#even in the moments where i don’t feel like i do

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Baby’s first christmas

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, you two have a kid, tooth rotting fluff, JJK men being dads, tis the season, kind of suggestive on Satoru’s and Sukuna’s. Not proofread bc it’s christmas.

An: Happy holidays! No Choso because I never really include him in my JJK men as dads series. Sorry Choso enjoyers!! Also, the kids names have no affiliation with the names of anyone in JJK. They were names I thought up a while ago. This is a little short because I wrote it on Christmas Eve lol.

Incl: Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna

SATORU

This would be Satoru’s first Christmas at home with a family. His clan didn’t celebrate Christmas, and even if they did, Satoru knew santa wasn’t real from a very young age.

He stared at you and your infant son as you rocked him back and forth. Satoru swore he could feel his heart swell three sizes larger. He knew that realistically his son, Aoi, wouldn’t remember this Christmas, but he wanted to create traditions.

He wanted to have something that he could look forward to every year.

“Where are you going?” You asked your husband with a warm laugh as he grabbed his keys and wallet. It was the night before Christmas. Everything would be closed by now, and they wouldn’t open until the day after Christmas.

“Don’t worry about it, Sweets. I’ll be home soon.” He assured you with his signature grin. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to both yours and Aoi’s head. His small baby stirred, making the cutest grunts and sleep noises. “Make sure to leave some cookies out for Santa. I think he should be stopping by soon.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at your husband’s antics. It was never a dull moment between you two.

“I think my sweet-toothed husband will eat them before Santa gets to them.” You remarked at Satoru headed towards the door. He flashed you a cheeky smile.

“No promises. It’s the thought that counts anyways.” He said before heading out into the snowy night. You shook your head at him, knowing he was likely up to no good.

You continued rocking Aoi in the rocking chair for a little while. Aoi could be a very fussy baby when mama or dada wasn’t holding him, so you weren’t taking any chances of putting him down just yet.

Instead, you carefully wrapped him up in a sling baby carrier, and you popped some cookies in the oven. Satoru helped you make the dough yesterday, and you two had already cut them out into various Christmas shapes.

Your mind was elsewhere as you cleaned up the kitchen and thought about what all needed to be done tomorrow. Satoru’s clan didn’t celebrate Christmas, but you had planned a surprise Christmas party and invited all of his friends to come celebrate with you three.

After a while, the oven beeped signaling that the cookies were at the perfect level of doneness. You put on your oven mitts on before carefully removing the pan. As you sat it down on the stove, the sound of tumbling down the chimney caught your attention.

Was there an animal trapped in your chimney? You grimaced at the thought of trying to save a rabid animal from the confines of your chimney.

You stepped over to the chimney to investigate from afar. With Aoi in your arms, you didn’t want to put your son in harm’s way.

Luckily for you, your goofy husband stared back up at you. His bright blue eyes were unmistakable, even while he had on a fake Santa costume with a fake beard. His face was smeared with black marks from the coal in your fireplace.

“Ho, ho, ho..” He laughed in a thick bellowing tone as he crawled out of the fireplace.

“Satoru, what are you doing? You’re going to scar Aoi.” You laughed as you walked over to your husband, wiping some smears off his cheek.

“I don’t know this Satoru you speak of. He must be on my naughty list. Ho, ho, ho.” Fake Santa continued, shooting you a small wink. He really wasn’t going to give up this act easily, was he?

He didn’t. Satoru played as Santa, placing a few gifts under the tree and munching on some homemade cookies and milk in the act. He had to perfect his Santa persona for when Aoi would be able to form memories.

Your real husband conveniently didn’t return until after “Santa” had left, and he even had the audacity to pout about not receiving any gifts from Santa. You had to politely inform him that he was on the naughty list this year, which promptly had Satoru smirking at you.

“Bummer. Santa even forgot to leave me a lump of coal. If only there was another way for me to be punished for being on the naughty list…”

SUGURU

You were dreading Christmas. A new mom with twin baby girls and several houses to go to just didn’t sound like any fun. Of course, your husband, Suguru, would offer to help in any way he could, but you both knew you were going to be exhausted and overstimulated by the end of the day.

“We don’t have to go see everyone.” Suguru murmured into your ear. It was the night before Christmas, and you had just been anxiously carrying on about how badly you didn’t want to get out tomorrow.

His large palm rubbed up and down your arm in a soothing manner as he cradled you in his strong arms. Your head was pressed against his chest, listening to the steady drum of his heart.

“That would be rude.” You murmured.

“As if I’ve ever cared about being rude.” Suguru retorted with a calm smile. He then reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, cascading your bedroom in darkness.

You two snuggled in each other’s arms, sharing lazy kisses and sweet nothings. It felt like you only managed to blink your eyes before one of your girls were crying over the baby monitor.

Patting the bed next to you, you find nothing but slightly warmed sheets. Geto must’ve already gotten up with the girls. One look at the baby cam has your heart melting.

Your husband’s sleepy eyes are half closed as he has a baby in each arm. He was quietly trying to shush them, speaking softly, “Please, don’t wake up mama. Let her sleep in today, girls. She deserves to rest easy on Christmas.”

You pushed the covers up off of you, unable to resist seeing this moment for yourself. You lean against the nursery doorway as you watch him continue shushing and rocking the twins.

“Merry Christmas, Suguru.” You finally spoke, giving away your presence. Your husband subtly flinched before turning around to meet your gaze.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” He responded before walking over and pressing a kiss to your lips. “I have a surprise for you.” He murmured into your presence.

A crease formed between your eyebrows as you wondered just what he was up to. He carefully nodded towards the window, signaling for you to take a look outside.

The bright light reflecting off the white powdery substance had you shielding your eyes. It must’ve snowed at least 7 inches throughout the night.

“We’re snowed in.” Geto quietly chuckled, pleased with the turn of luck. You two didn’t have to haul the twins to several houses, and you two could just rest easy at home.

NANAMI

Your husband had always been an early riser. He was consistently up earlier than you, even on christmas morning. You were normally really into Christmas, but you never managed to wake up before him.

Even this morning, you drowsily rolled over in your shared bed, trying to find your husband’s presence, but he was no where to be found.

You slowly sit up, rubbing your eyes free from sleep. You were honest surprised that Hana didn’t wake you two up during the night and Yuji hadn’t woke you up either.

Getting out of bed, you see Nanami had already placed your robe and slippers next to the bed for your convenience. You smile before slipping those on and heading downstairs.

“Nanamin, does this bacon need to be flipped?” You hear Yuji’s voice ask. The soft sounds of Bluey playing on the living room TV also fill your ears, and Hana’s soft babbling can be heard as well.

“Yes, go ahead and flip it.” Your husband instructs Yuji. You two had adopted Yuji after the events at Jujutsu Tech. He needed a family, and you two had a loving home that was painfully empty. Now, it was never a dull moment between Yuji and his little sister, Hana.

You quietly creep into the kitchen, and you smile at the sight. Your husband was clad in a white apron that said, “Kiss the chef”. You had gotten it for him long ago, and he still wears it to this day. He was working making some pancakes while Yuji was tending to the bacon.

Hana was in her bouncer chair in the living room. Nanami rarely ever parked her in front of the TV, but walking around with her in a sling wasn’t an option this morning, not when Yuji was frying bacon and she could be popped with it.

“Merry Christmas, you two.” You said, finally announcing your presence. Yuji looked up at you before his lips turned into a pout, and Nanami let out a small chuckle.

“Good morning, darling. You couldn’t sleep for just a few more minutes? Yuji wanted to give you breakfast in bed as a christmas present.” Your husband walked over to you, and he pressed a kiss against your temple.

“Aw, sorry, Yuu. I was excited to see you and Hana open up gifts.” You said with an empathetic smile, and Yuji’s pout vanishes.

“That’s alright! I can give you breakfast on the couch. It’s almost as good as breakfast in bed.” His bright smile quickly returns to him.

“It’s perfect, Yuu.” You say before ruffling his soft pink hair. He was such a good kid. He deserved the world and more.

A little while later, your family was sat upon the couch. Nanami was passing out Christmas gifts. Hana was sat in your lap as you helped her unwrap her gifts. She, of course, wouldn’t remember this, but this would be your favorite memory of all time.

“Let’s give Hana and Yuji another little sibling next Christmas.” You mutter to Nanami as you two watch Yuji and Hana play together on the floor.

“Ew! I heard that!” Yuji pouted, causing for both you and Nanami to laugh.

TOJI

Sweet baby Megumi was just three days old on his first Christmas. You and Toji had been hoping that the doctors were going to finally discharge you and Megumi, so you two could go home on Christmas.

It’s not that you two had any plans. You both came from broken families, but even if you did have family, you two had agreed on no visitors for the first week. You didn’t want to risk Megumi or you getting sick, especially since all the nasty sickness goes around during December.

You two also just wanted to get use to life with a baby. This was your first, and you were young. There was going to be a small adjustment period, and you wanted to worry about that without also worrying about visitors.

Toji was laid up in the hospital bed with you. He didn’t care about the damn policy. His wife just had a baby. He was going to hold her in his arms as much as he could.

Megumi was in your arms, sleeping away peacefully. “He’s got your eyelashes. I’m jealous.” You murmur to Toji as both of you admire your beautiful baby.

“He’s got your mouth.” Toji offered as consolation, and you let out a small giggle.

“That’s all he got from me. I carried him for nine months, and he had the audacity to look like he fell from your ass.” You comment back, making Toji grin down at you.

“Sorry, ma. Those Zenin genes are unfortunately strong.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If I could have it my way, he would look just like you.”

“No,” You whispered with a heartfelt smile. Tears blurred some of your vision as your hormones were still so out of balance from birthing a child. “He’s perfect. I love him so much already.”

“Don’t cry, ma.” Toji muttered as he used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears. This would only be the 20th time you cried over how much you love your son.

A knock at the door startles you both, and your doctor walks in with a pleasant smile. “Merry Christmas, you two.”

“Merry Christmas.” You respond back in a hesitant tone. The thought of the doctor informing both of you that you had to stay another day worried you to no end. Both you and Toji were going stir crazy inside that hospital room.

“I’m sure both of you are ready to take your little bundle of joy home.” The doctor says as he flips through your chart briefly. “So, I’m going to let you go home today.”

Sighs of relief fill the room. It was probably the best Christmas gift you had ever gotten.

Scratch that, seeing Toji do the “hot dad walk” was definitely the best Christmas gift you had ever gotten. He was wearing a black hoodie, carrying a carseat with your son all bundled in, and he was walking out to the car as a nurse pushed you in a wheelchair (you tried denying the wheelchair, but it’s “hospital policy”).

“We’re bad parents.” You cried on the way home. Toji was flabbergasted by how quickly your mood could change.

“We’re not bad parents. Why would you say that, ma?” He asked as he reached over and rubbed your thigh while driving the car. Megumi was peacefully asleep in the back seat.

“We didn’t get our son anything for Christmas.” You mumble through the tears. Megumi was actually due on December 26th, but he decided to come a little early. You two decided that a newborn didn’t need gifts, and you were heavily pregnant, so the idea of wrapping any gifts didn’t spark you any joy.

“Doll, we literally gave him life. Besides, I’ve only known the brat for a couple days. How should I know what to get him?” Toji jokes, trying to make you feel better about the lack of gifts. You let out a small laugh in response.

“I promise, ma. We’ll give him a better Christmas than you and I ever got next year.”

SUKUNA

“My son will worship no false deity. I’m the only god getting worshipper around here.” Sukuna declared as he covered up Ryu’s ears with his hands.

“Santa Claus is not a false deity, Kuna. He’s a fairytale.” You respond back to your husband as you roll your eyes. It’s not even like your sweet baby could even understand what you two were saying about Santa anyways.

It was his first Christmas, and you were trying to introduce both Sukuna and Ryu to the human traditions for the holiday season. It seemed like neither of them were having it.

“Do curses do anything for the winter solstice?” You ask Sukuna, looking up at him from your seat on the floor as you help Ryu unwrap another gift from Santa you and Sukuna.

“We eat a virgin.” The king of curses reply without skipping a beat, causing you to look up at him with disgust and horror. “Oh, don’t worry, flower. You’re safe. I made sure of that long ago.”

You roll your eyes and give him a pity laugh. Sukuna thinks he’s so funny sometimes. “Yeah, I didn’t think anyone would mistake me for a virgin when I have your baby on my hip constantly.”

“You should have another on your other hip.” Sukuna comments with a wolfish grin. Ever since you pushed Ryu, Sukuna had been gunning to get you pregnant again.

“I think one half-curse, half-human baby is enough, Kuna.” You say with a small laugh while jingling a toy in front of Ryu’s face. He giggles happily as he reaches out to grab it from you.

“You’re the only human that gets away with defying me. You know that? I would’ve already dismantled anyone else.” He comments, and you roll your eyes once again. “I should inform Krampus of your disobedience.”

“Wait- curses believe in Krampus?” You ask as you look back up at him, finally intrigued by what he was saying.

“He’s real. There is no believing in him. He goes around and punishes the naughty children, even curse spawn have to worry about Krampus.” Sukuna informed as he propped his head up with his hand and gave a lazy smile. One of his favorite pastimes was teaching you about his culture. He loved how you always listened and absorbed the information while trying to relate it to human culture.

“Isn’t being naughty what curse spawn are meant to be?” You question as you cock an eyebrow. Sukuna gives a low chuckle in response.

“Yes, but they’re still expected to obey their elders as Ryu is expected to obey us.” His large palm gently pats Ryu head, and your son looks up at him with the most innocent of smiles.

Most babies are inherently terrified of Sukuna as if they could sense the danger from him, but Ryu loved his dad and never showed any signs of fear. The sight of you and Ryu playing with toys on Christmas morning was enough for Sukuna’s heart to grow three sizes bigger.

[pucksandpower]

Under the Mistletoe

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando really wants you to kiss him under the mistletoe. Sounds normal enough, right? Wrong! So wrong

Warnings: 18+ content and description of an allergic reaction

The apartment is finally quiet. The muffled thrum of conversation and laughter that had filled every corner just hours ago has faded, leaving only the faint crackle of the fireplace in the living room. It smells like pine needles, spiced cider, and the faint citrus tang of your new body wash. You pad softly down the hallway in your slippers, the wooden floor cool beneath your feet.

“Lando?” You call, peeking into the dimly lit bedroom.

He’s there, of course, but the sight that greets you isn’t what you expect.

Lando is lying on his back, smack in the middle of the bed, arms folded behind his head like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing … except for a single, strategic adornment. Tied with what looks like a strip of red ribbon, a sprig of mistletoe dangles provocatively from his dick.

“Seriously?” You stop in the doorway, blinking. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Happy Christmas,” he says, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an invitation.” He tilts his head slightly, his curls a messy halo against the pillow. “You’ve got to kiss me.”

“Oh, I’ve got to, have I?” You fold your arms, biting back a smile.

“Under the mistletoe,” he clarifies, as if that makes it any less ridiculous. “It’s the rules. I don’t make them.”

“You absolutely made this up.”

Lando shrugs, utterly unrepentant. “Does it matter?”

You stand there for a moment, torn between amusement and disbelief. “You know, normal people just leave cookies for Santa. Not …” You gesture vaguely at him, at the ribbon, at everything.

“Not everything has to be normal,” he says, his grin softening slightly. There’s something teasing in his tone, but there’s sincerity, too. “Come on, it’s Christmas. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it.”

There’s no point denying it. You do love him — ridiculous, over-the-top antics and all. With a sigh that’s more for show than anything else, you take a few steps closer to the bed.

“Alright,” you say, pretending to consider. “Where exactly am I supposed to kiss you? The mistletoe’s not even …” You trail off, waving a hand vaguely in the air.

Lando smirks, his eyes dancing. “Where do you think?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you say again, but you’re already climbing onto the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and Lando watches, clearly pleased with himself.

“You’re not protesting much,” he points out.

“Shut up.”

“You could have just stayed in the doorway, you know. Told me off or something. But no, here you are-”

“Lando,” you cut in, leaning over him.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Your lips are on his before he can say anything else, cutting off whatever smug reply he had planned. His hands slide instinctively to your waist, pulling you closer as you kiss him.

It’s not rushed. The night has been long, full of people and noise and obligations, and this moment feels like a welcome reprieve. Lando’s mouth is warm, insistent but unhurried, and you let yourself get lost in it for a while, your fingers tangling in his hair.

When you finally pull back, he looks up at you, flushed and grinning.

“Good start,” he says, his voice a little breathless.

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Really?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” he admits, his grin widening.

Shaking your head, you shift your attention downward. The ribbon, the mistletoe — it’s so absurd you have to laugh.

“Did you seriously tie this yourself?” You ask, running a finger lightly along the edge of the ribbon.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Fine, yes. Took me a solid twenty minutes, too. Those stupid YouTube tutorials make it look way easier than it is.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” he says, his voice dropping slightly, “you’re still here.”

You meet his gaze, your laughter fading. The teasing, playful look in his eyes hasn’t disappeared, but there’s something else there now — something softer, more vulnerable. It’s the look he gets when he’s reminding you, without words, just how much you mean to him.

“Well,” you say quietly, “it is Christmas.”

“And you’ve got to follow the rules,” he murmurs.

“Right.”

The bed creaks slightly as you shift again, positioning yourself more comfortably. You lean down, pressing another kiss to his lips — gentler this time, more lingering. Then you trail kisses along his jaw, his collarbone, the faint dusting of freckles across his chest.

Lando lets out a soft, contented sigh, his hands finding your hips again. “You’re taking this very seriously,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement.

“I’m nothing if not thorough.”

“Lucky me.”

You glance up at him briefly, smirking. “You’ve no idea.”

When you finally reach the ribbon, you pause, your lips hovering just above it. Lando’s breathing hitches slightly, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Merry Christmas, Lando,” you murmur.

“Best Christmas ever,” he replies, his voice low and fervent.

And then, with deliberate slowness, you kiss him under the mistletoe.

You pause for a beat, the mistletoe brushing lightly against your cheek. Lando’s breathing is heavier now, his chest rising and falling beneath you. He’s trying to stay still, but his fingers dig into your skin, betraying how much control he’s losing.

“You alright up there?” You ask, teasing, your voice low.

“You know I’m not,” he mutters, his words strained.

“Good.”

And with that, you continue. Deliberate. Unhurried. Every movement of your mouth is purposeful, every touch designed to unravel him. Lando groans, low and broken, the sound rumbling through the quiet room like a storm on the horizon.

“Fuck, you’re …” He cuts himself off, his head tipping back into the pillow. His hands flex against your hips, as if holding you steady is the only thing grounding him.

“Say it,” you murmur, barely pulling away for a second.

He glances down at you, his hazel eyes dark and glassy. “You’re killing me,” he manages, his voice hoarse.

You smile, the corners of your mouth curving just slightly before you return to your task. Lando’s hands slip from your shoulders, clutching the sheets instead. He’s completely undone now — his breathing ragged, his head thrown back, his body trembling beneath you.

“F-fuck … close,” he stammers, his words tumbling out like he’s barely holding them together.

You hum softly in acknowledgment, the vibration of it drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp from him. It’s all he can take.

He breaks.

A strangled sound escapes his throat as his body tenses, and you taste the telltale musky warmth on your tongue. You stay where you are for a moment, letting him ride out the high, his grip on the sheets going slack.

When it’s over, you pull back slowly, swallowing before wiping at the corner of your mouth. One drop clings stubbornly to your lip, and you swipe it away with your thumb, catching Lando’s hazy, satisfied gaze as you do.

“You alright there?” You ask softly, your tone light but full of affection.

“Barely,” he mutters, his voice thick. He exhales sharply, his chest still heaving as he lets his head fall to the side, watching you with a dazed grin. “You’re-”

“What?” You tilt your head innocently, wiping your hand on a tissue before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Perfect,” he finishes, his voice soft and full of something deeper than just the moment.

You laugh quietly, crawling up the bed to lie beside him. He pulls you close immediately, one arm draped over your waist, the other brushing back a strand of hair from your face.

“Was this your master plan all along?” You tease, resting your head against his shoulder.

“Maybe,” he admits, still catching his breath.

“And?”

“It worked, didn’t it?” He grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

You roll your eyes but smile against his skin. “Merry Christmas, Lando.”

“Happy Christmas,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion and contentment.

For a moment, neither of you says anything more. The only sound is the quiet crackle of the fire in the distance, and the world beyond the bedroom feels miles away.

Eventually, Lando breaks the silence. “So … same thing next year?”

You shove him playfully, laughing as his grin widens. “Go to sleep.”

And with him wrapped around you, the warmth of his love settling over you like a blanket, you do.

***

The morning light creeps through the curtains, warm and soft, a stark contrast to the frantic energy in the room. You stir awake first, stretching lazily until you feel Lando shift beside you, letting out a low, uncomfortable groan.

“Ugh,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you mean, wrong?” You mumble sleepily, rolling over to look at him.

He doesn’t respond immediately, just shifts again, his body stiff and tense. Then he sits up abruptly, wincing as if every movement hurts.

“Lando?” You ask, more alert now.

“It … hurts,” he says, glancing down at himself. “Like, bad.”

You follow his gaze, and that’s when you see it. The redness. The swelling.

“Oh my God,” you say, your voice shooting up an octave. You sit up fully, the sleepiness disappearing in an instant. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaims, his face a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “It was fine last night!”

“Well, it’s not fine now!” You scoot closer, carefully inspecting the irritated skin. It’s blotchy, bright red, and looks alarmingly angry.

“It’s swollen,” he groans.

“No kidding.”

“What do we do?” He asks, his voice bordering on frantic.

“First, calm down,” you say, though your own voice isn’t exactly steady. “Second … oh my God, Lando, do you think it’s the mistletoe?”

His eyes widen as the realization hits. “You think I’m allergic?”

“Do you have any idea where that stuff’s been stored? It’s probably coated in dust or pollen or something. Or-” Your voice catches. “Do you think you’ve always been allergic?”

“I’ve never, uh … put it on my cock before, so how would I know?”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, panic simmering between you.

“We need help,” Lando says finally.

“Like … a doctor?”

“No!” He yelps. “We’re not going to a doctor for this!”

“Then what-”

“Call Jon,” he blurts out, cutting you off.

“What?” You ask, incredulous. “Your performance coach?”

“Yeah! He knows, like, medical stuff. And he won’t make it weird.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow but grab your phone anyway, scrolling to Jon’s number. “Oh, this isn’t going to be awkward at all,” you mutter as it rings.

“Hello?” Jon answers, sounding far too chipper for the situation.

“Uh, hi, Jon,” you begin, exchanging a look with Lando. “It’s Y/N. Lando and I have … a bit of a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Jon asks, his voice immediately shifting to professional concern.

“Well …” You trail off, glancing at Lando, who gestures frantically for you to continue. “It’s kind of … personal.”

“Y/N,” Jon says patiently, “you’re going to have to be a little more specific.”

You let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Okay, fine. Lando’s … area is swollen and covered in a rash.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“… Come again?” Jon finally says, and you can practically hear him trying not to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” Lando shouts from the bed. “It’s serious!”

“Oh, it’s serious?” Jon repeats, his voice full of barely concealed amusement. “Alright. How did this happen?”

You hesitate, then mumble, “He … tied mistletoe to it last night.”

Jon doesn’t reply immediately, but the faint sound of him choking back laughter comes through the line.

“Can you help or not?” Lando snaps, his cheeks flushing red — whether from anger or embarrassment, you’re not sure.

“Okay, okay,” Jon says, his tone softening. “It’s probably an allergic reaction. Clean the area thoroughly, apply a topical antihistamine if you have one, and keep it elevated to reduce swelling.”

“Elevated?” You echo, frowning. “How are we supposed to-”

“Just do your best,” Jon says, clearly suppressing a laugh again. “And if it doesn’t improve in a few hours, you might need to, uh … consult a professional.”

“Thanks, Jon,” you say quickly, hanging up before Lando can yell again.

Lando groans, flopping back onto the bed. “This is the worst Christmas ever.”

“You’ll survive,” you say, grabbing the first-aid kit from the bathroom. “Now, let me see.”

“This is humiliating,” he mutters, but he doesn’t resist as you sit beside him, carefully applying the ointment Jon suggested.

“Hold still,” you say gently, your touch careful.

He winces but doesn’t complain further, watching you with a mix of gratitude and lingering embarrassment. After a few minutes, the redness looks slightly less angry, though the swelling is still noticeable.

Once you’re done, you sit back with a sigh, your hands on your knees. “Well, that was a bonding experience.”

Lando lets out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, not exactly what I had planned.”

You glance at him, your lips twitching upward despite everything. “So … was it worth it?”

He grins, some of his usual confidence returning. “Next year, I’ll make sure to have an epipen ready.”

You laugh, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “Next year, maybe let’s stick to normal traditions. Like cookies. Or matching pajamas.”

“We’ll see,” he says, smirking as he leans back against the pillows. “I’ve still got a whole year to think of something even better.”

“God help us all,” you mutter, but there’s affection in your voice.

And despite the chaos, as you settle back into bed beside him, you can’t help but think it’s still a Christmas to remember.

[cameronsprincess]

ᰔᩚ Day Five of Slutmas// Run, Rudolph, Run — R.C + J.M

You’ve always fantasized about being chased, hunted and used. Luckily for you, Rafe and JJ help bring the fantasy to life one snowy Christmas night.

CW: smut! 18+ only! CNC, dark!rafe, dark!jj, primal play, slight blood play, use of cuffs, choking, throat fucking, unprotected piv sex.

note: hiii! i just want to first off address, i marked this as consensual non consensual because reader did tell them she wanted this… though i don’t show the backstory of HOW they got here, she wants it even though she doesn’t voice it during this and will be “fighting” them, it’s all apart of her fantasy. secondly, thank you all for reading and supporting slutmas! i’ve had so much fun doing this, and hope to provide for y’all again next year! i hope everyone has had a merry christmas, and happy new year babies! mwah😚❤️

🎄❤️

“Sweetheart! We’re going to find you… Why don’t you just come out and play, huh?”

Rafe’s low voice echos through the silent hallway of his large house, sounding closer than he was moments ago. You press your back against the closet door, trying to steady your breathing, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You wanted them to find you, just not too soon, it would ruin the fantasy, take away the fun of the chase.

The sound of footsteps thump loudly outside the door you’re behind, and you quickly slap your palm over your mouth.

“Where the fuck else could she be, Rafe? Your house is big, but not that fuckin’ big.” JJ says, annoyance lacing his tone.

Rafe slams his palm against the door, making you squeal behind your hand. “Fuck, I don’t kn- Wait… You hear that, Maybank?”

Shit. You gave yourself away.

“Yeah, sounds like it came from your room.”

Your heart rate slows, letting out a slow breath. They didn’t know you were in here. They didn’t…

Your thoughts die. A shrill scream escaping you when the door is ripped open, causing you to fall backward onto your ass, Rafe and JJ’s tall frames standing on either side of you.

A slow smile spreads across their lips, Rafe’s eyebrows rising as he tilts his head to the side. “Hi, sweetheart. Told ya we’d find you.”

Tears begin to fill your eyes, and you scramble backward, pushing yourself further into the closet. Fuck, this wasn’t smart.

You quickly jump to your feet, taking advantage of Rafe stepping further into the closet. You try and rush forward, your shoulder colliding with his firm chest, but it’s no use. He quickly grips at your upper arms, digging his nails into your skin, making you cry out.

Gripping a fistful of your hair, he yanks your head back, forcing your glossy, tear-filled eyes on his. “And where exactly do you think you’re goin’ sweetheart?”

Your lips part, letting out a silent scream as he uses the hold on your hair to pull your body flush into his. He dips his head down, running his nose up the side of your face and inhaling your scent.

“Your fear smells so fuckin’ sweet,” His tongue darts out, licking up the hot tears that spilled down your cheek. “Bet that pussy is soaked, ain’t it, sweetheart? Bet you’ll be so wet and tight when we fuck you… Use you like the fuckin’ slut you are…”

You fight against his hold, pushing your hands against his abdomen, feeling his abs flex underneath your fingers through his thin white t-shirt. He tightens the hold on your hair, his free hand making its way around your waist and holding you tightly against him. You feel his hard cock growing stiffer through the rough denim of his jeans, your clit pulsing with need as your nostrils flare, eyes narrowed into thin slits as you forcefully stare up at Rafe.

“The fight turns me on, baby.” He rasps.

And then he’s yanking you up off your feet, tossing you over his shoulder and exiting the closet. He passes JJ as he steps through the threshold and into the cold, dark hallway of Tannyhill, and you catch a glimpse of the blonde. His eyes match Rafe’s, bright blue, but right now, both of their pupils are blown, their eyes a sea of black as they think of all the things they can do to you.

Rafe walks you down the long hallway— JJ following closely behind, silent as he watches you kick, scream and fight— until he reaches the master bedroom. He kicks open the door, reaching the California King in two steps. He tosses you down onto the mattress, your tits bouncing from the impact of your back hitting the plush mattress.

JJ licks his lips, walking to stand on the other side of the mattress, staring down at you with a hungry look in his eye. He tilts his head to the side, leaning forward and pressing his palms into the mattress, his face mere inches from yours.

“Goddamn, princess. You put up one hell of a fight… Too bad for you, I love that shit. It turns me on.”

He inches closer, his lips ghosting across yours. He presses his lips to yours, but it’s short lived before you’re head butting into his nose. He pulls back, hissing in a breath and letting out unintelligible curses, his right hand cupping his nose.

“Fuck! Why the fuck did you do that?” He hisses, pulling his hand back and seeing it covered in his blood.

“Fuck. You.” You choke out, squeezing your eyes shut and falling back onto the mattress.

JJ is on you before you have time to take a breath, his legs straddling your hips, his left hand wrapped tightly around your throat, squeezing so tight you see stars. He pulls his right hand from his face again, looking at the blood that covers it before a wicked smile stretches across his lips.

“Rafe, help me out and pull this little bitches shirt off, yeah?”

Rafe chuckles, stepping around the mattress. He pulls out a pocket knife, flipping it open and bringing it to the collar of your shirt, cutting it straight down the middle. Your bare breasts come into view, nipples hardening as the cool air hits them.

JJ licks at his lips, pulling his bottom one between his teeth. He takes his right hand, smearing the blood that covers it across your chest, running it across your breasts, covering you in his blood. He groans, scooting himself up to straddle your stomach. He grips your cheeks in his bloody hand, covering your face in his blood as well, forcing your lips to part slightly. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” He rasps, squeezing at your cheeks harder.

JJ pushes off your face, climbing off of your body and roughly tugging your flared leggings down your thighs. He and Rafe share a look when they catch a glimpse of your baby pink lace thong, a small wet spot already forming in the middle.

Rafe begins fumbling with his belt, pulling it through the loops of his khakis and tossing it to the floor, the loud clank of metal hitting the floor has you wincing. JJ works his clothes off as well, both men stripping down to nothing but their boxers. You push up on the mattress, rolling to the side, hoping you can run again, but Rafe quickly grabs at your ankles, pulling you back up the mattress.

He tsks, pursing his lips as he shakes his head like he’s disappointed in you. “Stop trying to fuckin’ run, sweetheart. I promise… You’re gonna love what we give you.”

He snaps his head up, pinning JJ with a stare before he snaps his fingers. “Top drawer of my nightstand, there’s a pair of cuffs. Grab ‘em and cuff her wrists to the headboard, yeah?”

JJ gives a wicked grin, the dried blood covering his nose and upper lip making him look ten times more scary. But also, very fucking hot. He slowly turns, making his way to the nightstand and ripping open the top drawer. The unmistakable sound of metal clanking fills your ears as JJ pulls out the silver cuffs.

He holds them up, his eyebrows raised as he makes his way toward you again. You begin to kick and squirm again, Rafe’s hold on your ankles tightening. Your body thrashes and fights against the mattress, messing up the perfectly made bed. JJ aggressively wraps his hand around your throat again, his fingers digging into your sensitive skin as he squeezes tight.

“Stay fucking still.” He demands, and you swallow thickly.

JJ releases your throat, climbing onto your body once more, straddling your chest as he grips your right hand in his, bringing it up to the metal bars of the headboard, clicking the first cuff in place. He pulls the other cuff through the bars, the metal chain that separates both sides harshly clanging against the bars of the headboard. He finally grabs your left wrist, bringing it up and cuffing you in place.

Pulling back from the bars, he sits back, enjoying the way you pull against the cuffs. Loud screams and curses slip past your lips, falling on deaf ears.

Rafe climbs into the bed, joining you and JJ. You glance over JJ’s shoulder, watching as Rafe tightly grips his thick cock in his hand, stroking himself slowly, his eyes never leaving yours.

“‘M gonna have so much fun fucking that tight, sweet cunt of yours, sweetheart.”

Your hips buck, arousal pooling in your panties as you imagine Rafe’s fat cock stretching you, brutally pounding into you. Rafe releases his cock, bringing his hand down to your weeping slit, slowly running two fingers through your folds. He hums softly, reveling in the feel of your arousal coating his fingers.

He brings the two fingers to his lips, pushing them into his mouth and sucking your sweet taste off of them, mumbling out a low praise, “Mmm, pussy tastes so sweet.”

He pulls his fingers from his mouth, reaching down to fist his cock again. Your head falls back into the pillows, a small whimper escaping you as Rafe slowly runs the swollen tip of his dick through your folds.

JJ reaches through the slit in his boxers, pulling his own cock free, stroking himself and lightly tapping the head of his dick against your lips. Your lips part slightly, allowing JJ to slowly push the tip inside your mouth, laying his fat tip on your tongue.

JJ smiles, “Open up, pretty girl.”

You do as he says, opening your mouth wide enough to allow him to slip his heavy cock down your throat. He groans when you close your lips around him, your tongue flattening against the vein on the underside of his shaft.

Rafe continues to tease at your entrance, pushing the tip inside before pulling back out. JJ places his hands behind your head, lifting it slightly, giving him enough space to begin fucking himself roughly down your throat. You whimper and gag around JJ, a muffled and choked squeal pulled from your lips when Rafe finally rams himself fully inside, stretching you to the hilt.

Both men begin forcefully thrusting into you, shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body as they use you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, sweetheart,” Rafe rasps, slowly pulling his cock out, slamming his hips forward again, pulling a muffled whine from you. “Love the way this pussy feels, squeezin’ my dick so tight.”

JJ’s hips slow, his cock buried deep down your throat. Drool spills past the corners of your lips, and JJ groans when you gag around him, tears spilling from your eyes. “Look so fuckin’ pretty when you’re full of cock, princess. Like a fuckin’ masterpiece.”

You whimper, your legs shaking and mind growing foggy from how full you are. Rafe and JJ both begin thrusting harshly into you again, using your body, nearing their releases. Your pussy clenches around Rafe’s cock, your clit pulsing as your orgasm threatens to burst.

“Mm, feel you squeezin’ ‘round me, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum on my cock, yeah?”

Rafe’s hands grip at your hips, lifting your lower half up off the bed as he quickly pounds inside you, his dick pulsing and swelling. JJ picks up his pace as well, harshly fucking your throat. You yank at your cuffed wrists, the harsh metal digging into your sensitive skin. Both Rafe and JJ laugh at your attempts to get free.

“Stop fighting it, princess. ‘M so close, almost do— shiiit..” JJ rasps.

You feel JJ’s cock twitch in your mouth, a low grunt spilling past his lips as the hot ropes of his cum fill your mouth. He holds your head still, nose firmly pressed against his pelvis as he forces every last drop of cum down your throat. “That’s it.. Swallow my cum, princess.”

Rafe isn’t far behind, his thrusts growing sloppy before he shoves himself deep inside you, a pleasured moan escaping him as he fills your pussy with his cum.

JJ pulls himself from your mouth, rolling off your chest and onto the bed beside you, his chest heaving as he tries to calm his breathing. Rafe stays buried inside you, his body falling on top of yours, his lips placing soft kisses up the length of your neck.

Your breathing is rough and choppy, your wrists aching from the cuffs. You let out a soft whimper, your head rolling to the side and finding JJ’s eyes. “J… Cuffs..”

He chuckles, rolling onto his side and placing a kiss to your lips before grabbing the key off the top of the nightstand. He quickly undoes your wrists, allowing them to fall down by your sides. You pull them up to your chest, rubbing at the raw and sore skin before letting them fall to your sides again.

Rafe slowly pulls himself from inside you, rolling to lay on the opposite side of you. He and JJ both wrap their arms around you, both nuzzling their faces into your neck. You let out a content sigh, and whispering “Thank you, both. Merry Christmas.” before sleep claims the three of you.

🎄❤️

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @httpsdrewstarkey @cherrygirlfriend @sarahsangelicdoll @nemesyaaa @rafesbabygirlx @bloodibambiidoll @cameronwillow

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason will forever be my comfort character, forever and always

Jason knew from an early age that love was conditional. This was especially more so if you lived in Gotham, and if that was the case then love was more or less something that’s purely transactional. The moment you lose the ability to give anything to someone else, you’re more then likely left to die in an alleyway or in a far away abandoned warehouse that was rigged to blow up.

Love was a weapon utilised in every possible way then what it was meant to be used for, and so Jason didn’t grow up with a very good experience with love or what others claimed as love.

Yet he read books where love was pure, love was powerful and empowering to the people who had the chance to experience it, love was scary and brutal as it was beautiful and something everyone desires to have in their life; whether or not it was real for everyone will chase after it blindly and carelessly as though their self worth was dependent on such an emotion.

He’s read books where love could break someone so badly that they can’t get up, where love can cause more cuts and wounds than knives and other weapons could ever inflict. He’s read books where love has left people wonder their self worth and if anyone else could love them as deeply and truly as the person who had just walked out of the door.

However Jason wondered that if people did love that deeply, wouldn’t you want to stay with that person even through the toughest times of their lives? Help them pull through instead of abandoning them when they were in the most need of their life? To Jason that didn’t sound like love at all as he couldn’t help but see himself in these characters that only saw the worst in themselves, truly believing that love wasn’t for them nor ever will in how their entire lives was the biggest example of such.

However all that changed with time the moment you entered his life and for good.

Jason was on the defensive as his eyes wouldn’t leave you as all you did was simple things for him unprovoked, unwarranted, as though you wanted to do these things for him. You would care for his books as though they were irreplaceable while rearranging them in alphabetical order, clean his weaponry and armour before he could early in the morning, and even would him breakfast in the morning when you noticed that he didn’t eat nearly as much as he should to properly function.

Jason didn’t know how to feel, nor how he could repay you back in response and even when he did, you would just brush him off and tell him that you could handle it, telling him that he shouldn’t worry about doing anything for you purely because you did things for him one day.

‘I just wanted to do these things for you.’ You tell him with a smile. ‘You’re a busy man and you don’t have nearly enough time to catch up to everything and I merely wanted to help clear your schedule somewhat while you’ve got your hand full.’ You add and Jason could only stare at you.

‘You wanted to?’ He said with a raised brow. ‘Sweetheart, there’s no such thing as people doing things for others out of the kindness of their heart, everyone wants something in the end as nobody is above their own desires.’ He then crossed his arms over his chest as a look of unconvincing overcame his face at your words.

You frown at this but didn’t hold such views against him, Gotham wasn’t a city where love was genuine and not corrupt nor unhealthy to some extent, if anything your heart ached for him as you could only imagine a young Jason having to learn this cruel lesson in the worst possible way; one that left a permeant scar upon his heart that would ache painfully as a reminder that in a city of Gotham love didn’t exist unless it was for transactional or conventional purposes for even more corrupt figureheads.

‘Love shouldn’t be used to hurt people, it should be used to help people and allow them to gain the strength to let others into their heart and trusting that person to not stab them in the back, love should be used between friends, family and lovers and no one else who could corrupt an innocent emotion such as love.’ You stepped closer to him as you watched his eyes and the flickering of emotions within them as his jaw clench and he would straighten his posture as though he was trying to scare you off with his height, it wasn’t working.

‘Love should help you realise that the love you’ve been receiving is not love at all, Jason you deserve love much like everyone else, for someone will look at you and see a beautiful man with scars that tell stories that they can only hope you’ll be ready to share with one day at your own comfortability.’ You finished as you rested your hand upon his bicep, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch, as your thumb caresses a faint scar of his. It wasn’t a touch tender as anything Jason had experienced before and it both frightened and intrigued him at how much he needed this.

Had he found the love that the books he’s read in the past promised? That child in him said yes with such an eagerness, but he was still uncertain but knew that he felt safer with you than he did anyone else, and that was certainly a start in his eyes.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Tension Between Us | LN4

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n, shy and reluctant, has been resisting Lando’s advances for months. After accidentally flashing him at a gathering, their tension builds, and Y/n eventually gives in to their chemistry.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 4.7k

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

“Lando, please, stop looking at me like that,” Y/n said, her voice a mix of exasperation and something softer she couldn’t quite name. She crossed her arms over her chest, as if trying to shield herself from the intensity of his gaze. But it was too late. He had already seen it—the way her cheeks flushed, the way her breath hitched when he leaned in just a little too close.

“Like what?” Lando smirked, his British accent curling around the words like a tease. He tilted his head, his eyes filled with desire never leaving hers. “Like I can’t believe how fucking beautiful you are?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. God, why did he have to be so relentless? Six months of this—six months of him showing up unexpectedly, sending her texts that made her heart race, and saying things that left her speechless. And yet, she still refused to let herself believe it. Lando Norris, F1 driver, Monaco resident, and the man who could have anyone he wanted, was pursuing her. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be real.

“You’re such a flirt,” she muttered, turning away to grab her drink from the coffee table. They were at a friend’s house, some casual gathering she hadn’t expected him to show up to. But of course, he had. He always found a way to be where she was.

“I’m not flirting,” Lando corrected, his voice low and smooth as he stepped closer. “I’m stating facts. You’re stunning, Y/n. And honestly, I’m tired of pretending I don’t notice.”

Y/n’s grip tightened on her glass. Pretending? What was he even talking about? She wasn’t the one pretending here. She was the one trying to keep her feelings locked away, trying to ignore the way her stomach flipped every time he smiled or the way her skin tingled when he brushed against her. Meanwhile, Lando was… well, Lando. Confident. Charming. Persistent.

“You don’t have to pretend anything,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “But you also don’t have to say things like that just because—”

“Just because what?” he interrupted, stepping even closer until they were almost touching. His cologne—something subtle and expensive—wrapped around her, making it hard to think straight. “Because I mean it? Because I’ve been trying to get you to see that I’m serious for six months now?”

Y/n swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “Lando…”

He reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm in a way that sent shivers down her spine. “Do you really think I’d waste my time chasing someone I didn’t want?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, there was a loud crash from the kitchen. Startled, she jumped, her drink slipping from her hand. The glass shattered on the floor, and instinctively, she bent down to start cleaning it up. She bent down to pick up the shards, her movements quick and flustered. The loose, flowy blouse she wore—soft and barely clinging to her frame—shifted with the motion. The neckline dipped lower than she realized, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, there was nothing but skin. Her breasts, bare and exposed, caught the light as the fabric slipped away.

Lando froze. His breath hitched, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. The room seemed to shrink, the noise of the party fading into a distant hum. He didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t look away. The curve of her breasts, the softness of her skin—it was all so unexpected, so utterly captivating.

Y/n straightened abruptly, her face burning as she realized what had just happened. She clutched the edges of her blouse, pulling it back into place, but the damage was done. Lando’s gaze lingered, heavy and unapologetic, before slowly lifting to meet hers.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the party. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, trying to secure it, but her hands felt clumsy, betraying her nerves. She glanced up at Lando, who was staring at her with wide eyes and a grin that could only be described as shit-eating.

“Well,” he drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the couch. “That’s one way to get my attention.”

“Shut up,” Y/n hissed, grabbing a napkin to wipe up the spilled drink. But as she moved, she could feel his eyes on her, hot and heavy, and it made her heart race in a way she couldn’t ignore. She stood up abruptly, tossing the napkin onto the table. “It was an accident, okay?”

“Sure it was,” Lando said, his tone teasing but his eyes still dark with something she couldn’t quite name. He took a step toward her, his presence overwhelming. “But you know what? I’m not complaining.”

Y/n glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. How could there be when he was looking at her like that? Like she was the only person in the room. No, the only person in the world.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he shot back, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, sending a jolt of electricity through her. “But seriously, Y/n. Why do you keep pushing me away?”

She hesitated, her mind racing. Because she was scared. Because she didn’t believe someone like him could truly want someone like her. Because the thought of letting him in terrified her more than anything else.

But before she could answer, the sound of laughter from the kitchen broke the moment. Lando sighed, dropping his hand and taking a step back. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” he promised, his voice soft but firm.

Y/n nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. And as she watched him walk away, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she should take the risk. After all, Lando had spent the last six months proving he wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe it was time she stopped running.

---

Later that night, after most of the guests had left, Y/n found herself alone with Lando in the living room. The air between them was thick with tension, and she could feel his eyes on her as she sat on the couch, nervously playing with the hem of her shirt.

���So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?”

Y/n’s head snapped up, her cheeks heating once again. “Nothing happened,” she insisted, though her voice wavered.

Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. And my imagination just decided to conjure up images of your—”

“Lando!” she interrupted, her face burning. But despite her embarrassment, there was a part of her that felt… bold. Empowered, even. He had been chasing her for months, and maybe it was time she stopped holding back.

Taking a deep breath, she stood up and walked over to where he was sitting. “Fine,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “You want to talk about it? Let’s talk.”

Lando’s eyes widened slightly, but he recovered quickly, leaning back with a smirk. “I’m all ears.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, then, before she could second-guess herself, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, exposing her bare chest to him. Lando’s jaw dropped, his eyes locking on hers with a mixture of shock and raw desire.

“Now,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “What do you want to say?”

The room seemed to shrink as Y/n stood there, her chest exposed, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Lando’s eyes flicked down for a moment, lingering on her bare skin before snapping back up to meet hers. His smirk had faded, replaced by something far more primal.

“You really know how to make a man speechless,” he said, his voice low and filled with a warmth that sent shivers down her spine.

Y/n swallowed hard, suddenly unsure of herself. “I… I didn’t mean—”

Before she could finish, Lando reached out, his hand searing against her hip as he pulled her sharply onto his lap. She gasped, her hands instinctively landing on his shoulders for balance. His grip tightened, one arm wrapping around her waist while the other slid up her back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine.

“Don’t” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear, “don’t try to take it back now.”

Her heart was racing, her body betraying her resolve as she felt the heat radiating off him. She should push him away. She should stop this. But she couldn’t. Not when every part of her was screaming to stay close.

Lando’s hands moved slowly, almost reverently, over her skin. His fingertips trailed along her side, sending goosebumps in their wake, before sliding up to cup her breast. She inhaled sharply, her eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushed over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “Every time I see you, all I can think about is this. About touching you. Making you feel good.”

Y/n’s breath hitched, her nails digging into his shoulders as he leaned in, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck. She wanted to speak, to say something—anything—but words failed her. All she could do was hold on as he explored her, his touch igniting a fire she hadn’t known she was capable of feeling.

His mouth traveled lower, leaving a trail of kisses along her collarbone before latching onto her breast. Her head fell back, a soft moan escaping her lips as his tongue swirled around her nipple, sucking gently but relentlessly. Heat pooled between her thighs, her body arching instinctively into his touch.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice shaking.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with need. “Tell me you want this.”

It wasn’t a demand—it was a plea. And in that moment, Y/n knew she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Not when every fiber of her being was crying out for him.

“I do,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Lando’s face before he claimed her lips in a searing kiss. It was hungry, desperate, full of all the pent-up desire they’d both been holding onto for months. His hands roamed her body, claiming every inch of her as if he couldn’t get enough.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened. She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh, and it only fueled her own need. The world outside this room ceased to exist. There was only Lando—his touch, his taste, the way he made her feel completely and utterly alive.

When he finally broke the kiss, they were both breathless. He rested his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers trailing down his jaw. “I think I might have some idea.”

Lando chuckled softly, his hands moving to her hips. “Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

Before she could respond, he stood, lifting her effortlessly in his arms. She let out a surprised laugh, clinging to him as he carried her to the couch and laid her down gently. His body hovered over hers, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Let me show you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers. “Let me show you how much I want you.”

She nodded, her voice catching in her throat as he kissed her again, his hands exploring every inch of her body. His touch was deliberate, each movement designed to unravel her completely.

As his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, Y/n’s breath hitched. “Lando…”

“Trust me,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck. “I’ll take care of you.”

And she did. In that moment, surrounded by him, she trusted him completely. When his fingers found her core, she gasped, her body arching into his touch. “Oh god…”

“That’s it,” he encouraged, his voice achingly soft. “Let go.”

And she did, her world shattering into a thousand pieces as he brought her to the edge and pushed her over.

Lando pulled back slightly, his breath uneven as he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. Y/n lay there, her chest rising and falling, trying to steady herself after the intensity of the moment. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face, his thumb tracing over her cheek as his lips curled into a soft smile.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice soothing. “You okay?”

She nodded, her cheeks flushing as she tried to meet his gaze. “Yeah… I’m more than okay.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her briefly again before pulling away. But instead of resuming where they left off, Lando reached for her shirt, which had been discarded earlier in the heat of the moment. Gently, he slipped it back over her head, covering her with care. She blinked up at him, confused.

“Lando?” she questioned softly.

He sat back, running a hand through his messy curls before meeting her eyes again. His expression was warm but filled with a new resolve. “Get your stuff.”

Her brows furrowed. “What? Why?”

“Because we’re leaving,” he said simply, standing up and offering her a hand.

---

Lando’s hand was warm against hers as he led her out of the party, fingers intertwined tightly, as if he were afraid she might slip away. The cool London air brushed against her skin, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through her body. She glanced up at him, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

“Where are we going?” Y/n asked, her voice trembling slightly. She already knew the answer, but she needed to hear it from him.

He turned to her, that mischievous smirk playing on his lips. “My place,” he said simply, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. “Unless you’d rather not.”

She hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. This was Lando Norris—charming, confident, and everything she never thought she deserved. But the look in his eyes, the way he spoke to her like she was the only person in the world, made it impossible to say no.

“I… I want to,” she admitted softly, her cheeks flushing.

His grin widened, and he pulled her closer, his free hand resting gently on her waist. “Good,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

The car ride to his apartment was a blur. His hand never left hers, his fingers occasionally tracing patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine. He kept stealing glances at her, his gaze lingering on her lips, her neck, her hands—anywhere he could touch, anywhere he wanted to touch. And every time their eyes met, the tension between them grew thicker, more intoxicating.

When they finally arrived at his building, Lando led her inside with an urgency she hadn’t expected. The elevator ride felt eternal, the silence heavy with unspoken words. She stood close to him, her shoulder brushing against his arm, and when he shifted slightly, their bodies pressed together, her breath hitched.

As soon as the doors opened, Lando tugged her toward his apartment, unlocking the door with practiced ease. He stepped inside, pulling her with him, and the moment the door closed behind them, he turned to her, his hands cupping her face.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “But I’ve waited too long to kiss you again.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, urgent and demanding. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded. He tasted like mint, intoxicating and familiar, and she couldn’t help but lean into him, her body humming with need.

His hands slid down her sides, settling on her hips, and he pulled her closer until there was no space left between them. She could feel the hardness of his chest against hers, the warmth of his body seeping into her skin, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes dark with desire. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw.

She swallowed hard, her heart racing. “I think I have some idea,” she teased, her voice shaky but playful.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and then he was kissing her again, softer this time, more intimate. His hands wandered, exploring every inch of her as if memorizing her shape, her curves, her reactions. And when his fingers found the hem of her shirt, he paused, looking at her with a question in his eyes.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

She nodded, her breath catching in her throat. Slowly, he lifted her shirt over her head, leaving her bare from the waist up. His eyes widened for a moment, taking in the sight of her exposed skin, the curve of her breasts, the way her nipples hardened under his gaze.

“Third time tonight,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Still just as fucking breathtaking.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. There was something about the way he stared at her—like she was the only thing that mattered—that made her feel bold, unashamed. She arched her back slightly, letting him see more of her, and watched as his jaw tightened.

“You like what you see?” she asked, her voice low, teasing.

He let out a rough laugh, his hands sliding up her sides, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin just below her breasts. “Like? Y/n, I’ve been obsessed since the first time I saw you. But this…” His thumbs grazed her nipples, and she gasped. “This is beyond anything I could’ve imagined.”

His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine. She reached for him, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush, her bare chest pressed against his shirt. He groaned, his hands moving to cup her breasts, his palms warm and firm.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice rough, almost pained. “How much I’ve thought about touching you, tasting you…”

She bit her lip, her hips instinctively grinding against his. “Then stop talking and show me.”

A wicked grin spread across his face, and before she could react, his mouth was on her neck, sucking and biting in a way that made her knees weak. His hands never left her breasts, kneading them gently, his thumbs circling her nipples until she was gasping for air.

“Lando…” she moaned, her fingers gripping his shoulders for support.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded, his lips trailing down to the curve of her breast. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “God, I want you so much.”

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His mouth closed around one nipple, sucking hard, and she cried out, her body arching into him. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in her body alight with pleasure. His free hand slid down to her jeans, popping the button open with ease, and she knew there was no turning back now.

He kissed her again, deep and passionate, his hands roaming freely now, teasing and tempting every part of her. And when he finally lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bedroom, she knew there was no turning back.

The room was bathed in moonlight when he laid her down on the bed, his eyes never leaving hers. He stripped off his own shirt, revealing the toned muscles of his chest, and she reached for him, eager to feel his skin against hers.

“I want you,” she confessed, her voice trembling but steady. “All of you.”

A slow smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. “You have me,” he promised, his hands sliding under her hips to remove her jeans. “Every part of me.”

As their clothes fell away, leaving nothing but skin and desire between them, Y/n realized she had never felt more herself than she did in that moment. With Lando, she wasn’t hiding, wasn’t pretending. She was just her, and that was enough.

And when he finally joined her on the bed, his body pressing into hers, she knew this was only the beginning.

Lando’s lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he reached the curve of her shoulder. His hands roamed over her body, exploring every inch like he was memorizing her. She arched into him, her fingers clutching at his back, nails lightly scraping against his skin. He groaned low in his throat, the sound sending a shiver through her.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His lips continued their descent, leaving a trail of fire down her chest until they reached the swell of her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it to a hardened peak before taking it into his mouth. Y/n gasped, her head falling back against the pillows as pleasure shot through her.

His hands slid down her sides, gripping her hips firmly as he moved lower. He kissed a path down her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel before he settled between her thighs. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with hunger, and she could feel his breath ghosting over her most sensitive area.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice trembling. She knew what he was about to do, and while the thought sent a thrill through her, she couldn’t wait. She needed more. Now.

He grinned, that mischievous glint in his eye she had come to adore. “Patience, love,” he teased, his fingers brushing lightly over her inner thigh. “I want to taste you.”

Her heart raced, but she shook her head, her hand reaching down to stop him. “No,” she said, her voice firmer than she expected. “I need you. I need to feel you inside me. Right now.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk. “Someone’s eager,” he said, his tone playful. But there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze or the way his breathing had quickened.

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she met his eyes, her own filled with determination. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” she reminded him, her voice low but steady. “And now… I need you. All of you.”

His smirk softened into something more tender, and he leaned up to kiss her. It was slow, deep, and full of promise. “Then you’ll have me,” he whispered against her lips. “But don’t think I won’t make you beg for it later.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hands moving to his shoulders as he positioned himself above her. Her heart pounded in anticipation, her body already aching for him. When he finally pressed into her, she gasped, her head dropping back against the pillow as pleasure coursed through her.

Lando paused, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming in shallow pants. “You feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice rough with need. He kissed her deeply before beginning to move, each thrust driving her closer to the edge.

Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as her nails dug into his back. The room was filled with the sound of their ragged breathing, the soft moans escaping her lips only spurring him on. Every touch, every movement, felt like electricity surging through her veins.

“Look at me,” Lando commanded, his voice husky but gentle. She opened her eyes, meeting his intense gaze, and found herself completely lost in him. In that moment, there was nothing else—no doubts, no fears, just the two of them, consumed by each other.

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted, his pace slowing slightly as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. “In the best way possible.”

She smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Good,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a warmth spreading through her chest. “Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied before capturing her lips in another searing kiss. His movements became more urgent, his hips driving into her harder, faster, until she felt herself teetering on the brink.

“Lando,” she gasped, her fingers tightening in his hair. “I’m so close…”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding. “I’ve got you.”

And then she was falling, stars bursting behind her eyelids as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out his name, her body trembling as he followed her over the edge, his own release shuddering through him.

For a moment, they lay there, still connected, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Lando brushed a kiss against her forehead, his arms holding her tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teased, his voice light but affectionate.

She swatted his arm playfully, though she couldn’t suppress her smile. “Only for you,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing again.

He grinned, that boyish charm that always made her heart skip a beat. “Good,” he said, his hand cupping her cheek. “Because I plan on keeping you very needy.”

Y/n laughed softly, but her heart was racing for an entirely different reason now. The vulnerability of the moment hung in the air, and she realized she couldn’t hold back any longer. If she didn’t tell him now, she might never find the courage.

“Lando,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. His thumb brushed against her cheek, his eyes searching hers as he waited patiently. “I… I need to say something.”

“Go on,” he encouraged gently, his gaze softening.

She took a shaky breath, her hands resting against his chest. “I don’t know when it happened, but… I’ve fallen for you. Completely. I kept telling myself it was just a crush, that it would pass, but it hasn’t. And it won’t. I care about you so much, Lando, and—”

Before she could finish, his lips were on hers, silencing her words with a kiss that left her breathless. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his own emotions shining brightly in his eyes.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

Her brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

He smiled, brushing his nose against hers. “Six months. Six painfully long months where I’ve done nothing but think about you. Wanting you. Yearning for you,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about you.”

Her eyes filled with tears at his confession, and she reached up to frame his face with her hands. “I wish I’d told you sooner,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“Hey, none of that,” he said softly, kissing away the tear that slipped down her cheek. “We’re here now, aren’t we? That’s all that matters.”

She nodded, her heart swelling as he pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Lando,” she whispered, her words barely audible.

“I love you too, Y/n,” he replied without hesitation, his voice steady and sure. “So much.”

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, wrapped up in each other and the overwhelming realization that they were finally on the same page. No more hesitations, no more holding back—just them, and a future they couldn’t wait to explore together.

[scarletwinterxx]

won't let these little things slip out of my mouth - jeon wonwoo imagine

i have a confession... i cried while writing this. now i'm sad no one will ever propose to me this way, why oh why did i even write this BUT I LOVE IT SO MUCH🥺🥺🥺🥺

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

The cold winter air nips at your cheeks as you walk beside Wonwoo, his camera slung over his shoulder as always. The streets are adorned with twinkling lights, festive wreaths, and the hum of Christmas carols drifting from nearby speakers. Despite the chill, you feel warm. Maybe it’s the cozy scarf he insisted you wear or the way his hand occasionally brushes yours as you walk.

He’s been unusually quiet tonight, though. You steal a glance at him, noting the slight curve of his lips as he stares ahead, the golden glow of streetlights reflecting in his dark eyes. He’s up to something. You just know it.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you say, breaking the silence, “what’s with the secrecy? You’ve been grinning like a kid who knows something I don’t.”

He chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar. “Patience,” he teases, his tone as smooth as always. “You’ll see soon enough.”

He leads you to a quaint little gallery tucked away on a quieter street. The windows are frosted, but you can see the soft glow of light inside, illuminating what looks like an intimate exhibit. Your curiosity piques as he holds the door open for you, the bell above jingling softly.

The gallery smells of wood and faintly of pine, and the atmosphere is calm, almost reverent. Wonwoo leads you through the first room, where a variety of black-and-white photos hang on the walls. They’re beautiful, sure, but they don’t hold your attention for long. Not when you can feel Wonwoo’s excitement radiating beside you.

“Come on,” he says, tugging you gently toward a smaller, dimly lit room at the back. “This is the part I wanted you to see.”

The moment you step inside, your breath catches. The walls are lined with photographs, but these aren’t just any pictures. They’re familiar. Too familiar.

“That’s... Wait, that’s from our trip to Jeju!” you exclaim, pointing to a shot of you laughing on the beach. Another photo catches your eye—a candid of you staring in awe at cherry blossoms during spring. And then another, of you holding an umbrella, your face lit up with laughter as the rain poured down.

You turn to Wonwoo, your heart racing. “What is this?”

He’s smiling, that soft, shy smile that always makes your knees a little weak. “Keep going,” he says, nodding toward the other wall.

You walk further into the room, and your chest tightens as you take in rows and rows of photos. All of you. Every angle, every expression, every moment he managed to capture. There’s one of you napping on a park bench, another of you squinting at a map, and one where you’re mid-bite into an enormous burger, ketchup smeared on your cheek.

You burst out laughing, tears pricking your eyes. “You didn’t!”

The walls of the gallery feel like they’re closing in as you walk further into the room, your gaze darting from photo to photo.

Each one is a piece of your life together—your smiles, your laughter, even your messy moments. You pause at a picture of you trying to eat an ice cream cone that’s melting faster than you can keep up with it. You remember that day vividly, how Wonwoo kept laughing and snapping pictures while you tried (and failed) to salvage the cone.

“Wonwoo,” you say softly, your voice trembling as the weight of it all settles over you. “You’ve been collecting these... all this time?”

“Every moment I could,” he says from behind you, his voice warm and quiet in the stillness of the room.

You move to the next photo. And then the next. They’re all you, and it’s overwhelming in the most beautiful way.

Then your eyes catch something different.

The very last photo on the wall.

It’s simple—a close-up shot of a ring nestled in a velvet box. The light glints off the delicate band, making it shimmer in a way that feels almost magical. Your breath catches in your throat as you take a step closer, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Is that—” you start, but the words die on your lips when you turn around.

Wonwoo is there, down on one knee in the middle of the gallery, holding that same velvet box in his hand. The air leaves your lungs as your gaze locks onto his, the vulnerability and love in his eyes almost too much to bear.

“It’s just us,” he says softly, as if he’s answering a question you didn’t ask. “No distractions, no one else. Just you and me.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. He takes a deep breath, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’ve spent so much of our time together trying to capture every moment, every expression, every laugh, because I never want to forget a single second with you. But the truth is, none of these photos come close to how I feel when I’m with you. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen—through my lens and in my life.”

He opens the box, revealing the ring that you’d just seen immortalized in the photo. It sparkles under the soft lights of the gallery, but nothing shines brighter than the love in his eyes as he looks up at you.

“I want this to be my last photo project,” he says with a small, shaky laugh. “Because after this, I just want to live the moments with you. Will you marry me?”

The world tilts and rights itself again as you nod furiously, your tears spilling over. “Yes! Yes, of course, I’ll marry you!”

Wonwoo grins—one of those rare, wide grins that you know he reserves for the moments when he can’t contain his joy. He slides the ring onto your finger, his touch gentle and sure, before standing and pulling you into his arms.

The silence of the gallery wraps around you both like a warm blanket. It’s just the two of you, the faint glow of the photos on the walls casting soft shadows.

You lean back to look at him, laughter bubbling up through your tears.

“You seriously used a picture of the ring for the big reveal?” you tease, your voice trembling with joy. “Couldn’t help yourself, huh?”

He chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s a story, isn’t it? And now it has the perfect ending.”

You rest your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. “Not an ending,” you whisper. “The perfect beginning.”

And in that moment, surrounded by the story of your love etched in photographs, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[thef1diary]

DIRTBAG CARLOS? idea idea idea: he takes you to play golf. no panties. Itty bitty golf skirt. he slides his cock in you when he’s teaching you how to play.

— good god this had me reeling 😵‍💫 maybe he’s ruined your panties on the drive over, leaving you with two options: wear your cum stained panties, or don’t wear anything at all. You chose the 2nd option but dirtbag!carlos is very unpredictable. 18+ content below

Carlos stands behind you, his body flush against yours as he helps you adjust your grip on the golf club. The heat of him is everywhere—his broad chest pressed to your back, his hand firm on your waist, his breath teasing the sensitive shell of your ear. The small golf skirt he insisted you wear barely covers anything, and the breeze licks at your bare thighs, a constant reminder of what he’d done to you earlier.

No panties. He’d made sure of that on the drive over with his hand between your thighs the entire time, ruining the delicate fabric until you had no choice but to leave them off entirely.

“Focus,” he murmurs, his tone sharp but laced with amusement as his hand slides lower, brushing the hem of your skirt. “You’re shaking, nena. Don’t tell me you’re distracted.”

“Carlos,” you gasp, trying to maintain some composure, but it’s impossible when his fingers trail higher, grazing your inner thighs.

He hums thoughtfully, his hand pausing just short of where you need it. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?” he muses, gripping your hips and pulling you against him. “I bet you’re already dripping for me. Still so needy, hm? I just made you cum in the car.”

You bite back a whimper as his other hand guides the club in your grip, pretending for a moment like he’s actually going to help you. Then, in a swift move, he nudges your legs apart with his knee, pressing himself closer until you feel the hard, insistent line of his covered cock against your ass.

“Hold still,” he commands, his voice dropping into something darker, rougher.

You don’t even have time to react before you feel him, the blunt head of his cock slipping between your folds, teasing. He doesn’t bother with any warning, just one smooth, deliberate thrust that has him buried inside you. The stretch steals your breath, and you barely suppress a cry, your grip on the club faltering.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place. “You’re so wet, nena. I barely had to try.”

You shudder around him, your legs trembling as he pulls back slightly, only to thrust forward again, deeper this time. His pace is relentless, each snap of his hips sharp and demanding, the filthy sounds of your slick arousal filling the air around you.

“Carlos,” you gasp, your voice high and desperate as you fight to stay upright.

“Quiet,” he growls, one hand slipping under your skirt to grip your ass, pulling you even closer. “You don’t want anyone hearing us, do you?”

The thought makes your cheeks burn, but it also sends another wave of arousal coursing through you, and Carlos notices. “You like that, don’t you?” he taunts, his breath hot against your ear. “You like knowing anyone could walk by and see you bent over like this, taking my cock.”

You can only moan in response, your body tightening around him as he drives into you over and over, each thrust deeper than the last. His hand snakes around to your front, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, merciless circles.

“Come on,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up, your release hitting you like a tidal wave. Your knees buckle, and Carlos curses, gripping you tightly as you shatter around him.

He doesn’t stop. His pace turns almost punishing as he chases his own release, his groans growing louder until he finally stills, buried deep inside you as he spills himself with a rough, broken moan.

You tremble beneath him, legs shaky as you fight to stay upright, but before you can fully catch your breath, he pulls out. The sudden emptiness makes you gasp, and the warm, sticky sensation of him dripping out of you has your thighs clenching instinctively.

He takes a step back, adjusting himself and smoothing his shirt as if nothing happened. Meanwhile, you’re left reeling, flushed and half-dazed, gripping the golf club for balance.

“Carlos,” you whimper softly, your voice laced with desperation, but he’s already picking up another club, his focus shifting to the pristine green ahead.

“What?” he asks casually, his tone maddeningly nonchalant as he lines up his stance. “I told you we came here to play golf, cariño.”

You bite your lip, your body still humming with need despite the way his release trickles down your inner thighs. You shift, trying to steady yourself, but every movement reminds you of how full you are, and it’s impossible to focus on anything else.

Carlos smirks, clearly noticing your struggle. He turns his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. “What’s wrong, princesa?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Filled you too much to concentrate?”

Your cheeks burn, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “I need—”

“Ah,” he cuts you off, his smirk widening as he straightens up. “No whining. You want more? You have to earn it.”

“Earn it?” you repeat, breathless and incredulous.

He steps closer, leaning in just enough that you can feel the heat of him without him actually touching you. “That’s right,” he purrs, his voice low and teasing. “Play the game. Prove to me you’re paying attention, and maybe I’ll let you ride me in the golf cart.”

want more dirtbag!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

I've been watching random videos on YouTube that keep popping up and the comments and the hate on Lando is so out of proportion, controversial and hypocritical, I saw a comment that he is too active online and was liking hate comments about himself after BrazilGP so I was wondering if you could do a smau where he has a friend that has faced slvtshaming and hate and stayed soft and sweet through all her hard times, and she is always there just grounding him whenever he's too much on his head or isolating himself. Maybe she helps him with his anxiety and makes him see himself through a softer gentle light and she's just really chill and always sees the silver lining, always supports and uplifts everyone and the content that she follows is just girls that go on walks, yoga, reading nooks, shops of handmade stuff like those in cotswolds etc. I don't know if it's too much or uncomfortable for you, but I'd really like to see that if you could. Oh and maybe she's Edinburgh based? Have a nice one! X

peace ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

𓍯 ִֶָ ln x reader ᥫ᭡

𓍯 ִֶָ smau + fluff ᥫ᭡

masterlist ☾☼

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren, and 901,573 others

landonorris resetting. thank you for the reminder yourusername

view all 711,900 comments

yourusername Anytime, you big dummy. Did you bring the tea I packed for you? 💨☕ 

user1 y/n's the real MVP. Lando's gonna feel way too zen here! 💙 

user2 We love a supportive friendship. Keep going, mate! Ignore the noise. 🌟

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, lnfour, and 884,012 others

landonorris Not the weekend I hoped for, but we move. Thank you to everyone who sticks by me even on the tough days. 🧡

view all 902,811 comments

user5 Ignore the haters, Lando, you’re doing great!! 💪🏽

user3 How is he liking hate comments about himself? 😒 Weird behavior.

user4 Sometimes people cope in strange ways. Let’s try to give grace. 💛

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, user10, and 7,421 others

yourusername Anxiety feels like a storm, but it passes if you stay grounded. 🕊️ I remind myself that the world is still soft and beautiful.

view all 3,371 comments

user11 This is the energy I need today. Thank you. 🌱✨

landonorris What if I brought my storm to Edinburgh? Would it pass faster? 👀

yourusername Only if you let me ground you.

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 7,005 others

yourusername Grateful moments, little joys, and grounding souls ✨

view all 2,832 comments

user15 Okay, but Lando looks suspiciously calm in that last pic… y/n, teach us your ways! 🖤

landonorris never realised how fun pottery would be! <3

user16 she's literally my inspiration

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 812,003 others

landonorris Found my peace here. 🕊️ Thanks to yourusername for reminding me the world is softer than I think.

view all 712,032 comments

user18 This is the wholesome content we need. 🧡

yourusername Storms don’t scare me anymore. 😉

landonorris You’re braver than I am.

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hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm not sure if i love this personally, because i don't think i did this justice, but i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[gothcsz]

December | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 6 of Unscripted Desire | ~16k wc | Series Masterlist | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Your winter getaway with Javier.

Tags: alternating pov, javi is having an identity crisis, established relationship, fluff (i cringe), romance (still cringing), smut (no longer cringing), jealous!javi, oh no the triple frontier boys are here, oral (m&f), p in v sex, once again: javi is clipped, filming a sex tape, dirty porn talk, hot tub sex, pussy/dick pronouns, javi puts you in a headlock (i've been influenced by all the headlock fics also stream headlock by imogen heap), breath control play, squirting, clit stimulation, no use of y/n, reader has some vague physical descriptions (mid-sized, curvy, hair that can have fingers run through), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay thx.

A/N: happy holidays ❄️ i wanted to do something fun for the season and to thank everyone who has supported this story so far! i love you guys 🩵 as always, thank you @persephone-girl for reading over bits of this and being my emotional support hehe

You’ve barely shut the door when a loud, frustrated “Fuck!” echoes through your apartment, followed by the unmistakable clatter of things hitting the floor. Your brows knit together as you toss your keys into the bowl by the entrance and hang your bag on the back of a kitchen chair.

The sight waiting for you confirms your suspicions: your very hot, very frustrated boyfriend is pacing in the middle of the room, his broad shoulders tight with tension. Scattered across the coffee table and floor around him are puzzle pieces.

“Javi,” you say, crossing your arms as you take in the scene. “What’s going on?”

He stops mid-stride, scowling down at the pieces as though they’ve personally insulted him. “The fucking puzzle is broken,” he gestures angrily toward the mess.

You blink at him, biting back a grin. “Yeah, that’s kind of the point. You have to put it back together.” Your voice lilts with playful teasing, hoping to lighten the mood he is in.

He shoots you a look that’s equal parts annoyed and sheepish. Stepping forward, you place yourself squarely in his path, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He’s got no choice but to halt his pacing, and after a moment, his arms drop heavily around you. You can feel the frustration draining out of him like air from a balloon.

“Estoy volviéndome loco, nena.” His chest rises and falls in a heavy exhale, hands instinctively finding their place on your lower back. 

You look up at him, resting your chin on his chest. It’s hard not to get lost in his good looks—those dark, soulful eyes, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls perfectly so, no matter how much he’s been raking his fingers through it.

He could be pissed at the entire world, and he’d still be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

He told you he was done with porn, and he meant it. It didn’t happen all at once, he stuck to solo work until he lost the passion for it entirely before finally cutting ties with his agent and declaring himself “retired.”

The checks will keep coming, sure, but they aren’t a permanent safety net. That left your boyfriend at a crossroads, staring down the daunting question of what came next.

“Fuck, I don’t know. What else am I even good at?”

Now, Pornstar Javier Peña is just… Javi. Without the glitz and veneer of his former life, he’s a bit of a mess, honestly. A hot mess, sure, but a mess all the same.

He spends most of his days drifting between your apartment and his place, and more often than not, it’s your bed he ends up in. Sometimes he’s sprawled on the couch, lazily surfing through the channels, other times he’s fast asleep, limbs tangled in your sheets, his brow furrowed even while dreaming.

It’s like he’s waiting for the pieces of himself to fall into place but has no idea where to start.

You have, actually, tried helping him find new interests, with mixed results.

Cooking classes? A bust—too many rules and timers for someone who likes to work off instinct. Hiking? Not his thing, and you’d barely made it halfway up the trail before he declared he needed a cold beer and a hot shower. Pottery seemed promising for about five minutes before a poorly shaped bowl sent him muttering a string of Spanish curses under his breath and he quit then and there.

It���s not that he’s… bad at these things, necessarily, but none of them feel true to him.

“Baby, you’re not going to figure out who you are overnight. It takes time,” you murmur, tilting your head up to press a kiss to the tip of his chin, the roughness of his stubble brushing against your lips.

He grumbles. “I’m impatient.”

“I noticed,” you tease, a giggle slipping out as your hands sneak under his shirt. Your fingers trail along his ribs, stroking the warm, solid muscle there. The quiet hum of satisfaction you let out isn’t for his benefit—it’s for you. He feels so damn good under your touch, like he was built to be admired.

Javier shifts slightly, straightening up as if your hands have hit a reset button on his mood. “How was your day?”

You started a new job with the camera crew on an actual film set, and it’s a sweet gig, the opportunity kind of landing in your lap out of nowhere. Someone you knew from college reached out, and the pay was too good to pass up, even if the work itself wasn’t all that different from what you’ve done on porn sets.

Less dicks and tits, but the same technical work. When you’re not on set, you’re still clinging to the comfort of your shifts at Lucky’s. 

You shrug lightly, nuzzling into him. “Same as always. Nothing too exciting. But I’m glad I don’t have to work the bar tonight. Maybe I can help you with that puzzle.” You tease.

“Or…” His tone shifts so quickly it’s almost dizzying—warm and doting one second, low and sinful the next. His hands drift south, firmly gripping your ass and giving it a harsh squeeze

“Or?” you repeat, your arousal flaring.

That’s all the invitation he needs.

In no time, you find yourself naked and sprawled against the coffee table, the surface pressing into your back while scattered puzzle pieces stick to your damp skin. But none of that matters—not when Javier is between your legs, his broad shoulders holding you open like a prize only he gets to claim.

His mouth is buried in your pussy, wet and eager tongue moving with a purpose that has your thighs trembling. He laps at you expertly, each flick and thrust inside your cunt dragging whimpers out of you, your body singing under his touch.

Javier groans, the sound vibrating against your pussy. “You taste so,” kiss, “fucking,” lick, “good,” suck. Your back arches and you sob his name loudly, eyes fluttering close at how good he is at eating you out.

No matter how many times he does it, he somehow manages to surpass the time before. Men like Javier are a rare thing, and you’re annoyed at yourself for not succumbing to him earlier. You just had to prove a fucking point.

He pulls back just enough to lick and bite at your inner thigh, trying to control himself from devouring you whole, before diving back in. His hands keep you pinned to the edge of the table as you shake uncontrollably in his grasp.

Every obscene noise he makes is matched by the wet, filthy sounds of his tongue working you over and you feel the pressure winding tighter and tighter. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling as you gasp his name, and the pleased growl he gives in response sends you careening over.

He doesn’t stop, not until your body shudders and you’re left panting, your limbs heavy and boneless. When he finally lifts his head, mustache damp and lips glistening, he’s looking at you with that satisfied smirk you’ve grown accustomed to seeing.

“Fuck, I could stay down here for hours.” His voice tapers off into a groan and he doesn’t wait for a reply before pressing soft kisses along your drenched folds, letting his teeth scrape ever so lightly against your sensitive flesh. Then his tongue, broad and sinful, drags a slow, torturous stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“You could… if you wanted to,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper as your body gears up for even more pleasure. You pull him closer, grinding your hips against his face, feeling the delicious pressure of his nose pressing against your swollen nub.

Javier lets you take what you need, his large hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady while his tongue thrusts back inside, exploring every fluttering inch. His curved nose rubs against your clit with each motion, sending you into a fucking frenzy.

You’re shameless, unabashedly humping his face, chasing the high only he can give you. And he loves it—thrives on it—his tongue relentless as it maps out every curve and crevice of your pussy. The slick, creamy mess makes it easier for you to move, his grunts and your mewling cries swirling together.

“Javi, I want to come on your cock—oh fuck!” The words tumble out before you can stop them, and his answer is a wicked nip of his teeth against your labia, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.

“You will, nena,” he murmurs, his voice slurred with lust as he adjusts your legs, planting your feet at the edge of the table. He spreads you open obscenely, his dark eyes gleaming as he takes in the sight of your wet pussy laid bare for him. “But first, you’re gonna come all over my tongue again. Puta madre, you’re so fucking hot.”

His tongue flicks over your pearl rapidly and your back arches off the table as euphoria courses through you. You glance down, locking eyes with him, and the pruriency in his gaze sends you tumbling over the edge.

“Javier, oh shit!” You’re left helpless against the onslaught of his mouth, gushing all over his handsome face as he keens in satisfaction.

You collapse back against the table, your body spent and your mind still buzzing. Javier wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning smugly down at you, his girthy cock hanging heavy between you, droplets of precum squirting from the slit and drizzling down the heated shaft.

Pros of dating a pornstar: He can fuck. Cons of dating a pornstar: He can fuck.

It’s like being in a constant state of delicious ruin, where your needs—both romantic and sexual—are met in ways you never thought possible.

But damn, this man knows how to wear you the fuck out.

Sometimes he gets a little too ambitious. Twisting, bending, and pulling you into positions that make you pause and remind him, between panting breaths, that you’re not as flexible as the women he’s been with before.

“Practice makes perfect, baby,” he always says with that infuriatingly charming grin, right before fucking you so thoroughly that you forget how to breathe.

This time is no different. Javier hovers over you with the kind of dominance that makes your pussy clench, his strong hands gripping your body like he owns it.

Somehow, he’s managed to maneuver you on the awkward height of the coffee table, one leg slung over his broad shoulder while keeping your opposite thigh spread wide.

Then, with a sharp thrust, his fat cock splits you open, stretching your pussy in a way that’s so brutally perfect.

The force of it knocks a loud yelp from your lips, your forearms press against the table for balance. You can’t look away from where your bodies meet, watching in filthy fascination as your sticky folds swallow him whole and spit him back out, his cock glistening with the rich evidence of how turned on you are.

“My fucking god,” he growls, words laden with desperation, “you feel better than you fucking taste.” He spits the words out, literally, a thick bead of saliva falling from his lips to land on your cunt.

Without missing a beat, his thumb moves to your clit, pressing down and swirling in tight circles.

The pressure makes your entire body tense, a strained cry of his name tearing from your throat.

Your tits bounce wildly with every rough thrust, and his dark eyes flicker between the hypnotic sway of your breasts and the lewd sight of your pussy stretched tight around his dick.

Your mouth hangs open, brows furrowed as helpless sounds spill out while his cock punches deep into that one spot that has colorful dots blotching your vision. Your toes curl as the overwhelming feeling builds, your body on the verge of complete surrender.

“Right there, baby—oh fuck me, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.” You sound wrecked, like you’ve been possessed by the pleasure he’s giving you. Your back falls flat against the table again, your hands reaching up to squeeze your tits, pulling at your nipples as you let him use your cunt however he wants. 

He deserves it.

Loose curls fall over his face, making him look so sexy while he fucks into you with everything he’s got. His tongue pokes out in concentration, his fingertips dimpling the plush skin of your thighs as he holds you steady. The poor coffee table groans beneath the brutal rhythm, creaking with every hard snap of his hips.

It doesn’t take much more—your body seizes up as you come hard, the orgasm crashing through you so violently that you’re certain you’re going to pass out. Your pussy clamps down around his shaft, milking him for everything he’s worth.

“Fuck, take it,” he groans, his pace faltering as he spills inside you, thick ropes of cum filling your pussy until you swear you can feel it gurgling in your throat. The vicious, overwhelming sensation makes you shudder, your body twitching as his weight settles against you, his cock still buried deep inside your quivering walls.

You feel pulverized, your body humming in content, but all you can think is: God, this man could fuck me to death, and I’d die happy.

Immediately, your calf seizes, the muscle knotting painfully as a piercing cry slices through your throat. Your body jerks involuntarily, hands pressing against Javier’s chest to push him off you.

“Shit, stop— cramp!” you gasp.

Javier freezes, his face instantly morphing from focused lust to deep concern. He pulls out of you carefully, hissing at the feeling, his touch tender as he lowers your trembling leg from his shoulder. “Where? Here?” He’s already massaging the rigid knot in your calf with his strong, calloused hands.

“Yeah—fuck, ow! Right there.” Another pang shoots through you, and you wince, clutching at the edge of the coffee table for stability. “I keep telling you I’m not fit for—ahh, ow!—your crazy-ass positions.”

He huffs a little laugh, though his hands never stop their steady kneading. “It wasn’t that crazy,” he mutters defensively, but one warning glare from you is enough to shut him up.

Once the cramp begins to ease, your body relaxes against the table with a long sigh. Javier’s touch softens, his thumbs now sweeping soothing circles over your calf. He leans down and presses a kiss to the tender muscle, murmuring, “Sorry, nena. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Your heart swells at his care, and you can’t help but grin as he kisses his way up your body. His lips trace a slow, reverent path—your pelvis, the softness of your belly, the suppleness of each breast, the hollow of your throat. By the time his mouth meets yours, your annoyance is completely forgotten, replaced by a lazy, bubbling affection.

This is the first real kiss he’s given you since you got home, and it’s the kind that melts you from the inside out. You hum against his lips, your tongue tracing the curve of his mouth, savoring the way he tastes like sex and something inherently Javi.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both sit there for a moment, naked and tangled together, his cum still slick between your thighs and smearing against the surface of the table.

“I’ll try to be more considerate next time,” he says, almost teasingly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You smirk, dragging your nails lightly down his chest. “You better, or I’ll start vetoing these gymnastic stunts of yours.”

He chuckles, his eyes dropping briefly to where his cum is trickling from you. A rueful grin spreads across his face as he reaches for the shirt he’d discarded earlier and uses it to clean the mess between your legs.

The simple domesticity of the act makes your chest ache in the best way.

As he finishes, you stretch your arms over your head, your muscles still warm and loose despite the cramp. “I need a shower, some real food... and maybe another round later.”

“Only maybe?” He raises an eyebrow, his dimpled, teasing smile returning.

You hum thoughtfully, your gaze tracing the defined line of his jaw as your finger follows. “If you think sex is gonna be a distraction from the mess in your head, think again.”

“It’s the best distraction,” he mutters. “Would rather make my girl feel good than deal with everything else.”

“And while I’m flattered, baby, it’s not the healthiest thing you can do.”

His expression falters, the cockiness slipping away like a mask being gently peeled back. “I’m fuckin’ terrible at this. Always have been,” he mutters, his hands roaming your body as if touching you might patch together all that’s unraveling inside him.

His palms are warm and firm, one cupping your breast in a gentle squeeze, the other sliding down to rest at your hip.

He kneads and caresses you, almost like you’re the one who needs the comfort instead of him. “I’ve spent so much time doing what I thought people wanted from me. Now I don’t even know what I want.”

“There’s no rush to figure it out, you know. No one’s expecting you to and I promise you’re not the only person that feels this way.”

“Feels like I’ve got nothin’ to show for myself, though. Just a pile of bullshit and a broken puzzle.”

You sit up, drawing his focus to you as your hands grip his toned biceps to steady yourself. “Hey.” Your voice is soft but insistent. “You’ve got more than you think. And I happen to like this version of you—even if he’s a grump.”

A faint smirk breaks through the inner struggle that clouds in his eyes. “Yeah? Even when I’m bein’ a lazy ass?”

“Even then,” you tease, grinning back at him.

His gaze lingers, drinking you in with an intensity that makes your stomach flutter. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours. You’re weightless, floating in the way only Javi can make you feel when he kisses you like this.

“I don’t deserve you, you know that?” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

“It’s always nice to be reminded.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, his teeth catching your lower lip in a gentle bite before he finally lets you go. He stands, offering you his hand to pull you to your feet.

As you wobbly get up, a few puzzle pieces that had clung to your skin fall to the floor, catching both your attention. Javi chuckles, a little more relaxed than before. “Should’ve cleaned those up before spreading you open like that.”

“I feel like there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”

He turns you gently so he can pluck off the remaining pieces, his hand lingering to deliver a playful slap to your ass which makes you giggle.

“You know,” you say after a beat, glancing at him, “this puzzle thing could be good for you. Builds patience.”

He arches a brow, skepticism written all over his face. “Once again, that isn’t exactly my strong suit, cariño.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Your grin is infectious as you nudge him lightly with your shoulder. “But maybe that’s what you need right now. Something slow. Something that’s just for you. And something that isn’t…” You trail off, eyes darting to the box abandoned on the couch. “A hideous horse puzzle. God, Javi, what even is this? I’d be pissed trying to put it together too.”

A scoff escapes him, sharp and playful, his brown eyes narrowing as he straightens. “First of all, it’s vintage,” he says, the mock defense in his tone making you laugh.

“Vintage? That’s not an excuse.” You’re already stepping back when you see the shift in his stance, the way his hand twitches toward you. “Don’t even think about it.”

But it’s too late. His fingers dart out in an attempt to pinch your side, and you squeal, darting out of reach. The sound of your laughter fills the room, loud and unrestrained as you scramble to keep distance between the two of you. He’s, unsurprisingly, quicker, his footsteps closing behind as he chases you down the hallway.

Just as you reach the bathroom door, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against his naked body. You’re both breathless, his warm breath fanning against your ear as he holds you close. “Gotcha.”

Your heart pounds, your laughter subsiding into soft, breathy chuckles as you twist to face him. The sparkle in his eyes is undeniable and you let him walk you backwards into the bathroom with the intention of piping you down again before finally letting you shower.

The late afternoon light filters through the half-closed blinds, casting warm, golden stripes across Javier’s bedroom. You’re sprawled on his bed, your legs stretched out, absently flipping through a magazine. 

The quiet creak of the bedroom door catches your attention, and your eyes lift to meet his.

He leans against the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame, arms crossed over his chest. His white t-shirt clings to his torso in a way that makes your thighs rub together, the fabric stretched taut over his solid build. There’s a small grin on his lips as he watches you.

“Hey,” he drawls, finally pushing off the door and crossing the room.

“Hi.”

Without hesitation, he climbs onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath you. He crawls toward you, settling his head on your lap and nuzzling against your stomach. You can’t help but laugh softly, moving the magazine out of his way and onto the bedside table.

“You’re comfortable,” you tease, your fingers threading through his thick hair, twisting a few strands absently around your finger.

His eyes flutter shut at your touch, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest. “Can’t help it. I’ve got the best pillow.”

You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “Can I help you?”

He opens one eye, peering up at you with a smirk. “I have a gift for you.”

Your brows lift, curious. “A gift?”

“Mm-hmm,” he mutters against your skin, peppering your jawline with lazy, affectionate kisses. The bristle of his mustache has goosebumps curling over your skin. “Tis the season.” He punctuates the sentiment with a playful nip at your neck, making you squeal softly before he pulls away.

“Come on,” he tugs gently at your hand and coaxes you off the bed.

You let him guide you into the kitchen, your bare feet padding against the cool floor. He pulls out a barstool, gesturing for you to sit as he reaches for something on the counter. With a small flourish, he places a travel magazine in front of you, flipping it open to a glossy spread.

Your eyes land on the page, and your breath catches. The images are of a stunning ski resort, nestled in snow-dusted mountains with cozy lodge interiors and breathtaking views of the slopes.

“You didn’t…” you whisper, your voice caught between disbelief and excitement.

His lips tug into a wolfish smile, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes as he watches the realization dawn on your face.

“You didn’t!” you exclaim, jumping up from the stool and throwing your arms around his neck.

Your momentum nearly topples him, but he steadies the both of you with a low chuckle.

You’d mentioned it what feels like ages ago—a casual, offhand story about that ill-fated trip to the mountains with your college friends.

Everything about it had gone wrong. The busted gear, the unexpected blizzard—but through all the chaos, you’d confessed how badly you still wanted to cross skiing off your bucket list.

And Javier remembered. Not just the story, but the way your eyes had lit up despite the unfortunate circumstances. Now here he is, ready to give you that second chance—the best do-over of all time, with him.

“I had to,” he murmurs by your ear. “Spending a week on a winter retreat with you seems a lot more fun than going home this year.”

You don’t press about his family, knowing it’s a tricky subject. Instead, you let the moment settle, your heart swelling with gratitude for his thoughtfulness.

“You’re the best,” you say between a flurry of kisses, peppering his face until his deep chuckle vibrates against your palms. His eyes crinkle at the corners, happiness radiating from him as he gazes down at you.

“The best for you,” he replies softly. “You deserve this, nena. Workin’ so hard all the time… I just wanted to give you somethin’ special.”

You shake your head, grinning so hard it hurts your cheeks. “Do you know how impossible it’s going to be to top this?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I wasn’t expecting anything in return.”

“What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t get my man a gift?” You’re already racking your brain for ideas. It has to be something meaningful—something that feels right for him, not just a wallet or some cologne.

He pulls you onto his lap when he sits on the barstool, going over the details. 

Everything’s covered, he explains—all you have to do is pack and show your pretty ass up. Your excitement bubbles over at the thought, visions of cozy lodge nights and snowy adventures filling your mind.

“Guess I need to go shopping,” you say, already making mental plans to call Connie for help picking out the perfect wardrobe.

Javi chuckles, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Just don’t forget to pack a swimsuit.”

“A swimsuit? For a ski trip?”

He grins, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Hot tubs, nena. Trust me, I plan on having a lot of fun with you while we’re away.”

The resort feels like a dream you don’t want to wake up from. It’s only been a few days, and you’re already dreading your departure.

Javier really hadn’t held back, booking a private cabin with sweeping views of the snow-kissed mountain horizon.

A real Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner of the living room, next to the fireplace, its lights twinkling softly against the glassy expanse of the giant windows that line the walls.

Despite the openness, the space feels warm and intimate, like it was made just for the two of you.

And then there’s the hot tub. Nestled in the patio area overlooking the gorgeous scenery, it practically beckons you to defile it, steam curling up against the chilled glass. 

You’ve been biding your time, waiting for the right moment to unveil the gift you have for him. It’s actually kind of genius and the perfect way to help pull him out of his post-porn funk. 

For now, though, you’re content to let the days unfold naturally, filled with skiing lessons, childish snowball fights outside your cabin, and lots of great sex.

The lift sways gently as it carries you and Javier up the mountain, the cool air biting at your cheeks, though you barely notice.

Your attention drifts to him, as it often does—his profile sharp and striking against the backdrop of the rising sun. The golden light casts a glow over the snowy peaks, painting the scene in colors too beautiful to let slip away.

You shift closer to him, the insulated fabric of your jacket brushing against his as you tilt your head to rest on his shoulder. His arm instinctively drapes across your lap, steadying you, his gloved hand giving your thigh a light squeeze.

“Take a picture with me,” your voice is eager, breaking the quiet hum of the lift.

Javier turns his head, a brow quirked beneath the edge of his snow goggles. “Now? On this thing?”

“Yes, now.” You’re already moving to pull the small camera out of your pocket. “The view is perfect, and I want to remember this.”

He chuckles, leaning back slightly to give you space to situate the camera. “Alright, but if you drop it, don’t start bitching at me.”

You roll your eyes, holding the camera up and adjusting the angle to capture the two of you against the sprawling mountains bathed in warm hues, making the snow sparkle. 

You make sure to move both of your goggles so they’re resting atop of your head, your faces on full display.

Javier tilts his head closer to yours, his hand slipping to your waist to pull you snug against him.

“Smile,” you say, though you know it’s unnecessary—he’s already grinning, that playful smirk you’ve come to adore on his pouty pink lips.

The camera clicks as you take a few photos. Smiling, him kissing your cheek, and you quickly check the screen once you’re finished, heart warming at the sight of the two of you.

“See? Perfect.” You declare, showing him the pictures.

He glances at them, mirroring the same doting expression you’d just made. “You make ‘em look perfect, nenita.”

As the lift continues to ascend, you find yourself watching him more than the scenery. 

It’s hard not to marvel at the layers to this man who had once driven you up the wall. You think back to when you first met him—how easily you’d pegged him as cocky and self-centered, someone who wore his charm like a defense mechanism.

It feels surreal now, knowing how wrong you were. Javier wasn’t just the confident pornstar that could command a room with just a look or a smile. He was thoughtful, protective, and deeply giving in ways that made your heart stutter. You can’t fathom how someone like his ex would ever think about cheating on him.

Lost in thought, you don’t realize you’ve gone quiet until he glances down at you, brows knitting slightly.

“What’s on your mind, cariño?”

“You really surprise me, you know that?”

His expression shifts, the teasing edge softening into something more earnest. “Surprise you how?”

“I thought I had you all figured out when we first met.”

His mustache twitches as he bites back a knowing grin. “In your defense, I didn’t let you see more than that.” 

“Yeah, I know...” You laugh lightly, shaking your head. “But I couldn’t have been more wrong. You’re… so much more than I gave you credit for.”

He’s quiet for a second, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “Guess I should thank you for giving me a chance to prove you wrong.”

You lean in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, nose scrunching as the hairs of his mustache tickle you. “You’ve done more than just prove me wrong, Javi.”

The lift jerks slightly as it approaches the landing, but neither of you move right away. The world feels quieter here, suspended between earth and sky, just the two of you and the golden light.

“You’re going to make me fall for you talkin’ like that.”

You feel warmth spreading in your chest at his words, wondering if it’s too soon to start catching feelings like this.

You smile against his mouth, not saying anything yet not needing to, before pulling back to move your face covering up and adjust your goggles back over your eyes in preparation to go down the snowy hill.

Your shoulders ache slightly from today’s falls, but it’s the kind of soreness that feels good—earned, but nevertheless annoying. Like now, as you pick yourself up from yet another fall, calling it quits.

“You held out a lot longer than I expected.” Javier teases, his voice muffled by his face covering but still carrying that low, raspy timbre that makes your stomach flutter.

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re glad he can’t see the smile tugging at your lips.

You take him in—bundled up in his blue snow suit, goggles perched perfectly in place, his broad shoulders and confident stance somehow still exuding that effortless magnetism he carries everywhere.

Even out here, in the freezing cold, with his face obscured, he manages to look unfairly sexy.

Something about him always pulls you in. Maybe it’s the way his energy feels like gravity, anchoring you to every little thing he does. Or maybe it’s how even the simplest acts—like standing on a snowy hillside—become more vivid, more fun, more everything with him.

Your boots crunch through the snow, the skis clumsy but manageable. He’s watching you, his stance casual, hands resting on his poles as if he’s been doing this his whole life.

He had picked up on this activity much quicker than you. The instructor even called him a natural—but you’re certain she was only saying that because she was attracted to him… which, honestly, fair.

“This is your thing,” he says as you approach. “You’re the one who wanted to cross this off your little list. I’m just here for moral support... and to check you out in that suit.”

You burst out laughing, nearly stumbling again as you try to grab the poles you’d dropped when you fell over. “You can barely see anything in this suit,” you shoot back, gesturing to the thick layers of waterproof fabric that make you feel more like a marshmallow than a person.

“Baby,” he drawls, stepping closer, “I could make out those tits and that ass under anything.”

You shake your head, warmth blooming across your cheeks. “You’re such a fucking flirt,” you say, though your voice softens as his gloved hand reaches out to pull you to him.

“And yet, here you are,” he murmurs, leaning just close enough that you catch the mischievous glint in his eyes through the reflective goggles.

“Here I am.”

You’re back at the general area where you’d first gotten your ski gear, adjusting your snow boots while Javier deals with returning your equipment. 

The air is warm inside the lodge, a stark contrast to the crisp chill outside, and the hum of other skiers and snowboarders unwinding after their runs fills the space.

You’re so focused on fastening a particularly stubborn buckle that the sound of your name catches you off guard.

Your head snaps up, brows furrowing, and there he is. Frankie.

He’s making his way toward you, his strides familiar, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, and that lazy, warm smile plastered on his face like it hasn’t been forever since you last saw him.

Your surprise must show because his grin widens slightly as he stops in front of the bench you’re sitting on.

“Frankie, wow, hey.” Your voice is polite, if a little flat.

He wastes no time, dropping down onto the bench beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The sudden weight makes it creak, and though you subtly shift a little away, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Small world.” He’s looking at you with an easy kind of interest, eyes warm and familiar. You have a type. “Didn’t know you were into skiing, hermosa. How have you been?”

Your stomach does a little flip at the damn nickname but you keep your expression neutral, returning your focus to lacing your second boot. “Great, actually. I’m trying it for the first time. Been taking lessons since we got here.”

His brow lifts, amused. “And how’s that going for you?”

You laugh lightly, shaking your head as you tug off your gloves. “I’ve wiped out more times than I’d care to admit.”

He chuckles, stripping off his own gloves, clearly in no rush.

“So what brings you here?” The question feels innocent enough.

“Trip with the guys,” he answers, nodding his head in the direction of a group near a counter. You glance over and sure enough, you see the familiar faces from his circle, all caught up in their own conversation.

“Sounds fun,” you offer, “How’s Elliana? Not too happy her daddy’s missing Christmas, I’m sure.” You smile teasingly, meaning no harm, but the flicker of something on his face makes you pause. His jaw tenses ever so slightly, and the way he drops his gaze feels telling.

“She’s great. Actually, on a trip of her own with her mom and her... uh, new boyfriend.”

You catch the faint cringe he tries to hide as the explanation comes tumbling out. Your chest tightens in an uncomfortable way, not out of sympathy for him, exactly, but more at the reminder of why you two had split up to begin with.

Looks like his effort to “work things out” hadn’t exactly panned out.

“Good for her,” you reply softly, though the exchange feels a little awkward now, like neither of you knows quite where to steer the conversation.

Frankie opens his mouth to say something else, maybe an apology for oversharing or another attempt at small talk, but before he can, you catch a glimpse of Javier weaving through the crowd.

Your heart lifts instantly, as if the room somehow brightens at the sight of him. His tall frame stands out, eyes scanning the lodge, clearly searching for you.

You don’t give Frankie the chance to drag things out any further.

You quickly gather your things, standing as casually as you can. “I have to get going,” you announce, shouldering your bag. “Enjoy the rest of your stay, Frankie.”

He hesitates before he gives you a small nod. “For sure. You too, hermosa. See you around.”

You give him a brief wave before turning and making your way to Javier, your boots thudding lightly against the floor.

His face lights up when he spots you, his gloved hand resting gently on your lower back once he pulls you to him.

“You all set?” he asks, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. The simple affection melts away whatever oddness you felt lingering from your run-in with Frankie.

“Yeah,” you reply, glancing up at him. He looks so effortlessly attractive, his cheeks pink from the cold and brown hair tousled from being under his hat. “I’m ready to get all cozy by the fire.” You purr the words a little, blinking up at him, and it works like a charm.

That sweet smile of his shifts into something sultry, and you don’t miss the way his fingers curl slightly against your back.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” His voice slipping into that seductive, honeyed tone that makes you wish you could fuck a voice. “Lead the way, nena.”

The cocktail table feels like your personal island amidst the ebb and flow of the crowd, the muted hum of holiday music weaving through the air. Warmth blooms across your cheeks from the drinks you’ve nursed through the night, and the haze only amplifies the rich sound of Javier’s laughter.

His hand rests on your lower back, fingertips brushing over the smooth, exposed skin where your dress dips low. The heat of his touch sears into you, enticing enough to have you arching into him.

You giggle as he leans in closer, his breath grazing your ear as he whispers something puckishly suggestive. “You keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re not makin’ it back to the cabin without me pulling this dress off you.”

Your thighs press together instinctively and you bite down on your lip, tilting your head to look up at him, your eyes swimming with the shared heat between you. “Don’t tempt me into letting you do it,” your words are a bit slurred from the alcohol, saturated with desire.

“Oh, I’m not looking to tempt you,” he murmurs, his hand sliding an inch lower. “I’m promising you.”

Your stomach flips, and the idea of staying out any longer feels suddenly impossible, the phantom touch of his hands and lips on you eclipsing all reason.

If there wasn’t an audience, you know you’d already be on your knees with four inches in your mouth, trying to fit the other four like the needy little thing he reduces you to when he gets you all horny.

“Sit tight, nena,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your lips. “Gotta hit the restroom. When I’m back, we’ll settle up and get out of here.”

You nod, though your brain barely processes the words as your eyes follow him weaving through the throng of people, his presence polarizing even in his absence. 

As you sip the last of your drink, your gaze shifts to the large windows lining the restaurant. 

Even at night, the resort resembles something out of a postcard. The twinkling holiday lights outside illuminating the snow in festive tones. You let yourself sink into the magic of it all, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of your glass, a serene moment settling over you—until it’s promptly shattered.

“Look who it is,” a voice cuts through the ambient noise, pulling your attention.

Your head turns, and there’s Frankie, his easy grin and brown eyes locked on you. He’s not alone, three more figures flank him—Santi, Benny, and Will, each wearing varying degrees of amusement on their faces. The sight of them, clearly under the influence and rowdy, throws you a little.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Frankie quips, his voice carrying that raspy drawl you once found charming.

Your eyes narrow, your posture stiffening. “You keep finding me, wouldn’t necessarily call that meeting,” you acknowledge curtly, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Once he told us you were here, we couldn’t pass up the chance to say hello,” Benny adds, his grin wolfish as he scans you from head to toe, and you can practically feel his gaze lingering on the dip of your dress. “We miss having you around.”

You know these men. You spent enough time with them while dating Frankie to be able to place them all.

Santi, the smooth-talking charmer who always seems a little too pleased with himself. Benny, the loud, lovable wildcard who you’re sure has never taken anything seriously in his life. And Will, the quiet one with a piercing gaze that could unnerve anyone who wasn’t used to it.

They’re a reminder of why you usually avoid military men. Sure, they’re hot as hell, their confidence and strength undeniably attractive. But beneath that lies a mess of issues—trauma, control, and a certain recklessness that always seems to spill over into their romantic lives.

Frankie had been no different, but he’d wormed his way past your better judgment with that soft charm and rough-around-the-edges allure. And it didn’t hurt that he was real fucking good at eating pussy.

Not as good as Javier, though.

You take a step back, your hand reflexively resting on the edge of the table as though to steady yourself. Their presence feels suffocating, a sharp contrast to the cozy, all consuming warmth you’d just shared with Javi.

“That’s nice of you, but my boyfriend should be back any minute now...”

There’s a beat of silence as your words hang in the air, they exchange looks and you watch Frankie’s expression flicker—something almost smug crossing his features before it’s masked by a crooked smile. “Boyfriend, huh?”

Benny lets out a low whistle, leaning his forearms against the table top. “Didn’t think anyone could tame Fish’s girl.”

“Tame?” You shoot him a glare. “I’m not a fucking animal and certainly not his girl. Not for a while now. So you can all fuck off.”

They laugh at you and that only fires you up even more. Frankie slaps his hand on Benny’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Ease up man, she doesn’t take any shit.”

Benny cocks his head, his eyes gleaming with drunken amusement. “Which I think is hot. Definitely wouldn’t have fumbled you like this asshole did. And you do porn?” Another low whistle and you swear your eye twitches.

Before you can respond, Santi jumps in, his smirk as infuriating as ever. “No, no,” he says, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Camera woman. Not actually a pornstar. Though,” he adds, now his turn to fuck you with his eyes, “I think you’d be a lot better in front of the camera, hermosa.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, your patience wearing thin. You can’t stay in this conversation any longer. 

Santi raises his hands in false defense, his grin never faltering. Meanwhile, Will leans over to whisper something into his brother’s ear, and you catch the shift in Benny’s expression as he gives you a once-over, his gaze laced with something that makes your skin crawl.

You grip the glass in your hand tighter, seriously contemplating how much damage it could do.

“Things serious with your new man?” Frankie replaces Will across from you and you roll your eyes.

The audacity. “Yes,” you say through gritted teeth. “Very.” You lean forward slightly, your voice dropping into a cutting tone. “If I were you, I’d leave before he gets back… or before I shove the stem of this glass down your throat.”

Their laughter rises again, whistling and being overly obnoxious about your reply, but you ignore it, your focus razor-sharp on your ex.

“We had our time together, Frankie, and you decided to cut it short by going back to the mother of your child. Whatever, fine, shit happens, but now you’re acting like a real jerk. All of you are and I have no interest in continuing whatever the fuck this is, so, leave.”

You can tell your words hit their mark. Frankie has always respected your no-nonsense attitude, but being on the receiving end clearly doesn’t sit well with him. 

Just as you turn to remove yourself from this stifling mess altogether, Javier reappears.

Javier doesn’t expect to come back and find four men crowding you, their broad shoulders and cocky stances cutting into your space like they own it. The sight stops him cold, but only for a second. Then his back straightens, his jaw locking tight as something territorial flares in his chest.

One of them catches his eye immediately—the scruffy, stray-dog-looking motherfucker he’d recognize anywhere.

That damn Malibu shoot, the tipping point for all the change that came after. The memory of Frankie all over you, the obnoxious flirting, how you had played into it.

Then you left Robbie’s crew and he made his move, securing you as his girlfriend, getting exactly what he wanted.

Javier had no right to feel possessive when it happened, even though every fiber of his being had screamed at him to do something about it. Sure, you shared moments that left him restless and aching for more, but it wasn’t enough to stake a claim, no matter how badly he wanted to, and you were so adamant about not wanting anything to do with him.

So, he’d done the only thing he could—told himself to get over it and buried the jealousy under layers of maintained indifference.

But now? Now you’re his girl. The first real, healthy relationship he’s had since Lorraine, and there’s no way in hell he’s holding back about anything when it comes to you. Especially not when Frankie and his action-movie crew are standing there, eyeing you like you’re some trophy to win.

“What’s goin’ on?” His voice cuts through the noise of their conversation, sharp and unyielding as he closes the distance.

He’s met with four pairs of eyes—two amused, one indifferent, and Frankie’s, which narrow slightly in recognition. Javier keeps his focus steady, his gaze hard as he takes them in.

His confidence has grown over the years, forged by his experiences and the praise from the industry. Yet, there’s still that lingering thread of insecurity that twists in his gut as he watches Frankie make his indifference clear.

“We were just catching up. Saying hello,” Frankie answers almost too casually, but his eyes gleam with something else—a challenge.

Javier doesn’t flinch. Instead, he steps closer to you, his hand finding your waist. “Looks like you’ve said it. Time to move on.”

Beside Frankie, one of the men grins as if he’s enjoying the show. “Easy, man,” he says, his tone teasing. “We’re just being friendly.”

Javier’s jaw ticks, a muscle in his cheek jumping as his grip on you tightens slightly. “Friendly looks more like crowding someone who doesn’t want to talk to you.”

While you’ve never gone into detail about what you had with Frankie, the updates Javier had gotten from Steve are enough to stir doubts. Words like satisfied are currently resurfacing to make him question things he knows aren’t true.

These men are something he isn’t. And even though you’re together now, there’s a small, irrational part of him that wonders if one day you’ll realize he isn’t what you want.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—he does, with everything he’s got. But being cheated on leaves wounds that never fully close, scars that ache at the worst times. And seeing Frankie standing there, beaming like he still has a chance, stirs something primal in Javier.

“No need to get territorial, Peña. We were just having a little fun. Besides…” He trails off, his gaze flicking briefly to you before returning to Javier. “She can handle herself.”

Javier’s blood boils, his free hand twitching at his side. It would take so little—a single punch to wipe that smug look off his face. But then your hand is on his chest, soft and grounding.

“It’s fine. I was just telling them to leave.” 

Frankie’s gaze lingers on you in a look he recognizes all too well because he looks at you in the same goddamn way, and that has his vision tunneling.

“No harm done,” He steps back with exaggerated nonchalance. But then he throws one last barb over at you. “We’ll catch up some other time, hermosa.”

Javier doesn’t think, words slipping out before he can stop them. “No, the fuck you won’t. In fact, if I see any of you bother her again, I won’t hesitate to kick your ass.”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

For a moment it looks like things might escalate. But one of the other men—blonde, with a calmer air about him—steps in.

“Alright, boys,” he says, reaching out to pull his friend back. “Let’s not make a scene.”

Frankie hesitates, his jaw tightening, but he relents with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever.”

Javier watches them retreat, his heart still pounding, until they’re out of sight. Only then does he let his shoulders drop slightly.

“Hey,” you say gently, tilting your head to catch his gaze. “You okay?”

“I didn’t like that one fucking bit,” he mutters, his voice rough.

Your smile is gentle, reassuring, and you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek which melts him immediately. “They don’t matter,” you whisper, your lips brushing his skin. “You’re the only one I care about.”

The words ease the last of the tension, and Javier lets out a breath, pulling you close. “Damn right,” his tone softens as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Let’s get out of here,” you suggest, a small mischievous smile on your face, “Your gift is waiting for you back at the cabin.”

It’s as if the entire confrontation is forgotten at your words and he becomes intrigued immediately. “Oh yeah? Then what the fuck are we doin’ still standing here. Let’s go.”

“Are your eyes closed?”

Javier leans against the armrest of the couch, his lips curving into a small smile as your voice carries from the bedroom.

“Yeah,” he replies, shifting slightly, his eyes obediently shut.

“You’re not lying to me?”

“No.” He chuckles, the deep, easy sound rumbling from his chest.

There’s the faint shuffle of movement, and then he feels you—the subtle electricity that always seems to spark when you’re near.

His hands are cupped in front of him as instructed, his curiosity piqued. He has no idea what you’ve planned, no inkling of what’s coming.

Honestly, he can’t believe you actually got him anything. The trip itself has been more than enough—a week of unfiltered joy, amazing sex, and waking up to you in his arms. If that isn’t a gift in itself, then what is?

Then you’re standing in front of him, placing something in his hands. He feels the cool weight of it, the texture of smooth plastic beneath his fingertips.

“Okay, you can open them now.”

Javier’s eyes flutter open, immediately drawn to the object cradled in his palms. It’s a handheld camcorder, a glossy red ribbon tied around it like the finishing touch on a present. His brows knit together in brief confusion, but before he can ask, you fill in the blanks.

“I want us to make a tape together, Javi.”

Your words hit him like a freight train. No, they hit his cock like a freight train, and the damn thing stirs to life before his brain even fully registers the meaning.

“You naughty little thing,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that gravelly tone that always gets a rise out of you.

You bite your lip, a playful giggle escaping. “I figured it’d be something fun for us,” you say, stepping closer until he can smell the faint traces of your perfume. “Plus… I really like how you fuck on camera. Not that it’s any different from what we do, but…”

You trail off with a small, breathy moan that makes Javier’s restraint snap. He sets the camera carefully on the couch before pulling you closer, his hands gripping the hem of your dress and bunching the fabric in his fists as he pulls you between his knees.

“But…?” he prompts, his lips finding the curve of your neck. He kisses, nips, and licks, each touch of his mouth drawing little gasps from you. You taste divine, every inch of you always does.

“But it’s different,” you breathe, your fingers digging into his biceps as his teeth graze your skin. “I want to experience what all those other stars do when shooting a scene with you.”

His lips crash against yours, the kiss heated and possessive. He can taste the remnants of the cocktails you had at dinner, but more than that, he tastes you.

The memory of those old sets pales in comparison to the thought of filming with you.

“I’m all yours, nena,” he growls against your lips, his hands slipping lower to slap your ass then gripping onto the flesh. “This is a brilliant fucking idea. I’ve been telling you how hot you’d look on camera. How do you want to do this?”

Your smile is roguish, your confidence intoxicating. “I want us to take turns filming... directing… Wanna get some good shots of me sucking your cock.”

Your hand trails down his arm, skimming over the muscles there, then lower to pinch his hip before you palm his erection through his pants, his hips jerking involuntarily as he grunts.

“And I definitely need footage of that tongue of yours working my pussy,” you add, your tone sultry. “We’ll figure the rest out as we go. I want to start in the hot tub.”

Javier swears under his breath, his head tilting back slightly as your touch sends a fresh wave of desire through him. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, voice thick with need.

You smile, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away, leaving him half-dazed and completely aroused. “Get changed and take the camera outside. I’ll join you once I put on my costume.”

“Costume?” His brows arch in curiosity as his eyes track your retreating form.

“Costume might be pushing it. It’s something to set the tone for the amateur vibe I want this to have. Even if we know what we’re doing.”

“Whatever you want,” he’s so desperate to take you, “I’m going to tear you the fuck up.”

You blow him a kiss, your giddiness as palpable as his. 

Javier watches you disappear into the bedroom, letting out a long breath as he stands and moves to his bag which you had purposefully, he realizes, brought out before leaving for dinner.

He pulls out his swim trunks, quickly changing and grabbing the camera again. He can’t help the simper pulling at his lips as he removes the ribbon and flits through the settings, familiarizing himself with it.

Javier slides open the patio door, the soft scrape of the glass breaking the stillness of the night. A cool breeze rushes in, sharp against his skin, but it’s a refreshing contrast to the heat coursing through his veins.

The glow of the string lights overhead reflects off the rippling water of the hot tub. They frame the scene perfectly, tiny stars encircling what already feels like a secluded slice of paradise.

He steps out onto the wooden deck, the chill biting at his bare chest and legs. A small shiver runs through him, but it’s chased away the moment he dips into the steaming water. The heat rises to meet him, coiling around him like an inviting embrace.

Javier lowers himself deeper into the tub, the warmth spreading instantly, soothing muscles. The jets hum to life with the press of a button, sending gentle ripples across the surface. Another tap, and the colorful lights beneath the water bloom, shifting from deep blue to vivid green, then a lurid red.

He leans back against the edge, one arm stretched casually along the rim, the other cradling the camcorder.

The setting is perfect—intimate, cozy, and alive with the kind of cinematic allure that’s been a part of his life for so long. Only this time, it’s personal. This time, it’s with you.

“Alright, I’m coming out,” your voice calls from inside, and Javier’s pulse spikes as if his body already knows it’s about to be wrecked. 

He shifts in the water, the tent in his briefs straining beneath the surface. His fingers move automatically, adjusting his grip on the camcorder, raising it to eye level, his thumb brushing over the small record button.

“Ready whenever you are,” he says, his voice a little lower, raspier.  

Through the steamy glass, he tracks your shadowy movements, catching fleeting glimpses of red that tease him to the point of madness.

The condensation and reflections blur the details, but it only adds to the attraction. He can feel his heart thudding against his ribs, a primal drumbeat that matches the ache in his cock.  

And then you step out, framed by the sliding door like a vision he couldn’t conjure even in his wildest fantasies.  

“Fuck me.”

The red bikini bottoms sit high on your hips, the delicate ties framing your curves like artwork. That vivid, sinful shade of red makes your skin seem to glow, the contrast leaving him weak.

In one hand is a bottle of champagne, the other holding two flutes, and his tongue pokes against his cheek at how festive you’re being.

He zooms in with the camera, starting at your legs then capturing every dip and swell of your thighs, the plushness he knows so well.

The lens follows up, slowly drinking in the soft curve of your stomach, lingering over the way your tits press against the satin ribbon wrapped around them like a present he’s dying to open. The bow tied between your cleavage looks precarious, like it might unravel at the slightest tug.

The silky fabric is no match for the chill in the air, your hardened nipples poking through in a way that makes his tongue twitch in his mouth at the thought of flitting it over the stiffened peaks. 

But then his gaze—and the lens—finds your face, and it’s game over. Your lips are parted, plump and glistening as you lick them, the slight haze in your eyes a telltale sign of the alcohol still swimming in your veins. Your lashes frame your eyes perfectly, their sparkle teasing him as if daring him to lose control.  

His mind is already racing ahead, imagining the way those lips will part as you take his cock into his mouth, the way your head will tilt back when he suckles at your clit, or how your eyes will roll into your skull when he’s buried deep inside your tight cunt.

“You look so fucking good. Shit,” he breathes, his voice shaky. The camcorder threatens to tremble in his hand as he refocuses on you, watching you strike playful poses against the doorframe, snowflakes getting caught in your hair.

Each one is more tantalizing than the last, and when you bend over to show him your sweet ass, he zooms in on how the red fabric outlines your pussy.

“Thank you,” you purr, your voice smooth and syrupy as you turn and saunter toward the tub, setting the drink and glasses aside. You exaggerate the sway of your hips, fully aware of the effect you have on him, and it’s almost too much.

He’s never had a woman make him feel this way.

Javier keeps the camera trained on you, his years of expertise blending seamlessly with his overwhelming desire to immortalize this moment.

The way the light dances off your skin, the ripple against your flesh as you move sensually, your smile—it’s all so perfectly you.

For a moment, he forgets the camera is even there. Every inch of you seems made for him, like a custom design he never dreamed he’d be lucky enough to have.

When you finally join him, stepping into the steaming water, his restraint frays to a thread. He’s gripping the camcorder like it’s the only thing keeping him from lunging at you.

“You’re teasing me, baby,” he rasps as he films you lowering yourself into the tub.  

“I know,” you reply with a flirty smile. “But don’t you love it?”  

“Too much,” he shifts his legs to relieve some of the pressure at his crotch, though it’s futile. He’s already undone, and the night’s only just begun. 

“Keep posing, like you did by the door,” Javier instructs while his dark eyes remain fixed on you, not the viewfinder. Capturing this for later is one thing, but experiencing it now is something he wants seared into his memory for the rest of his life.

“Flirt with the camera using those beautiful eyes, nena.”

You bite your lip, your lashes lowering as you tilt your head, blinking slowly at the lens. You know exactly what to do, and he guesses this comes from watching the other stars do it on set.

The result is undeniably erotic. Knowing that you’ve never done it before like this, yet exude such natural talent, makes the moment infinitely hotter.

The water kisses your skin, glistening under the string lights and making every curve gleam like a jewel. You shift your weight, cocking your hip, arching your back—it’s fluid, seductive. Droplets of water run over your tits and how badly does he want to reach out and lick at them.

He will, he just wants to get enough footage of just you being so damn sexy.

You move with languid grace, tilting your head just so, and then giggling as you reach for the champagne. The sound is rousing, making his cock twitch.

You curl your finger, beckoning him closer, and he obeys without hesitation, the camera steady in his hands as he floats toward you. 

You pour the golden liquid into your glass, bringing it to your lips with a playful flick of your tongue along the rim, a teasing preview of what’s to come.

When you tilt your head back, letting the bubbly glide past your lips, your throat moves with every swallow and he makes sure to let the shot linger there, fixated.

“Mmm,” the sound is a decadent hum that has his teeth sinking into his lower lip. “Tastes so good.”

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he growls, his large hand reaching up to cradle your jaw. His thumb brushes over your cheek, warm and damp under his touch, before sinking his fingers into the soft skin. “Look at how gorgeous my girl is.”

He angles your face toward the camera, showing you off like a precious work of art. You go pliant under his touch, your eyes locking on the lens as you bring the glass to your lips again, deliberately spilling the champagne, letting it cascade over your jaw and his waiting fingers, trickling down his wrist in a sticky, sparkling trail.

“Oops,” you say, your tone dripping with false innocence. Lowering your head, your tongue darts out, tracing the line of champagne from his pulse point up to his fingers.

You take the tip of his finger into your mouth, sucking lightly, swirling your tongue around the pad before releasing it with a wet, lingering kiss.

“Dios mío,” Javier groans, his hips shifting as his swollen cock brushes against your thigh. The soft gasp that escapes you only feeds his need. “Pretty and dirty. A real fuckin’ star.”

His hand trails lower, abandoning your face to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over the damp fabric before tugging at it, unraveling it completely. 

The cool air kisses your skin just before his touch follows, warm and possessive. He doesn’t ask—Javier never does when it comes to adoring you; he just takes, knowing how much you love it.

Especially when he plays with your tits.

You shake them playfully, the soft, bouncing motion making him snarl, the sound rumbling low in his chest.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his hand kneading your flesh, his thumb brushing over your nipple before he pinches it just hard enough to draw a sharp gasp from your lips.

His eyes flicker to the viewfinder, ensuring the camera catches every detail as he lavishes attention on you, pinching and rolling your puckered tips between his fingers until you’re squirming against him.

“Give me the camera,” you breathe through soft whimpers, reaching for it. He hands it over without a second thought, his hands lingering on yours as he relinquishes the device. 

The power shifts, and you waste no time, pointing the lens at him. “Suck on my tits, Javi,” you coo, each word laced with seduction, and his reaction is immediate.

He pulls you against him, your bodies slick with the heat and bubbles of the water, his hard cock pressing insistently between your thighs. His mouth finds your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak before he sucks it into his mouth, his teeth grazing it just enough to make you whine.

Your free hand tangles in his damp hair, guiding his head and angling his face for the camera as he lavishes attention on you. The viewfinder captures everything: the way his lips move, how his tongue circles your areola, the glistening trail of water droplets and his spit on your skin.

His mouth moves to your other breast to do the same, sucking harder this time.

“So good, baby,” your voice trembles with pleasure. “You’re so good to me.”

He chuckles low against your chest, relishing in your praise and how he’s able to make you react.

His large hands slide up, cupping your breasts as he pushes them together, burying his face between them and motorboating you. The deep, playful groan he lets out makes you laugh breathlessly behind the camera.

“Pass me the champagne,” Javi murmurs, his lips brushing your collarbone.

You loosen your hold on his hair, reaching for the bottle. The moment it’s in his hands, he tilts it back for a quick swig, the liquid catching the light as it drips from the corner of his mouth.

He pours a generous stream over your chest, the cool champagne trickling down the valley of your breasts. His tongue is quick to chase it, licking and sucking every drop, his movements rougher now, hungrier.

You adjust the camera, your arm stretched out to capture the way his mouth trails up to your neck, nipping and kissing as if he can’t get enough.

The wet, desperate sounds of your kisses fill the air, drowning out the gentle hum of the hot tub jets.

It’s messy, all tongue and teeth, as if he’s trying to consume you entirely.

Javier takes the camera back without breaking the kiss, adjusting the angle to film the way your lips move against his. His free hand grips your waist, guiding the both of you backward until his body presses against the tub’s edge. 

Snowflakes drift in on the breeze, clinging to your hair and his, melting instantly against your heated skin.

“You gonna be a good girl and show the camera how much you love my cock? How good you are at taking him down your throat?” he asks, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing against your ear.

He zooms in on how your mouth parts in an eager smile.

“Yes,” you breathe, nodding with unrestrained excitement.

Javier lifts himself onto the tub’s edge, the chill in the air biting at his skin, but he doesn't care, not with the way his excitement overrides any of his discomfort. His legs remain submerged, spreading wide to give you space.

You move between them, the warm water lapping at your waist as your hands trail up his legs, your fingers kneading the firm muscle.

“I’ll make it extra good for you today, baby,” you promise, and he knows you mean every word.

He lifts his hips up to help you pull down his trunks, his erection bobbing free from its constraints. Javier hisses as the cool air hits him, but it’s quickly soothed when you wrap your fingers around his shaft and he groans, your softer touch feeling like fucking heaven.

You stroke him a few times, and the visual of you jerking his cock while the bubbles from the jets flutter around your bod has him tightening his grip on the camera.

As he watches you, he knows—he wouldn’t change a single thing about what got you here.

Not the fights, not the doubts, not the messy way you two stumbled into this, because every moment led to this one.

You hum, looking up at him through your lashes, giving the camera a flirty wink before your tongue darts out to kitten lick at his weeping tip, his skin flushed a devious red.

You start slowly, teasing the sensitive skin of his spongy head, swirling around it and tasting the saltiness of the precum that beads at the slit. He sucks in a sharp breath, his free hand tangling in your hair to guide you closer.

“So fucking perfect.”

Your eyes twinkle at the praise, taking him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. The camera captures every second—his cock disappearing into your mouth, the way your cheeks hollow as you suck, the slick sounds of your efforts filling the air.

Javier’s hips jerk, unable to hold still as you bob your head, your tongue working him over. Drool slips from the corners of your lips, mixing with the water from the tub as you take him as deep as you can, gagging, the messy display making him curse under his breath.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice breaking. “You’re so goddamn good at this.”

You moan around him, the vibration making his grip in your hair tighten. You pull back to catch your breath, your hand stroking him while your tongue laves attention along the underside of his shaft, tracing every pulsating vein.

“Messy little thing,” he murmurs, the camera focusing on the spit shining his cock, dripping from your chin as you smile wickedly up at him.

“I like it messy,” you reply, your voice a foxy, hoarse purr before you take him back into your mouth, sucking harder, faster, the wet, obscene sounds driving him closer to finishing.

The camera feels heavier in his hand as he adjusts the focus, trying to capture every detail of this moment, but his heart beats faster when he realizes the truth: no recording, no photo, nothing tangible could ever truly do justice to what he feels right now. It’s more than physical. It’s more than lust.

It’s her. She’s it. She’s everything.

As if reading his mind, your gaze flicks up to meet his, and you fucking smile with his cock in your mouth.

He exhales a shaky breath, barely holding on to his composure when you release him with an audible pop and trail your tongue down his length. The hand pumping him doesn’t slow, but your mouth finds his inner thigh then his balls, licking and biting just enough to make his leg tense under you.

“Where do you want to come, Javi?” Your voice is a soft, breathy rasp, and his whole body reacts to the sound of it. Your hand moves faster, and he’s unable to form an answer before you stop abruptly, making him curse under his breath.

“In my hand?” Your grip tightens around his cock.

“Goddammit,” his frustration turns to a low, guttural noise when you lower your mouth and tap the tip of his cock against your tongue.

“Or on my tongue?” The slick glide of your lips as you tease him is pure torture, but you’re not done. You push your chest forward, letting his dick slap against the humps of your tits.

“Maybe all over these?” Your voice is sweet, almost playful, but your intentions are anything but. The sight of his cock glistening against your skin, the jiggle of your flesh under his weight, makes his vision blur for a second.

“Or are you going to hold it in and fill my pussy?”

The way you say it, so casually filthy, sends a jolt of arousal through him. He bites down hard on his lip, every muscle in his body tightening. You’ve always had a mouth on you, but this—this is something else entirely.

Your confidence, the way you’ve grown into yourself since being with him, sends a surge of pride through his chest. 

“Baby, I’m going to fuck you so full of my cum you’ll be tasting it for fucking weeks.”

Your breathless giggle is music to his ears, and when you lean in to kiss his cock, licking over the tip, his control shatters.

“C’mere,” he sneers, pulling you up into a heated kiss. His mouth is desperate, his teeth scraping against your lips. He adjusts, submerging himself back into the water, being mindful of the device, and pulling your back flush against his chest.

He angles the lens to capture the way your bodies press together, the steam from the water curling around you both. The viewfinder is flipped and shows your damp hair sticking to your face, his lips dragging over the curve of your neck.

“Look at how good we look,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp against your ear as his hand palms your breast, squeezing roughly.

A smile splits your face, drunk on the taste of his cock and the alcohol. Slowly, you shift on your toes, bending forward just enough to tease him with the curve of your ass, playfully wiggling it as you rub his cock between your cheeks.

“Come fuck me, Javi.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathes, bringing the camera lower to capture the way the bubbles skim over the curve of your body. He smacks each cheek, the sound sharp against the steady hum of the jets, and you huff, arching even more.

When he pulls at the strings of your bikini bottoms, letting the fabric fall away, he curses under his breath. “Mierda,” he hisses, his hand kneading your supple flesh before gripping the base of his cock and slapping it against your skin. 

He can’t help but grin as he shows off for the camera.

When he slides himself along your slick folds, he groans, feeling how wet you are for him. “Damn, suckin’ me off gets you this turned on, nena?” he asks, breathless.

You let out a needy whimper, nodding as your hips push back against him.

He doesn’t make you wait, sinking into you with a grunt that’s half your name and half prayer. The way your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper, makes him swear under his breath as he sets a rhythm that sends water spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Oh, Javi, oh fuck!” Your voice is loud, shameless, and he loves every filthy syllable of it.

“You like that, huh?” he growls, slowing his thrusts to drag his cock out of you torturously slow, the tight suction of your pussy making him grit his teeth.

“Gorgeous fucking pussy doesn’t want to let me go,” he mutters, angling the camera to capture the way your body takes him so perfectly, the wet sounds of him sliding in and out of you echoing around you.

He licks his lips, the phantom taste of your tangy sweetness haunting them, and the thought of you spread out while he loses himself in eating you out burns through him like fire.

The way you whimper in protest when he pulls out is enough to make him consider sinking back into your tight, sopping heat, but he reins himself in. Instead, his hand comes down on your ass, the sharp crack echoing in the chilled night air.

“None of that. Let’s move this party inside. I need to taste you.”

You bite your lip, shivering from the combination of his words and the cold air biting at your damp skin. 

Both of you are dripping water as you climb out of the hot tub, the biting chill of the night air wraps around you, sending goosebumps racing across your skin.

Javier notices, of course he does, and he drags his hands over your arms, a fleeting attempt at warming you before snagging the nearest towel.

“C’mere, nena,” he mutters, pulling you close. The towel is large, but his hands are clumsy as he rubs it over your body. The motion is both tender and hurried, his fingers lingering on the curves of your hips, your nice tits, and the slick heat between your thighs. “Can’t have you catching a cold now, can we?”

You giggle, your teeth chattering as you take the camera from him as he brings you inside. You stumble over the threshold, recording every imperfect second.

The contrast between the icy air outside and the inviting heat of the cabin is immediate, the crackling fireplace casting a golden glow across the room.

Javier wastes no time, pulling you toward the plush rug in front of the flames. You lay on your back, taking a moment to admire your boyfriend.

He’s a masterpiece carved by desire, every part of him sculpted to make you ache.

You handle the camera in your hands, the viewfinder framing Javier like the sex god that he is. You’re practically purring as the lens lingers on his thighs and how they flex subtly when he shifts his weight.

The camera pans higher and you feel that insistent heartbeat at your pussy.

His cock stands heavy and proud, the firelight casting shadows along his delicious length and girth. He’s gorgeous—thick veins trailing up velvety skin, the head angry and eager to punch into your cunt, his balls heavy with the load he’s already promised to fill you full of.

Continuing your digital ascent, you capture the sharp planes of his torso, his golden-brown skin glowing in the warmth of the flames. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths.

Finally, you settle the shot on his lips, looking plush under that sexy ass mustache. They have ruined you time and time again with words, kisses, and the way they dote on every part of you.

“He’s so fucking good at using those.” You whisper to the camera.

“You done admiring?” He asks with playful arrogance, as if he hadn’t been absolutely eating up every reaction you had given to the body he’s sculpted into a living, breathing fantasy

“Never.”

He leans down to kiss you, sticky precum brushing against your lower stomach. Slyly, he takes the device from your hands, now his turn to marvel at you.

His lips part slightly as he looks at you, the flames illuminating every curve and dip of your body, painting you in shades of gold and amber.

“Most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks heated under his gaze. Javier adjusts the angle, zooming in on the way your thighs press together, craving him again.

“Spread your legs for me, nena.”

You hesitate, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze, but he makes it impossible to deny him when he looks at you like this.

Slowly, you part your legs, exposing yourself to him fully.

“Goddamn,” Javier growls, his free hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, his calloused fingers trailing to where you’re still sticky with arousal from how he’d taken you outside. He uses his thumb to spread open one of your pussy lips, revealing your pretty cunt to the camera, his thumb pressing down on your clit, smearing your juices around.

“You know how perfect you are?” he asks, his voice low as he sets the camera down at the perfect angle to capture what he’s about to do next. “Every fucking inch of you drives me crazy.”

Javier leans over you, his lips trailing down your neck to the hollow between your breasts. His hands spread you open further, his breath hot against your skin as he settles himself between your thighs.

You shudder as his lips press against your inner thigh, sinewy fingers keeping you spread open so the camera gets a good view of his tongue doing what it does best between your legs.

The fire crackles beside you, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his mouth as he begins to devour you, his tongue and lips coaxing soft moans and gasps from your lips.

He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, savoring every sound you make, every tremble of your body. He pulls back briefly, some of your slick clinging to his lips, just long enough to grab the camera again, angling it to capture your flushed face and the way your body arches toward him before handing it over to you.

You almost drop it from how fucking lightheaded he’s left you, but manage to hold onto it, doing your best to record this handsome man going down on you.

“No one else gets to see you like this. Just me.”

The possessiveness in Javier’s voice is laced with an edge of jealousy, a dark fire stoked by earlier moments that now claw their way back into his mind. Flashes of other men crowding you, eyeing what’s his, swirl in his thoughts, blending with images of you and Frankie tangled in your sheets. 

The thought ignites a growl deep in his chest. His fingers grip your thigh harder, nails biting into your skin as he buries his face between your legs with renewed intensity. 

His tongue swirls and flicks over your clit, his lips sealing around the swollen nub with a pressure that makes your toes curl.

He’s punishing those images, driving them out by proving how thoroughly you belong to him.

“Just you, Javi, no one else,” you gasp, your back arching off the plush rug. With one hand on the device, your other lets its fingers twist into his thick brown hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt against your slick heat.

The vibrations ripple through you, sending you closer to the edge, your walls fluttering with anticipation.

You’re close—he feels it in the way your thighs shake, the way your breath stutters. Determined to pull you over the edge, he buries his face deeper, his nose nudging your clit as he shakes his head back and forth.

The scratch of his mustache against your tender flesh only intensifies your pleasure, and when his lips seal around your swollen clit and he sucks harshly, it shatters you.

“Oh my God, Javier!” you scream, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash through you, the camera shaking violently in your hand. The heat of the nearby flames amplifies your euphoria, sweat beading on your skin.

“Pussy tastes so fuckin’ delicious,” his voice is muffled but heavy with want. Javier has always loved going down on women, but there’s something about you—your taste, your scent, the way your body responds to him—that drives him wild. 

His cock thrums painfully, desperate for relief. He’s grinding against the rug without even realizing it, his need to claim you consuming every thought.

Even as your thighs twitch in the aftermath of your orgasm, he laps up every drop, greedy for more, his tongue sweeping over your oversensitive flesh until you’re gasping and squirming beneath him. Only then does he pull away, his lips and chin glistening with your essence.

Taking the camera again, he points it at you, capturing the sight of you sprawled across the rug, utterly spent. Your chest rises and falls, your eyes half-lidded with bliss.

“¿Todo bien, nena?” he asks, gingerly yet smugly satisfied.

“Mhm,” you hum, stretching languidly under his touch. “Just need a minute.”

He strokes your face, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips and you kiss the rough pad softly. 

Wordlessly, he adjusts the lens, zooming in on your face, capturing the blissed-out expression that is all his doing. It makes him want to kiss you, so he does, bending down, his lips brushing yours in a smoldering liplock.

“Such a good kisser, Javi.” You chase after his mouth when he pulls away, bringing your hands up to cradle his face to keep your lips on his. He lets you, lost in the feeling in the same way you are, that poor camera idly recording the blur of your moving heads.

When he does finally pull back, he moves with purpose, setting up the camera on the coffee table, his fingers steady despite the heat thrumming through his veins.

He flips the viewfinder to showcase the two of you, positioning it to capture the perfect scene: the crackling fireplace, the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree, the snow-kissed mountains visible through the frosted window, bathed in the silver moonlight.

The setup is a masterpiece, the kind of shot you’d call pure art. You’ve teased him about this before—how his talent for making things look so effortlessly beautiful extends even to his most smutty creations.

When Javier returns to you, his breath hitches. You’re stretched out on the rug, naked as the day you were born, your skin kissed by the soft illumination of the Christmas lights. You look up at him with a cheeky grin that makes his chest tighten and his cock throb.

“Hey, baby,” you say, your voice teasing yet soft, inviting him closer.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, his own lips shifting into a smile that mirrors yours.

He lowers himself to you again, cradling your jaw as if you’re the most delicate, precious thing he’s ever touched. “You havin’ fun?”

“So much,” you reply with a laugh that’s pure music to his ears. Your teeth catch his lower lip playfully, and your hand sneaks down between you, wrapping around his pulsating cock. The sound he lets out vibrates against your lips, and the look in his eyes is molten.

“Now fuck me full, Javi,” you whisper, your words bold and needy, a demand he’s more than eager to fulfill.

His hands are on you in an instant, pulling you up and shifting your body until you’re perfectly centered in the shot.

You look like a vision, his personal angel.

Javier kneels behind you, his strong hands gripping your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing into your skin just hard enough to leave marks he’ll admire later.

His cock teases your entrance, the slick head gliding over your swollen clit, and you mewl, your body quivering with anticipation. He watches, mesmerized, as you arch your back for him, offering yourself up completely.

Slowly, he sinks into you, savoring the way your walls envelop him, the tightness making him hiss through his teeth.

His grip tightens as he thrusts deeper, the stretch and fullness making you sob. The sound shoots straight to his cock, and he growls low in his throat, his hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt.

Your cries rise in pitch as he sets a brutal rhythm, each powerful thrust sending your tits bouncing uncontrollably. 

Javier leans back slightly, angling his body just so, ensuring the camera captures every detail—the way your pussy clenches and drips around his cock and how obscene the sounds of your bodies joining echo in the cabin.

His nose skims the side of your neck, his breath hot against your damp skin. He bites down gently, soothing the sting with his tongue, before whispering filthy promises into your ear, each word making you tighten around him.

“You were made for me,” he declares, “This tight pussy, fuck, no one else gets to feel how perfect she is. Just me. All mine.”

Something about being inside you triggers this untamed passion in him, an insatiable desire that no amount of good fucking can quench.

He’s relentless, taking and taking, chasing the pleasure that only you can give him. The thought of you creaming all over his cock, screaming his name, and begging for more while teetering on the edge of oblivion has him thrusting harder, deeper.

No one else has ever felt like this—like home and sin wrapped into one. Fucking you is better than anything he’s ever known.

It doesn’t even have to be elaborate or kinky—though he certainly doesn’t mind. He loves it all, from nights like this to the slow, sleepy mornings when he wakes you by sliding his cock into your warm, welcoming body, loving the way you melt against him with soft sighs.

Now, though, it’s anything but slow. His hips piston up into you, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, and you’re crying out his name like a prayer.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice rough in your ear as his pace falters momentarily.

You’re too lost in the haze of bliss to respond right away, your whimpers spilling from your lips in broken waves. Javier slows, grinding into you, letting the friction bring you back to him.

“I said, do you trust me?” he repeats, his tone firmer.

“Y-Yes,” you stammer, your voice a breathy plea as your pussy clenches around him.

A dark, satisfied smirk spreads across his face. “I’m gonna put you in a headlock, baby. Keep you right where I want you while I tear this pretty pussy up like I promised.”

You mewl, the sound making his cock twitch inside you. He nips at your ear, his breath fanning against your skin. 

“If it’s too much, tap me three times, okay?” His voice softens slightly, a thread of tenderness weaving through the raw desire.

You nod eagerly, your voice trembling as you beg, “Please, Javi.”

When you turn your head to look at him, the vulnerability and trust in your eyes make his heart clench. Fuck, I love her.

Without another word, he surges forward to kiss you messily, his lips claiming yours as he loops a strong arm around your neck. The position pulls you flush against his chest, your back arching as he adjusts his knees, locking you into place.

“I’ll start slow, get that pussy purring,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear.

His cock drags against your walls, unhurried, and you shiver as he finds that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

“Right there,” you gasp, your voice hitching as your body tightens around him.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” he groans, his arm tightening just enough to make your head swim in the most delicious way.

With a growl, he picks up his pace, pounding into you with enough force to get your body jolting against his. The rug beneath you rubs raw at your knees, each wet slap of his cock driving into your soaked pussy sending ripples of heat through your core.

Javier watches the way your body reacts to him from the viewfinder across the way. “That’s it, nena,” he clenches his teeth, his own release building as he claims you over and over again. His large fingers move from your hips down to toy with your clit. “Take it all. Take every. Fucking. Inch.”

Your hands shoot up to grip Javier’s arm, manicured nails biting into his flesh and leaving streaks of angry red lines down the muscled curve. The sting only fuels him, a feral satisfaction curling in his chest as you claw desperately for purchase.

Drool slips from the corner of your lips, pooling in the crease of his elbow, and he can’t help but smile smugly at the camera, his ego swelling alongside his cock. He’s unraveling you, making you fall apart so completely that you’re losing control—going stupid for his cock.

The slick sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, drowning out the crackling fire. You’re soaking him, your pussy so wet that the coarse hairs at the base of his cock are drenched, shining with your mixed juices.

He tightens his grip around your throat, your voice reduced to breathy, incoherent gasps. The pressure is perfect, the lack of air sending your senses spiraling as he pounds into you with reckless abandon, fingers relentless against your puffy clit.

It’s enough to coax your submission further, and he feels your slick walls start to quake around him. Your pussy flutters, gripping him so tightly it takes everything in him not to lose control right then.

“I—” You try to speak, but your words dissolve into an unintelligible cry as your orgasm slaps you right in the face.

“I’ve got you, baby,” Javier growls, his voice low and rough. He drives into you harder, faster, the head of his cock hitting that devastatingly deep spot that only he has been able to touch. Your eyes roll back, your cunt clenching him like a vice.

Your body trembles on the edge of euphoria and exhaustion. You lift your hand to tap out, but before you can, his own climax barrels through him like an angry bull.

His hips snap wildly as he spills into you. Hot spurts of cum fill you, thick and endless, his curses mixing with your cries as your body trembles uncontrollably.

The second he loosens his hold on your throat, air rushes back into your lungs, and with it comes a blinding, second wave of pleasure.

“Ah—fuck me!” you yelp, your body spasming as an intense pressure bursts inside you. Liquid heat sprays out of your pussy, soaking his lap and the carpet beneath you.

You fall forward, about to collapse, but Javier catches you, holding you close for a moment, his own body shaking as he fights to catch his breath.

The sticky warmth of your release and his cum pooling between your thighs has him grinning like a devil. “Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he pants, pulling out slowly, hissing at the tight drag of your walls around him.

Gently, he lowers you forward, your cheek pressing against the soft carpet. He goes to caress you, but your body twitches, still caught in the aftershocks, and you let out a weak, incoherent whimper.

“Too much. Don’t touch me. Don’t even look at me.”

He laughs, a low, heady sound, still lightheaded from his own climax. “Whatever you say,” he mutters, reaching for the camera. He adjusts the viewfinder, pointing it at your wrecked body bent over in front of the fireplace.

“C’mon, nena,” he coaxes. “Roll over for me. Gotta get a good shot of my cum dripping out of this perfect pussy.”

His vulgar words make your clit tingle but you know you can’t go for another round right now. Or any time soon, really.

With a soft huff, you roll onto your back, spreading your legs wide despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs. Tears of pleasure still cloud your vision as you gaze up at him, your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

The camera captures everything—your swollen, glistening folds, the obscene trail of his cum trickling from your hole, evidence of how thoroughly he’s claimed you.

A lewd gurgling sound fills the air as the thick, creamy fluid bubbles out of you, sliding down to smear across your puckered entrance.

Javier is transfixed, his cock twitching despite his exhaustion. The urge to stuff his spend back into you with his fingers is almost overwhelming, but he reels it in. You’ve tapped out, and he respects your limits.

“So fucking hot,” he murmurs, his voice reverent as he watches. “Blow a kiss to the camera, baby.”

You smile weakly, giggling through your exhaustion. Licking your lips slowly, you pucker up and blow a kiss toward the lens, finishing with a playful, fucked-out wink.

The action is pure lust and sweetness combined, and he lets out a satisfied hum before finally stopping the recording.

“My girl, you did so well,” Javier murmurs, his voice soft and full of admiration. His praise seeps into your skin like balm, soothing you with the warmth of his presence.

He reaches for the couch pillows and the throw blanket, crafting a cozy nest right there on the floor by the fire. 

He doesn’t care that you’re both sticky with sweat and the remnants of your passion— all he cares about is making you comfortable.

Feeling the fog of pleasure begin to lift, you roll onto your side, your body aching in the best way possible, reaching for him instinctively.

Javi doesn’t hesitate; he scoops you up with ease, settling you on his chest. Your head rests between his pecs, rising and falling with his steady breaths. His calloused fingers trail up and down your naked back, a calming rhythm that lulls you into serenity.

“I can’t believe I squirted,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest. “Isn’t that…you know…piss? Shouldn’t we be in the shower right now?”

The question pulls a laugh from deep within him, a sound so rich and full that it vibrates through his chest and onto your cheek. “Eh,” he says, shrugging lazily. “Doesn’t really matter. What I do know is that I’m so damn proud of you, baby. I know the tape is goin’ to be fuckin’ gold.” His tone drips with adoration, each word laced with pride.

“But if it makes you feel better, we can always get back in the tub.”

You hum in response, nuzzling into the curve of his chest and letting your lips wander, pressing soft kisses over his golden skin. “That sounds really good, actually,” you murmur, your voice still laced with a dreamy haze. “But I don’t think I can walk.”

He lets out another laugh, his arms tightening around you. “I can carry you,” he offers, ever the gentleman, even now.

“Or,” you counter with a playful grin, trailing kisses up to his collarbone and then his jaw, “we could stay here, take a quick power nap by the fire, and then…” You pause, your lips brushing his as you whisper, “I can ride you.”

Javier groans, the sound low and full of mock exasperation. “You’re definitely trying to kill me.”

Your laughter mingles with his as you capture his lips in a kiss, slow and unhurried. The world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined by the warmth of the fire. His hands cradle your face as yours slide into his hair, fingers weaving through the dark strands.

The kiss deepens, turning languid and exploratory, a perfect blend of tenderness and desire.

With you in his arms, he feels whole, like every piece of you was made to fit into his. Time seems to stretch and stop, the crackling fire and the soft hum of your breaths the only soundtrack to your moment.

Here, in his embrace, you’re not just his lover; you’re his everything.

i have a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @thundermartini . @auteurdelabre . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @mysterious-moonstruck-musings . @yourmommycallsmemommy . @larascorneroftheworld . @letsmeetintheafterglow . @lunatiquess . @myownwholewildworld . @pasc4lfuzz . @sjc7542 . @almostfoxglove . @shy-taylorsversion . @theredvelvetbitch . @xxbadchoicexx . @lumpatto . @haylee-e . @guelyury . @doblasftcisco . @ashhlsstuff . @kluvspedro . @goodvibesonly421 .

[st4rpiece]

needing space after an argument pt. 2

SFW

characters: luffy, zoro, usopp, sanji x reader summary: they earn your forgiveness CW: groveling, making up, fluff, and over 600 words each

pt. 1 | pt. 2

────────────────────₊˚.༄

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy wasn’t himself. It was the first thing everyone noticed after you left the ship. His laughter, usually loud and contagious, was quieter, forced. Mealtimes felt emptier, and the energy on the Sunny had shifted. He tried to act like nothing was wrong, but even the crew could see the shadow of regret lingering in his eyes.  

But now, here he was, standing in front of you in the quiet port town where you’d taken refuge after leaving the crew. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a desperate determination.  

“I’m sorry,” he said for what must have been the tenth time. His voice was raw, almost breaking. “I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I was stupid.”  

You stood with your arms crossed, your expression guarded. Seeing Luffy like this—so uncharacteristically vulnerable—caught you off guard, but the sting of his words still lingered, fresh and sharp.  

“Luffy, you can’t just say whatever you want when you’re mad and expect everything to go back to normal,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with exhaustion. “You told me to leave. So I did.”  

“I didn’t mean it,” he repeated, stepping closer but stopping just short of touching you. “I was mad and didn’t think. I... I need you on the ship. Not just because I want you there, but because you’re part of the crew. You’re important to us all and i shouldn’t have made you feel otherwise.”  

You searched his face, his big, earnest eyes pleading with you. You could see the regret there, the weight of his mistake hanging heavy on his shoulders. For a moment, your resolve wavered, but you quickly shook your head.  

“I can’t just come back because you say you’re sorry, Luffy. What happens the next time we fight? Are you going to tell me to leave again?”  

“No!” he blurted out, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I swear. I’ll never say anything like that again.”  

You frowned, unsure what to make of his declaration. “Luffy, words aren’t enough.”  

He nodded, his straw hat shadowing his eyes for a moment before he looked up at you with renewed determination. “Then I’ll show you. Whatever it takes.”  

True to his word, Luffy didn’t give up. He didn’t force you to return to the ship, but he didn’t leave the island either. Every day, he showed up—whether it was to bring you a freshly caught fish for dinner, fix something around the small inn you were staying at, or simply sit outside and wait in silence. He didn’t push, didn’t demand, but his presence was constant.  

When the ship needed supplies, he was the first to volunteer, taking on tasks he’d usually leave to someone else. The crew later told you how he’d started taking more responsibility, trying to step up as a better leader.  

Even when you didn’t speak to him, he never faltered. Every action, every small gesture, was his way of showing you how much he regretted his words.  

One evening, you found Luffy sitting on the dock, staring out at the ocean with his straw hat resting in his lap. He looked smaller somehow, as though the weight of his regret had worn him down.  

When he noticed you approaching, he stood up immediately, his expression shifting from surprise to cautious hope.  

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked, crossing your arms.  

“Because I was wrong,” he said without hesitation. “Because I hurt you, and I have to make it right. Even if you never come back, I’ll keep trying. I don’t care how long it takes.”  

His sincerity stopped you in your tracks. He wasn’t making excuses, wasn’t brushing over your feelings like they didn’t matter. He had made changes—small ones, but noticeable—and for the first time, you truly believed he understood the gravity of what he’d done.  

You sighed, letting the silence linger before speaking. “Luffy... I’ll come back.”  

His eyes lit up with hope, his lips parting as though he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.  

“But,” you continued, holding up a finger, “this only works if things stay different. I’m not going back just to deal with the same problems again. I need to know you’re taking this seriously.”  

“I swear!” he said immediately, his voice brimming with determination. “I swear that things will be different. A good different. No more reckless fights for selfish reasons or saying things I don’t mean, I promise.”  

You studied him for a long moment, the sincerity and determination in his eyes unmistakable. Finally, you allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips. “Alright, Lu.”  

Relief washed over his face as he heard the familiar nickname, and for the first time in weeks, you saw his grin return, bright and full of life.  

"I missed you so much, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion and certainty, as he wrapped his arms around you.

The comforting warmth of his embrace, felt like home—safe, secure, and exactly where you wanted to be.

Roronoa Zoro

Zoro wasn’t one to grovel. Stubborn and prideful as he was, apologies didn’t come easy for him. But as he sat alone on the Sunny’s deck, replaying his words from the fight, regret gnawed at him like a dull blade.  

The memory of your face—shocked, hurt, and then resigned—kept flashing in his mind. He hadn’t just lashed out; he’d cut deep. You were trying to help, and he’d thrown it back at you, calling you controlling and annoying when you didn’t deserve it.  

He groaned, pressing his palms against his face. He hated how small he felt for failing to show up to the dates you’d so carefully planned, how your suggestion—simple and kind—had poked at an insecurity he didn’t want to face. And now, because of his pride, he’d pushed you away.  

For days, you’d been distant, giving him space, but that only made the guilt worse. He needed to fix this.  

You were sitting on a quiet hillside overlooking the ocean when Zoro found you. The breeze tugged at your clothes, and you looked peaceful—too peaceful, considering how much turmoil you’d left him in.  

“Hey,” he called softly, his voice unusually hesitant.  

You glanced at him, surprised to see the normally stoic swordsman looking... sheepish. He stood awkwardly a few feet away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.  

“What is it, Zoro?” you asked, your tone calm but distant.  

He swallowed hard, his fingers twitching at his sides before he took a step closer. “I wanted to apologize.”  

That caught your attention. Your brows lifted in mild surprise, but you said nothing, waiting for him to continue.  

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” he said, his voice low and gruff, but steady. “You weren’t being controlling or annoying. You were just... trying to help.” He exhaled heavily as if forcing the words out of himself. “And I was an idiot.”  

You blinked, his sincerity throwing you off guard. “Zoro—”  

“Let me finish, please,” he interrupted, his eyes meeting yours for the first time. There was something raw in his gaze—an uncharacteristic vulnerability. “I’ve been thinking about it, and... I hate that I’m always late. I hate knowing you’re waiting for me while I’m stuck wandering around like an idiot who can’t follow a simple route. It’s embarrassing.”  

Your expression softened, but you stayed quiet, letting him speak.  

“When you suggested we go together, I know it wasn’t because you thought I was useless,” he continued, his voice tightening. “But that’s how it made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough to get it right on my own. And instead of dealing with that, I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”  

He took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “But I don’t think you’re controlling or annoying. You’re the most patient and understanding person for putting up with me. So you deserve better and I want to be that.”  

The sincerity in his voice was almost overwhelming, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t just saying the words—he meant them.  

“I know I can’t just say sorry and expect everything to go back to normal,” he added, glancing away briefly before meeting your gaze again. “So, please baby just… give me a chance to make it right.”  

Your lips parted in surprise. Zoro wasn’t the type to take the initiative when it came to things like this, but the determination in his eyes was unmistakable.  

After a long pause, you let out a soft sigh, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “One last chance.”  

He nodded, relief flashing across his face, but there was also a quiet resolve in his expression. This wasn’t just a promise—it was a vow.  

The next time you guys went on a date, Zoro was ready. He showed up early, finally getting the chance to wait on you. He led you to a quiet clearing overlooking the sea, a picnic already set up with food he’d personally asked Sanji to help him prepare.  

The effort was clear in every little detail, from the way he chose the spot (easily accessible, no chance to get lost) to the careful decorations and crafts you mentioned liking/wanting to try. Showing that despite his stoic nature, he was listening to you during previous dates. Even now as you spoke, he would chime in at just the right moments.  

It wasn’t perfect—he stumbled over a few of his words and complained when a seagull tried to swipe the food—but it was Zoro, trying in his own way. And that meant everything.  

By the time the date ended, you leaned back on the blanket, gazing up at the stars, feeling closer to him than ever before. When he reached for your hand, you let him, squeezing it gently.  

Zoro glanced down at your intertwined fingers, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His gaze softened, and he took a deep breath before speaking. “I know you agreed to give me another chance, but I need to know if you’re still interested in giving me that chance.”

Your heart softened at the rare vulnerability in his voice. You turned to meet his eyes, and they were steady, full of quiet determination.  

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you leaned into him as the waves crashed gently in the distance. For a man of few words, Zoro was surprisingly good at them.

“Well,” you began, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eye, “that depends. Are you going to keep being so dramatic about it?” You bit back a laugh as you watched the tips of his ears turn red, his expression shifting into a familiar scowl.

“Tch, not being dramatic,” he grumbled, looking away, but the redness in his ears betrayed him.

You chuckled softly and squeezed his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “I was being serious about giving you that second chance,” you said warmly. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and the tension in his jaw eased.

“But,” you continued, your tone more firm, “next time aone thing like this happens, promise that you’ll communicate it properly. Okay? No more bottling things up.”

Zoro stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding once. “You have my word.” His voice was low but steady, carrying the weight of his promise.

“Good.” You smiled, squeezing his hand again as a soft breeze brushed past, carrying with it the sound of the waves.

God Usopp

The day had been quiet, almost too quiet, and the silence weighed heavy between you and Usopp. Since your argument, things haven’t been the same. You still spoke, but the words felt hollow, and the laughter you once shared now seemed distant and forced. He noticed it all—the way your smile never quite reached your eyes, the strain in your voice when you tried to act like nothing was wrong.  

And it tore him apart.  

Usopp sat on the deck after dinner, absentmindedly fiddling with a half-finished invention. His fingers moved on instinct, but his thoughts were stuck on your last conversation. He hated himself for the way he’d lashed out, for the way he’d let his insecurities push you away.  

As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sea in shades of orange and pink, he made up his mind. He couldn’t let this fester any longer.  

When you stepped onto the deck for some air, Usopp hesitated, watching you from a distance. Finally, he stood, his hands clenching at his sides as he approached you.  

“Hey,” he called softly.  

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oh, hey.” Your voice was casual, but your guarded expression told him you were bracing for something.  

“Can we talk?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.  

You nodded, following him to a quieter spot on the ship where the others couldn’t overhear. The soft sound of the waves filled the silence as Usopp struggled to find the right words.  

“I’ve been... thinking,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “About what I said. About the fight.” He looked down, unable to meet your gaze. Your brows furrowed, but you stayed quiet, giving him the space to explain.

“I know you don’t see me as weak,” he continued, his voice growing tight. “But hearing you scream for him... it made me feel useless.” He exhaled sharply, his hand tightening around the railing. “And I hate feeling like that. I know I’m not like Luffy, Zoro, or Sanji. I’m not the guy who can punch through walls or take down ten enemies at once, but... I at least want to be someone you can count on. Someone you can feel protected with.”

He paused, his words faltering slightly. “But instead of talking to you about it, I projected my insecurities onto you, and made it seem like you were wrong for asking our friends for help. For that, I’m sorry.”

The vulnerability in his words hit you hard, and guilt pooled in your chest. “Baby...” you started, your voice soft. “I’m sorry, too. I never meant to make you feel that way.” You stepped closer, resting a hand on his arm. “But you are someone I can count on. Someone who’s saved my ass more times than I can count. Your strength may not look like theirs, but it’s just as important.”

He finally looked at you, his eyes wide, searching for any trace of doubt. “You... you really mean that?”

“Heck yeah, I do,” you said without hesitation. “I trust you, Usopp. I always have.”

A small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips, and he let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through him. “Thanks... I needed to hear that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

After a moment, he straightened and rubbed the back of his head, suddenly looking sheepish. “Actually, uh, there’s something I’ve been working on. For you. I wanted to make something that could help you in a fight.”  

Your brows lifted in surprise. “Really? What is it?”  

Grinning now, Usopp reached into his bag and pulled out a small, compact gadget. “It’s not finished yet, but it’s kind of like a smoke bomb, but better. It creates a flash of light to blind enemies and a smoke screen to cover your escape. I thought... you know, it might come in handy.”  

You took the gadget from him, turning it over in your hands. “Usopp, this is amazing.”  

“Yeah, well,” he said, scratching his cheek, his grin turning bashful. “I wanted to make sure you had another thing to keep you safe. In case no one else is around.”  

You smiled, warmth blooming in your chest. “Thank you, Usopp. I mean it.”  

He relaxed then, the tension between you finally melting away. “I’ll finish it soon,” he promised, his confidence returning. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll come up with even more stuff for you with full bragging rights.”  

"Thanks, now I can let everyone know just how my amazing boyfriend is," you laughed—genuinely this time—and Usopp’s chest swelled with pride. He knew he still had work to do, but for now, the weight of your fight had lifted, and the bond between you felt stronger than ever.  

Vinesmoke Sanji

Sanji stood alone on the deck, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his slumped figure. He leaned against the railing, a cigarette burning low between his fingers, though he hadn’t taken a drag in minutes. His mind replayed every moment of your relationship—the laughter, the stolen glances, the warmth of your touch. And then, inevitably, it would circle back to the breakup.  

He’d failed you. The person who mattered more to him than anyone else in the world. His actions—so thoughtless, so wrapped in habit—had made you feel second to strangers. The realization haunted him, clawing at his chest.  

Sanji thought of groveling, of falling to his knees and begging you to take him back, but he knew you too well. That would only push you further away. You were someone who needed actions, not words, and he knew his words had already failed you. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. You were his person, his muse, his everything. How could he possibly accept a life without you in it?  

So he did the only thing he could. He began to show you through his actions.  

The change was immediate. The next time the ship docked at an island, Sanji didn’t so much as glance at the women who usually flocked to him. When they batted their lashes and called out for his attention, he brushed them off politely and kept his focus on his task. His compliments, once scattered freely to strangers, were now reserved only for you. Even when you ignored him, his words never wavered—soft, sincere, and meant only for you.  

In battle, Sanji was more relentless than ever. But his priority was always your safety, stepping in before danger could reach you, even if it meant taking a hit himself. When the crew sat down for meals, he made sure your favorite dishes were prepared just the way you liked them, his eyes flicking to your face to see if you’d noticed.  

And when he thought you weren’t looking, he’d linger nearby, silently watching you. There was a sadness in his gaze as he admired the person he’d once had the privilege of holding close. You saw him sometimes, hovering at a distance, and though you tried to ignore it, part of you couldn’t deny the pang in your chest. You still had feelings for him—of course you did. But you couldn’t settle for someone who had once made you doubt your place in their life.  

Weeks passed, and Sanji’s quiet devotion didn’t falter. Even now as he stood near the railing, waiting for you, his hands slightly trembling. He had spent all day preparing for this moment, and now the weight of his plan felt heavier than ever.  

When you finally stepped out onto the deck, he straightened immediately, smoothing his suit jacket with nervous fingers. "Hey," he called softly, his voice careful, like he was afraid of scaring you off.  

"Hey," you replied, your tone hesitant but curious. He’d been walking on eggshells around you for weeks, and now this—an invitation for "something special" without much detail. Against your better judgment, you’d said yes, curiosity getting the better of you.  

He smiled faintly, stepping toward you. "I, uh, thought we could spend the evening together. Just... talk."  

You raised a brow. "Talk?"  

He nodded, motioning for you to follow him. "Come on. I’ve got something to show you."  

Despite the uncertainty in your chest, you followed him across the deck, and your eyes widened when he led you to a corner of the ship bathed in soft, golden light from lanterns he had strung up. A blanket was spread out neatly on the deck, adorned with a small basket, plates of your favorite snacks, and a bottle of your favorite drink.  

"Sanji..." you murmured, taken aback.  

"I know it’s not much," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "But I wanted to do something for you. Something simple. Something that doesn’t involve me screwing it up."  

You blinked, your hesitation softening slightly at his earnestness. "You didn’t have to go through all this trouble."  

"I did," he countered, his voice firm but warm. "I needed to."  

He gestured for you to sit, and after a moment’s pause, you did, settling down on the blanket. Sanji sat across from you, his hands fidgeting in his lap.  

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the ship filling the space between you. Finally, Sanji took a deep breath and looked at you, his expression more serious than you’d seen in a long time.  

"My love," he began, "I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since... since we broke up. And I just... I need you to know how sorry I am."  

You looked away, unsure how to respond, but he continued.  

"I wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved," he admitted, his voice low. "I made you feel like you had to compete for my attention, and that’s unforgivable. You should’ve never felt like anything less than the most important person in my life. That’s on me."  

His gaze was unwavering as he spoke, and you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his words.  

"I still have feelings for you," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "I never stopped. And I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight, or even to trust me again right away. But I need you to know that I’ve changed. I’m changing. And I’ll do anything to prove it to you."  

You stared at him, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Sanji was always smooth with his words, but this was different. There was no charm, no performative flair—just raw honesty.  

"Sanji..." you started, your voice faltering. You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edge of the blanket. "I... I still have feelings for you too. But..."  

"But you don’t trust me," he finished for you, his tone understanding rather than hurt.  

You nodded. "It’s not that I don’t want to. I just... I’m scared of getting hurt again."  

He reached across the blanket, his hand stopping just short of yours. "I understand," he said softly. "And I don’t blame you. I don’t want you to rush into anything you’re not ready for. If we have to take things slow, then that’s what we’ll do. I’ll show you, not just with words but with actions, that you’re the only one in my heart."  

His hand lingered near yours, and after a moment, you tentatively placed your hand over his. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and you looked up to meet his gaze.  

"Okay," you said quietly. "We can try. But slow, Sanji. No rushing, no grand gestures to win me over. Just... be honest with me."  

A smile broke across his face, softer and more genuine than any you’d seen in weeks. "Slow it is," he promised.  

For the first time in what felt like forever, the tension between you eased. You still had a long way to go, but as you sat there, sharing a quiet meal under the lantern light, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, things could work out.  

───────────────────₊˚.༄

One Piece Masterlist

hey…I was supposed to post this yesterday but I ended up working a double 😭.

[this is lightly edited]

anyways I saw a couple people asking about a tag list ngl i don’t know shit about that 😭😭 but hopefully this finds you !!

and for the op women/queer smau I will be posting that soon as well but I got a really cute idea from anon yesterday and I want to start on that first.

[0omillo0]

Felix angst/comfort (you can use this for the clingy series) where Felix feels the constant need to spend time with Y/N ( also rip this hits home for me) and Y/N is, for the first time in their life, not clingy. Like Felix perceives their actions as clingy but in their mind they feels free and as least clingy as they’ve ever been. And then Felix does the whole calls them clingy. And they have to take a moment because they, for once, felt so confident in themselves that they weren’t being clingy, and now they are second guessing themselves. (This is weirdly personal, I’ve been here before, please give mega angst but even more comfort)

Calling you clingy

Felix x Reader ; angst -> comfort

a/n: I hope this is what you wanted! merry christmas loves

Felix had always been a gentle, steady presence in your life—a warmth you could lean into when the world felt cold. His kindness had a way of pulling you out of your head, grounding you when your insecurities threatened to take over. You loved him for it.

But lately, his warmth felt different. He’d been clinging to you in ways you didn’t recognize, filling the spaces between your conversations with a soft desperation. He was more insistent on spending time together—seeking you out even when you felt perfectly fine sitting in your solitude.

At first, it was easy to brush off. Felix was affectionate by nature, and you’d always loved that about him. But when his gentle invitations turned into subtle comments—“Oh, you’re busy again?”—and his eyes lingered on you just a beat too long, you felt a weight you couldn’t explain.

It hurt, because for the first time in your life, you weren’t chasing validation. You weren’t battling the constant fear of being too much. Instead, you’d been reclaiming a sense of independence—spending time with yourself and learning to love the quiet.

You had felt proud. Free. For once, you didn’t feel the urge to text Felix every hour or overthink every interaction. And it had been working. The days felt lighter, and you believed you were finding a balance between nurturing your relationship with him and nurturing yourself.

And yet, tonight unraveled everything.

“Hey,” Felix called softly, pulling your attention away from the pile of papers on your desk.

The sound of his voice was cautious, hesitant, and you immediately turned to face him. “Yeah?” you asked, a small smile on your face. “What’s up?”

Felix shifted in place, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as he searched for the right words. He looked like a boy on the verge of confessing something he thought would ruin everything. “Can I… ask you something?”

“Of course.” You set down your pen, turning your full attention to him.

His gaze dropped, and you noticed the way his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Do you think… maybe you’ve been a little clingy lately?”

For a second, the words didn’t register.

Clingy?

Your heart sank, the air leaving your lungs in an instant. The weight of his question crashed into you, heavy and suffocating, as if the room had suddenly shrunk around you. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice small and disbelieving.

He nodded, wincing slightly as if bracing for backlash. “I mean… you’re always around. You always want to hang out, and I love being with you—I do. But sometimes I feel like…” He trailed off, clearly unsure how to soften the blow.

“Like I’m suffocating you,” you finished for him, bitterness creeping into your tone.

“No!” Felix said quickly, his eyes wide and panicked. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need a little space sometimes. And I don’t want you to take that the wrong way.”

But how else could you take it? You stared at him, your stomach twisting violently. His words felt like a knife turning in an old wound you’d spent years trying to heal.

Clingy.

That label had haunted you for as long as you could remember. It was the word that stuck to you like a shadow, the fear that kept you second-guessing every relationship, every friendship. But you had worked so hard to overcome it. You’d been careful—so careful—to give Felix the space he deserved while finally giving yourself the freedom to breathe.

And now, the one person who made you feel safe had torn that progress apart.

“Felix…” you started, your voice trembling. You swallowed hard, willing yourself not to cry. “I’ve been trying so hard not to be clingy. Like… so hard.”

His brow furrowed, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What?”

“I’ve been holding back,” you said, the words tumbling out in a bitter rush. “I’ve been giving you space. I haven’t been texting you constantly, or asking to hang out every second, or freaking out if I don’t hear from you for a while. I thought I was finally getting it right.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, trying to rein in the tears that threatened to spill.

Felix’s expression shifted, the weight of your words hitting him like a freight train. “Y/N…”

“But I guess even when I think I’m doing better, it’s still not enough,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” Felix said, stepping forward. His face crumpled with regret as he reached for you. “No, that’s not true. I didn’t mean it like that. I swear—”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, stepping back out of his reach. Your hands clenched at your sides as you tried to steady your breath. “I get it. You need space. I’ll give you your space.”

“No, Y/N, don’t do that,” Felix said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t—”

“I just need a minute, okay?” you said quickly, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

And with that, you turned and walked away, leaving Felix standing there with his heart in his throat.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence of your room felt deafening. You sank onto your bed, your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t answer.

Had you been too much? Had you failed to notice something you should have?

You replayed every interaction in your head, dissecting your choices and second-guessing the progress you’d been so proud of.

Meanwhile, Felix sat outside your door, his knees pulled to his chest. His head was heavy in his hands, guilt eating away at him with every passing second. He didn’t know what had possessed him to say those words—words that clearly cut you so deeply.

Finally, he knocked softly, his voice trembling. “Y/N?”

There was no response.

“Please,” he tried again, his throat tight. “I didn’t mean what I said. I wasn’t thinking. Please, let me in.”

After a long moment, the door opened, revealing your tear-streaked face. Felix’s heart broke all over again. Without a second thought, he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t realize how hard you’d been trying… and I just—” He exhaled shakily. “I was scared.”

You stiffened slightly in his arms. “Scared?”

He nodded, pulling back to meet your eyes. “I thought maybe you didn’t need me as much anymore. And I know that’s selfish, but it made me panic. I thought maybe you were pulling away because you didn’t want to be around me.”

His words sank in slowly, and your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. “Felix… I wasn’t pulling away. I was trying to find a balance. For me. For us.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “And I ruined it. I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re not clingy. You’re amazing, and I’m so, so lucky to have you.”

His sincerity broke through your walls, and you leaned into his embrace, letting his warmth comfort you. “I just don’t want to lose you,” you murmured.

“You won’t,” Felix promised, holding you tighter. “I’ll do better. I’ll listen better. And I’ll never call you clingy again. I swear.”

You stayed in his arms for what felt like forever, the steady beat of his heart grounding you as the ache in your chest slowly began to ease. Felix didn’t let go, his arms wrapped around you with a desperation that spoke louder than any words he could say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his breath warm against your hair. “I didn’t mean any of it. I just… I messed up. I didn’t realize how much you’d been trying, and instead of supporting you, I let my own fears get in the way.”

You swallowed hard, the knot in your throat loosening with every word. “You really thought I didn’t need you anymore?”

He nodded, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was filled with regret, but there was something else there too—a tenderness that made your chest tighten. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but I got scared. You seemed so confident, so… happy on your own. And I thought maybe I was the only one who still needed us as much as I do.”

You shook your head, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping your lips. “Felix, I need us. I always have. I just…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I needed to know I could stand on my own too. Not because I don’t love you, but because I wanted to be better for you. For both of us.”

His expression softened, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “You are better, Y/N. You’re amazing. And I should have told you that instead of making you feel like… like this.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Felix was quick to catch it, his touch impossibly gentle. “I don’t think you realize how much I look up to you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been so strong, and I’m… I’m so proud of you. I hate that I made you second-guess yourself.”

His words cracked something open inside you, and you leaned into his hand, letting yourself feel the warmth and sincerity in his touch. “You mean that?” you asked softly.

“Every word,” he said, his voice firm but tender. “You’ve been so brave, Y/N. I see it. And I’ll spend every day reminding you how incredible you are if that’s what it takes to make up for tonight.”

For the first time that night, you felt the heaviness in your chest begin to lift. The sting of his earlier words lingered, but his apology—his love—was genuine.

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to make up for anything, Felix. Just… promise me we’ll talk next time, okay? No more letting things fester.”

He nodded quickly, his lips twitching into a faint, relieved smile. “I promise. I’ll do better. No more keeping things to myself. And no more calling you clingy. Ever.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound breaking the tension in the room. “Good. Because that word is banned forever.”

“Forever,” Felix agreed, a playful light returning to his eyes. He shifted, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched. “You’re not clingy, Y/N. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell, and you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. For the first time in hours, you felt truly at ease.

Later that night, you found yourselves curled up on the couch, the tension of the evening a distant memory. Felix’s arms were wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as the quiet hum of a movie played in the background.

“Y/N?” he murmured after a while, his voice soft and contemplative.

“Yeah?” you replied, tilting your head to look at him.

“I’m really lucky to have you,” he said, his cheeks turning pink as the words left his mouth.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Felix.”

He laughed softly, his lips brushing against your temple. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to,” you said gently, resting your hand over his. “We’ll figure it all out. Together.”

Felix’s arms tightened around you, his lips curving into a soft smile against your skin. “Together,” he echoed, and in that moment, you knew he meant it with every fiber of his being.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t doubting your place in his life or worrying about being too much. Felix’s love wrapped around you like a promise—a reassurance that you didn’t have to change to be enough.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

[harrywavycurly]

Tuesday Dinner: A Sopranos meets Mafia!Harry Styles AU✨

A/N: This is based on this post right here and is probably the most dramatic thing I’ve ever written in my life but I just love the Sopranos and Harry Styles so please don’t take this seriously it’s just a bit of fun!

CW: Language, Harry is a dick but he loves you, threats of violence, brief act of minor violence (you toss something at the back of Harry’s head), this is probably a kinda toxic relationship but I don’t mind if you don’t?

Summary: You’re making dinner on a random Tuesday and Harry’s “coworkers” keep showing up unannounced✨

You place a wooden spoon in your pasta sauce to give it a stir in the pot it’s simmering in, having just moved it to one of the burners on the back of the stove. You feel a hand on your hip and a moment later you feel a soft kiss being placed to the side of your neck before a chin is resting on your shoulder, you smile as you take the spoon out of the pot and bring it up to your lips to give it a taste. You ignore the slight pouting noise Harry makes when you don’t offer him a taste before putting the spoon on the spoon rest next to the stove, deciding your sauce needs a little more salt.

“Where’s the pasta?” Harry questions when he doesn’t see a pot of boiling water next to the pot your sauce is on, you roll your eyes at his question because you know Harry is well aware where the pasta you’ll be using tonight is.

“M’serious what’s the sauce goin’ on?” He asks as he stands up giving your hip a squeeze before he turns to head towards the fridge his eyes landing on the bread on the counter next to it. “All I see is a baguette and-”

“Oh you didn’t just want some sauce with a side of bread and maybe a salad?” You ask feeling annoyed that he’s even in the kitchen in the first place, having been in the office since he got home from work a few hours ago. Harry shoots you a glare as his hand grips the handle of the fridge his wedding ring making a light clink sound when it comes in contact with the metal door handle, not liking your sudden attitude when all he’s doing is asking about what you’re making for dinner.

“You’ll know what the sauce is goin’ on when you open up the fridge and don’t go bein’ an ass about it either okay? I know how you get about-”

“Know how I get about what?” You go back to your sauce, adding a pinch of salt before grabbing the spoon to give it a quick stir as Harry opens the fridge and sees the container of leftover pasta sitting on the bottom shelf. Harry lets out a groan as he leans in and grabs the container off the shelf and sees its full of the rigatoni you didn’t use in the baked dish you made the other night.

“Oh you’ve got to be fuckin’ kiddin me. We can’t get fresh pasta?”

“It is fresh I made that last night. This is just a Tuesday night dinner for the two of us Harry what are you expecting a Sunday dinner kinda spread for?”

“So you’re gonna ruin your good sauce with some microwaved noodles?” Your grip on the handle of the spoon tightens as you turn around so you can face Harry who is now standing by the fridge with the container of pasta in his hands.

“Tell me Harry does this look like the Olive Garden to you? You know damn well I’m not microwaving the fuckin’ pasta you jack-” Before you can finish your sentence you hear three loud knocks on the back door before it opens making Harry turn his attention away from you and towards the back door.

“H you’re not gonna believe the shit I just heard.” Harry puts the container of pasta on the counter next to the fridge as his younger cousin Christopher walks through the door. “Oh somethin’ smells good in here.” You give him a smile as he walks into the kitchen and automatically opens his arms out to give you a quick hug.

“You know that’s your problem. You’re always kissin’ the wrong ass Christopher.” Harry snaps as he places a hand on his hip as he sends a glare to his cousin as you place a kiss to his cheek before he pulls away from you. “Who’d you come over here to see huh? Me or her?” Christopher quirks a brow at you, silently asking what Harry’s problem is when he hears a slight edge in his voice making you roll your eyes and shrug as you turn and go back to perfecting your sauce.

“It’s called havin’ manners H. I mean come on you act like you don’t know who my mother is? She’d kick my ass if she knew I stepped into a woman’s kitchen and didn’t say hello to her first.” You chuckle to yourself as Christopher makes his way towards Harry who is still glaring at his cousin.

“What is it you need to tell me?” He asks as he runs a hand through his hair while his cousin walks past him and to the fridge to grab a beer.

“They got Jimmy.”

“Who got Jimmy?”

“They did H.”

“You’re talkin’ in fuckin circles Christopher who the hell got him? The feds? Sal’s guys? Who?” You bring your spoon up to your lips to give it another taste and smile to yourself when you finally feel you got it right and don’t need to add anything.

You hear Christopher let out a sigh as he opens his beer but before he can fully explain the situation to Harry your back door swings open. You let out a startled squeak as both men instantly place a hand on the back waistband of their slacks, reaching for something they keep tucked away for protection that their casual short sleeved dress shirts do a good job at keeping hidden.

“Boss!” Harry lets out a sigh of relief as Paulie rushes through the door in his usual matching tracksuit and heads straight into the kitchen, Harry’s hand that was on the waistband of his pants falls to his side while he uses the other to pinch the bridge of his nose as an attempt to calm himself down.

“How’ya doin sweetheart? Smells good.” You turn your head and give him a smile as he leans in and places a kiss to your cheek on his way to the other side of the kitchen where Harry and Christopher are still standing by the fridge.

“The fuck is the matter with you Paulie? Bustin’ in the door like that? You’re lucky I didn’t redecorate the walls with your fuckin’-”

“You didn’t hear me knock? I knocked before I came in boss I swear I’m not some kinda wild fuckin’ animal.” He says with his hands raised in a show of mock surrender since he can sense the irritation coming off his boss. “They got Jimmy.”

“I already told em’ Paulie.” Christopher explains after taking a sip of his beer. Harry lets out a frustrated groan as he places both hands on his hips and shakes his head while a sarcastic chuckle bubbles up and out of his mouth from his deep in his chest.

“Actually no one has told me shit because I still don’t know who got Jimmy?” He snaps while you just do your best to ignore the loudness of the men that are starting to take over your kitchen as you turn so you can grab the bread off the counter next to where Harry placed the container of pasta.

“Yo uncle H you hear what happened to Jimmy?” You turn your head to give Harry a warning glare as once again your back door flies open allowing a loud voice that can only belong to his nephew Anthony, to be heard well throughout the house. Harry ignores your glare as Paulie and Christopher turn to look at the youngest member of the Styles crew.

“If you tell em’ then half the damn neighborhood is gonna hear about it too you fuckin’ loud mouth.” Paulie teases as Anthony walks into the kitchen, you open your mouth to say something to your husband but feel a hand on your shoulder pulling you in for a side hug and a kiss to your cheek.

“How ya doin auntie? Smells incredible in here.” While you want to roll your eyes at him you can’t because you’re not annoyed with him or any of the men in your kitchen minus the one that they all came over to talk to, the one they call boss but you just call your husband.

“If one more of you ass kissin’ fucks tells her it smells good in here I’m kickin all you out on your asses. It’s just a fuckin’ sauce and some leftover pasta for Christ sake.” You feel your jaw clench as you reach for a small bread knife from the knife block, Harry watches you turn around and face him with the bread in one hand and the knife in the other. He has to hold off the smirk that’s tugging at the corner of his mouth as he crosses his arms over his chest making his biceps flex a bit as you narrow your eyes at him in a harsh glare while taking a step towards him causing Paulie and Christopher to move to the side to give you some space while Anthony just stands behind his uncle.

“Say one more thing about what I’m making for dinner Harry and you’ll be taking all your meals through a fuckin’ straw for the next few months.” You threaten as you raise the knife up and use it to point at him, Paulie raises an eyebrow as he looks from you to Harry who just gives you a nod as he takes a step towards you and slowly reaches a hand out and places it over yours that’s gripping the handle of the knife that’s still pointed at him.

“Yeah? You gonna break my jaw sweetheart? Is that it?” You shrug as you let him lower your hand holding the knife to your side while looking him in the eyes, you can tell by the way they are a light shade of green almost like a jade color that he’s not angry at you for speaking to him that way in front of company. “I’d let you if it meant I didn’t have to eat microwaved pasta and lukewarm sauce for a while.” He admits with a smirk knowing that comment is going to push you over the edge.

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” Harry’s smirk turns into a full blown grin as you insult him because he knows you’re capable of calling him much worse things than an asshole so that’s his signal that you’re not really mad at him. He lets go of your hand that’s holding the knife and brings it up to cup the side of your face, his rings feeling cool against the warmth of your skin.

“Yeah m’a real fuckin’ prick but you love me.” You roll your eyes making Harry’s grip on your face tighten ever so slightly as his thumb presses into the side of your cheek as he leans down so his lips are right next to your ear. “Come on baby tell me you love me.” He whispers into your ear before placing a kiss to the spot just below it.

“I love you.” You say with an annoyed sigh making Harry smile because in that moment he feels he’s won. He places a kiss to your forehead before he drops his hand from your face and takes a step around you towards the dining room. The guys pause a moment when they hear you let out a scoff before you turn and see Harry’s back facing you as he reaches the edge of the kitchen.

You quickly reach over and place the knife on the counter and grab an apple out of the fruit basket you keep on the kitchen island and before you can second guess yourself you toss it, aiming for the back of Harry’s head. He pauses as the apple makes contact with his shoulder instead of where you had intended it to go but a hit is a hit so you aren’t too upset. He slowly turns around and looks at the apple on the ground, bending down to pick it up before he looks over at you with a glare.

“The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Say it back you fuckin’ jackass.” Harry looks at you with a quirked brow as you stare at him waiting to hear him say he loves you back.

“I love you. You’re the love of my whole miserable fuckin’ life okay? Happy now?” Harry admits and you just nod and turn to grab the knife and make your way over to the area by stove so you can begin to slice the bread and get it ready to be put in the oven with some oil and a bit of garlic.

“Maybe your life wouldn’t be so miserable if you were nicer to your wife you prick.” You mumble making Harry laugh as he turns and walks into the dining room.

“I love when we get dinner and a show.” Paulie jokes as he walks behind you and off in the direction Harry went.

“Always with the jokes. How bout you make yourself useful and set the table huh?” You laugh when you hear Harry’s voice from the dining room followed by what you know is the sound of his hand smacking Paulie upside the head.

“The fuck you two waitin around for? Someone better tell me what the hell happened to Jimmy before my wife sets foot in this room or I’m lettin’ her break all your jaws.” He shouts from the table and you look over your shoulder and watch Christopher and Anthony nearly trip over themselves trying to get in the dining room.

“M’sorry bout the whole dinner and a show comment. You know m’a fuckin’ idiot sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it Paulie you’re fine he’s just an ass.” You reassure him with a smile as he stands next to you while he opens the cabinet you keep the plates in.

“Just a normal Tuesday at the Styles house huh?” He teases with a giggle and you can’t help but laugh and nod because while normally there aren’t this many unexpected visitors on a Tuesday night you can’t say it hasn’t happened before and that it won’t happen again.

[amirasainz]

Hiiii, I love your blog so much. I was wondering if you could do Lando, who's girlfriend is a model. It is during the fashion weeks and she is very exhausted but boyfriend Lando takes care of her and is cheering her on the whole time. Thank you bby 💘

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

Lights, Camera and Flashes

The buzzing chaos of Fashion Month had arrived. Yn was in her element, juggling fittings, rehearsals, and back-to-back shows across New York, London, Milan, and Paris. As the world’s most sought-after model, her name was on every designer’s list. Each city meant new challenges, new outfits, and new pressures.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” Lando asked as they touched down in New York for the first leg of the month.

Yn, seated beside him on the private jet, turned to give him a smile. “I’m fine, Lando. Just excited. It’s going to be a long month, but I’ve done this before.”

He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Yeah, but this year, you’re in every major show. You’re human, Yn, not a robot.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly, squeezing his hand. “Especially with you here.”

Lando chuckled. “Alright, but remember, the moment you feel off, you tell me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she promised.

---

New York

The energy in New York was electric. Yn stepped into the first fitting at Alexander Wang’s studio, where she was immediately swarmed by assistants and stylists. Lando stayed close but out of the way, watching her work with awe.

“You’re staring again,” Yn teased during a break, catching him leaning against the wall with a goofy grin.

“Can’t help it,” he replied. “You’re incredible.”

Show day arrived, and Lando was front and center in the audience, holding a bouquet of red roses. As the music boomed and Yn stepped onto the runway, he couldn’t contain himself.

“Let’s go, Yn!” he shouted, drawing amused glances from nearby attendees.

Yn strutted down the runway, her confidence radiant. She caught Lando’s eyes briefly, a small smile tugging at her lips. When the show ended, Lando was waiting backstage with his bouquet, pulling her into a tight hug.

“You killed it,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks, babe.”

But as they exited the venue, they were met by a sea of paparazzi. Lando immediately stepped into protective mode, wrapping his arm around Yn’s waist and glaring at anyone who got too close.

“Back up,” he barked, shielding her with his body.

“Lando, it’s okay,” Yn murmured, though she appreciated his protectiveness.

He guided her safely to their car, refusing to let go until they were away from the chaos.

---

London

The second week brought them to London, where Yn had fittings with Burberry and Victoria Beckham. Though she was still riding the high from New York, Lando noticed the subtle changes—her slightly slower pace, the way she leaned on him more often.

“Feeling alright?” he asked one evening as they returned to the hotel.

“Yeah,” she replied, but her voice lacked its usual energy.

Lando wasn’t convinced. After her first show in London, she came backstage to find him waiting with a massive bouquet of lilies.

“You didn’t have to do this again,” she said, though her smile betrayed how much she loved it.

“Of course, I did. You deserve it.”

The paparazzi were even more aggressive in London, shouting questions and shoving cameras in their faces. Lando tightened his grip on Yn’s hand, his jaw set.

“Lando, it’s fine,” she whispered, but he shook his head.

“It’s not fine. They don’t get to treat you like this.”

Once they were safely inside their car, Lando turned to her. “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” he said.

“I can handle it,” she replied softly.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he countered.

---

Milan

By the time they arrived in Milan, Yn’s energy was noticeably lower. Her flawless walk on the runway was still the talk of the industry, but off-stage, she was quieter, more fatigued.

“You’re not eating enough,” Lando pointed out one morning as she picked at her breakfast.

“I’m just not hungry,” she said.

“You’re running on fumes, Yn,” he said, his voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine, Lando,” she insisted, though the dark circles under her eyes told a different story.

Lando doubled down on his support, making sure she had everything she needed. After each show, he was there with flowers, helping her navigate the crowds and shielding her from the paparazzi.

When she came back to the hotel after her third show in Milan, she collapsed onto the bed. Lando didn’t say a word; he simply ordered room service, drew a bath, and set up her favorite playlist.

“Come on, princess,” he said, lifting her gently. “Time to relax.”

---

Paris

By the time they reached Paris, Yn was running on pure determination. Paris Fashion Week was the grand finale, and every major designer wanted her.

Lando could see how hard she was pushing herself, and it worried him.

“Yn, you need to slow down,” he said one evening as they walked back to their suite.

“I can’t,” she replied, her voice cracking. “This is the biggest week of the year.”

“And you’re the biggest model of the year. You’ve already proven yourself,” he argued. “Your health is more important.”

She didn’t respond, but he noticed the tears welling in her eyes.

On the night of her final show, Lando was louder than ever, cheering her on as she walked the runway. When it was over, he met her backstage with the largest bouquet yet.

“You did it,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

“I’m so tired,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he said, kissing her forehead.

---

When they finally returned to their hotel that night, Lando went all out to pamper her. He ordered her favorite food, prepared a warm bubble bath, and queued up her favorite movie.

“Lando,” Yn said as she sank into the bath, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, sitting beside the tub. “You’re my princess, Yn. You deserve the world.”

As the movie played later, Yn curled up in Lando’s arms, her head resting on his chest.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to do anything alone,” he replied, brushing a kiss against her temple. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Yn drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of the month finally catching up to her. But with Lando by her side, she felt safe, loved, and completely at peace.

And for Lando, there was no greater honor than being her rock.

[eufezco]

A FRESH START 𓂃 𓈒 ❀

synopsis — after leaving wakanda, bucky starts to rediscover who he is while living with you, slowly bulding a new life. his dispair deepens and you offer him a fresh start with a simple act: cutting his hair.

angst. fluff

—you have to stop thinking that every time something good is happening to you it's because something worse is on the way. that´s not a way to live, buck —. you said softly, your voice steady but with a hint of concern.

bucky shook his head, running a hand over his face as a sign of desperation. if only he could remember what life felt like before hydra took him, before all those wasted years. after so long he was still trying to figure it out, still trying to find a version of himself that didn’t feel like a stranger. trying to get used to his new life in the city, far from the peace he had known in wakanda. all these sudden changes only made him more confused and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to adjust, it was that he didn’t know how.

it had been a almost a year since bucky had moved in with you, since you had defeated thanos and steve had left. when the dora milaje declared him ready to live a normal life, bucky stood there, unsure of what that even meant. he had no place to go. louisiana crossed his mind for a moment, sam had always extended an open invitation but the thought of intruding on sam’s family life stopped him, and steve was gone, something he chose not to think much about, so for the first time in over a century, bucky was truly on his own.

except he wasn’t. you were there.

when you found out he needed a place, you didn’t think about it twice. he resisted at first. ayo told him you were the right person to star building his new life. you trust her, you trust her more than you admit. that is where you begin. trust. she is the right person to help you build this new life, james.

and he couldn't remember what you two had shared before hydra took him, before everything fell apart but there was a pull. by the things steve told him, you three were best friends once, inseparable. he spoke of nights you spent laughing, of how he’d head home early, leaving you and bucky behind, knowing that bucky would arrive later, with a big smile on his lips. steve chuckled when he mentioned your lipstick, smeared on bucky’s mouth when he finally made it back. you never wiped it off, you wore it like a badge of honor.

bucky tried to imagine it, those moments of joy but the memories never came. but he could still feel it. he felt it that day in wakanda, when you arrived with steve and natasha to fight thanos. you smiled at him, just a brief moment in the chaos, but it stayed with him. there was something so familiar about that smile, something warm and he felt it too every time you visited him or sent him what had once been his favorite sweets, little reminders of a life he no longer remembered but somehow still carried with him.

so, he showed up at your door a few days later, a bag hung over his shoulder and a sad look in his eyes. he didn't try to argue this time. —you sure about this?

you didn’t hesitate. —absolutely.

living with bucky was easy. he was quiet, he didn't need much space. after months, he started making it his place too, little by little. he left his shoes by the door beside yours, the book he picked up from one of your shelves appeared on the coffee table, his leather jacket draped over the back of a chair.

—it's not that easy —. he murmured, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

you watched him. —i know it’s not, —you said softly, stepping closer to him. —but you don’t have to do it all at once. no one expects that from you.

he shook his head again. —feels like they do, —he said, his blue eyes looking directly into yours. you could see the sadness and the guilt of the moments he couldn’t take back. —feels like every time i mess up, it’s just proof that i don’t belong here. as if this life was not made for me —his voice was low, barely more than a murmur. —what if the only thing i'm good at is killing?

you took a deep breath. it was hard to hear him say that, to see the man you’d known before hydra, who was your best friend and the love of your life, now drowning in self-doubt and guilt. —you’re more than what they made you.

—am i? because that’s all i’ve ever done. all i know how to do.

—but it’s not who you are, it’s what they forced you to be. the fact that you’re even asking this? that you’re fighting to be someone better? that’s proof enough that that wasn't you at all.

he closed his eyes tightly and ran his hands through the long strands of his hair. for a moment, you just stood there, watching him. you wanted to pull him back from whatever dark place his thoughts had taken him, but you hesitated, ayo told you to do so, to let him space to feel this, to fight against it, even if it hurt.

—i can still feel him inside my head, i can hear his thoughts. he's not gone.

bucky’s fingers suddenly grabbed the roots of his hair with a little more force. his breathing grew faster, his hands shook and his eyes squeezed shut. you couldn't see how deep his pain was and not do anything to stop him from hurting himself.

you stepped closer. —bucky, hey… —your hands sneaked into his hair, softly pulling his grip from his scalp. his hands were trembling, and for a moment, there was resistance in him like he wasn’t sure he wanted to let go of the only thing he could hold onto. but your touch was soft, familiar and something shifted, almost imperceptible, but you could feel the tension in him loosen.

—the bucky i knew isn’t gone. he’s still in there. i see him every time you fight for something good, every time you try to make amends, every time you care about the people around you, about me.

his shoulders fell, and his head hung low, he didn’t want you to see him like this, weak and broken. but you had seen him in his darkest moments as the winter soldier and you had experienced thanos taking him away from you with the blip. the years without him had been a painful, you thought you lost him forever. yet there he was, standing before you, alive, and you weren’t about to let him go again.

your hands gently moved to push the back of his head, guiding him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. he was still a bit unsure about how to handle this type of physical contact, used to years of torture, where touch always meant pain, control, or something to fear. now you held him close to your body, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

—why don’t i cut your hair?

—cut my hair?

—yeah, it´ll help you to see yourself in a different way. a fresh start.

bucky pulled back a little, he wasn’t sure if you were joking. —you think cutting my hair will fix everything?

you smiled softly, you wished it could be that easy. —no, —you admitted. —but ayo told your new life will be built on small things.

bucky sighed.

the idea of letting go parts of himself that tied him to the winter soldier felt like a whole world. first, it was his metal arm, the one with the red star, when tony ripped it off of him, bucky felt relieved, like tony was cutting one of the heads of the hydra to end the monster. in wakanda, he learned to live using only his flesh-and-blood arm until they gave him a new one which he only intended to use for good.

and now you were asking to cut his hair.

—ayo did say that, didn’t she? —he murmured, almost to himself.

—she’s a smart woman and besides, it’s just a haircut. if you hate it, it’ll grow back.

a small smile appeared in his lips. —if it ends up bad, i’m blaming you.

you took a chair from the kitchen to the bathroom and he sat down in front of the mirror. bucky stared at his reflection as he pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed. he didn't like mirrors, he avoided them as much as he could. he didn't like the person staring back at him, he didn't know who that man was and now sitting on that chair there was no escape.

there was a difference this time. next to one of the things he most hated to look at—his reflection—was one of the things he liked the most to look at—you.

his blue eyes moved from his reflection to yours. you stood behind him and ran your hands gently through his hair. he felt that familiar tickle in his stomach, the one he first felt almost a century ago and that, even after all the years, it hadn't gone away.

he felt it every morning when you entered the kitchen, hair a mess from sleep, mumbling a soft “good morning” to him. he felt it when he came home in the evenings and dinner was ready and you were sitting at the table, waiting for him. he felt it most when you would fell asleep on the couch and he had to carry you to your bed, careful not to wake you. and you'd ask him in your sleep to stay, and he'd freeze, he wanted to say yes, he wanted to stay. but he couldn’t risk it, his nightmares were still too real. so bucky would gently place you in your bed, making sure you were well tucked in, and whisper, i’ll be in my room, if you need anything.

—are you ready? —you asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. you already had the scissors in your hand and bucky shifted in the chair at the sight of them. —it'll be okay, buck.

—feels like more than just a haircut.

you nodded, understanding. —well, that's what we wanted, isn't it?

bucky swallowed and nodded.

—why don't you close your eyes? i'll let you know when i'm done.

with a deep breath, he did as you said. your lips curved into a small smile even though he could no longer see you. you were aware of all the progress he had made. you knew he trusted you with his heart because on no other occasion he would willingly keep his eyes closed with someone standing behind him, scissors in hand and when your hands rested on his shoulders, he hadn’t flinched at the contact.

—okay, i'll start.

with his eyes closed it was much easier to feel the delicacy with which you treated him. the way your fingers combed through his scalp and then the sound of the scissors, followed by the sensation of the strands falling and taking with them the weight he had carried for so long. and you talked, about anything that crossed your mid so he did not feel that he was in danger or he had to be alert at any time.

—maybe we could get a cat, —you said. —i think it’d be nice. do you think you’d be a good cat parent?

—maybe —. he said after a pause. —i definitely prefer a cat to a dog.

you switched to the clippers, you left the hair at the top of his head a little longer, while the rest of it was cut shorter. a very chic haircut for someone born in 1917. you carefully checked that his hair was even and then you styled it with your fingers.

—okay, i'm done, you can open your eyes.

bucky hesitated for a moment, then opened his eyes. your breath caught in surprise as you watched him take in the sight of himself. it was like having the bucky you once knew staring right at you through the mirror. his features were the same, just a bit more more defined and mature.

he felt the same relief as when tony ripped off the metal arm that hydra embedded in his body, like a part of him that had once been used against him, now freed. he turned his head slowly to both sides to get a better look and to be honest, he liked his new look. physically, he could see the resemblance to the man in the photos you had shown him, the young soldier who smiled to you, in love.

—how do you feel? i think it suits you —. you asked gently.

bucky nodded. —i like it —. he caught your gaze in the mirror. the eye contact was so intense that you had to look away. you cleared your throat, hoping to ease the tension, but the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed you.

—alright, come on, —you tapped his shoulder for him to stand up. — i'm going to sweep your hair off the floor.

bucky got up from the chair and turned his head to look at you, not through the mirror this time, but directly, and the sudden closeness made your breath hitch. —thank you for doing this.

—you don't need to thank me, buck. i'm glad it turned out well, it was my first time doing it.

—you sure about that? —he asked—it doesn’t feel like it was your first time.

you laughed, still avoiding his gaze. —guess we got lucky, then.

there was a silence; you were both too close, but not close enough yet. bucky’s eyes moved to your lips for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your heart race. you could both feel the tension, an invisible string pulling you toward each other, daring one of you to close the gap. you didn’t want to take the first step, you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for, the last thing you wanted was to break the fragile trust he’d built with you.

you opened your mouth to say something but he talked first.

—can i kiss you? —his voice was low, almost shy.

you were surprised because you didn't expected him to ask so directly, but consent was so important to him. he spent too many years under someone else’s control, forced into actions that weren’t his own, and now he was determined never to cross those lines. it wasn’t just about asking to kiss you, it was about making sure that you were comfortable, that you wanted this just as much as he did.

—yeah, —you whispered —you can.

bucky stepped closer, his flesh-and-blood hand reaching to cup your cheek, his fingers gently brushing against your skin. he leaned in, his movements careful, giving you every chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you leaned into him instead, your lips finally meeting his.

he felt strange. he had wanted to kiss you for what felt like forever, and now that he had, he wasn’t sure what to do next. his mind raced, trying to remember how this was supposed to go. he forgot about kissing, forgot about the rhythm of it, the give and take. his hand slipped from your cheek to fall awkwardly at his side as he pulled away from your lips just enough just to say:

—i don't... i don't remember how to do this.

—it's okay. you're doing just fine. there’s no right or wrong way. just… follow me.

this time, when your lips met, you moved slowly, guiding him. his tension disappeared as he mirrored your movements, his right hand returned to your cheek, the other, his metal one, moved to hold your hips. it wasn’t perfect, the movements of his lips were still hesitant, but there was something honest about the way he kissed you.

as he kissed you, bucky became more aware of his body and where his hands were and realized that his metal hand was resting lightly on your waist. he pulled the hand away quickly. —i'm sorry, i didn't mean to...

you shook your head, one of your hands flew to the back of his neck to connect your lips while your other one grabbed his vibranium arm and guided his hand to where it was before. as the kiss deepened, you felt him relax, stop worrying about whether he was doing it right or wrong, about the touch of his cold hand on your skin, and he just kissed you.

you hummed before parting ways. his cheeks were flushed, his lips were a bit swollen and glossy, his breathing a little uneven and you couldn't help a little laugh from escaping your lips.

—okay, now you're just laughing at me.

—you're so cute, buck.

[ssloveslogan]

❆ christmas treat ❆

warnings: MDNI, reader x logan, i feel like i should mention there’s a bit of father/daughter cuteness with logan and rogue (i can’t help myself i miss them), porn with tiniest amount of plot, p in v, panties stay on, unprotected sex

- christmas themed fic obvs! merry christmas guys hope you all got what u wanted under the tree (tearing up because hugh jackman wasn’t there BUT i did get a cutout, calendar and shirt of him😝)

the x-men mansion was buzzing with holiday cheer, a welcoming warmth against the outside bitterness. today is christmas, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter, music and the smell of baked goods wafted through the halls. later tonight, everyone would do their secret santa exchange and you, like everybody else, had been eagerly waiting for the moment when you could finally stop waiting and could open your gift.

but, the one thing you were even more excited about, was the look on logan’s face when he sees what you had gotten him. somehow, you had drawn out your boyfriend’s name from the hat this year and, god, was it hard to find something for him. your struggle to find something for him was quickly overcome with a brilliantly personal idea.

so, here you are, on your bed, placing logan’s favourite blue lacey panties of yours and a polaroid picture in a small rectangular box wrapped in festive paper and tied with a shiny blue ribbon. the polaroid picture in question was a filthy picture of you from a couple days before, spread out with your cunt on full display, post-orgasm, cheeks flushed and arousal soaking your pussy. you just couldn’t help yourself, what else were you meant to do when you were horny as fuck and logan was on a mission?

your train of thought was soon disturbed by the opening of your door and in came logan. you were quick to hide the gift under the bed and you gave him a smile, in attempt to make it look like you weren’t just wrapping his secret santa gift up.

“what’s got you all smiley?” logan chuckled and raised an eyebrow when seeing your grin wide on your face.

“oh, nothing, don’t worry about it lo,” you giggled, biting your lip to stop you from giving yourself away. “soo, did you get your person their secret santa gift?” you asked, wondering if he even bothered this year.

“yeah, i did. i got rogue this year so i figured i’d get her something. got her some makeup and chocolate” he spoke grumpily as if he was buying her stuff against his own free will.

“that’s really sweet of you, lo! surprised u even did it this year” you tease him and he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

“yeah, yeah, whatever.” he huffs out but you notice him trying to hold back his smile. “anyways, who’d you get? or are you still not gonna tell me?” he question with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“that defeats the whole purpose of secret santa y’know that, baby? you will find out soon, you desperate man” you smirk and play nudge his stomach as he scoffs and tries to act annoyed but his walls tumble down at the noise of your laughter and his heart warms.

“we should get going now, right lo? can’t have you waiting to find out who’s name i pulled out any longer” you giggle and logan groans.

you begin to get up and put your shoes on as you realise you probably should be going downstairs to gather up for the gift exchange, seeing as you are already late. you grab your gift and hide it in a bag and then you wait for logan to put on his leather jacket and take his gift too. once you’re both ready, you give him a quick peck on the lips and intertwine both yours and logan’s hands together. you smirked to yourself, knowing of what’s to come.

the both of you swiftly make your way to to the christmas tree where all the adults and some of the older kids were gathered around. christmas lights twinkled around the room, stockings - with everyone’s name sown on it- were hung by the grand fireplace and chatter filled the space up with a cozy ambience.

“i’ll be back” you say to logan, letting go of him and walking off towards the tree to place your gift for him under it, before he could grumble about being alone. oh how you can’t wait for the gift exchange, your patience is going down by the second.

your eyes wander around the room before they land on storm and jean and you smile, making your way towards them.

“look who finally decided to join us!” storm teases while embracing you in a friendly hug.

“i’m surprised logan even came for it this year, normally the guy just stays outside while smoking his beloved cigars” jean snickers and makes all three of you fall into a fit of giggles. “hey, who’d you get for the secret santa?” jean questions while sipping on her drink.

you smirk at them and a little giggle comes out “i got logan” you say, biting your lip to stop your laughter from erupting even more.

“girls! come on, we’re opening the secret santa gifts!” scott shouts out before you guys could say anything else about the topic at hand, and you three step towards the christmas tree and huddle together.

you sit on the couch alongside your girl friends, surrounded by the glow of the massive christmas tree. the sound of laughter and the occasional tearing of wrapping paper filled the air as people opened their gifts one by one. you turn around and notice logan, leaning against a wall, nursing a bottle of beer. his gaze was already on you and you smile, winking at him.

it’s rogue’s turn to open her gift and she absolutely loves it. even though logan doesn’t give up his identity as the mystery giver of said gift, you notice him smiling to himself - proud of what he had gotten her.

soon enough, everyone had opened their gifts - you had gotten a gorgeous silver necklace from kitty with a heart pendant in the middle. well, everyone but one final person, logan howlett.

“alright, logan, you’re up!” rogue beams, signalling for him to come over and open it with everyone. he grumbles yet he still makes his way over, curiosity getting the better of him. he leans over to grab the perfectly wrapped gift with his name written on it and stands back, closer to the wall, while gently untying the delicate ribbon.

your legs bounce in newfound nervousness, what if people saw? you clearly didn’t think it through very well but you pray to yourself that he doesn’t take it out of the box. you watch his every move, waiting for him to finally peek inside the box, the one-sided tension growing in your body.

logan slowly takes the lid off of the box and he tenses, stopping himself, making sure not to take the contents of the gift out for everyone to see. his pupils dilate at the polaroid of you, tongue sticking out, eyes rolled to the back of your pretty head and your swollen pussy all on show with your glistening juices dripping down your cunt. underneath the polaroid he saw the perfect blue panties he’s had to repurchase you dozens of times from the amount of times he’s ripped them off of you.

“s-shit..” he murmurs to himself, feeling the tent in his jeans grow. the room was trying to figure out what was even inside the box and why he seemed so off. you, on the other hand, smirked to yourself as you felt a sense of victory at the reaction you got out of him.

logan quickly closed the box and glanced up at you with darkened eyes, his face radiating off want and desire and you simply smirked at him, winking, as you felt yourself dampening on the spot from his intense gaze, ignoring the way he made your tummy flip.

“sooo, what’d you get?” rogue said to cut the uncomfortable tension everyone else sensed in the room.

“nothing” logan’s voice dropped an octave as his eyes remained on you the whole time. you shuffled, feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

everyone knew they weren’t getting an answer from logan, so they dropped it at that, continuing their conversations and acting as if nothing had even happened. you also tried to pretend like it was just a normal christmas day, but you saw logan, his gift still in his hand, and he was striding towards you.

your heart rate fluttered when he briefly stopped infront of you - breathing heavily, knuckles white from the grip on the gift and his nostrils flaring in need.

“o-oh! hey, baby! wha-” your stuttered out sentence was swiftly cut off by logan picking you up by the waist with one arm and throwing you over his shoulder.

“logan! logan, put me down!” you shout, bashing your fragile hands on his stone hard back.

you continued with your pleads and apologies in attempt to get him to put you down, but the rush of arousal hit you hard, the possessive act sent floods of heat through your veins. your own body betrayed you as you feel yourself dampen even more and your nipples were slowly hardening.

logan pays no mind to your lousy attempts and he makes his way to your shared room, slamming then locking the door behind him. he tosses you and the gift onto the bed, following you down with his own weight. he leans in close, his face hovering just inches from yours, his hot breath fanning over your lips. you can see the raw desire in his eyes, the way his pupils are blown wide with lust. you can see his hunger for you written all over his face. without warning, his crashes his lips against yours in a searing, passionate kiss. it’s not gentle or sweet; it’s a kiss born out of desperation, need and untamed thirst. you pull away breathless, and begin to speak.

“lo? you okay baby?” you tease, a playful glint in your eyes but all confidence is lost when you see his face not even twitching to smile. you rake your hands through his hair and he leans into your neck to bite into the supple skin, making you gasp and tilt your head back to give him more access. his tongue laps to gently suck over the mark to soothe the sting as he continues to litter your neck with kisses and purple bruises.

“l-logan..” you whine, exhaling sharply as you feel tears pooling in your eyes from the overwhelming sensations on your neck. after what feels like forever, logan pulls away to admire his work and he reaches for the gift box, opening it to pull out the familiar lacy blue panties he adores.

“need to fuck you with these on you” he rasps, slowly stripping you of your clothes until you’re bare for him, exposed and defenceless.

“christ, you’re just soaking for me darlin’, arent you? filthy fuckin’ girl, you get off on me carrying you around, baby? you like knowing i can pick you up whenever i want?” he smirks, seeing your cheeks flush pink while you nod weakly at him.

“don’t worry doll, i’ll help you out.” he grunts, tapping your hip signalling for you to lift them as he makes you wear nothing but the panties.

“perfect, you look perfect like this, baby. you wanted this, hm? wanted my attention with the gift? you got it now, i’ve got you.” logan says while quickly unfastening his belt and getting rid of his jeans and boxers. his tip was leaking with beads of pre-cum, his tip swollen and red, and he gently pulls your panties to the side and places himself in his spot between your thighs.

“p-please lo, want you to fuck me” you whine, your neediness displaying as he teases you by rubbing himself on your weeping folds.

he wanted to watch you squirm just for a little while longer, but his little self restraint disappeared when hearing your sweet voice begging for him. he lines himself up at your pulsing hole and before you could say anything more about needing him, he plunges deep into you, knocking the air out of your lungs as you both let out a deep moan. he begins to move slowly, pulling out before slamming back in, pounding into you mercilessly.

“love this pussy, always so fuckin’ tight for me” he growled, his breath hot against your ear as he continued thrusting into your wet heat, vigorously.

his words only fueled the fire burning inside of you and your walls clench around him tightly. “harder, please logan, i want you to fuck me harder” you begged, voice strained with pleasure.

“you want it harder, baby?” he smirks darkly before slamming into you with renewed intensity. “like this, baby?” he asks as his hands make their way to your hips, pushing you down even deeper onto him.

“j-just like that lo, so fucking good b-baby.” you moan loudly, tears prickling at your eyes from the profound pleasure-pain.

the bed creaks with every thrust while the bed frame hits the wall, creating a rhythmic thump-thump-thump. “making such a mess on my cock. ‘m gonna fucking ruin this pussy, doll” he groans, while reaching down to rub tight circles on your clit.

as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you, you can feel every ridge and vein of his thick member stretching your inner walls. you clench around him, the knot in your belly tightening, making him groan and shudder above you.

“i’m gonna come lo, so close” you whimper out as he continues to drill into you, his cock dragging deliciously against your sweet spot with each stroke as he drives you closer to the edge.

“i know, baby, that’s it. be a good girl for me and come on my cock, doll” logan grunts into your ear as you scrape your nails down his back, leaving marks which are quickly healed again. you throw your head back and arch into him as you convulse and spasm around his length, your orgasm crashing over you, making him groan in pleasure while you moan into his shoulder and dig your nails deeper into his back.

he works you through your orgasm as his thrusts become desperate, his own release stirring inside of him. with one final and brutal thrust, logan buries himself deep inside of you and he holds still. his cock throbs and pulses as he releases his hot seed into you.

“s-shit, so good for me..” logan grunts, his face contorting with pleasure and his chest heaving erratically. he pulls out with a wince as he lays next to you on his back. you move to lean onto his chest, the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing you. logan’s arm tightens around you as he leans in to kiss your head while gently stroking your hair.

“i guess you liked your gift then?” you giggle and look up at him with your fucked out smile, already knowing his very obvious answer.

logan chuckles and glances down at you, admiring your post-orgasm beauty. “loved it, baby. might have to somehow make you get me again next year.” he grins while tracing patterns on your arm.

you giggle and move upwards, your noses brushing against each other, lips barely an inch apart. “merry christmas, logan” you whisper, leaning your forehead to press against his.

“merry christmas, darling” he whispers back, smiling softly at you before closing the distance between you both to share a soft and sweet kiss.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

❆ i rushed this so badly and didn’t proofread it so i’m sorry if some bits don’t make sense and wrongly punctuated guys!! but also i’ve been so busy this past week i literally am surviving off of what feels like zero sleep at all. hope u did enjoy this tho we all need some christmas logan content.

[aesthetically-dying101]

You mean my wife?!

A/N: a short nanami story bc hes just so.. awooga? Idk if thats the right word but yeah. protective nanami is so scrumptious

warnings: someone being mean?

The courtyard of Jujutsu High was alive with the sounds of effort: sharp exhales, the rhythmic thud of feet hitting the ground, and the satisfying crack of Yuji’s staff against a wooden training dummy.

You stood at the center of it all, tall and commanding, as the trio of students—Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi—moved through the drills you’d designed for them.

“Keep your stance lower, Nobara!” you called, watching as she lunged forward. “If you’re too upright, you’ll lose your balance against a larger curse.”

“I’m always balanced,” she shot back with a cheeky grin, but adjusted her footing anyway.

You chuckled, shaking your head, the cool breeze carrying the sound to where Megumi stood, quietly but fiercely focused as always. His precision was commendable- but you knew better than to leave him unchallenged.

Because if you did, something would get bitten by his shikigami's.

“Fushiguro,” you said, walking over to him, “you’re relying too much on the shikigami. It’s a team effort—you and them. Don’t just send them in to clean up. They’re not tools.”

Megumi’s eyes flickered with acknowledgment, and he gave a curt nod, his focus unwavering.

“And Yuji!” you turned to him, shielding your eyes from the midday sun-fuck it was too bright. “You’re doing great, but stop hesitating. Trust your instincts, not just your strength.”

Yuji grinned, giving you an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Got it, sensei!”

From the periphery, Nanami watched.

He stood a distance away, arms crossed, his polished demeanor as unyielding as ever, but his sharp eyes softened whenever they lingered on you. Though the students referred to you as “sensei,” Nanami knew you had yet to internalize the title, you said it made you feel old. But you carried the role with such natural ease, yet humility kept you from embracing it fully.

Unbeknownst to you, two other instructors lingered at the edge of the courtyard, observing your session with undisguised skepticism. One of them, a senior professor from a separate class, let out a dismissive chuckle.

“She’s passionate, I’ll give her that,” the man muttered to his companion. “But enthusiasm doesn’t make a teacher. She’s a little too green for this, don’t you think? I mean, who even let her—”

A voice cut through the air like a razor.

“You mean my wife?”

The words landed with weight, heavy enough to still the bustling courtyard for a brief moment. Even Yuji paused mid-strike, blinking as though he hadn't heard corretly.

Nanami stepped forward, his strides measured but deliberate, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the vicinity. His tone was calm, his volume controlled, but there was no mistaking the underlying steel in his words.

The professor, taken aback, turned to face him, his mouth slightly agape.

“I—what?”

“My wife,” Nanami repeated, his voice firm, the emphasis on the word clear and deliberate. His brow furrowed just slightly, and he tilted his head, as if daring the man to question him further. “The one you’re so casually criticizing. Do you have a problem with how she’s handling her students?”

The professor faltered, clearly blindsided. “I didn’t—I wasn’t aware—”

“That much is obvious,” Nanami said flatly, cutting him off. “Because if you were aware, you would’ve chosen your words more carefully. My wife is more than qualified, and if you’d taken the time to observe her work—properly, not from the sidelines—you’d know that.”

The air crackled with tension as Nanami’s gaze bore into the man. The professor stumbled over his words, trying and failing to form a response, before finally muttering, “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”

Nanami raised an eyebrow, his expression one of mild disbelief.

He clicked his tongue.

“Didn’t you?”

There was no malice in his tone, but the weight of his disapproval hung heavy in the air. The professor, thoroughly cowed, mumbled an apology and hurried away, his companion trailing behind him.

Satisfied, Nanami turned his attention back to you. You, who had remained blissfully unaware of the exchange, too focused on correcting Yuji’s form to notice the brief storm brewing on the sidelines.

“Nanami-sensei!” Nobara called, her voice breaking the tension. “Is it true? Are you two married?”

Yuji’s eyes went wide. “Wait, for real?! Sensei’s married to Sensei?!”

A lot of sensei's in one sentence.

Megumi just sighed, muttering something about how obvious it was.

You finally turned to face Nanami, confusion etched across your face.

“What’s going on?”

Nanami approached you, his expression softening the moment his eyes met yours.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said simply, brushing an invisible speck of dust off his sleeve. “Just clearing up a misunderstanding.”

“...Okay,” you said slowly, still puzzled but willing to take his word for it. “Well, since you’re here, care to give me some pointers? The kids could use a demonstration.”

He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind that made your heart flutter no matter how many times you saw it. “Of course,” he said, his tone warming.

“Anything for you, sensei.”

You rolled your eyes and groaned.

And as the students watched in awe, the two of you moved seamlessly into a demonstration, your movements synchronized like a perfectly choreographed dance.

Nanami’s earlier confrontation was all but forgotten—except in the minds of those who’d witnessed it, where the words “my wife” lingered, a reminder of just how fiercely he would always defend you.

A/N: as i said, short n sweet, but yeah, nanami for the win

Masterlist.

:)