautiful. He folds his arms and watches the two of you laid across the bed. 

“Let’s get you both cleaned up, then,” Suguru hums. “I’m not fucking either of you again until we’ve shared a shower.

TAGLIST: @sugurubabe @fullbelieverheart @starrysho @meowforluv @ch3rryistheg @miizuzu @okayiamkassandra @inconcise @sexcults @hotgirlgoob @mistalli @ourfinalisation @graceloveslanadelrey @blessed-princesa @plinkuro @pe4rl-diver @sugojosgf @beachaddict48 @chimmysoftpaws @blendingcaramal @dongh9e @caramelised-onions @kyluskaye @sammywo @4evrglow @hiraethwa @stinkinstuffie @tomiokasecretlover @ser0t0nln @yuzu-ku @lagataprrr @dear-fifi @hel-lhound @kensqueent @sserafin @dabisdolly @zoroisminty @angelkazusstuff @reinam00n @kaeyakaikai @bunny416 @littletittygothgirl @glitterbitch1 @saccharine-nectarine

cont in comments !

[nereidprinc3ss]

bambi

in which spencer reid and fem!reader fuck like they missed each other (because they always do) and he teases her for her shaky legs

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: softdom spencer, piv sex (riding, a first for nereidprinc3ss) /oral f receiving (in that order) mentions of him accidentally grabbing her hips too hard, slight somno SORT OF like he starts going down on her while she’s sleepy and then she kind of goes in and out but its all consensual, sorry haters i fucking love sleepy sex and I always will, teasing, lots of praise, fluffy, established relationship, he loves her badddd, aftercare, literally nothing bad happens no angst for once they just are having sex cause they are in love which is arguably the most superior kind of sex! a/n: I don’t think I’ve ever written smut that is so wham bam thank you ma’am like really we just get RIGHT into it!! also no gif no pics we r going old nereidprinc3ss on this one I hope you loveeee!!!

You roll over onto Spencer and kiss once, long and deep and sweet. He hums into it, too whipped to pretend like he’s got self control or respect, hands finding the soft skin of your bare waist and settling there. 

How it got to this point so quickly, no more than fifteen minutes after he walked through the door, you can’t say. Usually the two of you are a bit more domestic when he gets home from a case, but eight days is a long time to be apart, and the trail of clothing leading from the welcome mat to the foot of the bed attests to that. 

So does the lack of teasing, of begging—at least, a lack up until this point. Right now, there’s only him, patient and content to let you play at being in charge. You pull back and reach down to grab him gently, aligning him at your entrance with a trembling hand. This part, you’re not usually responsible for. 

He assures you with a hand to the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. “You got it. Slowly.”

You do as he says, brow furrowing in focus as you sink down an inch or two onto him. Spencer’s breathing grows erratic as you take more and more of him, and in a heroic display of overachieving, you take the rest of him at once with nothing but a squeak. He laughs breathily as his fingers dig into your hips. 

“Fuck—I said slow.”

You can’t think. The overwhelm of it all is too much as you crumple forward onto his chest. The subtle rocking you’re doing to try and alleviate some of the pressure in your core is apparently too much as he stops you by the hips, fingers pressing into those same tender spots.

Spencer’s breath is ragged. “Don’t… do not move.”

“Fuck,” you breathe into his shoulder, long and drawn out as despite his wishes you wriggle around, trying to get comfortable. “Oh my god.”

“My lovely girl, please… please don’t move,” Spencer gasps, a plead, and you try to stop for him, nuzzling even deeper against his neck. “I need a minute.”

“It’s too much,” you slur, dizzy as you try to adjust to the feeling. “Please.” You don’t know what you’re asking for. Maybe relief from the sensation that he can’t offer you. Maybe more. 

Spencer is undone by you—the way you writhe on top of him, the way your voice shakes, the way you’re so totally and completely overwhelmed and he can feel it and he loves it. 

“Baby,” he breathes, and he meant to say a lot more than that, but it’s the best he can manage when he is this overstimulated. “Baby,” he whispers again, wrapping his arms around you in an effort to ground you, to give you something else to focus on as you both get used to the feeling. 

It’s going well—for a moment, before your back is arching. 

“Spence, I need to move, I can’t—”

“Okay, okay.” He takes a deep breath, returning his hands to your waist and mentally preparing himself not to cum early. He’s desperate to give you want you want, to feel you like this. “Go ahead. Move, honey. Please.”

By the time you slowly lift your hips up and drop back down with a low cry, Spencer’s lost. His head falls back against the pillow and his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “Oh, angel, I missed you.”

You do it again, motivated by his praise, and he can hear your little gasps and desperate gulps of air. 

“I missed you so much,” you whine and clench around him, pleasure so intense it’s a resounding ache in the far reaches of your body. “Oh, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer shivers. He loves when you make it personal, when you say his name like that and it becomes clear this isn’t just about the physical.

“My girl. Just like that. Doing so well, baby, just like that.”

Each pass of your hips has you whining. Your lips skim over his neck, not cognizant enough to actually kiss—only to know that you want the contact. 

“Please can I go faster?”

Spencer almost doesn’t realize you’re speaking to him he’s so lost in pleasure. The idea of faster is as compelling as it is troublesome. Spencer doesn’t know if he can’t take faster, not when he has you like this, but he certainly wants to find out. 

“Yeah, lovely. Do whatever feels good.”

You readjust and begin to pick up the pace, stumbling over a few false starts as it’s clearly more sensation than you’d been prepared for. 

Spencer, on the other hand, has his eyes screwed shut tight, and is attempting to draw a two-dimensional Császár polyhedron on your back, but he loses his place with every twitch of your hips, so eventually he decides to trace imperfect Mandelbrots down your spine—anything to avoid thinking about how the pH of your body interacts with sweet vanilla perfume to create a scent so deeply intoxicating he’d leave his entire life behind just to trail after it, or how you fucking feel against him, on top of him, around him, how miraculous it is that you keep letting him touch you—

“Oh—” you whine quietly, a strangled sort of noise that has his heart skipping. Your hand tangles desperately in his hair as you rock your hips faster and faster and he lets out a tortured groan. “Spencer, oh my fucking god.”

“I know, baby,” he manages, endeared by the fact that you feel so good you have to share it with him. Even now you’re trying to explain it because you want him to be part of it—as if he doesn’t know exactly what you’re feeling already. “That feels good, huh?”

“Mm—f—eels—” you cut yourself off with a cry into the crook of his neck, and he holds the back of your head, vision greying as he stares unseeing at the ceiling because if he looks down this’ll be over too soon. 

“You’re so good,” he breathes, “you’re perfect.”He hears you gasp at the same time as your rhythm falters, and presses a kiss somewhere indiscriminately on your head. “Gonna cum?” He murmurs in your ear, and you nod desperately, rutting against him hopelessly as your thighs tremble from exertion. 

Even the smallest drop-off in friction has his head spinning like he stood up too quickly, so he gives himself enough leverage to start fucking you. You cry out and shift your weight like you’re going to try and evade the feeling—self-sabotage, you always do this—and he again has to hold your hips in an iron vice, just to force you to feel it. 

“You’re okay, I’m gonna get you there.”

“Fuck!” You very nearly yell, still trying to wriggle away up until the very last second like the tide going out before the tsunami comes. When you do cum, your demeanor instantly changes—you get heavy and clingy and whiny as you rock back and forth through your orgasm. 

“Good girl,” Spencer murmurs, being careful in the way he continues to fuck you until he reaches his peak as well, not long after. You shudder, and Spencer feels the way your entire body tenses the way it sometimes does after a particularly strong orgasm, and he fights his way out of the brain fog to rub your back with the skimming tips of his fingers. “Shh. You’re okay. Relax, baby.”

And you do, unwound by the dance of his hand and with a few shallow breaths that gradually deepen, until you’re once more slack on top of him. 

“You’re incredible,” he exhales, with his lips pressed to your hairline. 

So clearly overwhelmed, the only response you can muster is a soft squeak. Spencer laughs fondly, still mapping the soft curve of your back. He feels the way you’re still attempting to train your breathing and kisses your hair again. “What do you need, angel?”

“I’m s’posed to be taking care of you,” you slur. Spencer chuckles again and his brow knits. 

“According to who?”

“According to… I was on top…”

“Yeah. You did all the hard stuff. Your legs are shaking.”

You whine softly. “No they’re not.”

His hand slides down to your thigh, and he rubs the trembling muscles. 

“No? No Bambi legs for me this time?”

You squeeze them around his waist like you could shrink away from his touch. “Spence…”

“I’m teasing you, honey,” he murmurs, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re cute.”

“Hm.”

“Look at me,” he murmurs, angling his head expectantly as you slowly raise yours. The look on your face is so sweet—eyes half lidded, lips swollen and much higher in color than usual. Your cheek is warm to the touch. His heart flutters like it did on your first date, and the first time he kissed you, and the first time you fell asleep on his shoulder. This view will never get old. “Wow. Look at you, beautiful girl. Can I have a kiss?”

And you grant him his wish, with a long, soft kiss that’s worth every second of that burning feeling in his lungs, every time. 

Eventually you huff out the remainder of your air against his well-kissed lips and your head flops to his chest. 

“I’m sleepy.”

“So go to sleep,” he murmurs, so warm from your kiss he feels nothing could be wrong in the world at this moment. 

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause you just got home ’nd I missed you and I wanna spend time with you.”

“We have three days to spend together. If you go to sleep now, we’ll actually get more time together tomorrow.”

“But it’s more about, like, how it feels—how much time it feels like we spend together right when you get home, and if I go to sleep now, it’s gonna feel like less time, and—basically you’re just not understanding my math.”

“What math?” He laughs, continuing to rub your legs all the way up to your hips, at which point you hiss and buck—a very visceral feeling when he’s still inside of you. “What? What hurts?”

“You tried to fucking tear my hip flexors from my body, is what hurts,” you grumble. 

“Tender?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m really sorry, angel. Tylenol?”

“Mm-mm. Can you kiss me better?” Sleep stains your voice. Spencer smiles to himself. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Lie down.”

Again you whine as you slip off of him, landing heavily on your back. He sits up, watches with so much affection the way you squeeze your thighs together and arch ever so slightly against the empty feeling. 

“Spencer?” You whisper as he cups the top of your knees. 

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He pushes your legs apart gently so he can settle in between them and kisses you again. “I love you. So much.”

“Glad we’re on the same page.”

He presses a kiss to your head, down your neck, taking the scenic route to your hip bones, but you don’t seem to mind. 

The feeling of his lips gentle on the tender flesh has you humming softly, eyes fluttering shut as he showers you with gentle kisses. His traces every place his fingers had pressed earlier—feels the way you relax further underneath him. Nobody’s ever let him in this deeply before, but you trust him with everything you have; your body, your soul, in life or death, awake and in sleep. He’ll never take that for granted. He will never pass on an opportunity like this, to be the one who takes care of you, who puts you back together, as long as you’ll let him. 

Still dancing the line of consciousness, you part your legs, the slow drag of your bare thigh like a jumper cable to his heart. Fingertips trace desirous paths up your inner thigh and back down again. He recognizes this invitation for what it is, and he knows exactly how to give you what you want, but he asks first anyway. 

“Was that on purpose?”

“I d’know what you mean. I’m so sleepy,” you slur, and he believes the second half of your statement to be fact. 

Spencer pushes your thigh a little higher, and you’re completely pliable for him, completely gorgeous. As soon as he skims your thigh with a barely-there kiss, exactly the way you like, you’re lacing a hand in his hair. 

“Please, Spence…” you murmur, and he can’t argue with that. He especially can’t argue when you widen your legs just that slightest bit more, and your arousal is opalescent between your legs. 

He hums, trailing more kisses up until he’s setting the softest one yet against your clit. “Beautiful girl…”

The following gasp is so tiny he could’ve missed it if he wasn’t so attuned to your noises—and then he gets lost in you, making sure to keep his ministrations light as you already came twice recently and are sure to be sensitive. He doesn’t want to wake you from whatever twilight half-slumber trance you’re in, either, sensing that if he does you’ll fight all over again to stay up.

And admittedly, he adores being trusted to take care of you like this.

Your back arches as much as you’re capable of in this state, and he can’t help the way he just barely suctions onto you at that moment, coaxing a sighing moan so sweet and vulnerable and open it gives him chills. Fuck. He really wants to make you cum. But instead he practices patience, tracing you with the tip of his tongue, pressing gentle kisses everywhere you need them—he draws it out. For he doesn’t know how long. 

The first time you get close, your hips begin to roll, and you spout little ah’s, but he talks you back down again, laughing lightly at your angelic cooing, your little sounds of sleepy pleasure. Even now you’re so responsive, moving against his mouth as he slips a finger into your soaked entrance, fucks you for a moment, and then retreats. Maybe he’s being unfair, but you don’t seem to mind. 

In fact, you’re slipping in and out of sleep as he devours you for what feels like hours, one hand pressed lovingly to your stomach, stroking the soft skin there. Spencer’s never had this long to explore you with his mouth and he takes full advantage of every moment, but he keeps all his kisses and licks and touches gentle and reverent and so loving. 

You don’t know how long it’s been, or how many times he’s made you cum when he finally retreats—you half-wake just as he’s finishing cleaning you up. Soon he tosses the towel aside and presses feather-light kisses to each of your cheeks, tear-stained and warm with pleasure. You feel completely drained and completely loved. 

“Hi, sleeping beauty,” he murmurs, climbing into bed with you, at some point having gotten dressed. 

You manage an embarrassed little laugh. More tears crawl down your cheeks as you roll to your side. Spencer brushes them away and pulls you into him, slinging your thigh over his waist. He chuckles. 

“Shaky?”

“Stop,” you whine, embarrassed by his teasing, and hide your face against his chest. “That’s not my fault.”

“It’s nobody’s fault. It’s sweet,” he insists as he rubs your back. And then, a moment later, “So—do you think we’ve spent enough time together for tonight?”

“No.”

He sighs good-naturedly. 

“You’re gonna wear me out, you know that?”

“’F you… can’t handle the heat… get outta the kitchen.”

When he next speaks you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Go to sleep, Bambi. Let’s see if you can walk in the morning.”

[woundedheartwithin]

Absolutely gutted for Marcus Orlob and Jane though :(

Not the Olympic dressage commentators saying that the one Lusitano in the competition would have to be judged differently because they move not quite as well as warmbloods when warmbloods were literally only bred for sport while Iberian horses were bred for war and have classical dressage as it was originally devised in their blood

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ 'baby fever' - 18+ logan x f!reader

summary: after your first baby is born, logan realises he doesn't want to stop at just one. (4.4k) tags: erm no one look at me, logan has baby fever, fluffy beginning, established relationship, breeding kink, blowjob, p in v, wet & messy, nipple play, overstimulation, creampie (lots of them oops), lots of dirty talk, clit play, missionary + doggy style, dom!logan & kind of sub!reader, crying from pleasure, rough sex, kind of body worship, for the 'home' prompt for logan promptober.

logan swears he’s dreaming, he must be. there’s no possible way he got this lucky, right? he’s holding his own baby girl in his arms, bouncing her on his hip by the bedroom window, watching on in awe as she eagerly takes in the world around her.

the light dances in her eyes while the world passes by behind the glass, birds singing, trees swaying gently, autumn leaves twirling in their yearly gentle dance. everything is new to her, and logan can’t help but be struck by such a profound love. everything feels new to him now too.

he never thought he’d have this, never thought he’d deserve it. still doesn’t believe he deserves it but accepts the role with more honour than any other role he’s been bestowed before it. a father, him, logan, a father.

her eyes droop, and his smile widens more than he thought possible. he makes his way through to her room as he mumbles sweet little words of affection to her in a voice so high pitched that no one would recognise it's his.

you watch on from the bed, a warmth spreading in your chest. you could watch him like this all day. he was a natural, the paternal instinct coming so easily to him. logan had always felt this deep-seated need to protect. though he spent so many years in solitude with no path and insisted he preferred it that way, you knew differently from the moment you met him. logan was a pack animal, through and through.

his eyes land on you as he returns to the bedroom and approaches you, standing at the edge of the bed, reaching out to cup your cheek in a loving gesture. thumb tracing across your soft skin, he speaks, “you look tired too.”

you smile, eyes closing as you lean into his touch, “maybe a little.”

parenthood hadn’t been entirely easy, but you couldn’t have anyone better by your side.

logan carefully makes his way into bed beside you, pulling you against his firm chest as his hand finds your hair and begins to thread through the strands. you hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, soothing you, lulling you, though he could achieve that with his presence alone.

his eyes settle on the window, head tilting to the side. you can practically hear it, the cogs turning. logan might have seemed like a steel trap to others, but he may as well be translucent to you. “what’s up?“ you ask sleepily.

“oh,” he murmurs, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point that you’re alerted by his silent mannerisms, “just. . . thinkin’.”

and he was, thinking about you, about the baby.

“‘bout what?” you yawn.

logan pauses, “. . .would you ever want another one?”

your eyes shoot open and you lift your head to look up at him, you find his expression and realise he’s serious.

he flushes, just a little, but you notice, “never mind.”

a small laugh of disbelief leaves you, “logan howlett, do you have baby fever?”

he flushes deeper, what did that even mean? logan scoffs and you visibly see him retreat into that shell inside his mind.

“oh baby,” you grin, cuddling against his chest as you lean your chin against his shirt to continue gazing up at him lovingly, “you want another baby, huh?”

groaning, he rolls his eyes, “quit it.” he’s beetroot red now, a sight he only reserves for you, though it’s not as though he can help it.

but damn, the baby was only born a few months ago - he was already thinking of your second? the thought fills you with warmth, but more prominently, need. your eyes land on his flushed face as you bite your lip, wondering if he is thinking about filling you up right this very second.

". . . what'cha thinkin' 'bout?" you ask sweetly with feigned naivety as your hand slides down his torso to find the- oh. oh. he's already hard. you know what he's thinking about.

logan groans and tilts his head back when your hand makes contact, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. "nothin'," he lies, his hand covering yours making you squeeze around his length through the material.

your breath catches in your throat, a heat rising in your chest. "is that right?" you whisper, trying to stay in control. the thought of him taking you, hard and deep, whispering filth about how he's gonna make you a momma again over and over is making it hard to resist rolling over onto your back for him.

and he can sense it, can see it in your face, the way your brows twitch as he grows harder under your touch. it's so cute, actually, how hard you try, knowing he's going to pounce any minute.

but he plays your game, he lets you remain 'in control', though you're anything but.

slowly, you sit up on his lap and begin to unbuckle his belt. time isn't exactly a luxury you can both often afford, what with a newborn baby, but you're too in the moment to care about speeding things up just yet.

his hands rest on your hips, digits digging into the skin as he practices restraint. he wants nothing more than to buck up into you, to throw you on the bed and take you. but he waits. like a good boy.

once he's freed from the constraints of his jeans and underwear, you hum softly at the sight of him, long, thick and ready. your mouth waters at the view, and his eyes widen when you begin to lower your head towards his begging, leaking tip. slowly, oh-so slowly.

logans large hand cups the back of your head, easily engulfing you in his grasp as he guides you lower until he feels it. your tongue. it teases across the tip before you're suddenly wrapping your lips around him. his eyes widen further, letting out a grunt as you take him by surprise.

"holy fuck," he huffs in a grin, "hungry for my cock, huh baby?"

you know now that your control is gone, given up happily and submissively. you know it in the grip he has on your hair, the way he's easing you up and down on his cock. and you'd give him everything if you could, the stars in the sky, the whole world if it were possible.

"that's it, get me nice and ready. . ." he mumbles, losing himself a little in the pleasure, the words dripping from his tongue like honey.

you're not sure what deal logan made with the devil to have the ability to talk as sweetly yet as filthy as he does, as well as he does, but you feel entirely grateful as his sinful words serve to dampen your underwear. you moan against his hardening cock, savouring the way every prominent vein feels against your soft tongue.

he pulls you back, looking into your lustful hazy eyes. you look so pretty like that, he thinks, lips red and swollen from sucking so well, eyes hooded and unfocused because you're thinking about how good that cock would feel stuffed deep somewhere else.

"c'mere," he coos, a hand on your hip guiding you forward to sit closer on his lap, "we need to get you nice and ready too, don't we?"

a growl rumbles from the back of his throat as his eyes travel down the path of your body, resting at the apex of your thighs. he purrs in delight when he notices you're already soaked through to your shorts. "wow, that worked up just from suckin' my cock, baby? you really do want me. . ."

you're bright red, shifting needily on his lap. it's always like this, he drives you to the brink of insanity with need before he's even started. you crave him, crave that thick length filling you so perfectly like it always does, and fuck, you'd give him a baby, you'd give him a hundred babies if it meant you get to experience this over and over again.

"shh," he whispers, his thumb snaking down to tease you through your shorts, applying just enough pressure to have you panting, "there we go, gettin' you nice and ready for my cock, my pretty girl. . ." his eyes flit to yours before returning his gaze to the soaked fabric.

"i am ready," you whine through a choked moan. you're literally dripping.

logan shakes his head, tutting, "tsk, tsk. . . need you extra ready for what i'm gonna do to you, you think i'm just gonna cum in you once?"

holy fuck. your head spins, reeling at his words as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. the ache between your legs grows, almost unbearable, pleading to be filled, used. his name leaves your lips in what can only be described as a needy mewl.

"no," he continues, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer, "see baby, i'm gonna cum in you, over and over. 'till you're nice and full, it's all i've been thinkin' about." his breath ghosts against your lips, "and you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you? gonna give me another baby?"

you moan breathlessly, how can you even respond to that? instead you nod quickly, swallowing hard as you try in a futile effort to stop your head from spinning.

but he loves you like this, needy, panting, desperate for his cock. sure, he might have been the one blushing earlier, but you're certainly a pretty shade of red now.

"use your words," he whispers against your lips, teasing you with the promise of a kiss, and a whole lot more.

you feel yourself clench again, his thumb still rubbing soft circles against your clit through your shorts, "please."

"please what?" logan grins, loving how your face twists in frustration.

a whine, "please fill me up, want to give you another baby, please? please, fuck, just fuck me."

he can't help but laugh softly at the needy words spilling from your lips in a desperate attempt to coax him inside. and it's working. his body thrums with pleasure as he remembers how good you feel, how he fits inside you like you were made for him, how good you take it when he gets a little rough.

"that's a good girl. . ." he hums, gripping your hips and flipping you over onto your back. his towering muscled form looms over you, your body opening up automatically, legs spreading and hands by your head. you want him to take you, take all of you. now.

"love this body, was made for me y'know. . ." logan mumbles lovingly as he kisses his way down the column of your throat, hands rubbing at your hips before they begin to inch up your shirt. it rises until it covers your face, and he keeps it there as he nips at your chest. "hm, no bra?" you feel his devious smirk against your skin, tongue beginning to flick teasingly at a nipple.

your back arches, the sensations amplified by the loss of sight. fuck, he loves to watch you squirm like this, and those noises you make. . .

he gives equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and kissing your breasts with increasing intensity, smirking all the while. finally, he pulls the shirt from your head, your breath catches in your throat as you look down at him and meet his hungry gaze.

logan begins kissing along your tummy, nuzzling against your soft skin, so close to where you want him yet so far. you want to beg, but you don't get the chance, because soon he's pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. he's greedy too.

kissing the skin that's exposed to him, his kisses trail down your mound, ending at the top of your glistening slit. "ah," he grins, eyes glowing like a man of great discovery, "there she is, she's missed me huh?"

all breath escapes your lungs as he licks a stripe along your pussy, groaning at the taste as he does so. he buries his face in you, licking and nudging your clit with his tongue as he devours you. logan swears it feels better for him than for you, could eat you out all day, but that's not what he's here for this time.

"you're so wet, holy fuck," he swallows, panting softly against your skin, "so good for me, so good, just-" giving a few quick kisses to your pussy, he pulls back and removes his shirt, "don't move."

you almost laugh, why would you want to go anywhere? with a man like logan who worships the ground you walk on, kisses you like it's the first time every time and fucks you within an inch of your life every time - you'd be crazy to want to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, where you belong.

he's worked himself out of his jeans and boxers too, admiring the view beneath him as he takes his cock in his hand, slapping it against your slit. with each squeak that escapes you, his smirk grows wider, "love those noises you make, just for me."

you gasp and arch your back as he begins to rub his tip against your wet folds. you're not sure who he's teasing more, himself or you. a moan slips from your lips each time his cock glides up against your clit, sending sparks to your core.

"that's it, feel how hard i am?" he whispers, "yeah, gonna cum so hard in that pretty little pussy, baby, is that what you want?"

you can hardly take it anymore, "god, yes."

he grins, positioning himself as he hooks your knees on top of his arms as he presses down, almost folding you in half. you gasp and grip the sheets at this new position, and gasp even louder as he quickly and easily slips inside of you. "fucking hell," logan huffs, "i hardly even had to move, you want it so fuckin' bad don't you? feel how deep i can get like this?"

and god, you can. you're not sure you've ever felt him this deep. all you know is how good it feels, his cock straining against your tight velvet walls, finally filling you.

when he begins to move, it's like nothing else. he starts at a slower pace, slow deep strokes as his hips meet yours, driving his cock even deeper as you open up to him. his eyes flutter shut and you admire him above you, knowing you're making him feel as good as he's making you feel.

you find your voice again, and speak up, "your cock feels so good baby, don't stop. . ." you get what you secretly wanted, a moan sneaks from his lips. it's soft, wanting, mirroring the need in your own voice. "fuck, love it when you moan for me. . ."

his eyes snap open, a flash of vulnerability and then his lips are crashing against yours. he kisses you with a deep passion as he moves inside you. logan loves the man he becomes when he fucks you, loves that he can let go, be soft, be rough, be whatever he feels. you'll accept him either way, because you're always a spent mess in the end. all for him.

"takin' my cock so well, always do," he huffs against your lips, driving himself a little deeper, wet sounds filling the air as he slips in and out, "gonna feel even better when i make you cum a few times, when you're so sensitive, taking every last drop i give ya."

you moan and pant, nodding, wordlessly begging him to continue.

"and you'll take it, huh, baby? take it cus you wanna make me a daddy again?" he growls, pace increasing as he fucks you harder, primal instinct taking over, "wanna make me proud and let me fill you as many times as i can? many times as i want?"

holy fuck, you can hardly think straight. in fact, you can hardly think at all. there's one thing, one thought swirling around the base of your skull, you don't want him to ever stop.

you clench around his thick cock and his brows lower, pressing his forehead against yours as he pounds you into the mattress. the bed is squeaking, begging for mercy as he continues, but you feel too good for him to hold back anymore. "baby please-"

"baby please what?" he snaps back, panting as he leans further into you, pushing your legs back until they're almost at your ears. you'd be shocked at your own flexibility if you could think at all. "please fill you up? please make you a mommy again? please what, huh? speak, baby, i can't hear you."

gasping at his tone, you feel your pussy flutter around him. he's gonna make you cum, fuck, you're gonna cum so hard. "i- baby i'm-"

but he doesn't let you finish your sentence, not that you'd make much sense at this point anyway. his cock twitches inside you, almost begging to be milked, begging to fill you until you can't take any more. "gonna cum?" logan whispers, already knowing the answer.

and you can't answer, because you're a mess, gasping and moaning and writhing as his cock makes light work of your wet pussy. his thick length glides in, and out, driving deep to meet your cervix with every thrust.

"cum on this cock," a firm command punctuated with a deep thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, "c'mon, make me cum, you wanted it, didn't you? want me to knock you up nice and good."

your orgasm approaches, a warmth spreading through your lower stomach, rising and rising each time his hips meet yours in his relentless pace. you want to tell him that it feels so good, but your words get caught in your throat. and all at once, your climax rips through you.

it comes in waves, building until your walls are spasming around him and he's cumming too, hot white ropes of cum pushed deeper and deeper as his pace quickens. you're both cursing, panting as his cock pushes it deeper and deeper as your pussy flutters and gushes.

even as the climax fades, he doesn't falter. "told you," logan growls, leaning up to grip your thighs, lifting your lower half to the perfect angle as he keeps it suspended in the air in his tight grip, "gonna cum in that pretty little pussy as many times as i can, 'till i know you're carrying my baby."

it's so overwhelming, in the best kind of way. you wriggle as he begins fucking you again, the new angle causing your eyes to roll back as he hits a certain spot that has you sobbing. it feels so fucking good, both his words and his actions causing you to throb.

"that's it, i know you can take it," he soothes you, "that's my girl, c'mon. . ."

tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure once again building to a crescendo. you don't want him to stop, don't want him to ever stop. though you're so very sensitive, and so very tired, you don't fucking care, all that matters right now is him and the messy love you're making.

he feels a tightening in his gut, his mind spiralling, obsessed with the idea of having another child with you. "you like it when i breed you?" he whispers suddenly, testing the waters.

fuck, that word. did he just say he was. . . breeding you?

logan feels the way you clench around him at the mention of the word and he grins, "yeah, you like that don't you? take that fucking cock like a good girl, let me breed you."

"please-" you beg, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. he's really into this, and so are you, unlocking a whole new side to one another as he fucks you fervently.

how can he resist when you beg so sweetly? he's so sensitive, but his need for release chases him, overwhelming him with how intense his second orgasm is. he spills into you, gasping and grunting as his grip on your thighs tightens. "oooooh f-fuck," logan groans, "feel that? feel me fucking my cum even deeper?"

you're both lost in pleasure now, and with his stamina you know he's not done yet. he grips your hips, flipping you onto your tummy as he grabs your ass, pulling it up for him. keeping his cock nice and warm inside you, he pauses for a few moments.

"can you take another one?" he asks, panting. he'd never push you past your limits, leaning down against your back to give you a gentle kiss on your neck.

your second release is coming, and though you're exhausted, you need more. "yes," you reply, gripping the pillow as he immediately begins to move.

his head tilts back, his palm sliding down your spine, feeling your soft skin beneath his calloused hand and the sensation of your body bouncing back against him. one hand grips your hip as he begins his movements, slowly fucking you, taking his time.

he knows you're close, and he knows your second release will have him cumming a third time, so he focuses on your pleasure. "that's it baby, taking it so well. . ."

you groan into the pillow beneath you, muffled by the fabric. it all sounds so wet, both your release and his dripping from your aching cunt. you know you'll be sore tomorrow, but who the fuck cares? he's fucking you so good you're not sure you'll ever be able to think clearly again.

he's reduced you to a puddle, wet and begging for more.

"such a good girl for me, lettin' me breed you. . ." his hand trails around your front, tickling down along your tummy until he finds your clit. it's swollen, sensitive, and as soon as he begins to play with you, you're a squealing mess.

he grins against your ear, groaning roughly, "you can take it, know you can, make me cum one more time."

you bounce back against him, feverishly chasing each movement, each time he pounds you sending you spiralling further and further into pleasure.

"gonna fuck a baby into you," he kisses behind your ear, "feel all that cum?"

a whine is all you can manage, sweat causing your hair to cling to your forehead, whole body hot and desperate. all for him, always for him.

"yeah you do, take it," he snarls, huffing as he feels his own release build once more. oh god, this one might destroy him. you feel too good wrapped around him like that, the way your wet pussy takes him in so gladly, cause it's his. you're his.

"'m gonna cum-" you cry, sobbing into the pillow as your thighs shake till you can't take it anymore. you're flat against the bed now, his body behind you, taking, pounding against you relentlessly like a man deprived.

but he can't speak, can only communicate in growls and gasps as he explodes inside you, sending you propelling towards your orgasm. it hits you like a bullet, deep, hard, teetering on painful but quickly replaced with so much satisfaction that your screams sound like howls.

he continues working your clit beneath you, slowing his pace until you're both a sweating, panting mess of limbs.

it takes him a while before he can find words, bringing a hand to your face, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see those features of yours he loves so much. "you alright?" logan asks with that rare soft voice he adopts when he's caring for you. his warm baritones make everything better, voice alone better than any sex.

"mh," you nod, world slowly returning to you in bits and pieces. he pulls out of you, taking a second to admire how very full of him you actually are. he can't help but bite his lip at the sight, watching as his cum leaks from your tight hole, fluttering from the loss of contact.

"didn't go too hard?" he asks, carefully and tenderly turning you onto your front as he grabs some spare pillows.

you shake your head, a smile curling on your lips as you bask in the afterglow, loving how sweetly he takes care of you. he lifts your hips with ease, placing some pillows below.

your eyes lock on one another and he grins, "what?" he asks, "said i was gonna get you pregnant, didn't i? gotta keep your hips elevated, keep me inside."

a flush falls upon your cheeks and you laugh breathlessly as he relaxes into the bed beside you, nuzzling into your neck. he fits against you so perfectly, arm wrapping around your waist while he presses gentle kisses to your skin.

but you feel a mischevious smirk tug on his lips against you, "what is it, logan," you ask in a drawl, grin taking over your features.

"well, was just thinkin'-"

"never a good idea, you, thinking. just leads to trouble," you tease.

he scoffs, "shut up," before continuing, "what're we gonna name out third baby?"

your eyes widen, "third?" he must have made a mistake, maybe he's too fucked out to think straight. you know you are.

"yeah," he grins, his hand snaking from your waist to rest on your tummy, giving it a gentle pat, "after this one."

"more?!" you gasp, slapping his hand with a giggle. "logan howlett." ugh, he's the worst.

he loves that reaction from you, he thinks it's cute you assume he's joking.

except, he isn't joking.

"yeah, c'mon, you think i'm gonna be able to stop at just two?"

you flush deeper, feeling his warm palm splay across your stomach as you tilt your chin down to look into his eyes.

"need names. lots of 'em." logan's eyes sparkle, he's trouble, always has been, and you love it. but you start to wonder if you should have bought a bigger house.

"start makin' a list. now."