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blkkizzat · 10 months ago

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WFH!Nanami

Work From Home Nanami = best house husband

a/n: lol this is nanami brainrot while I wait for my Toji fic to get beta'd so I know how dog it is. ETA: FYI, this is a semi-repost of a self-ship collab with a now deactivated account. I repurposed my selfship part to reader and expanded to WFH. cw: smut (pussy pounding, gagging on CAWK) fluff, nanami being the perf husband and male specimen per usual wc: 1.6k

WFH!Nanami doesn’t have to worry about waking up early to go into the office but he still rises with the sun to get his day started and do his favorite thing, which is to spoil you. Waking you up with gentle kisses, placing a hot espresso by the bedside and being your personal snooze button when you tell him 5 more minutes (he is so punctual it will be 5 mins on the dot).

You will still likely end up strolling into the office late regardless though because knowing you, you can’t start your day until you’re squirting all over daddy. But this is Nanami, he is nothing if not efficient so your early morning romp is definitely in the shower where he can clean you up after in order to get you out of the door sooner, your breakfast is already packed to-go.

WFH!Nanami love language is acts of service. You never stress about what to do for lunch either because there’s always a Michelin star worthy bento waiting for you next to your keys before you leave for the day.

In fact, what Nanami doesn’t know is that his bento is famous not only around your office, as your envious coworkers gather round to see what your perfect husband has prepared for you today, but also on TikTok. The ‘KentosBentos’ TikTok account you made has over 350K followers who not only watch for the mouth watering yet nutritious bentos but to also hear you gush over the cute little notes your hubby leaves for you.

Your top video has over 2.5 million likes and thousands of swooning women in the comments when WFH!Nanami made you an extra special lobster bento for your birthday and left you the note: ‘In all the world there is no love for me if I don’t have yours. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife, whose smile shines bigger and all the more brighter than the sun, moon and stars.’

Continuing with acts of service WFH!Nanami always has an equally delicious dinner ready for you when you get home. On days you work overtime and arrive home late, there's always a warm bubble bath waiting for you first. You love to rest with your back laid against Nanami’s utterly ripped torso in the tub while his thick arms envelope you. Relaxing into the safety of WFH!Nanami’s hold, your doting hubby kisses your temple and gives your keyboard fatigued hands a delicate massage. Nanami is nothing but a patient yet active listener while you recount your stressful day at work.

On days when you both get the opportunity to work from home you email WFH!Nanami a meeting invite to block off his calendar for 30 min during lunch. The invite is always titled ‘Ken and Barbie’s Lunch Meeting’. The location? ‘Pound Town’ The time? Noon, sharp!

Of course WFH!Nanami never actually schedules it on his work calendar lest his boss sees the meeting. (Gojo would never let him hear the end of it). As a result, since he never actually has the time officially blocked off, on some rare occasions he does actually get booked for a real lunch meeting at Noon that he cannot reschedule.

Meeting or no meeting though you are determined to keep your lunchtime dick appointment with WFH!Nanami. A noon dicking is a noon dicking and it’s a non-negotiable for you as you don’t often get to stay home from work!

WFH!Nanami is focused and poised during his camera-on meetings with his team. Therefore he doesn’t hear you open his office door. Nor does he see you as you drop to the floor with feline grace, hips swaying seductively as you crawl right under his desk. In fact, Nanami does not notice you at all until your soft hands grip his thick powerful thighs and you’re sliding your body up between his legs. Never faltering on-camera, WFH!Nanami’s stiffened jaw and tensed shoulders are the only tell-signs of you palming his rapidly hardening cock under the desk.

WFH!Nanami who tests the absolute limits of the stress ball he keeps handy (usually for tough negotiations) when he feels you press your hot mouth on the fabric covering his dick. You know your stoic husband won't ever outwardly falter when on the clock but you know inside he is a mess. That much is clear to you by the girth bulge straining against his tan fitted slacks.

WFH!Nanami who knows you are upset about him working through your ‘lunch meeting’, but wishes you wouldn’t torture him like this while he’s on the clock. He can tell you are enjoying yourself though as your sinful little tongue drags tiny kitten licks over the hard bulge in his pants. Soon though you are pawing at his zipper and pulling his girthy cock free through the hole, not even bothering to undo his belt. Taking him fully into your mouth, WFH!Nanami bites his inner cheek, when his boss Gojo makes a comment on how he looks more tense than usual when he should be thrilled after closing the biggest deal of the year.

WFH!Nanami who takes a long moment to deeply clear his throat before he calmly relays to Gojo that he is very pleased with the win but already thinking of the next big acquisition for their company. Yet Nanami’s voice hitches ever so slightly when your pink stiletto nails dig into his muscular thighs. It fools the rest of the team but Gojo merely raises a brow before cheerily moving on to the next subject.

WFH!Nanami spares a look downward at you once the work conversation has shifted to see you gazing up at his mouth full of his cock. You wear an angelic look as if he can’t tell the hand that left his thigh and is now slotted between your own isn’t furiously rubbing at your clit. He knows you are pleased at finally drawing a reaction, even a small one, from him while on the clock.

WFH!Nanami whose eyes twitch when he’s closing the call he sees his boss Gojo’s knowing smile and hears the start of the question, “So Nanamin… is Y/N, working from home to–”

WFH!Nanami doesn’t stay to hear the end of the question, quickly exiting the call and ignoring the message pings full of raunchy emojis he receives from Gojo.

WFH!Nanamiwho is still seated grabs you by your hair and ruthlessly face fucks you as soon as his camera turns off. He forces you swallow all eight and a half inches of him as you gag and slobber around his girth. Your jaw begins to ache but your eyes still roll back into your head with pleasure and you go limp in his grasp. You are willingly allowing your loving husband to turn your throat into his personal cocksleeve as you rub your cunt up against his leg, so close to cumming from the chafing of his slacks against your cunt.

Frustrated and annoyed it isn’t long before WFH!Nanami cums himself. His leg you are riding jerks up into you giving you the extra push you need as you moan around his cock and cream on his leg leaving a wet spot. WFH!Nanami has you choking down his thick seed. His cum and your drool dribble down the sides of your face when he finally slides out of the warm cavern of your throat cunny, leaving you panting as you try to catch your breath.

WFH!Nanami wordlessly wipes your face with the tissues he keeps on his desk and promptly ushers you out of this office, locking the door behind you. You aren’t upset though as you know what's in store for you once his work day is over. The locked door is more to keep him IN, than keep you OUT. Nanami would have to take the rest of the day off if he were to properly discipline you now. You being forced to wait and wonder how long he would take to finish his work was part of the punishment anyway.

You know WFH!Nanami is ready to administer your punishment once he calls you out by your FULL government name “Y/N Nanami!” Tonight is different and there is no dinner nor warm bath for you. Just a tired Nanami, weary of his bosses teasing and ready to take out all his frustrations on his wife’s naughty little cunt.

Your cunt in question nearly starts voguing in anticipation as heat pools between your legs once you are called into the bedroom. You already know what time it is once you see WFH!Nanami loosen his tie and take off his belt slowly while sternly saying your name once more.

The belt and tie?

Oh, the belt is used to tie your arms behind you and the tie is now a gag, for having such a filthy cock-loving little mouth he will tell you. It’s not long after that until you are face down, ass up getting pounded into the mattress as WFH!Nanami nearly cracks the headboard with the force he is using to thrust into you. Your cries of “K-Kento!” are muffled into the makeshift gag when a firm slap causes your ass to ripple more aggressively against his pelvis.

Nanami growls deeply into your ear.

“Welcome to Pound Town, Barbie.”

Any muffled cries for mercy fall on deaf ears as WFH!Nanami is too focused on his retribution for your earlier antics as he continues to wreck your pussy from behind. His heavy balls smack against your clit and your sloppy cunt echos vulgar squelches that bounce off your bedroom walls and erotically ring in your ears. The hand pressing your head further into the pillow beneath you is the same hand Nanami wears his wedding band on. It glimmers brightly even in the dimly lit room.

WFH!Nanami loves seeing his ring and remembering his vows in the moment. 💖

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or graphics, do not translate.

a/n: Nanami brainrot overload (i wfh! lord god when is it my turn, bring me a nanami i BEG) and day 18 without adhd meds lol, finally finished something though. Nerd!Geto and The Nursery ft. Toji is soon I promise!

reblog to get your on WFH!Nanami but comments and likes are always appreciated!

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viridwns · 7 months ago

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Mannequin

TW: Forced relationship, non-consensual kissing/touching, Douma being aight?, mention of gore if you squint, also didn't check grammar or spelling :/

A/N: I am working on so many requests rn, I had to work on one of my own ideas (I saw a dress on pinterest and had to make a story out of it).

"You look like a goddess."

"So beautiful."

"She's ethereal."

"Only the best for Lord Douma."

"This shows too much skin!"

You look at yourself in the mirror, turning your body every whichway to assess the dress (or rather a piece of cloth) that has been put on you.

You felt naked.

Douma kidnapping you to his cult wasn't something new. Especially after he was sent out on a mission did he just long for alone time with you. His followers taking you, dressing you, doing your hair wasn't new to you either.

But being put in this?!

Yeah, this was something new.

They never put you in a dress so revealing.

It was a strapless dress, with sleeves flowing over your lower arm, attached with a silver chain to the main part. Your top was made out of the same silver. It barely covered your breasts. You hoped the thin closing around your neck wouldn't break. The silver was further attached to the bottom of your dress. A waistband sitting snug on your hips, a sheer cloth billowing from it, and stopping just above your ankles. Aside from your lower arms and from the waist down, you were without coverage. Your only shield that protected the outing of your breasts to the rest of the world was the flimsy silver chain wrapping around your upper half.

No way you were going to wear this in front of the demon who ripped apart countless of kimono's off you. He couldn't even see your figure in those. You don't want to find out what he'd do when you were practically bare.

You let your fingers trace the silver; these chains wouldn't even survive a slight tug from him.

"Our seamstress worked tirelessly on this. Researching the western culture without Lord Douma's knowledge was a difficult task. Plus the seamstress had to start over many times; the fabric is so flimsy it ripped multiple times!" A woman looked at you via the mirror with begging eyes. You felt a pang of guilt shoot through your gut at her words.

"It's not that I don't like it! it's the most beautiful piece of clothing I ever laid my eyes on. It's just that...It's so immodest!"

You turn your head away from the mirror, getting embarrassed from seeing your form in such a state in front of all these women.

Counter arguments started to bounce off the walls. You shook your head.

"I'm not going to prance around in nothing but see through fabric and chains!"

"You must! you're Lord Douma's spouse, send by God himself to keep him company-"

You waved your hands in an attempt to cut her off. You didn't need them to obsess over the made up story Douma fed them. You were not God send, and you were definitely not here to keep the demon company.

You wished you could tell them the truth, but that would only result in carnage; The pile of corpses Douma left for you to find serving as a efficient warning the first time he brought you here.

You were never going to tattle on his secret again.

The arguing continued, a hand already pressed on you shoulder so you would sit down.

"Just let me do your hair first okay? If you really don't like it we'll dress you in different clothing.

You reluctantly gave in. Knowing that their say was final anyway. You can't even remember the last time your opinion was taken into serious account.

It's always about pleasing the demons', never about what you would like.

You watched the skillfull hand of the woman behind you doing your hair in the dressing table mirror. She was braiding it into a crown around your head, letting the back stay the way it is. She intertwined some white roses into the braid; it looked like you were wearing a flower crown.

Even though you did find yourself pretty in these fancy clothes and hairstyles; you couldn't enjoy yourself. You were treated like a dress up doll for the demons', only being allowed to look pretty for them, never for yourself.

You had forgotten the giddy emotion you got when being gifted a new dress and twirling in it in front of the mirror for the first time.

Another sigh, another careless smile from one of the followers.

"You couldn't look more beautiful. Lord Douma will ravish in the sight of you." The women all agreed in unison, complimenting you on your beauty.

You turned around to face them, a small smile on your lips.

"I will make sure to praise your work in front of Douma." A wave of excited and thankful shrieks came over you.

Douma tended to let the women you like live longer so you can enjoy their company more when you're here. You had to mention them in front of him.

A male follower came rushing into the room. The women all forming a protective circle around you-you were only to be seen by Douma's eyes.

"It's almost sunset, come quick." He rambled, waving to everyone to come with him. Urgency laced his words.

It was time for Douma to give the message of the Lord to his people.

Prick.

You stood up, relief slowly eating away the nerves that had build up in your stomach.

Sunset also meant that Akaza could go outside and get you out of here.

One thing about Douma is that he never asked if he can take you with him, he just does.

And hell be upon him when the rest finds out you're missing, coincidentally at the same time Douma isn't present either.

Akaza is always the one to get you, even if he can't stand up against Douma, he somehow always gets Douma to give you over.

Maybe it's because of the threatening shadow of Kokushibo always leaning over Akaza from behind; piercing his three pair of eyes into Douma's soul (if he even had one, you were fairly certain he didn't).

You feel the corners of your lips tug upwards at the sight of Douma being beheaded.

Maybe if you puppy-dog-eye Muzan enough when you get back he'll take away Douma's mouth for a bit. You could use a bit of peace and quiet.

You didn't notice you were being lead to the main hall, so lost in your daydreams that you only noticed where you were when a heavy silence deafened your ears.

The hundreds of pairs of eyes staring at you, gaping at you, had you realize what you were wearing, or what you weren't wearing. Your arms slipped over your figure in an attempt to keep as much hidden as you could. Your futile attempt in creating a shield for yourself was met with two female followers grabbing both your hands and forcing them to your side, keeping you in place with their determination to show you to their Lord.

Your eyes were pinned forward, gaze focused on the tall figure slowly rising upright from his cushion.

Douma looked the same as he ever did. Same hair, same clothes, same cursed eyes and his trusty hat.

The only thing different was that his expression was...well not his usual 'grin'.

His eyes were wide, mouth closed. He was unreadable. You couldn't figure out what emotion he was wearing on his features.

You noticed his hands were in taut fists by his sides.

What was up with him?

"Douma?—"

That's when he stood up, rising to his full height. You swear you could feel the floor shake as he strode towards you.

You didn't—couldn't—move. Why was he so much more terrifying when not smiling?

The women let you go; getting on their knees as their Lord approached—heads touching the floor.

He didn't acknowledge any of them as he took your wrist in his hand. You saw his sharpened nails. bile climbed up your throat, you forced it down again as you swallowed.

Douma dragged you behind him, pace quick, eyes determined. You spluttered his name, trying to ask what was wrong. He was not himself, he never acted this way.

"Douma, what are you do-"

"Just shut up."

You were taken aback by his tone, shutting up immediately. He never had any emotion except for faux happiness in his voice. Now his tone was just empty, devoid of anything.

You could hear his heavy breathing as he took you outside. You spotted the white circle gifting the world with a guiding light in the darkness high up in the sky. It was a full-moon tonight.

Your eyes snapped to Douma as he stilled his movements. He shoved you in front of him, placing you in the holy glow of the moon. You faced him with confusion lining your features. You could not figure out what he was trying to do.

He took a few steps back; basking in the sight of you. He swallowed thickly. His eyes trailing slowly over you body, analyzing every dip, mole, crook, wrinkle, imperfection and perfection you had.

You looked like an angel in the heavenly glow of the nightlight. Douma couldn't stop inspecting you. When you walked into the hall, not wearing a kimono like always, he was put into a trance. He had never seen you wearing western clothing, and even though this was extreme and probably not accurate to the western style at all-he was captivated.

You had never looked more beautiful than you did at this moment. He wasn't used to emotions sizzling in his blood. He didn't know how to put the burning sensation in him out. For once he didn't want to throw you on a bed to eat you up to your very core, but he just wanted to take in you.

You played with the ends of your sleeves as you felt yourself getting smaller under Douma's multicolored gaze. You hated not knowing what to do, not being able to gauge the demon's feelings.

A snap of twigs made your head turn away from the stone-turning stare of Douma.

You sighed in relief.

"You bastard. You can't just take her with you! Not without Lord Muzan's permission! Love, you must've been te-."

Akaza stilled, his eyes met yours and slowly drifted over your body. You cocked your head.

Not him too.

"What are you wearing? What is she wearing?" He pointed an accusing finger to Douma,

"Doesn't matter, she is gorgeous."

You had to keep yourself upright form the whiplash Douma gave you with his words. He had never sounded to sincere, so soft.

Akaza walked over to you, his footfalls not heard. He was about to hold your hand when Douma spawned next to the two of you and gripped Akaza's hand in a bone-breaking grip. His muscles were bulging under his skin as he kept Akaza from touching you.

"Let her stay like this for a little." Douma never was serious with Akaza. Always letting the upper three do what he wanted. Akaza stopped all his actions. He knew Douma could kill him in seconds if he resisted him now.

"Douma I want to go. I don't feel comfortable." It was nerve-wrecking to break the tension. It was something you never dared to do, scared of loosing a limb if you did. The air was thick and if you had a knife you swore you could cut it.

Douma turned his focus towards you. Just like that you could breathe again, all tension leaving. It was like Douma realized that he had dropped his act.

You grimaced when his grin returned on his lips. You saw Akaza visibly relax when he did.

"Whatever you wish princess."

You looked at him with suspicion. He was never this easy to persuade. Usually he would whine for an hour before inevitably giving in.

Akaza shared a glance of doubt with you. He cautiously took your hand and within the blink of your eyes you were standing in the chaos of walls, lights, floors and stairs.

You felt light-headed, your stomach sloshing inside of you. This was never going to get easier.

You held Akaza's hand as you got your bearings, slowly pushing away the nausea and pressure that was building in your head. If it wasn't for him you would buckle and fall.

"You okay? I don't understand how you aren't used to this yet." Akaza rubbed your back. You shot him a glare and released your hand out of his.

"What is she wearing?" You pursed your lips in annoyance as Kokushibo appeared in your line of sight.

"I'm getting out of this dress right now, don't worry about it." You snapped, done with this whole night already. Why were they all acting like you never dressed up before?

You were wearing a dress for the first time though...maybe that's what had them reeling like this.

"No, I like it. You look beautiful." The upper one stared down at you, his hand resting at your shoulder, slowly gliding down to your lower back as he assessed you.

"We should get you more dresses, and have Daki braid your hair more often." He mused. A shiver ran up your spine as his cold fingers kissed your skin.

"I don't feel comfortable in this. I am practically naked." You objected, looking up at Kokushibo through your lashes.

"Only bonus points if you ask me." Douma winked, his eyes dark with lust as he cocked his head with a cheeky smile.

It was like whatever happened a few minutes ago never did. He was back to his old self. Much to your relief and dismay.

"Stop acting like an animal in heat you idiot." Akaza sneered, but the dust of pink on his cheeks didn't go unnoticed by you.

"Which one of you took her out of the kimono I picked for her?" There it was. A voice, cold as ice, heavy as stone and threatening like a knife against skin.

Muzan was standing across from you. His head high, hands behind his back and maroon eyes radiating annoyance.

Muzan was very controlling of what you wore, ate and just did overall.

Douma was in for a lot of shit.

"Ah Lord Muzan! isn't she pretty? My followers know exactly what to do with her!" Douma pushed you forward, showcasing you to the demon king.

You slightly pouted your lips. You hated being pranced around like an animal in a zoo. You just wanted to change into comfortable-covering-clothes.

Muzan took you in, walking around you as if he was deciding to buy a new piece of furnace. He was judging you.

"I've seen this style before. Did your followers research her western background?" Muzan asked as he let his hands wander over the material; tracing the silver that were hiding your breasts.

"They did, and they did such a magnificent job."

No they didn't. You never wore anything like this back home.

Home. You missed it.

"I wore dresses at home-" Muzan grabbed your jaw, you coughed.

"-back in my former country, they were nothing like this." You managed to get out with the aching grip of the demon king on your jugular.

You had to stop messing that up.

Muzan loosened his grip just a tat.

"You look nice in this. Maybe I should let you indulge in your own culture more."

Your eyes grew big.

"Are you serious?"

"Dare you question me?"

You shook your head no as best you could with his hands still lingering between oxygen and choking.

When was the last time you had enjoyed something from your culture?

When was the last time you spoke in your tongue?

Sadness tugged at your heartstrings when you made that realization, but you quickly cut the emotion off as you went down on your knees. Muzan letting your go to have you grovel at his feet.

You bowed down; head touching the floor the way he loved.

"Thank you, my lord." You felt the insides of your stomach climbing up your throat as you said it, but you forced it down. You had learned quickly enough to do what Muzan likes, and thank him for the smallest bit of gratitude.

Having you call him 'lord' was another one of his manipulation tactics. he wanted you to know the power dynamic between the two of you. He wanted you to know where you stood exactly.

Muzan hummed in satisfaction. You rose to your feet again with the help of Kokushibo, who so kindly stuck out his arm for you to take.

"No, stay on your knees." Muzan commanded. Your mouth fell open, but without any hesitation you bend down on your knees again. Your dress spread around you in a perfect circle.

Muzan tilted your chin up. He raveled in the way you looked up at him with those innocent eyes. You looked so fragile with those flowers in your hair and the white clothing your skin.

He felt his trousers tighten just at the thought of corrupting the innocent thing before him.

You felt the eyes of the three demons behind you burning holes in your body as Muzan traced his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Kiss me." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. you weren't feeling up to this right now, but the consequences of rejecting Muzan-rejecting the demon king-would be a grave mistake.

Muzan couldn't handle that a mere human could reject a near God like himself. It hurt is ego immensely.

You gently stood up, not breaking eye contact with him once, you let your breath fan over his lips, mentally preparing for what was about to come. Muzan grabbed your hips as he watched you.

Pushing back every urge to stop, you lunged forward, crashing your lips on the frozen ones of Muzan. Your warmth enveloped Muzan's nerves as he reciprocated the kiss. He was more fierce, more eager, and after a second he took back control. Forcing you to stay in place as he explored the cavity of your mouth. You felt your oxygen running out as Muzan bit and tugged on your bottom lip. He dominated you easily. Your hands were taut around Muzan's shoulders. Squeezing as the need for oxygen became to extreme.

The moment spots started forming in your vision, Muzan broke the connection. You heaved, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. You didn't stop looking at him, you knew he saw looking away as a form of 'not wanting' (even though that's what you did feel). You felt your lips swell and your face heat up. Your eyes were glossy and Muzan wore a small grin on his face.

He loved seeing you like this. Lips plump read, face hot and bothered and eyes doe-like.

"You are talented in putting on a show, darling." You furrowed your brows, Muzan guided your face in the direction of the other demons'.

You felt your muscles tense at the sight of all three looking at you like you were the first source of water they found after days of traveling in a dessert.

You felt fear fluttering in your stomach like moths pouncing on a flame.

You barely made it out alive when with one of them. You wouldn't be able to take all four.

"N-no, please, I-" Muzan raked his sharpened nails over the silver, it broke without any resistance, just like you predicted.

"Don't worry. They'll do as I say, and for now I want them to watch."

He kissed your shoulder as the shield slowly broke off your body.

You got what you wanted though, you got out of the dress.

#yandere kny #yandere kimetsu no yaiba x reader #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #yandere muzan kibutsuji x reader #yandere muzan kibutsuji #yandere akaza x reader #yandere akaza #yandere kokushibo x reader #yandere kokushibo #yandere douma x reader #yandere douma #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 8 months ago

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OUUH WHAT ABOUT spencer watching her do her makeup, pick out an outfit, get dolled up to go meet his team

fem bimbo!plus size reader, wc: 498.

a/n: AWW OMG writing this actually gave me cavities. this is probably the fluffiest thing i've ever written on this account!! i really tried to get into the mind of our precious bimbo reader, and i feel like i did a pretty good job if i do say so myself! 😏

You always liked to say that you did your best work under pressure, so why in the hell wasn’t your eyeshadow… eyeshadowing?

You looked at yourself in the vanity mirror, your gloss covered lips turned down into a deep frown. The lines caused by your frustration left behind little creases in your carefully laid foundation. You were one more mishap from a total breakdown.

Tonight was the night that you were going to meet your boyfriend’s team, which in your mind translated to his family. You had met his mom already, and she liked you, so why were you so intimidated? Maybe it was because these people were like your precious boyfriend just twenty times more terrifying.

Tonight had to go well, or you swear that you might just die!

“Spence?” You turn around in your porcelain white chair that completely contrasts the dark coziness that was Spencer’s room.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Spencer responds from behind the book he had his nose buried in. He had been resting against the headboard, the lower half of his body relaxed and his legs were stretched out carelessly. The advantage of being a human string-bean, you supposed.

“Does my makeup look okay?”

Your exasperated tone in your voice forced his eyes away from the page and onto yours.

He was surprised by the light tones of eyeshadow you had picked, they were a lot different from the bold pink, purples, and blues. That could only mean one thing.

“There’s no need to be anxious, honey. You look beautiful.”

Usually, you were very susceptible to Spencer’s praise, often turning bashful and shy, as well as giggling and grinning like a schoolgirl. Nope, not today. Today felt like not even the sweetest of hymns could bring you down from your anxiety ridden stupor.

“Really? Because I don’t know about the color… I feel like the eyeliner makes it look clumpy.”

Spencer Reid was trained for this, if the hours of cosmetology research he had done counted for something. Why you may ask? Well, the first time you had asked him about your makeup was when you two had first started dating, and it had unfortunately gone a little bit like this:

“Does this look okay?”

“It looks fine, angel.”

“Oh God, I should just start over, shouldn’t I?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Spencer smiles fondly, “It doesn’t look clumpy at all. In fact I think the dark and light colors complement each other well, they make your eyes look large and enchanting.”

And just like that, all of your apprehension melts away. “Oh, good!” You all but cheer.

He watches with a lovesick smile on his face as you pull out outfit-after-outfit from the closet – that’s really more yours than it is his – with an excited grin.

“How about this one?”

Spencer knows he’s in for a long night; with his book long forgotten, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that you have an hour before you guys have to leave.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna

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golden-ebony · 2 months ago

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To Love You Is To Know You ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

♡ Pairing: Logan Howlett/female!Reader

♡ Word Count: 7.3k

♡ Rating: Explicit 18+

♡ Warning/Tags: smut, minor dni, good mix of fluff & angst, brief mention of mutant abuse, no use of y/n, unprotected sex, p to v sex, fingering, oral sex, FLUFF FLUFF, cross-post from AO3

♡ Summary: "Logan has never been an open person. Despite you wanting to love him with everything you had, how could you if he continuously kept you at an emotional arm’s length?"

♡ Note: I haven't written in FOREVER and I got locked out of my old writing account @printedpeterparker from 2 years ago! But dare I say?? We're sooo back! Might even post some revised posts from my previous account.

The sounds of the city seemed amplified tonight. You were drifting in and out of sleep, never finding a rhythm. You were close to finding that rhythm until the sounds of old floorboards and the creaky bedroom door filled the room as well.

He was home.

3:56 A.M.

Heavy steps slowly waltzed into the room. The door was softly closed behind them. Logan never liked to wake you, yet he always did. The blame wasn’t entirely on him and his inability to be discreet in this old apartment. Logan’s apartment was particularly loud. If it wasn’t the furnace rattling, it was police sirens flooding the night. You couldn’t stand being here alone. But with Logan? There was a sweet comfort when you got to hear his heart rate slow when you lay on his chest.

At this point, you had spent multiple nights at Logan’s while your apartment building was being fumigated. Your night would be going well until you saw him get a text or call from Wade. He’d tell you that he had to leave and would be back as soon as he could. Every time, he got better at dodging your questions. You would try and wait for him, but you never could make it past 1:30.

And just like all of the nights before this one, he would immediately head toward the bathroom for a shower, not wanting you to see him in his present condition, you assumed. The shower ran, steam and light slipping into the room from the crack door. He never wanted to get into what he was doing with Wade under the cover of night. Wade would jest that they were simply partaking in the world’s oldest profession as “men of the night.” Logan would snark, but it was always clear that he didn’t want to talk about it— not with you, at least.

“I don’t want you to know me like that.”

“And if I did?”

“It’s not something I like to think about.”

The conversation rang in your mind like a broken record as the shower ran. Pressing the issue during the witching hours didn’t seem like the time then. Then again, it never felt like the time. You weren’t native to what Logan could do or had done. You could only imagine what he was actually doing. There were times where he selected to be more forthcoming about his past, probably still sparing you the worst of it. The worst of him, maybe.

But you’ve seen the remnants of blood, never sure if it’s his or not, in the bathroom, despite Logan’s best attempts to not leave a trace of his night. As the water stopped, you could always listen for the inevitable groans of Logan and the ripping of paper towels, an unique part of his night shower regiment. The bathroom light eventually turned off, only the glow from the street lights outside draped the room. You felt the slight breeze on your back and Logan lifted the comforter, shifting the weight of the bed as he climbed in. He instinctively pulled you close to his bare chest, wrapping his arm around your abdomen At this point, you both knew you were awake.

A deep and throaty sigh escaped his lips, one he had probably been holding in since he made it home. You melted into his embrace, the city only seemed to whisper— finally feeling at rest.

You lifted his hand from your abdomen, softly laying two kisses in gaps between his knuckles. Your hand laid over his before placing it back on your abdomen. An act that made Logan flinch the first few times you did it had now fully stripped him of every defense.

No words were spoken. Yet, his words still rang.

Logan hadn’t fully woken up. His eyes still remained shut, but he was alone. His hand lazily swept where you had laid; warmth still radiated next to him. With furrowed brows, his eyes tried adjusted to the gleam of the sun

“I was going to let you sleep a little longer, Lo” your voice was barely above a whisper His eyes swiftly found you standing in the doorframe of his bathroom, fully awake now. Logan propped himself up to admire you in your red shorts, white t-shirt, and the sweetest smile as you sauntered over to his side of the bed. “You got in pretty late.”

“Yeah, didn’t think I’d be out that late…” His words dropped off as he watched you take a seat next to him, running your hand across his defined chest. “It’s mostly Wade and his damn mouth that holds us up.”

“Hm, wanna talk about it?” you hummed, perking yourself up a little.

Logan’s lust-filled eyes had been unchanged since he spotted you in the doorframe. A look that made you think he would tear your shorts off with his teeth if he had to. He wanted to.

He sat up further before snaking his arm around your waist, fingers pressed into your side. “Now why would I talk about that bum when I got the sweetest thing right here? C’mere.” A short gasp escaped your lips as he swiftly pulled you onto his lap. As you straddled his hips, he steadied your hips with one strong hand while the other ran under your tee and up your spine. You felt like a schoolgirl with the way he made you blush.

Before you could mutter a word, Logan’s hungry lips were already on yours. You couldn’t help but to cup his breaded cheeks into your hands. Soft moans and grunts mixed between your lips, but your mind began to drift, knowing Logan evaded your question without missing a beat. Regardless, your body felt like it could only react to his touch, especially while his lips slipped down to your pulse. You felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Sometimes, you hated how good he was at getting you going.

“Logan…” Every part of you wanted that to come out sternly. It definitely didn’t. You were still trying to catch your breath. In fact, hearing his name fall from your lips only lit a flame in him

“C’mon, baby,” Logan’s voice was low against your neck, tracing your pulse with his lips, “tell me what you want.”

“I-I want…” You couldn’t even think straight, but if you didn’t get this out now, you might as well just surrender, “I w-want you to tell me why-y there are so-o many bloody towels in the garbage.”

Logan paused for a moment. You took the moment to lean back to meet his furrowed eyeline. He was shrugging, “Just from cleaning up this morning. I’ll take the garbage out, alright?” He pulled you in again, but pulled back, still eyeing him.

“Logan, what were you doing last night? Or any of those other nights?” you softly asked, trailing your hands over his shoulders. His hands still lazily sat on your waist and, now, your lower back.

“Baby, I don’t wanna get into it this morning,” he matched your tone while slowly rubbing your lower back. You sighed before rolling off of him. Logan groaned due to the loss of contact. “What? C’mon, sweetheart.” He reached for you, but you swatted at his hand.

You faced Logan, sitting criss-crossed on the bed. “Then when? When can we get into it? This afternoon? This evening? At least before you leave again tonight?” You knew you were tuned up just from our own thoughts at night. You had played this conversation over and over again in the head last night.

To your misfortune, unlike your surprise, it wasn’t going how you had wanted.

He wiped his face with a groan before crossing his arms. “I work. I get paid.”

“Doing what?”

Logan’s face was now firm as was yours. Every ounce of romance had been replaced with tension, but your question hung in the air like a cloud threatening rain.

“I told you, I—”

“Don’t want me to know you like that,” you finished, “but I want to know you, Logan. All of you! You’re my boyfriend and my favorite person to be with, and I don’t even know what you do for work! Doesn’t that sound a little ridiculous?” your voice was slightly raised, your tone short. You were digging your heels in.

But so was Logan.

“Wade gets us jobs; they’re all different. Do you want me to detail every still job I’ve ever done?” his voice was raised slightly higher. “You don’t trust me or something?”

You rolled your eyes before completing getting off the bed, “I trust you to be you and trust that you’re trying to sell me some version of the truth in order to make me feel better or at least shut me up. And I know it’s because you care, Lo. I can only imagine what you’re doing, there’s literally bloody towels in the bathroom, for Christ sake! More than I’ve ever seen. But I wouldn’t have to imagine if you just talked to me! I want you to trust me enough to talk to me, confide in me,” you felt like you were begging; you ought to be on your knees at this point.

“Well, if I need ya, I’ll let ya know.” As soon as the words whipped off his lips, he regretted it. You huffed, frustrated tears quickly brimming your eyes. Logan immediately got up, but you were already heading toward the bathroom. “Look, baby, I’m sorry,” Logan was able to catch your arm. You immediately pulled it away and turned to face him. Despite your best efforts to hold in your tears, one broke away.

“I want to love you so bad, Logan, so fucking bad, but you make it so goddamn hard sometimes.” You didn’t even want to wait for his response. You stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door in Logan’s dejected face. He wanted to follow you, but it would only make things worse. All he could do is listen to your back slide down the door while soft sobs left your lips.

You wish you could’ve stormed out of the apartment, not face Logan for the rest of the day. You ended up taking a shower, mainly because you needed one, but also to drown out any remaining frustrated, tearful sniffles. You knew Logan could hear you before, but you meant what you said.

Despite you wanting to love him with everything you had, how could you if he continuously kept you at an emotional arm’s length?

Although you never wanted to push him, getting Logan to open up by any degree was like pulling teeth. When it came to his past, you didn’t expect him to tell you everything overnight. It was obviously painful; some nights, he was still plagued with nightmares. But every time you soothed him after a nightmare, with every comforting hand kiss, you thought Logan was learning to trust you, finding comfort in you.

But if you didn’t have trust, you weren’t sure what the two of you had. Maybe you weren’t ready to admit that to yourself.

The comforting warmth of the shower was running cold now. After hopping out, you slowly moved into Logan’s room. He wasn’t there but the bed was made. You got yourself dressed but stopped and wondered if it would be best just to pack your things. Maybe it’d be better to stay with a friend for a while. For now, you just needed to leave.

You could hear Logan rattling on the other side of the door. You began dreading the imminent conflict. If it wasn’t going to be confrontational, it was at least going to be awkward. After throwing on some jeans and a black t-shirt, you took a breath before opening the creaky door.

You didn’t immediately see Logan, only the empty living room. You walked out toward the door, but his voice calling your name stopped you dead in your tracks. The call was soft; nevertheless, he called for you as if he had been nervously preparing for your arrival. You turned toward the kitchen to see Logan, also in jeans and a t-shirt. He had two large coffees in front of him and a white paper bag.

“Are you trying to bribe me into staying,” you asked lowly, but Logan could sense the hint of humor in your voice.

“More like a bribe to get you to talk to me, again, “ he lifted one of the coffees toward you with a nervous chuckle, “well, me talk, you listen. But if you still wanna leave…I won’t stop you either.”

You nodded with a mumbled okay before moving to the coach. Logan silently joined you, handing you both the coffee and the bag. You took a peek into the bag to see two cinnamon muffin tops— your favorite. You took a sip of the coffee. Sure enough, that was perfect too. You placed the bag and coffee along with Logan’s on the table for the time being.

“You have my attention,” you slightly smiled. A part of you wished you could stay mad at him for longer.

Logan smiled too as if he could breathe a little better. A part of him wished he could stand you being upset with him, even just a little bit.

You both sat silently for a moment, waiting for the other. Logan leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees and rubbing his palms. After seeing him take multiple short deep breaths, you realized what you were witnessing.

Logan was nervous.

You had only seen Logan nervous on one other occasion. When he picked you up for your first date, he didn’t realize that the camera in front of your apartment door activated when someone approached it. You watched him run the same routine from the breathing to the palm rub.

“Look, I’m not good at this,” Logan began, “Not just the talking bits but making the right choices like what I tell, what I don’t tell you— how much versus how little. Because the last thing I want is to scare you off and lose you. But this morning, for a second, that’s what I saw happening.”

You stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt what probably was a conversation Logan ran through his head multiple times over this morning. Instead, you provided a reassuring smile.

Logan leaned back onto the couch with his arms crossed, “So, what do you wanna know? Whatever you wanna know, I’ll tell ya.”

Despite having questions running through your mind multiple times over for the past few nights, your mind drew a quick blank. You took a quick sip of your coffee, hoping the caffeine would guide your mind a little better.

“You say that Wade gets both of you these jobs. Typically, what are the jobs?” you asked, leaning back onto the couch with him.

Logan cocked his head back, staring at the moving ceiling fan instead of you. “They really can be anything. Everyone’s got problems. We don’t accept every job. Still, it can be small like scaring off an intense ex for a girl to something not so small like uh, taking down a trafficking ring. The one with the ex, no one gets hurt; it really doesn’t take much to scare punks like that, y’know? The other? It can get…messy.”

You nodded and leaned back with him, turning to face him instead of the fan, “And last night?”

He took a deep sigh and shook his head. The room fell silent again for a beat too long. The question obviously hit a sour spot in him; it probably hit worse when he was unexpectedly asked this morning.

Your hand snaked down to your side. You wrapped your hand over Logan’s, rubbing your thumb over the very visible veins. His head tilted to the side to meet your soft stare with another reassuring smile.

“If it’s too much right now, Lo, w—”

“You know that there are actual mutant trafficking rings?” Logan bluntly asked you. Your reassuring smile lessened; Logan could read the concern all over your face as your hand gripped his.

“Not just adults but kids. We got this job to bring this mutant kid back to his parents. The money seemed like a lot upfront but hey, if I had a kid, I’d do anything to make sure they were okay. But when we found this kid, what he told me and Wade…the kid showed us where they’d really take him, not the bullshit address we were told to bring him. All these kids…” His eyes closed as the memories flashed before him. His jaw was clenched, his hand fisted under yours. Your sympathetic hand moved up his forearm, hoping to soothe his thoughts. Once Logan's eyes opened again, your gaze was still on him. Logan found himself a little more grounded not only by your touch but your eyes— eyes that never had to see the horrors that he had but were understanding, nonetheless. His fist relaxed back into an open hand.

“I think I just lost it. We got ‘em all out, but everyone else there, the guy that hired us? I killed them. Not me and Wade; just me. I saw a version of myself, one I haven't seen in years.” Although Logan had admitted to details about his life, situations that he had found himself in, you couldn’t remember a time that he was so blatant about his actions. There were no assumptions to be made this time; just the truth. And it was clear that sitting with the truth was hard for Logan. Whether it was the action itself or admitting that he alone committed a slaughter, his continuously clenched jaw was proof of the struggle to discuss it.

“And you deserve to know the type of guy you’re with, sweetheart.”

You furrowed your browline and removed your hand from his, placing it on his cheek. Reactionarily, he leaned into your touch. This didn’t stop him from still scanning your face for any hint of hesitation, disgust, horror— perhaps originate to your plan of leaving. He didn’t find any of that.

“I do, it’s all I wanted to know,” you sighed, slowly caressing his jaw. “And I got the best guy, no question.” You softly kissed his cheek, a small smile crept on Logan’s face, but part of him didn’t believe you. As much as you meant it, he struggled with believing it himself.

“I’ve hurt more people than I can count, sweetheart.”

“I know,” you sat up next to him, slightly leaning over him, “but I also like to think that you have helped more people than you’ll ever realize.”

You pressed a small kiss to his lips before lifting up one of his hands, “And these,” you pressed two kisses around the knuckles like this morning, “they’ve also helped more people than they’ve hurt…and on occasion, the hands themselves have been know make a girl feel good.” You received a genuine, deep laugh from him only causing you to laugh as well.

Again, it fell silent. This silence was comforting. You kept his hand in yours again as you gazed upon your gruff man. His face was now more relaxed and soft. You’d swear that you had memorized every detail of his visage in the months you had been together. You hadn’t even realized that Logan was studying you as well.

You lightly lifted the peaks of his hair before tracing his hairline, “You’re a good guy, Logan. Complicated but good.” Your lips shortly met his for the second time that day, this time with no alternative motive or your mind racing— just Logan’s slow lips against yours.

The coffee and pastries on the coffee table were long forgotten, both warming and cooling to the same temperature. Reminiscent of earlier, your legs hugged his bulky thighs as you straddled him. His hand traveled from your lower back to the tops of your thighs, wishing you had opted out of putting on jeans for the day. You gripped his shoulders for balance, but it was hard not to have at least one hand travel to his solid chest. Even the slightest movement felt nothing short of perfect to Logan. A throaty moan escaped his lips but was quickly drowned out by your own moan.

“Logan,” you muttered against his lips, your words almost being drowned out as well. He positively hummed in response. You paused for a beat. You lifted Logan’s chin with your fingers, effectively removing his lips from yours. His uncertain eyes looked into yours as he was sure he was about to be teased again today.

“I love you,” you whispered as if it was a secret between the two of you. On the contrary, you would love to scream it to the world, too. Logan was taken aback.

He didn’t think it would take three simple words strung into one of the most common phrases to put him at a loss for words. It wasn’t the words that left him awestruck— it was the woman saying them.

You.

Logan knew he could be abrasive, cold, distant, frustrating. Regardless of his best efforts, you saw those sides of him, especially in the beginning of you knowing him. Like today, those traits he tried to deeply bury when with you would rear their ugly heads at times.

When that would happen, Logan would give you the same spiel, along the lines of ‘I’d understand if you wanted to end things’ or ‘You deserve some who…’ . Not because he didn’t want you; you’d become everything to him in such a short amount of time. He just wanted you to be sure.

Despite those conversations, you didn’t leave. Despite Logan’s fears that you’d wake up one day and realize you were making the worst decision by being with him, you straddled his lap, hands rubbing his shoulders, and telling him that you loved him.

Him.

It wasn’t until now that Logan realized that he was probably staring at you like a dumbfounded idiot for way too long. You sat up a little straighter, the shame of rejection started to creep into your mind. You offered a soft smile anyway.

“You don’t have to say it back, but you should know. Even when you don’t, I love you, all of you.”

Logan couldn’t even stand the fact that you thought, even for a second, that he didn’t feel the same. He caressed your cheek before quickly pulling you into a passionate kiss that sent a chill down your spine and to your core. Even if he didn’t say it, you could feel it in the kiss. The slowed down tempo was different as if Logan was savoring both the moment and taste of your lips. You slightly pulled his t-shirt, pulling him a little deeper.

His hands traveled down your back until they were spread across your ass. You couldn’t help but to grind your hips against his growing cock. You tugged his shirt upward, feeling Logan’s broad, haired chest. With a short separation, you lifted his and your tops, forgoing your bra as well, tossing them in a direction you paid no mind to at the time. With your bare chests pressed together, your lips joined again. Logan guided your hips against his. Each snap of your hips made the strain on his jeans tighter, increasing the contact with your clit. Your hips, your moans— they danced with each other in harmony.

With a quick hoist, Logan lifted you with his stance, his hands more firmly on your ass. Your legs instinctually wrapped around his waist while gripping his shoulders. Your laughing lips vibrated against his.

Logan mumbled something against your lips that you can’t quite seem to make out. It was short, maybe your name. You break away from his lips, his forehead resting on yours. Before you could tease him as planned, Logan planted one more kiss on your lips.

“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, baby. Y’know that?” Logan whispered, his lips dangerously close to yours. This felt like a secret of his own— one that made your heart flutter, and more surprisingly, your panties soaked.

“It’s not just the fact that I’m a topless girl that you have by ass right now making you say that?” you teased with a hand running through the back of his hair.

“Doesn’t hurt,” he huff looking down at your exposed chest, nodding to himself. Smart ass. You playfully snorted before slightly tugging at his roots causing Logan’s eyes to roll back with a groan. Slight pain, all pleasure. Your lips were immediately attached again.

A mix of messy open mouth kisses and moans had you both feeling like teenagers as Logan moved you both to his bedroom. The creaky door to the room bounced off your back. Logan was quick to gently lay you onto the center of the bed but even quicker to join you, his knee pressed between your legs. With his lips attached to your neck, hands palming your breasts, and the slight pressure to your pulsing cunt, you whimpered. You scooted yourself further onto Logan’s thigh, temporarily satisfying the ache between your legs with a slow grind. You were cursing the denim the both of you were wearing.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Logan warned against your warmed skin. He peppered kisses from your neck to your collarbone to the tops of your breasts, nipping your skin along the way. His flattened tongue dragged down to your nipple, wetting and flicking his tongue against it. He paid the same attention to your other breast, alternating between both. “Hmm, so goddamn beautiful,” he breathed between your wetted mounds

You were a whimpering mess as you watched him, arching into his touch. You still couldn’t help but to ride his thigh, the denim hitting your clit just right. You let your head fall back onto the mattress, taking in every sensation. Your hands choose to grasp the flexing muscles of his back, riding his thigh a little less than haphazardly.

Logan’s attention moved away from your chest when he began to notice you trying to get yourself off again. He moved further off the bed, causing you to lose the desired contact with his thigh. Your head shot up with a groan only to see Logan undoing your jeans.

Logan shook his head as if he was scolding you. “If you’re even thinking about coming,” two fingers on either side rimmed the waistband of your jeans and underwear. The slowness of his action only grew your impatience and neediness, “I wanna feel it all, baby.”

He was slow to pull down your jeans, knowing the pace was agonizing, knowing your pussy was pulsing with anticipation. Your breathing was ragged, your mind foggy. You quickly shuffle your jeans past your ass, keeping your legs lifted, but Logan only wanted to tease you and watch you wither.

“Baby, please, I need you.” It felt like your whines were falling on deaf ears as Logan was admiring each inch of your newly exposed skin from your stomach to your hips to your thighs. Wet kisses were placed on each area, inching closer to where you needed him most. You couldn’t even focus on the dirty whispers he lied behind each mark.

It wasn’t until your jeans slid down toward your knees that you felt Logan’s grip on your thighs ever so tightened, his breathing becoming uneven, and a throaty ‘fuckin’ christ’ escape his lips. He could smell the sweet scent of your arousal on your cunt ever since you were grinding on his cock on the couch, but with every barrier surrendered and centimeters from his face, every primal instinct in his body came alive.

Logan made quick work of removing both your jeans and underwear, to your surprise and pleasure. “The sweetest fuckin’ thing, I swear.” It came off like a growl from his lips as he hiked both of your legs over his shoulders.

Before another begged whimper could leave your lips, Logan’s tongue was desperately lapping up the wetness from your slick core just for it to remplish with the same speed. There was no sweeter taste in the world to him.

Your volume was lost on yourself. His neighbors would just have to understand. The brief contact had you embarrassingly close to your climax already, and it sounded like it.

With his lips on your clit, you felt his index finger slick up against your folds before plunging into your soaking heat. Logan’s lust-filled eyes made contact with your needy ones. Without even thrusting his finger, just like his thigh, your hips grinded against his finger. You were practically begging him for another digit.

He hummed against your clit, the vibration sending shockwaves to your core, “That’s it, baby,” With the addition of his middle finger, the pace of your grind quickened, riding Logan’s fingers and tongue, “show me how bad you want it.”

“Bad…I need you so bad, baby,” you cried, feeling you were mere seconds from bursting like a dam. Your juices were streaming onto Logan’s fingers and into his palm as you gripped around his fingers; the dam was already burst at the seams, “S’close, baby.”

Logan already knew, allowing his fingers and tongue to get you off exactly how you needed now.

“S’fucking pretty when you’re drippin’ all over me,” Logan muttered between licks, curling his fingers to reach your spot, “Give it to me, baby.”

That was all you needed before you felt the dam burst. Your hands were all throughout Logan’s hair, bracing yourself. Your road Logan’s fingers through your high, knowing you were making a mess all over his hand and mouth. A mix of profanities and his name fell from your lips like prayers— prayers that had finally been answered as you came down from your high. Your knees relaxed over Logan’s shoulders, letting your legs fall to his sides. You came out of your daze to see Logan sucking the remnants of your orgasm from his fingers, the visual made your pussy pulse again.

“Don’t worry about the mess,” Logan jested before planting a kiss to the inside of your thigh. He stood up from the bed, reaching for his belt; you could tell his cock was aching.

Feeling your second wind, you sat on your knees on the bed, reaching for Logan’s belt as well. Always more than willing— really loving— to return the favor, Logan knew exactly what he needed. Yet, he let you work.

You looked up at him through your lashes, undoing his belt, button, and zipper anyway. Your hand brushed over her constrained cock, earning a moan from Logan. He softly gripped your wrist, your innocent-looking eyes still gazing upon him. By the tilt of your head, he knew that you knew what you were doing; you always did. It still made his cock twitch.

A smirk crept on your face as you rolled your wrist out of Logan’s hand, “Then you tell me what you want, Lo,” you softly spoke, running your hands on his chest and pressing a kiss between his pecs.

He lifted your chin, capturing your lips into his, “I think you can taste what I want,” Logan muttered against your lips. You definitely could. You pulled him closer by cupping his cheeks, feeling remnants of your juices bedded in his beard.

The ache between your legs returned. At this point, it felt greedy to want Logan this bad after the intense finish you just had.

Your lips never left his as Logan finished pulling off his jeans and briefs. It took more than willpower not to reach for his cock, knowing it was already leaking with pre-cum.

“Lay back, sweetheart.” You were quick to comply, but Logan was quicker to join you. Before you could even fully position yourself, Logan’s face was in the crook of your neck, leaving marks he’d probably pepper sweet kisses on later. He propped your legs for you, his cock slightly grazing your folds. Felt like he was at heaven’s gates.

He wetted his cock on your slicked cunt, running against your clit. Your knees fell to your sides, opening yourself further to him. Your breath hitched in your throat before bracing yourself, arms wrapped around Logan’s back. He removed himself from your neck. If there was one thing Logan needed to see, it was seeing every part of your face fall into pleasure when he slid in you.

“I know, baby, I know,” Logan cooed before slowly beginning to slip into you. No matter how many times you felt his cock inside you, it felt like he was splitting you like a log. Yet, it was the sweetest sensation. No matter how much you tried to relax, you would immediately start gripping around Logan’s thick cock.

“Holy fuck, Lo,” you gasped as your nails dug into his skin. You wished you could see those marks, but already, they were simply a memory.

As he bottomed out, Logan’s lips met yours again in another searing kiss. He could fully appreciate the pulsing of your velvet cunt, just warming him. For you, the feeling of being stuffed to the brim? You were bound to make another mess.

Slow and steady, Logan began thrusting into you. Every inch of your body responded, particularly your hips that began to find a groove with Logan’s. With your eyes closed, you felt like you were blindfolded with pleasure. Your ragged breathing, soft moans— they were music to Logan.

Only dressed by the morning sunlight streaming through the window, you were a vision to Logan in this moment. Your mouth gaped, never finding the words that were so clearly written all over your face. Your hair was disheveled all over his pillows— the pillows you insisted Logan needed when he finally got his own place.

His hand steadily moved up your abdomen, smoothing over the valleys of your breasts. Logan had been inches deep in you more times than he could count. But today, he never felt closer.

“Look at me, baby,” he lowly grunted, his hand caressing your cheek. Your eyes fluttered open again, met with a smirk of a man who knew he had you hooked, “I need to see you.”

Like a reward, his hips snapped a little deeper, hitting your spot just right. “Oh my god,” you cried out with an arched back. Logan placed a supportive hand onto the middle of your back, making you sit on your legs and lifting you up to his chest. His hungry eyes met your lust-blown ones. You felt weightless as he dipped you on his cock. You gripped his shoulders, taking control of your bounce.

“Fucking made for me, baby.” he groaned, watching you practically bounce on his cock, quickening the tempo. With his other hand on your back, the other gripped your hip. “Take me so goddamn well.”

You were running like a faucet, feeling your own arousal run down your thigh. You savored every inch of his cock as Logan pumped into you, feeling that familiar pit in your core grow.

Logan could feel you tighten around him, chasing your own finish, “Fuck, sweetheart, if keep doing that, I won’t last too long.”

You wrapped your arm around his neck, nodding with a breathless smile, “I’m counting on it.”

That’s all Logan needed to hear. With a long growl, Logan removed his hand from your hip to ass, taking control of your movements. Your other hand reached for your clit. The pressure on your clit combined with the rhythmic plunges of Logan's cock was sinfully over stimulating. Your mind was hazy, your legs were beginning to tremble.

Logan was not far behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy and moans hard to contain. “C’mon, baby, love seeing you come all over my cock. Fuck, I just love you, baby. Always you.”

Both of you were done for. A few final pumps later, the last deep in your cunt, you unraveled all over Logan’s cock, locking in the ropes of cum currently painting your walls. It took everything in Logan to not have his claws unsheathed themselves but coming with you that close to him was worth it. With every pulse, you knew you were milking every drop. You practically collapsed onto his chest, the ache between your legs officially satisfied.

Panting was the only sound filling the old bedroom. Logan was still buried deep in you. You knew if you didn’t move soon, he’d be rock hard again. It was hard to leave the moment though. Compared to the early events of this morning, this was bliss.

You felt Logan softly press kisses on your shoulder as you leaned against him. You smiled, pulling yourself up to meet his softened stare. You caught a quick kiss from your man before pulling him off. You both sighed at the loss of contact.

You pulled the navy blue blanket— another item you told Logan he just needed to have in his room— off the end of the bed, wrapping yourself in it. With a mouthed c’mere, you pulled Logan down to lay with you. You covered the both of you as you made yourself comfortable.

“I need you,” Logan sighed as you placed your arm and head on his hard chest.

You huffed and giggled in disbelief, looking up at him, “Again? I’m gonna need a minute…or 30.”

“No, no,” he chuckled. It wasn’t the worst idea though, Logan thought. “Earlier, I said that if I needed you, I’d let you know. And…I need you.”

Your lips tugged into another smile as you rub his chest, “I need you, too. And when you leave, I know you’ll physically be fine, but here?” Two of your fingers pressed between his brows, causing him to furrow them, “Sometimes you get stuck in there, and I don’t want to lose you, in any way.”

It never occurred to Logan that you could have the same fears he had.

“You won’t, sweetheart,” Logan pulled you closer, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead, “You won’t because I do love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, sending vibrations through Logan’s chest. His head tilted with narrowed eyes.

“You have a real nice habit of telling me that when I’m naked.”

“Put something on, and I’ll tell you again.”

You both were laughing now. The sounds of your laughter were soon joined with the ringing and vibrating of Logan’s phone from the floor in his jeans. Besides you, Wade was the only other person who had Logan’s number. It was comical to you how annoyed he could get by a simple call from someone you knew he considered a friend; Logan wouldn’t admit though.

You began reaching for his jeans on the floor, stealing his vibrating phone from the back pocket.

“C’mon, I’m sure he wants nothing,” Logan grunted as he sat up. He grabbed your arm to stop you and the blanket from falling off the bed. When he pulled you back up, you sat up with him and were already answering the phone.

“Then he can bother me with it,” you smiled at Logan before raising the phone to your ear. “Morning, Wade!”

“Oh, it’s Mr. Wilson if you’re nasty,” he quipped. Logan rolled his eyes as you chuckled, “And what a pleasure to be greeted in a way I won’t have to tell my therapist about. Is the hairy guy around?”

You looked up at Logan with a small smile, “He’s actually a little preoccupied at the moment.” Logan laid on his forehead on your shoulder, muttering a soft thank you. “Can I take a message?”

“Nothing crazy, just a little bit of work I think he’d be interested in.” You looked over at Logan again. It was clear he could hear Wade as well as his head shot up from your shoulder. “But you tell him that there’s no shame in you being the breadwinner in that relationship; he’d make a great trophy wife. Really has the tits for it.”

“Couldn’t agree more, but uh, let me see if I can get him,” you muttered before muting the phone. “It’s work,” you jested.

Logan gave you a small smile before running his large hands over his face, preparing himself for the impending conversation with Wade. You handed him the phone but not before placing a kiss on his cheek. You rolled off the bed, only leaving Logan under the blanket. Vocalizing a loud groan from his chest, he’d prefer watching his girl get dressed than talk with a man who was currently whistling the Jeopardy! think song.

With your underwear on, as you pulled up your jeans, you shot a playful look at Logan who was clearly just ogling you at this point, “Talk to him!”

Annoyed, Logan immediately took Wade off of mute, “What?” his tone was a 180 compared to a few minutes ago.

You smiled as you left the room to find the rest of your clothing and finally eat something. You didn’t hear much coming out of Logan. You assumed he was just listening to whatever ‘work details’ Wade had.

After slipping all your clothes back on, you delved into the muffin tops you had neglected this morning. You didn’t know how hungry you were until you took a bite of your favorite pastry. It was enough to make your eyes roll.

With your coffee, a pastry, and Logan’s shirt, you leaned against the counter, on your phone. Truthfully, you were listening in on what Logan was saying, but he was a man of few words in the conversation. Most of his words were ones of confirmation and insults hurled at Wade.

The only thing you heard that truly mattered to you was what he said at the end, “Yeah, see you in 20.”

You heard Logan shift off the bed and grab his jeans, preparing to leave again despite only being home for about 5 hours. Although you were in a better place than you were earlier in the morning, it still made you a little sad to know that he was leaving again so soon. It would’ve been nice to have the morning together.

Logan called for you as he exited out of the bedroom. It was your turn to ogle him as your shirtless man adjusted his belt before turning toward you. He smirked when he saw you because you weren’t being very subtle. You dangled his shirt in the air.

“I’ll be back in like an hour or two,” Logan told you as he took his shirt back, swiftly throwing it on. You straightened out the wrinkles on it, but you both knew it was just an excuse to have your hands on him.

Logan wasn’t complaining. It gave him an excuse to place his hands around your waist.

“This mom— her ex is getting out of prison today, and she thinks he could use a, uh, reminder to not come around anymore.”

You nodded, picking a piece of lint off his shoulder, “I imagine you’re scarier than any restraining order,” you joked.

He huffed with a chuckle, “Probably.” Logan had to admit that this felt a whole hell of a lot better than sneaking out of the apartment, vaguely stating that he’ll be back. It was definitely better seeing your smile up at him than with disappointment.

“And now you have all your clothes on,” he teased, pulling you closer to him. You rolled your eyes, but you could feel your cheeks reddening, “I love you, baby.”

“I love you, too, Lo,” you smiled before pulling him down into a kiss. It was supposed to be quick, but Logan couldn’t help deepening the kiss. You smiled into the kiss, amused by how those 3 words seemed to really get Logan going.

“Someone out there needs you, babe,” you muttered against his lips before pulling away. “Now, go be the man I know you are.”

He smiled before leaving a kiss on your forehead, “Yes ma’am.”

The goodbye was quick; you knew he’d be back sooner rather than later. But you were right: you had the best guy, no question.

note: the inbox is always open for requests♡

#logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #marvel #mcu #deadpool and wolverine #logan #logan x reader #the wolverine #x men #smut #fluff #hugh jackman #britt fics

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dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months ago

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Irresistible {6} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: Gossiping drivers, alcohol and Charlotte. What could possibly go wrong? Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, cheating, kind of taboo (future stepbrother) WC: 4.9k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Three weeks ago there had been an anonymous complaint raised about your presence in the paddock when you were nothing more than a spectator. Apparently an emotional support animal wasn’t an acceptable reason to travel with Charles and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who laid the complaint.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Charles asked as you placed a plate of food in front of him.

“I’m getting paid to do what I would normally do anyway,” you pointed out once again. “And dad said I needed to get a job.”

You had been hired by Ferrari to work in the hospitality building; running food orders, making drinks, tidying the driver’s rooms. Okay, maybe the job was more than you would normally do, but not by much. At least you were kept busy and boredom no longer plagued you.

“I didn’t realise you needed the money,” he murmured as he stabbed a seasoned chicken breast with his fork. His credit card in your handbag was yours to use however you wanted, he had assured you of that time and time again, and it was the only reason his apartment was furnished so brightly. You could never have done that on the measly savings in your bank account.

“I don’t, but I’m not going back to Monaco on my own.” That was the consequence if you didn’t become an employee, at least while the Covid restrictions were in place.

“Hmm, god knows what trouble you would get up to there on your own,” he chuckled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something had been off about him all morning, but you knew he would talk about it when he was ready so you let it drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you said with a wink as you leaned closer and laid a napkin on his lap. “I believe you called me a good girl just last night.”

You left the dining area before he could respond and met Sebastian at the beverage station. He was another of the drivers you had befriended, though much like he was to Charles, it was more in a father-figure role. The German was a gentle soul and you always had time for him, even when he called you out for the feelings you thought you were able to conceal in public.

“You wear your heart on your sleeve,” he commented as you made his coffee - double shot espresso with a dollop of froth, no sugar.

“You obviously need this coffee to wake you up, Bassy, you are clearly dreaming,” you said as you placed it in front of him and showed your bare arms. “I have no sleeves.”

Sebastian smiled as he lifted the cup to his lips, the words entertaining him but not fooling him. “There is a little get together tonight with some of the other drivers. I think everyone is feeling a little isolated from society right now and could do with socialising. You should come.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug because you weren’t sure if Charles would be one of those other drivers, he hadn’t mentioned anything to you. “Maybe, it depends how busy I am picking up your dirty laundry.”

“My wife trained me well, maybe you are thinking of the wrong room.” He placed the empty mug down and departed with a wink.

The rest of the day passed quickly and you made yourself comfortable in Charles’ room while you waited for him to finish his media duties. It wasn’t unexpected that he took longer since it was the first of the two Italian GPs, he had given you warning that the team’s homerace would be more hectic. Pierre was the first to invite himself in, lounging on the other seat wanting to know the gossip around the paddock.

“Don’t lie, I know the best gossip comes from the kitchens,” he begged when you said there was nothing of interest.

“What can I say? Everyone is tight lipped after Nora and Damien caught covid.”

That had been the hottest gossip of the week because Nora was from Renault and Damien from Racing Point. Both teams were still arguing over who gave it to who and there were talks of suspension because they were sneaking into each other’s rooms instead of isolating.

“Ah bon,” he huffed. “Are you coming tonight?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t had a chance to ask Charles what the plan is,” you answered as you checked your phone again to see no messages and the afternoon was dragging. “What is taking him so long?”

“You’re waiting here for him?” Pierre frowned as he sat up a little straighter. “He was heading back to the hotel after he finished, he had to go pick up Charlotte from the airport.”

You tried to police your face but from the pity on Pierre’s it was clear you failed to hide the disappointment, shock and betrayal. Charles had been quieter in the last few days but everything you asked what was wrong he said nothing and then distracted you.

“Sorry, I thought you knew and that’s why you were still hiding out here.” He stood up and reached into the pocket of his Toro Rosso jacket to grab his car keys. “Wanna catch a ride with me?”

You didn’t really want to go back to the hotel room you had been sharing with Charles but had no idea where else you could go. You definitely needed to change out of the Ferrari uniform you wore but you didn’t want to see Charlotte if you could help it. Why was she even here?

“I don’t know, but from his mood I’m guessing Charles didn’t invite her.”

You didn’t realise you had asked that aloud and you concentrated on your shoes as you stood up and followed him out to the carpark. You almost asked him to turn around and take you back to the paddock but there would probably be more gossip spread if you slept in Charles’ driver’s room instead of the hotel.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said as you stepped out of Pierre’s car.

“No problem. Text me if you want a ride to the party.”

You weren’t exactly in the mood to party but the idea of liquor was growing on you so you said maybe and departed. Walking into the hotel, you passed the designer stores that lined the first two floors and felt the black credit card calling, but it was probably the devil whispering in your ear. And not for the first time you listened.

Charles checked his phone as he received another notification from his bank. One part of him was pleased to know you were at least near the hotel since the charges were to the shops below, but a larger part was sick knowing you were lashing out because of the message he had left in your room down the hall.

The shower turned off as his phone vibrated again and a bitter laugh bubbled at the $50k debit he saw for Prada before Charlotte appeared from the bathroom. There was a time before you showed up back in his life where he found her beautiful but now he could only imagine your face when he held her. He really had to do something about this because no matter how disinterested or rude he was, she ignored it to remain in his life. Looking away as she reached the bed, he returned his focus to his phone and sent a message to the person he actually wanted to be with.

The hotel room was silent when you finally built up the courage to leave the shops and take the elevator to the higher floors. The housekeepers had swept through and placed everything back where it belonged except for one square sheet of hotel-embossed paper.

Charlotte is here so I will be staying with her for the week. I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring myself to tell you in person. Love, Charles x

You sneered at the paper as your phone vibrated. “Love, my ass.”

Charles: Ma biche, if you are trying to bankrupt me you are going to have to do better than that.

You: I just want to look good for the party tonight. Never know who I might take back to my room.

You slammed the stack of receipts down beside the note and went to see that his bags were gone from the bedroom. Your lip curled back in disgust and you tore the protective sheath off the little black dress you had purchased with his money. If he was going to be a coward then he would suffer the consequences of it. You were sick of waiting for them to break up, maybe their delusions for a perfect image actually made them perfect for each other.

Charles slammed his phone onto the bedside drawer and pushed Charlotte’s advancing hands away. “I’m not in the mood.”

Rolling her eyes, she settled amongst the pillows and crossed her arms. “You’re never in the mood anymore.”

“Whatever, just get dressed,” Charles ordered as he kicked his suitcase over before unzipping it and grabbing a clean set of clothes. “We’re going out.”

“I just got here.”

“So? It’s a party.” He didn’t even glance her way as he pulled his Ferrari shirt over his head and replaced it with a plain white t-shirt before moving onto his jeans.

“Will Y/N be there?”

Charles’ foot caught in the legging and he nearly tipped over. “I don’t know,” he lied.

Charlotte knew him well enough to know when he was lying, or telling half truths - those were almost as common as breathing to him lately.

–

Since social gatherings were frowned upon, the group had met in a large field that the motorhomes parked in near the Monza track. A roughly cut metal oil drum glowed with a fire and golden embers floated off into the evening light as you navigated your way in new heels to the circle of couches around it.

“I think I overdressed,” you joked to Pierre as a dozen pairs of eyes flickered your way. There was no denying that you looked amazing, but you were more suited for the red carpet than a backyard bonfire. You should have gone with jeans and a shirt like Pierre wore when he picked you up.

“I think you look beautiful,” Max said with a smile as he shifted on his seat to make space for you. “You can sit here.”

You returned the smile and carefully stepped over the legs outstretched to warm by the fire. One pair of eyes burned into you but you pointedly ignored him as he sat opposite the flames with Charlotte on his lap. You stood in front of Max and put your hands on your hips as you cocked an eyebrow at the narrow space between him and the armrest.

“I have caught you checking out my ass enough times, Verstappen, you know it’s not going to fit there,” you said with a smirk.

An annoyed humph came from beyond the flames and Charles started to push Charlotte to her feet. “I’ll get you a seat.”

“She can sit here,” Max reiterated as he spread his legs back to get comfortable in his chair and patted his thigh.

“Mate…”

“Such a gentleman.” You turned on your heel, meeting the furious Monegasque whose eyes reflected the fire that was burning within him too. You held his steely gaze as you lowered yourself down onto Max’s lap, feeling the form fitting dress that barely covered your thighs ride even higher.

“I didn’t think so many of you guys would actually be here,” you said as you draped an arm over Max’s shoulder to help balance on your perch. His arm curled around your back so his hand rested lazily on your hip and his eyes darted to Charles, the blue hue almost screaming at him, ‘what a fool’.

“I only came for you,” Max admitted as he tore his eyes away to look at you. Those eyes narrowed and he brushed he cupped your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “You’re wearing makeup. Why?”

You frowned, wondering if maybe the makeup artist had done a terrible job and Max shook his head. “You look beautiful,” he assured you as he saw the worry-lines crease your forehead. “You always look beautiful, but you don’t need makeup, schat.”

You didn’t correct him on the endearment and he seemed to take it as a victory as his smile grew wider. Maybe you would have reminded him of the rules on friendship before the interruption, or maybe you would have just tucked the wayward strand of dirty blonde hair back where it had fallen over his face.

“I’m glad you made it,” Seb said, breaking the tension as he leaned over a cooler and offered a bottle of Jagermeister. “You look like you could use this.”

“Thanks,” you chuckled as you cracked the cap off. “You could have given me a little more information about this ‘party’.”

“Where is the fun in that?” Kimi muttered to himself as he sipped vodka from a teacup. The white china and blue glaze depicted an ancient scene and you stared at it as you took a swig straight from the bottle. Disgust screwed up your face at the taste before shivering, making both of the older men laugh.

“Ugh, I’ll take the rocket fuel please.” You didn’t give Kimi a chance to pull away as you stole the teacup and handed him the dark green bottle instead, though you were sure with those driver reflexes he could have moved if he wanted to. “That’s better,” you sighed as you tasted the drink to find it was a vodka lemonade mix. “I thought you would drink this stuff straight.”

“I’m not Russian,” he said as he jutted his chin across to Daniil who was in fact drinking pure vodka with Daniel, though the latter was coughing thanks to it. Reaching into the cooler, glass and ceramic clattered before he settled back into his foldout lawn chair with another china teacup that you didn’t bother to question.

Conversations between the drivers flowed, voices cresting and receding with the topics they were passionate about. Your stomach sloshed with alcohol and your body relaxed against Max’s, his smile growing when you rested your cheek on his head as you listened to him talk about the first thing he would do when the restrictions were lifted. It was to go to his friend’s concert, Martin Garrix to be specific.

“No fucking way,” Pierre laughed. “Not this again!”

You lifted your head and peered across the circle to where George and Alex were arguing over the suggested game of Truth or Dare.

“What are you? Prepubescent teenagers?” you teased as Alex took a pro-stance on playing.

“No, Lando only looks it,” George joked.

“Hey!” The young McLaren driver spluttered with an indignant laugh. “Rude.”

“Leave little Lando alone. He got his first pube just last week,” Daniel chimed in before adding, “I’ll play. Max?”

Max shrugged with a quiet, “Sure.”

Alex grinned wider and elbowed George. “See, it’s fun.”

The younger half of the drivers around the circle started the game, daring each other to do silly little things that their PR teams would frown at or confiding the secrets they answered for a truth. Your ribs hurt from laughing until Daniel called your name.

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you replied just so you didn’t have to get up from your cosy spot on Max’s lap.

“Have you kissed a driver here?”

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed on you through the flames and you grinned at Daniel as you combed your fingers into the short hair at Max’s nape. “Yes.”

“Who?” Daniel looked at Max, Pierre and Charles before returning to Max.

Your head tipped back with a laugh. “That’s not how the game works, Danny. It’s not your turn anymore. It’s mine. Max?”

“Hmm, yes?” he hummed as he looked into your eyes.

“Truth or dare?”

He debated the option for a moment before exhaling. “Dare.”

“I dare you to take me out.”

“You didn’t need a game for that,” he chuckled. “When?”

“Breakfast, tomorrow.” You leaned in and brushed your lips over his cheeks that flushed pink an instant after you whispered in his ear. “We could even make it breakfast in bed.”

You hadn’t noticed Charles had left his seat until you heard his voice beside you, plonking himself down on the cooler while he sparked up a pointless conversation with Seb.

“Charles, truth or dare?” Max asked, noticing how still your body went and the stiffening of your spine.

Charles turned slowly, his eyes drifting over the space where your body met Max’s and a sneer tugged at his lips. “I don’t play childish games.”

“Just the adult kind, right?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said with that innocent smile that had fooled you.

“Of course you don’t.” Max turned his attention to the fire pit and the woman sitting on her own, attempting to hold an air of carefree relaxation despite her gaze always returning to you with a scowl. “Charlotte, truth or dare?”

“Max.” You jumped at the sharp bite to Charles’ reprimand but Max didn’t even glance his way as he waited for the woman to choose.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to finish Kyvat’s drink.”

Pierre’s teammate grinned as he offered the tumbler that was half full of vodka. To give her credit, she only winced with the first swallow but she downed the spirit and cocked an eyebrow that challenged Max, is that all you have for me?

A cruel smile tipped up and she licked the drop of alcohol that clung to her lips, the burn of the vodka quickly hitting her veins and travelling to her head. “My turn.”

Charles abandoned his conversation when Charlotte called your name and the slight shake of his head warned you not to answer.

But he had pissed you off.

“Truth.”

The choice echoed around the circle as everyone fell silent. Pressure brewed like a lightning storm approaching and everyone felt the charged atmosphere.

Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, staring you dead in the eye as she found the courage she had been missing for months. “How long have you been fucking my boyfriend?”

Max’s fingers stopped drawing abstract circles on your hip and Charles burst to his feet. “Charlotte!”

“What? It’s just a game, Cha,” she replied with a bland look of boredom.

“It’s not appropria-”

“3 years,” you cut him off, your eyes never leaving hers. If she wanted the truth then she could have it. “The 8th of August 2017, if you want to count the precise days.”

“What?” Confused murmurs broke around the fire.

“Oh, shit,” Pierre laughed as he looked closer at you then to his friend who had frozen still. “She’s that chick you hooked up with at Jimmyz?”

Charles dragged a hand down his face but ended it with a nod before turning to his girlfriend. “It was before us, mon amour.”

The way he said it made it appear it was only before they got together, ever the liar, and even you rolled your eyes.

“So you two…and your parents…” Kimi whistled before keeping his mouth busy with a drink. He was quietly enjoying the brimming heat too much for someone nicknamed the Iceman.

“My father was out getting a haircut-“

“-at my mother’s salon-“

“-when we met. I guess they kept in contact after we left.”

Charles turned his attention to Charlotte but she was already storming her way across the field. With a sigh, he made his way after her and you wondered if it was finally the day that you had been holding out for, the one where she would dump him.

“She should have asked when you last fucked him.” The words were a whisper in your ear as everyone else returned to their own conversations, the game clearly over, but you knew those conversations were about you. Max sensed your discomfort, though even a blind man would have been able to see it. “Want to get out of here?”

“You still want to go somewhere with me?” It seemed unbelievable that he hadn’t thrown you off his lap.

“Everyone has a history,” Max said with a shrug. “I don’t care about your past…just your future.”

You left without a goodbye under the watchful eye of Seb but you didn’t miss the elbow George gave Alex, muttering sarcastically, “Oh yeah, let’s play truth or dare, he said, it will be fun, he said.”

“I didn’t know that was going to happen.” The angry whisper of a reply followed your departure and it seemed Alex was the only one too innocent to see what had been in front of them all along.

Charles' car was already missing from the makeshift parking lot and you slipped into the passenger seat of Max’s Aston Martin before he closed the door for you.

“Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, can we just drive? I feel like a fucking idiot,” you laughed bitterly. All the memories made with Charles seemed to crumble like sandcastles with the tide as you remembered how he had chased after her. He always did, and it seemed he always would. Actions screamed louder than words. “He’s really not who I thought he was.”

“I’ve known Charles most of his life and I don’t think he even knows who he is,” Max said as he laced his fingers with yours and headed to the city. “Are you hungry?”

“No, but I have a full mini bar that is getting billed to Charles. Want to help me empty it?”

Max shared a conspiratorial grin as he headed to the hotel and when you walked past Charles’ room down the hall, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

“What are you doing?” Max asked with a laugh as you hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the front door. You closed the door and leant against it, Max’s eyes following the curve of the Chanel dress, down the length of your legs to the Prada shoes and back up to the Bvlgari diamond necklace that accentuated the valley of your breasts.

“Making sure this party doesn’t get crashed.”

—

It was a miracle there had been no complaint made as you turned the stereo up and pretended you knew how to mix drinks.

“Max!” You fell into a fit of laughter as he poured four of the miniature gin bottles into the cocktail shaker, adding it to the three bottles of vodka you had put in. “That is pure alcohol.”

He shook the container and poured the clear liquid into two glasses, spilling some as he reached the same level of drunkenness as you. “No, it’s just water. Here, taste it.” He tipped his glass back, his face pinching before he blew out a burst of burning air from his throat and spluttered a cough. “Mhmm, good water that.”

“You’re trying to get me drunk,” you shouted over the pounding in your head, but you knocked the drink back anyway.

“You’re already drunk,” he countered, dropping into the couch and pulling you down with him. Empty bottles littered the coffee table and the dining table, the expensive mini bar almost empty. “I’m just keeping you that way.”

You settled on his lap and fingered the dirty blonde hair that was longest at the top of his head. “Is that so you can have your way with me?”

His eyes danced over your body, lingering on your thighs as your dress barely covered them. “No, schat,” he said with a small shake of his head as he cupped your face. “When I have you I want you to know that you chose me, clear headed and completely sober. Even if I really just want to fucking kiss you right now.”

You drew your lip between your teeth at the thought and his blue eyes darkened with envy. “We could just kiss?” you suggested as you shifted to straddle his hips.

“I don’t think it would be that easy to just stop there.”

“Fine.” Your hands stroked the column of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle that tensed under your touch before you traced his collarbones with your thumbs. “Truth or dare?”

He inhaled sharply and tipped his head back, watching intently as you popped the first button on his shirt and opened the collar wider. He didn't appear to breathe as you kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. He exhaled, knowing what you wanted to hear, “Dare.”

Your teeth grazed his racing pulse and he shuddered beneath you before you pulled back. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Perhaps it took having the flame of Charles extinguished for you to feel the spark of Max because this time when he pulled you close and captured you with a kiss you felt that spark ignite.

—

You looked around the parking lot seeing all the other mothers dropping their children off for the first day of school. They all kissed their kids on the cheeks after a tight hug and said their goodbyes, complete with teary I love you’s. Confused, you frowned at the large hand that gripped your school bag and followed the arm up to your father.

“Daddy, why isn’t my mummy here?”

He had known the question was coming, he just didn’t think it would be from his five year old. He thought he had more time to prepare as he dropped to one knee and held your hands. “Your mother was sick and she needed to leave so she could get better.”

“But she never came back.”

“Sometimes, that’s what’s for the best.” He kissed your forehead and draped your backpack over your shoulders, the weight more than just the lunchbox and books it carried. “But you know what?”

“What?”

“I will always be here for you, pumpkin.”

You woke in a cold sweat and felt the haunting thought the dream had inspired linger in your brain as you slipped out of the sheets. Beside you, Max slept soundly with one hand buried under a pillow and the other stretched across the bed as if he was searching for you.

You didn’t regret sleeping with Max, though part of you felt he surely would, and you watched his back rise and fall a few times as you dressed. You were busy trying to write a note, tearing off each piece that failed to convey what you wanted to say and balling it up, that you didn’t hear Max’s footsteps. You jumped in surprise as his hands came to rest on your hips and his lips teased the same sweet spot beneath your ear that he had found last night.

“Going somewhere?” he asked as he saw your bags by the door and he saw the latest attempt of a note. Max, thank you for last night. How about a raincheck on our-

“I think it's time to go home,” you admitted as you turned in his arms and draped yours around his neck. “Because the next time we do this, I want you to know that I chose you, clear headed and completely sober.”

He chuckled, surprised you could remember what he said. Then his own hungover haze lifted and he realised what else you said. “Next time?”

“I still want you to take me to breakfast,” you assured him with a smile. “How about you call me when you’re back in Monaco?”

“It’s a date.” He tipped your head back and kissed you with the same passion that left your toes curling and your body warmed with the memory of how that kiss had led to much more last night. But Max was sober and more in control of himself as he reluctantly broke away first. “Do you want me to take you to the airport?”

“No, thank you, I’m going to drive back. Take a bit of time to myself and figure my shit out.”

Max frowned. “You don’t have a car.”

“Yet,” you said with a wink. “But if the offer for a ride is still on the table…there is somewhere you can drop me off.”

—

Charles woke to a call from his bank and he swallowed deeply as he listened to the request to release $250k to a dealership. There was only one reason you would buy a car and the thought left him feeling empty as the bed he woke up alone in. It was a surprise there was no noise complaint after the argument he had with Charlotte, the one where he snapped and broke things off. She had left in a rage and he didn’t have the decency to ask where she went.

He had gone to your room, his feet carrying him light on a breeze as he finally had what he wanted. But then he had seen the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, and heard your laughter sneak through the panel of wood that separated him from where he should have been.

Sitting up in bed, he wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks overnight.

“Yes, allow the payment to proceed,” he muttered, though the sound of his voice was no longer one he recognised.

Charles: Drive safe, ma biche x You: I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you in person. Charles: I guess I deserved that.

Click here for the final chapter.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen imagine #f1 x reader

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beneathashadytree · 4 months ago

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THREE CONFESSIONS - RAFAYEL QI X READER

Warnings : spoilers for his date from the last event, references to his Lemurian nature & myths, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : so much tooth-rotting fluff <3

Word count : 1.5K words (oops)

Additional notes : This was a combination of 3 lovely suggestions I received for Rafayel. Writer’s block sucks sometimes☹️ But I’m actually quite proud of this!! Hope you guys like it🫶🏽🫶🏽

Tip jar!

Masterlist

Rafayel’s tongue wasn’t used to the saccharine sweetness that they made him want to spout.

He was a fighter; a man—who wasn’t a man, not really—who bled for his people and burned like a flame that would never be put out. He lashed out, like a beast that couldn’t be tamed, and struck true, like a blade that never rusted. Though objectively he knew he was beautiful, he always saw himself as having that sort of fierce beauty; a contradictory sharpness and roughness lying in his soft siren-like features.

But somehow, those edges of his were rounded to a gentleness he’d never known himself to possess. All for one person, the very same person who’d managed to tame him first had laid claim to his heart—or what’s left of it. It made him want to do the unthinkable; made him want to speak the words he’d never thought he’d even want to say.

It wasn’t easy to go against your very nature, though. Sparkling daggers didn’t turn into smooth silk over night. So maybe it was the coward’s way out, but he thought the best way to ease himself into it was to devise a new plan, based on 3 things he’d learnt through simple observation and his keen eyes.

1- The way to one’s heart is through their stomach.

“C’mon, let me have it,” Rafayel whined, trying to pry their hands off the bowl that they seemed to have glued to their fingertips. He had not accounted for them being this strong (not that he had it in him to fight harder and potentially hurt them, anyways), nor had he accounted for them joining him as he was baking for them.

Gritting their teeth, they pushed back against him, protectively covering the bowl. “No. I will not let you eat raw cookie dough when you just got food poisoning last week.”

“Oh, but you would’ve let me have it if I had been perfectly fine?” he asked, a challenge in his voice as he arched his eyebrow. “So it’s not on principle of looking out for me then. Some bodyguard you are.” He dramatically waved them off, earning a roll of their eyes.

Unable to help himself, he smiled a little. Maybe every single one of their micro-reactions stung his torn and fractured heart, and maybe he liked it. Maybe the idea of spending the rest of his days bickering like this made his face flush, forcing him to turn to the fridge to hide it.

Maybe.

“You’ve got bonito flakes?” he asked, beginning to dig through their drawers.

“Figured you’d wanna snack,” they snorted, and he heard them set aside the bowl and rummage through their cupboard. “You always get hungry while baking.”

“Hey, are you saying I’m gaining weight?” Rafayel furrowed his eyebrows and turned back around to them. “For your information, I just wanted to add them to the cookie dough. Brand new flavor, it’s gonna be incredible. Trust me on this.”

Horror washed over their features at that, and their hands caught his arms in a vice like grip, an almost wild look in their eyes. “Don’t you even dare, you baking heathen.”

2- Sincere gifts speak volumes from the heart.

“Are we getting any closer?” they asked, shuffling slowly after him on the sand. Though Rafayel was tempted to do anything they asked of him (one of his baser instincts, he supposed, though this had nothing to do with being Lemurian), he still kept them blindfolded and tugged them along the beach.

And so what if a not-so-small part of him was just looking for an excuse to keep holding their hand? He wasn’t embarrassed about that—even if his blush said otherwise.

“Almost… two more steps actua—yeah, right here.” Much to his own disappointment, he was forced to let go of them in order to unveil his surprise for them. Maybe his hands shook a little as he removed the sheet and stabilized it, and maybe he was grateful for the fact that they couldn’t see how nervous he was.

But now that he’d taken their blindfold off and stood to the side, he’d never been more terrified to present his work in his entire life. There he was, baring his heart on a canvas, and there they were—

With a gasp, their hands flew to their mouth, and he could swear that there were no prettier jewels in the world than their teary eyes as they stared at his painting against the backdrop of the sunset reflecting on the ocean.

A vibrant painting of them in all the most passionate hues; the essence of their very soul captured in that breathtaking way of his and immortalized on a canvas. In a way, he’d breathed new life into them, gifting them some of his own years and they possessed all of his.

Nervously rubbing the back of his neck, he looked away. “You deserved something for your last mission. Something more than just empty praise.” Their silence only encouraged more of his rambling. “It’s not an exact portrait, of course, more of an interpretation. Just the way I—”

He didn’t get the time to spiral, because they threw themself into his arms before he could even continue his sentence, squeezing him tightly in their embrace.

“It’s stunning. Thank you, Raf.”

3- Words carry weight.

“If I used your name, would you do whatever I asked of you?” they quietly asked, the gentle breeze fluttering through their clothes.

For a few moments, Rafayel was silent. What was there to say, when someone asked you if they had full control over you? Dare you admit it and risk being hurt by them? Or would you hide the truth out of self-preservation?

“Yes.” The former. He tried to lighten the somberness of the moment by weakly joking. “But it doesn’t mean I’ll go down without a fight.”

Another silence. This time, he couldn’t tell what they were thinking. It scared him; Gods, it did. Then—

“Hold my hand, Rafayel.”

How foolish of them, to ask for something he’d so readily give them for no reason. Did they have no idea how his heart always roared to life everytime their hands were entwined? Hadn’t they noticed how reluctant he always was to let them slip through his fingers?

“You’re silly,” he tried to admonish them, though there was no malice whatsoever behind his words. Instead, immense fondness filled his eyes as he gently obeyed, every brush of his skin against theirs deliberate and careful. His thumb stroked the back of their hand, and soon it felt like everything were right in this world, right then and there.

He couldn’t walk away from their gaze. Not when they looked at him as though he was the most heavenly creature of the ocean.

“Now come closer.” For some reason, they sounded as though they were begging with a desperation that even words couldn’t conceal. “Let me really see you, Rafayel.”

And he did nothing, except inch forward a little. After all, what was there to do, when he’d already stood naked before them, his heart bare and his entire being open? There wasn’t anything else left for him to do to show just how vulnerable he made himself for them.

“You already do,” he softly smiled, an aching tenderness filling up his chest as he gazed at them. Gods, he’d never get enough of them, no matter how much time had passed. Amidst the sweet scent of the blooming flowers of the garden, and the gentle sunrays kissing every inch of their beautiful face, they were truly a vision straight out of his most wishful dreams.

Not looking away, not even for a second, they gripped his hand tighter. “Rafayel, just… tell me you—”

A finger against the plush of their lips silenced them, and he met their confused gaze with a shake of his head. Affection brimmed through his touch and overflowed, unable to keep it hidden any longer. “Don’t. You shouldn’t use my name to ask me to do something I want to do myself.”

Rafayel could feel their shaky breath leave them, and he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, impossible fondness lacing his voice and entwining with every single syllable he devoted to them; always them, only ever them. “I love you. With every part of me.”

Yearning seared through his blood, and he could almost sigh in relief as they leaned further into him. “I—Rafayel…” Rendered speechless, their eyelashes fluttered slowly, heavy gaze flitting between his intense eyes and his lips. Two breaths mingling with each other, hearts entwined like clambering vines—somehow, nature had made them so in-sync that they fell into a familiar beat engraved in their souls.

If he could stay like this forever with them, he’d immortalize the unadulterated, peaceful happiness he felt surging inside of him. For the first time in his life, Rafayel felt that he was made to love; made to rest his weary bones, and finally retract his sharp nails and let himself grow soft in their hands.

For once, both his Lemurian blood and his human soul burned for the very same thing—the person who owned him completely, and someone he willingly gave himself over to.

He couldn’t stand the little distance between them any longer. “Let me show you that for the rest of our lives,” he mumbled against their lips, before letting his all-consuming adoration engulf them both.

Taglist: @vash-yuu @angry-and-yandere @nxx-jordiepord @honestlyjustablog @dawnbreakersgaze @tartartagliaboo @lucis-noctiana @riinari-sa @reika-desu @tikitsune @roll-of-royces @lemonsupernova @loveyoutodeep @belovedof @obiwanmcprobie @kalatipunan @eurekazz @bifedebruxa @thescribeswife @mysticangel123 @xenasolos @jvnluvr @dann-acalle @rin-sv14 @yololesgo @an-ever-angry-bi @semi-orangeapple @lavanderbliss @myturnwhen @winterlvod @carsonology @respitable @stellisangelicus-world @kvsqkiii @bitchynightmarepost @snoozeflare @spotted-salamander @cindywasneverhere @ladyparamount @sncrly0urs @huntersmoon1 @musiclover2119 @girl-who-lives-in-delusion @milktsukii @fromdeepspace-withlove @flavoredhappy @ay-chuu @granddearduck @skriblobz @honeyshoney149 @thatbaepizzalover @imhere2dosomething @saerotonins @cantescapethevoid @teewritessmth @lovra974 @straykidz143 @reishuus @xinnn6 @vyntagei (more in replies!)

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year ago

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Their dining room table has been taken over by thousands of tiny little beads and elastic in different colors.

Steve sits opposite their sixteen-year-old daughter, a thin elastic band clutched in one hand and an assortment of approved beads laid out in front of him. He picks up a small purple crystal-like bead and tries to feed the elastic through the minuscule hole.

“Christ, why isn’t this hole bigger,” he groans, squinting as he tries for the third time to thread the bead onto the elastic.

“Aw, but I thought you liked tight holes, sweetheart,” Eddie teases, sauntering into the room.

Their daughter pretends to retch before turning up the Taylor Swift song playing from her phone, hoping to drown them out. It doesn’t matter that they have a state-of-the-art stereo system in the other room that sounds a thousand times better than the shit speakers in her phone. She likes the convenience.

Steve, on the other hand, glares playfully at Eddie. “Seriously, not in front of our daughter.”

“Oh, please, don’t pretend she doesn’t know things.”

“I mean, yeah, but she doesn’t need to know things about us.”

“I really don’t,” their daughter agrees.

Eddie laughs before collapsing onto the seat beside Steve. Assessing the beads in front of him, Eddie collects a few and gets to work.

“Hey,” Steve whines, swatting Eddie’s hand away when he tries to steal one of his beads. “These are mine. You didn’t even get her approval.”

Eddie scoffs. “I don’t need her approval. She trusts me, right bug?”

Their daughter rolls her eyes, but nods. Eddie hoots victoriously before going back to his own bracelet. Steve shares a look of amusement with their daughter. One that says it’s better to let Eddie think he won than try to give him a set of rules to play by.

Many things have changed about Eddie over the years, but one thing that has remained the same is his disdain for other people’s rules — even if the rules are coming from his daughter.

When Steve tries to take a peek at what Eddie is working on a moment later, he gets a swift elbow to the ribs. “No peaking!”

Shaking his head, Steve gets back to his own bracelets. It’s a lot easier threading the beads when he grabs his glasses from the bedroom and he manages to finish two daughter-approved bracelets in the time it takes Eddie to finish whatever he’s been working on.

“Are you ready to see the best bracelet ever?” he asks, standing up with all the dramatics he had when he was thirty years younger.

Steve and their daughter nod, setting aside their own bracelets to look at Eddie’s creation.

A rainbow of beads, all different shapes and sizes surround a group of block letter beads that reads: Fuck Ticketmaster.

Steve laughs while their daughter smirks, shaking her head.

“It’s not a Taylor lyric, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Our bank account definitely agrees.”

“So will the Swifties, you’ll see!” Eddie says, reaching for another random set of beads to start another bracelet.

The three of them spend the rest of the afternoon making friendship bracelets. Well, Steve and their daughter do. Eddie continues making “Fuck Ticketmaster” and various other obscure and random bracelets. The highlights of which include a red beaded monstrosity with the word “scarf” on it and one that just says "Olive Garden."

Unfortunately for Steve and their daughter, Eddie’s unhinged bracelets are the biggest hit at the concert. He ends up trading all his bracelets before they even get into the stadium.

He doesn’t let them live it down, proclaiming himself the King of Friendship bracelets.

#something short sweet stupid and silly for this Saturday morning #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steddie dads #steddie hits their taylor swift era #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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mountedeverest · 5 months ago

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His pace (inspired by the 7x09 cutscene)

Rated E Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Thomas "Tommy" Kinard Fandom: 911 on ABC Words: 1.6k Enjoyyy~ rest of fic under the cut

“Were talking about your intentions.”

“Are they honorable?”

Tommy remembered the first night he slept over at Evan’s. It was right after the hospital wedding, Chim was feeling weary and the crowd shuffled out of the room-turned-wedding hall when Buck looked up at him, all twinkly-eyed and sheepish.

“You must be wiped. Y-you could stay at my place tonight, shower, sleep, no ulterior motives. I-I can lend you clothes.”

The ‘if you want’ hung back unspoken at the end, and Evan looked at him like a pleading puppy, unable – to the best of himself – to play it cool. Tommy just chuckled and closed his eyes for a second before answering that it sounded like a great idea. If Buck had had a tail he would’ve wagged it. Instead, he just leaned forward, wide toothy grin threatening to smash against Tommy’s own in a sweet but clumsy kiss.

That night, Tommy had laid down his turnouts at the door of Buck’s loft, while the younger firefighter wrestled with the noticeable full-body flush he was sporting. Tommy would never reveal his play, not even under duress, but he could admit that in that moment, he might’ve been trying some things, pushing some buttons. And he’d laugh, once out of the shower, at the clothes that Evan had laid out for him, which were perfectly fine… except for one white t-shirt that might’ve belonged to another, smaller version of Buck. He put it on nonetheless, the fabric almost see-through with the way it stretched over the swell of his muscles. He could probably tear the shirt if he flexed hard enough, Tommy thought.

Walking out of the bathroom, Tommy wagered that the shirt worked in his favor, as well as Evan’s, judging by the way the younger man was practically drooling on the floor.

“I think your shirt might be a tad small. Do you have another? Or- y’know, I could just go without. I… run hot at night.”

Evan just nodded vigorously, made faces and choked off sounds like he was trying to find his words, and Tommy grinned. It had been a while since he’d made a man go non-verbal.

“Right.” Tommy pulled the obscenely tight shirt off of himself while Buck watched, making sure to flex a little, drag it out just a little bit. “Where’s your couch?”

Buck looked dazed, stuck. His eyes were hazy and his cheeks were furiously red.

“Evan?” Tommy tried gently snapping him out of it.

“Uh? Uhh, don’t have one.”

Buck squirmed in his seat at the kitchen island, embarrassed.

“You don’t have a couch? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“Friend’s wife gave birth on the last one, haven’t gotten around to buying another one yet and umm…” Buck squirmed even harder then. “W-with me?”

Tommy softened, a lazy smile on his features. He was secretly fond, well, maybe not so secretly. That night, they slept each on one side of Buck’s enormous bed at first, and then slowly inched towards each other until they were spooning, Tommy’s face nestled in the crook of Evan’s neck as his big arms encircled the younger man. Tommy was out like a light, the weariness of the past 24 hours weighing on him finally. They stayed like that most of the night, until Buck inevitably starfished on the bed and Tommy moved snuggly on his back.

Now the night was innocent enough, it was the morning that took them one step further in the physical aspect of their relationship. Tommy had wanted to go at Evan’s pace, not rushing him into this frankly new territory he was now in. He didn’t account for the speed at which Evan was willing to go. He found that out pretty quickly, gasping his orgasm into Evan’s mouth as they jerked each other off in the massive bed.

From that moment on, everything kind of… snowballed.

They were together pretty much every time their shifts synced up. Three days after Tommy had slept over for the first time, they had gone to Maddie and Chimney’s to welcome the latter back home from the hospital and settle him in his home for the next few weeks as he recovered. They had said their goodbyes early as Chim was too tired from the meds and Maddie had to put Jee to bed. Barely thirty seconds through the door of Tommy’s house, Buck already had a dick in his mouth for the first time. And once Evan discovered he was good at something, he just wanted to do it over and over and over again.

One morning, after the whole Shannon-doppelganger-brownies debacle, Evan just walked out of Tommy’s shower and into his bedroom with intent and what seemed like frustration, demanding that Tommy finger him.

“Something’s missing when I do it.” Evan rasped, straddling Tommy and fishing in his bedside drawer knowing he’d find a bottle of lube there. He hadn’t even dried off before and water fell everywhere on the sheets and on Tommy, but the older man didn’t care.

“Your hands are so big.” Evan practically cried into his mouth as Tommy crooked a first finger inside of him. He was so pretty like this, all flushed and wanton and wet. Evan’s hair curled when it was wet, and Tommy liked it a lot. They ended up going up to three fingers, with Evan on his back begging and babbling. He came untouched.

Turns out Buck loved getting his ass played with. It wasn’t long before Tommy was fucking him in earnest. The first time they did, they couldn’t even make it to a bed.

“Fuck me here.” Evan had begged and commanded both at once, pressing his ass backwards into Tommy’s hard on. They had been sparring in Tommy’s garage, finally getting those Muay Thai lessons so enthusiastically promised. Sparring was a loose term in this case, as the actual sparring had only taken place for about ten minutes before it devolved into furious rutting and making out.

“Uh– baby, lube.” Tommy was wrecked. Even with the younger man pinned under him he didn’t have the upper hand. Evan had his chest pressed into the mat for leverage, a hand grabbing behind him into Tommy’s hair. It made Tommy’s head spin.

“First aid kit on the tool bench, every good kit has some.”

Buck had a point there, and indeed there was, Tommy remembered. A first responder was never off duty.

“Ahh–” Buck had just tugged harshly at Tommy’s hair while grinding up into him. “Condoms.”

“Do we need ‘em?” Evan had said practically on a whine. “We’ve swallowed each other’s cum enough already, I think one of us would’ve said something by now.”

Evan, enthusiastic in his newfound bisexuality, had gotten tested the day after their coffee date. Tommy, for his part, had a standing annual checkup which included STI testing. He hadn’t had any other partner between his last checkup and Evan.

“You sure?” Tommy checked in, he always checked in.

“Tommy, if you don’t fuck me into this mat right now I swear–” Buck was cut off by Tommy thrusting hard against his ass, grabbing his chin, and kissing the younger man filthily until Buck was a puddle under him.

“Hold tight.” Tommy pecked Evan’s temple where his birthmark was, and then he was gone. Seconds later, he returned with the lube which was not intended for sex, but would work just fine in a pinch.

Evan had dragged his shorts and briefs down with both hands while his cheek pressed into the floor, fingers fumbling in his haste. A finger quickly gave way to two, then three, and it wasn’t long before Evan begged for the main event.

That first slow thrust felt like sliding home. Buck was drooling into the mat; the prep had been done well and there was no resistance at all. Tommy bottomed out and Evan was already rocking shallowly against the older man, using his forearms as leverage. It had helped somewhat that Evan was regularly taking fingers, Tommy was not small in any way.

They were not gentle, as Evan coaxed Tommy into going harder and harder until Buck came with a keen and a hand in his hair. Evan squeezed around Tommy’s cock, chanting for him to come in me, please Tommy. And so he did, with a drawn out grunt, punched out of his gut with monster-truck force as his vision blurred. When he came to a few seconds later, the Evan under him had drool on his chin, cum dripping out of his ass, and a deeply sated grin on his face. Brat.

Evan had turned on his back and dragged Tommy down for kisses. They must have stayed like that for at least twenty minutes, just lazing about in the afterglow. At one point, Buck’s stomach grumbled and Tommy proposed a shower and a bite which Buck agreed to easily, even if that meant breaking apart for the time it took them to get to the bathroom.

Tommy remembered fondly, thinking about all the times that came after that, and all of the places it happened too. Just this morning, before the medal ceremony, Evan had climbed on top of him and ridden him while Tommy was halfway into putting on his dress blues.

“Tonight, medals stay on.” Evan had said breathlessly against Tommy’s mouth as he took him like a pro, completely naked against the older, much more clothed man.

Tommy smiled internally.

“I’m wearing a medal.”

Okay. The big sisters were going to need more than just jokes. Just went to show how well Evan was loved.

“We are taking it very slow.” Lie. “In fact, I’m letting him set the pace–” Tommy tried not to look smug as he could see Hen trying to fight off a grin. That part was very true, but not nearly as much as the next. “–and I’m just trying to keep up.”

NP tags ~ @tizniz @hippolotamus

#bucktommy #911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #fanfiction #mim writes #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fanfic

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months ago

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Inn Love Chapter 3

one two

cw: money issue talks, feelings of failure, james and reader being in love and idiots, a little angst (?) friends to lovers

wc: 2.6

“It’s not looking good,” you mutter to Mary, head in your hands as you go over the accounts one more time.

“It’s the off season, we’ll find something else to do.”

She’s too kind, too understanding. You wish she’d blow up at you and quit for not being able to pay her on time.

You sigh, long and hard. You have to figure it out. The Secret Garden is your baby, and even though this is your second year owning it, you’ve still not figured out how to supplement the off season so you make a profit.

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to.

“We might have to. How do you feel about starting up line dancing lessons for a little bit? Just until I figure it out?”

Mary grins, nodding her head. “I’ve missed it some. Won’t exactly be hard to get back into.”

Mary’s the best worker you have. The only one you have really, but she’s still the best.

You close up your books, and double check that all the rooms have been checked out of and begin locking up.

James is waiting for you on your front steps, hat tipped low as he leans against one of the beams.

“Hey Jamie, didn’t know you were stopping by.”

You try for chipper, a smile in your voice as you hold your tote bag on your shoulder.

“Wanted to see if you wanted to get lunch with me.”

You pause, reaching right in front of him. It’s instant, the way a frown fights for the space of your smile. It’s also instant the way James notices.

“What’s wrong?” He takes your bag from you, leading you to his truck.

“Nothing. Where are we getting lunch?”

James frowns a little bit, but doesn’t press. “Had Chinese dropped off to the house, got all your favourites.”

You grin, James does this a lot and it makes your stomach flip every time.

“Meet you there?”

James frowns again, then shrugs. “Yeah, darling.”

You double back to your own truck, James setting your bag in the bench seat.

You watch James pull out first and take a moment to collect all your worry and all your anxiety and stuff it deep in your chest, burying it with a bit of hay before sighing.

You can’t let James see you’re worried or anxious, he’ll sniff the information out of you and if you tell James then you’d have failed.

The first year it was understandable, the second year; you’re not sure you could tell the person who helped you build the inn from the ground up that you’ve been having months of money troubles.

You pull up behind James, sliding out of your car and racing him to the front door.

“You still cheat.” he says with a smile, you shrug while pushing open the door. Inside James’ house, you’d think it was hot, all the southern heat trapped in the walls, but it’s always cool.

He’d explained it to you once, the stone and wood kept it cool, but also he had put in a central air con to maintain the chill.

“I got shorter legs than you James, it’d never be fair.”

James shakes his head, following you to his dining table where all the boxes are already laid out.

“How much noodles am I allowed?” James rolls his eyes. You always eat most of it and he always gets you your own box because why deprive you of your favourite thing?

James doesn’t think there’s actually anything he could deprive you of.

“Does lack of sleep mess with your memory?”

You grin when he passes you an entire box, and then the rest of what you usually like.

As you eat, the talking kind of subsides, which is weird by yours and James’ standards.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?” He asks when you migrate to the living room, laying out long on his sofa while he sits with your feet in his lap.

“What do you mean, Jamie?” You try hard not to stiffen your body as you respond.

He sighs, hands squeezing the arches of your feet. “I dunno, something feels wrong. Like you feel down.”

God you could cry right now. James has always been in tune to you like this, as you are with him, but it sometimes gets to be too much because lying to your best friend hurts. Especially when he can tell something is off.

“Just tired I guess.” you shrug one of your shoulders. James hums but doesn’t say anything and you feel guilt like a hot poker in your stomach.

You wiggle your toes in his lap and his hands fall back to massaging them.

“Wanna watch ‘How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days’?”

James never has to ask twice.

You don’t mean to, but you and James fall asleep right there on his sofa. Some time during the night you’ve shifted, he’s laying under you and your head is on part of his chest with your legs tangled up.

The only reason you wake up is because James’ alarm is blaring and you’ve got the worst crick in your neck.

“Make it stop,” you grumble, hiding your face in his chest as he stretches. It’s comfortable even for friends, the way James holds onto your waist as he leans over you to grab his phone.

“Shit, s’nearly four. You gotta go darling.”

You’d lasted nearly a whole three minutes without thinking about the fact that The Secret Garden wasn’t doing well.

Almost awkwardly, which is strange for you and James, you sit up. As you stretch all your joints crack and you sigh where James winces. He’s always hated how you can just crack your bones like that- he worries you’ll break them one day.

“Nah I got the day off.”

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “So the TSG is closed today?”

You wish your friend wouldn’t ask so many questions. Lying to him is hard work.

“Mary’s running the morning shift today.” James looks a little sceptical but drops it, making his way to the stairs.

“M’gonna get ready. You staying on the ranch then?”

You nod, what else is there for you to do? Plus if you use your ‘day off’ to be anywhere but the ranch, say going job hunting or to the bank, your quiet little town will somehow have your going-ons back to James in no time.

“Heat up breakfast and I’ll make us coffee.” James is back down in ten minutes, showered and changed into his wranglers, a thin white t-shirt and his work boots.

You’re sure you’ve got yours around here somewhere.

James and you work like a well greased machine, making breakfast and coffee and doing the dishes all in one go.

He tilts his head to the screen door in the kitchen that leads to his side porch.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me and then go round do some ranch chores?”

“Still got my boots in the coat closet?” you ask and James rolls his eyes.

“When has anything of yours left this house? You’re everywhere in here.” His gaze is too intense for you to laugh it off. It also makes you feel like you’ve caged race horses in your stomach and they’re butting their fences.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Jamie.” is all you can manage before going in search of your boots.

James doesn’t think it’s a bad thing at all. Honestly, he wishes there were more of you in his house; he’s just not sure if saying that to you will cost him everything.

Shoving your feet into the boots you sigh, then take a peek out at the sky and shiver. “I’m taking a coat.”

“Take anything you want.”

This is why you can’t tell James about your money troubles. He’s going to give you anything to turn it around, but you’re not sure if anything he can give will. You also can’t use him anymore than you already do.

“Race you to the stables!” James takes off before you can even put down your empty mug.

“You’re such a cheater!” You whine as you race behind him, his laugh floating back to you as you reach the stable doors.

“Takes one to know one,” he says playfully, causing you to roll your eyes.

James holds the door open for you and as soon as you get in you head for Snowglobe.

“My baby,” you coo, already kissing the side of his face while James lets his own horse, Landslide, out.

“You’d swear he wasn’t nearly twenty three.”

“Don’t remind me Jamie.” you grab a brush and go through the usual maintenance just as James does with his horse.

“We’re riding up to the fences to check on the horses, then we’re feeding them.” James talks about his day like it’s easy, but you remember the hard work that goes into ranching. You’ve got your work cut out for you, and you’re not even doing the hard stuff like moving hay or any of that.

“Lead the way, Cowboy.”

After a couple hours, you go back to the big house and take a shower, well and truly exhausted. James wouldn’t let you haul hay, so you’d been feeding the animals, cleaning the stables and doing a bit of general cleaning up around the ranch while he and his farmhands mended parts of the fence, herded the cows and hauled the dried heaps of hay.

By the time James comes in, you’re halfway through preparing dinner- beef stew.

“I would’ve cooked after my shower, darling.” James says as he hangs up his hat and boots.

“Yeah, but now by the time you come back down, we can eat together.”

James frowns again, you’ve never been away from TSG for this long since it’s been opened and it’s worrying him that you won’t talk to him about it.

If he’s honest, you haven’t gushed about the inn since you left it yesterday- which is very unlike you. That place is your pride and joy and everyone knows it. Especially James.

He holds his tongue on his worry and nods.

“I’ll be back in ten.”

Through dinner, you’re on your phone, checking your accounts, trying to see where you can make more money or if you’ll have to do the one thing you don’t want to.

After your sixth sigh in ten minutes, James sets his cutlery down and reaches a hand for you.

“Darling, I know you said it’s nothing, but it’s clearly not. Can you tell me what’s wrong, please?”

Before you can answer, Sirius bursts through James’ house.

“Did you see TSG’s been closed all day? Wonder if everything’s okay.”

You freeze in your seat when James turns to you with wide eyes and a slack jaw.

Sirius coughs to dispel his embarrassment. “Sorry doll face. But why are you closed? Is everything alright?”

You can’t even be upset with Sirius because for all of his faults, he’s always concerned about you. He feels very much like an older brother in that way, even when he’s giving you shit.

You rest your head on the table and sigh.

“Don’t be upset Jamie,” you start, slow and more than a little nervous. You don’t know how you’ll feel if James is angry with you. You don’t want to feel like a failure to him. You don’t want to fail yourself even more.

“I think I’m gonna have to close the inn.”

Sirius gasps, James frowns. “Forever or for a while?”

You lift your head, “For a while. I’m not sure how long. I’ve got to go over the account but we’re not making a profit right now.”

“Darling,” he says at the same time Sirius swears.

Tears spring in your eyes. “I know, it hasn’t been making profit or any sort of money for a couple months but I thought it would pick up again, but I guess late summer is not our season.”

James stands quickly when your first tear falls and Sirius ruffles your head.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, it happens. I can help you work through it.” You shake your head at James’ proposal.

“You helped me start it up and I can’t even keep it running through the entire year. I can’t expect you to help me every year that I have a slow period.”

Sirius tuts, “You could always sell your bakes in the off time, dollface.”

James wipes your tears away, “I can still help. I don’t mind helping out.”

You shake your head. Sirius seems to get it before James does, and what it is you’re trying to say.

“No Jamie, I think maybe working on the ranch or doing a little baking on the side would be good. Right doll?”

You nod, “I don’t wanna keep using you Jamie.”

James tuts, tilting your chin up. Sirius takes his cue and goes into the kitchen, looking through James’ pantry.

“You don’t use me. You’ve never used me.” It’s hard to argue with James when he speaks with such conviction but you know you have.

“But I did. When I was opening up TSG, it was you helping me.”

James smiles then, “Yeah I helped, darling. It was a mutual thing. We’re friends, of course I helped you. And I can help again, but if you want to do this part on your own, I’d get it.”

James wipes your tears, gentle and sweet as ever. “I need to go do a final closing for the season and set some things in place, but can I stay here in the meantime?” You force the words out, soft and whispered against the space between you and James.

“You can stay here as long as you like,”

“Thanks Jamie.”

He shrugs, dimple poking out in his cheek as he smiles at you. “You’re always welcome darling, c’mon I’ll drive you to TSG and help with lock up.”

As it turns out, telling James you’d been struggling wasn’t that bad. It was hard and you’d felt like a failure for a little bit, but he talked good sense into you and now you’re staying with him till the start of autumn.

“I can work the ranch, Jamie.” You proposed on your second night on his sofa.

“You cannot work the entire ranch.” James wasn’t even being funny about it either. You really can’t. You get cut up easily and you blister worse than he does.

“Okay, I can work the stables.”

James rolls his eyes good naturedly, tossing a bit of popcorn at you. You’d both been watching a new horror that James had seen advertising. Watching is a generous word because you both talk through all the dull parts and you squeeze his fingers in anxiety during the freaky parts.

“As opposed to?”

You giggle, “Hey, I can work the garden or help milk the cows.”

James chuckles then, his dimple on display making you want to poke your finger in it. “Same cows you’re afraid of? You can work the stables darling, you know your way around it.”

You squeal, leaning up and closer to James to kiss his cheek. You love doing it because James goes red hot and can’t stop his flush. Even as kids he’d go beet red the minute you gave him a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re the best James. The best ever.”

He grins, “I’m glad you finally noticed.” The pillow behind your head whacks him in the face as you groan.

“That was yuck, don’t ever say that again.” James laughs through your disgust, slotting your pillow behind your back again and holding your feet in his lap as the horror builds.

#cowboy!james #cowboy!james potter #jamespotter #james potter #james potter one shot #james potter oneshot #james potter imagine #james potter drabble #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x reader #james potter x black reader #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter x yn #james potter x y/n

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logansargeantsbabymom · 7 months ago

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Too Good To Say Goodbye pt3

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader, Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

warnings: cursing, more shit talking

part 1 I part 2 I part 3 I part 4 I part 5 I part 6 I part 7 I part 8 I part 9 I part 10

F1 Masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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“I’m sorry mate, WHO SAID THAT?!” all sense of calmness decimated from Lando’s demeanor.

Everyone’s gaze bouncing between Lando, Logan, Zak and Me. The only thought in my mind throughout this whole altercation ‘Where did Zak get that I wanted Logan back’

Zak’s face went pale as he obviously wasn’t expecting to be outed like this. “N-no that-that’s not wuh-what I- We just had a conversation about their daughter and she”

The glare of Lando’s face was enough for Zak to stop talking. Zak knew he was in the wrong for butting into something that had nothing to do with him.

“You have NO RIGHT to talk to my girlfriend about how she lives her life! We're happy and that's all you should care about!" Lando should've known better than to yell at his CEO but Zak was way past overstepping a boundary and Lando was having none of it. "C'mon mate! I won't my first grand prix, I'm supposed to be out here celebrating with my lovely girlfriend and the rest of you guys and YOU'RE RUINING IT ZAK!"

The whole bar now is paying attention to the incident happening. People are whipping out their phones to record the whole thing, some even try to crowd around us hoping to provoke a fight between the two.

"DAMN BRO, YOU GON LET A BRIT TAKE YO PREGNANT GIRL? I WOULDN'T TAKE THAT SHIT IF I WAS YOU" some random dude yelled, phone in hand recording with the flash on further aggravating Lando

"Mate, this has nothing to do with you so just walk away." Lando said smacking the phone out of the random dude's hand, which then prompted him to start swinging in Lando's direction.

The guy was fairly tipsy so instead of any of the punches he's thrown landing on Lando, the guy lost his footing resulting none of his punches landing on me and THAT prompted Lando to start throwing hands with him too.

A crowd quickly formed around us, everyone was so busy trying to get the best angle for this bar fight laid out in front of them that none of them realized that they were literally trapping a just about 8 1/2 month pregnant woman in a sea of people.

The grid was too busy trying to pull Lando off the guy but once one guy got hit they started swinging until another one of the drunk guys friends jumped in and then it became a big mob mess. Some of the WAGS that were there retreated out of the bar, before realizing that a very much pregnant Y/N was not with them.

"GUYS! WHERE'S Y/N??" Alex shouted looking around hoping she just missed her and that she was out here safe and not in the middle of a literal bar fight.

After no one seemed to have an eye on Y/N, Alex peaked inside the window of the bar in hopes of finding Y/N before she gets trampled. No more than 15 seconds of peaking through the glass, Alex spots Y/N and the big crowd of drunken men fighting around her.

Back on the inside of the bar, I'm surrounded by men throwing punches and I'm trying so hard to not get hit again. I feel a hand pulling on my arm which prompt me to whip my head to see who it is.

"C'mon Y/N/N, you're gonna get hit again, it's not safe. Not for you and our daughter." I turn and see Logan attempting to shield me with his body as he yanks me up and protects me as he's guiding me to a safer part of the bar, pulling out a stool so I could sit down and he could evaluate whether or not I had an injury. Before I could even sit down on the stool, I feel a gush of wetness between my legs.

My eyes widen in horror as I look down at the mess I’ve just made as a contraction hits me “OH MY GODDD. NOT NOWWWWW” I hurl over in pain as Logan places both of his arms around me to steady me.

“Okay pretty girl, we have to get you to the hospital. let’s go, nice slow steps” Logan says as he rubs the small of my back, before looking back at Lando still mid fight.

Alex, who was watching my every movement like a hawk, quickly opens the bar door “OMG YOUR WATER BROKE? GET IN MY CAR” Alex and Logan both guided me into the “LILY, GO GET LANDO AND MEET US AT THIS HOSPITAL”

I was sat in the back seat with Logan as he was helping me breathe through my contractions and letting me squeeze his hand when the pain became too much.

I’ve been in active labor for 2 hours which means with every contraction I think ‘this is it. babygirl is coming right now’ and each time it’s a false alarm. Something about this contraction felt different, Logan could sense it too given that the way I squeezed his hand for this contraction was very much different from the ones prior.

Although this is my second time giving birth, this one felt so much more different then when I was giving birth to my son. After an excruciatingly long 2 minutes of this contraction I heard the door burst open and in runs a sweaty, bruised/cut open nose Lando with the facial expressions reading “please don’t tell me you had her already”

“I didn’t have her, don’t you worry. I would’ve kiAHHHHHHHH LOGAN SHES COMING. SOMEONE GET THE NURSE, I CAN FEEL HER COMING” in one swift motion Logan helps me sit up and breathe through this contraction while Lando yells for a L&D (labor & delivery) nurse.

“Hi honey, she shouldn’t be coming yet but let’s see how dial- OH MY GOSH HALF HER BODY IS O-” the poor nurse tried to be so calm and nice about this but when she lifted up the blanket she was met with my baby halfway out of my body and in one last push, mine and Logan’s daughter was born.

The sound of a silence filled room which triggered me, reminding me too much of the scene I had to endure 2 years ago but before I could scream and question what was wrong with my daughter, a beautiful cry ended up filling a once silent room.

Exhaustion hit me in waves and I plopped back to rest, closing my eyes before I feel lips on my forehead.

“Thank you so much for bringing my babygirl into this world. You’re so strong. I love you so much.” Logan murmurs against my temple which causes Lando to get very upset but given the circumstances, he lets it slide.

“Okay mom, here’s your little precious bundle of joy” my nurse, Kinley whispers as she hands me my baby.

One look at her and you can tell she’s Logan’s daughter, she’s a spitting image of her dad. Blonde hair, green eyes, she even has light freckles.

“What do you want to name her Logan?” I whisper, almost afraid that if I speak any louder that this’ll all fade and I’d be that once empty, soulless mess I was.

“Yelena Ivy Sargeant” I can’t believe that Logan remembered the name I had chosen when I thought our first pregnancy was a girl, I’d only mentioned the name twice before we found out he was a boy

“you remembered” a sigh escapes my lips as I look intensely in his eyes

“I never forgot, that name made you so happy.” one of Logan’s hands found a place on my cheek before silently asking for permission to hold his daughter, which I gracefully handed her over.

“What do you think about her name Lando?” I ask as I turn my head to my boyfriend who’s stood on the opposite side of bed than Logan is.

“I have no say because that’s yours and Logan’s decision but for what it’s worth, I think it’s a beautiful name” Lando’s lips find a place on my temple while a hand strokes my hair “hey i’m gonna step outside and let them know that little miss Yelena Ivy is now apart of the family” lando places one more quick kiss on my forehead before grabbing one of my hands, kissing it too and leaving.

After Lando left, the room fell in a comfortable silence. Just Logan, Yelena and Me enjoying each other’s company.

“she’s so beautiful” Logan whispers as he plants a small, delicate kiss on the top of her head

“she looks just like you” I smile, the first genuine smile I’ve given Logan in lord knows how many months and he smiles right back at me before gently bouncing Yelena as she coos.

As I looked in Logan’s eyes when he smiled back at me before he turned his attention back to our baby, something felt different.

I wish I could capture this moment in time right here, where everything felt so right, so normal. Nothing could ruin this moment, not when I felt like I had it all. A well paying job, my daughter, a man who loved both of us unconditionally, and for a moment i did have it all except for the fact that Logan and I weren’t together anymore and that one fact did ruin the moment.

When Logan handed Yelena back to me, he whispered “You’ve given me the greatest gift anyone could’ve ever given me and I will spend eternity trying to right my wrongs and win you back, even if it’s not relationship wise, I can’t have my daughters mother, the love of my life mad at me forever” tears welled up in my eyes as one thought crossed my mind when he mentioned ‘the love of my life’

why did my heart just flutter?

HOPE YOU ENJOYED <3333333

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal

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perotovar · 2 months ago

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this protector — oneshot

moodboard by me

pairing: dieter bravo x din djarin rating: E (18+) content: slight angst, mostly fluff and smut, weed, dry humping, heavy makeouts, unprotected p in a, anal fingering word count: 3.1k dividers: @/saradika-graphics beta: @for-a-longlongtime (ily)

a/n: written for @burntheedges 's Roll-A-Trope! i got "dieter + only one bed". apologies for this being a couple days late! 🥺

summary: dieter and his bodyguard, din, get the wrong hotel room. i wonder what happens...

masterlist | follow @oakslibrary and turn on notifs ♥

“I don’t see an issue.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to make the best of the situation!” Dieter exclaimed, planting himself on the lone bed in the hotel room then flopping onto his back.

Dieter’s bodyguard, Din, felt like he’d aged ten years in the last five minutes. He exhaled a heavy breath and watched the actor’s form carefully.

“Besides, it’s not like I’m taking this threat seriously. I get death threats on social media all the time,” Dieter scoffed, sitting up to cross his legs on the mattress.

Din blinked, looked toward the ceiling, and rolled his eyes. “I wish you’d take this one a little more seriously. They had addresses.” Din made his way to the table in the corner of the room and removed his backpack, taking out his supplies for the evening. His hands brushed over the cool metal of his sidearm at the bottom of the pack. Hopefully he won't need it this evening.

“We’ll be fine,” Dieter groaned, rolling across the bed to ungracefully get back onto his feet. “I’m gonna take a bath, go ahead and do whatever it is you do!” The hotel bathroom door slammed shut shortly after, leaving Din in the room alone.

“I’ll be calling the hotel staff because they didn’t give us the right room,” Din grumbled, punching the numbers on the room’s phone.

Dieter was more worried than he let on, but he knew he’d be okay. Din was his personal bodyguard and had been longer than anyone else. Dieter knew he could be a lot for some people, but he was glad to see Din’s professional stoicism outlasted any personal issues he may have had.

Resting in the hotel bathtub with some 90s R&B playing quietly from his phone, Dieter exhaled a heavy breath and shut his eyes.

The threat came from an account that had his own face as their profile picture. He knew his fandom was just as weird as he was, but he didn’t think they’d threaten his life or his career like that. Unless the person was pretending to be a fan of his. Somehow, they knew which hotel he’d be staying in and where the film would be shooting, so he had to have Din attached at his hip at all times. Not that he was complaining, Din was hot as fuck.

Who was he kidding, Din had never given Dieter the indication that he ever wanted to sleep with him. Did that hurt Dieter’s feelings a little? Obviously, but he wasn’t going to let anyone know that.

After spending long enough to prune up in the tub, Dieter got out, wrapping a towel around his waist.

When Dieter came back into the hotel room, Din was focused on his phone, typing away.

Sometimes, when whatever upper he’d taken earlier in the day had worn off, Dieter would come back down to his normally introverted self. He quietly made his way to his bag and put on some pajama pants and comfy socks. He decided against wearing a shirt tonight.

“Hotel won’t give us a room with another bed,” Din sighed, looking away from his phone and setting it down on the table next to him. “They say all the rooms are booked for the next couple of weeks.”

“Oh,” Dieter hummed quietly, pulling out a baggy of weed and his favorite pipe.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

Dieter frowned as he cracked open the hotel window. Crawling onto the bed, he got all the pieces necessary laid out in front of him. “You don’t have to do that,” he said softly.

Din’s face was always hard to read, but it was especially so now. “Are you suggesting we both sleep in the bed… together?”

Dieter took a hit, held it for a moment, then exhaled. The smoke hovered around him as he shrugged noncommittally. “Why not? I’m not going to… do anything to you so,” he coughed.

Din blinked, his eyes softening slightly. “I didn’t think you would, I just… I figured it would be unprofessional.”

Dieter’s head started to feel a little lighter, fuzzier, and that made him chuckle. “Yeah, because that’s so easy with me,” he rolled his eyes, taking another hit.

“True,” Din huffed and stood to take out his own pajamas from his pack. “I’m going to change in the bathroom.”

The bathroom door was shut before Dieter could protest.

Everything Din did was efficient. His nightly routine took exactly twelve minutes, but this time he stayed in the bathroom for three minutes more.

Sleeping in the same bed with Dieter, technically his boss, wasn’t how he was planning to finish his evening. He knew Dieter, probably better than most people, so he knew the actor was harmless.

But Dieter had this boyish charm to him that Din couldn’t fucking resist. He couldn’t believe he voiced that he was worried about things being unprofessional. He wasn’t worried about Dieter breaking any unspoken rules, but himself.

Din always kept a respectful, professional distance between him and the Oscar-winner and it worked for him. He hated that he fell for Dieter’s charms like so many others. The only difference was that they all had just an idea of who Dieter was, whereas Din knew his true self.

Dieter’s true self was sweet, shy. Definitely eccentric and weird, but he had an incredible sense of humor and great taste in music. Din wasn’t very good at… people, or talking, so he never really engaged in Dieter’s excited rants about things, but he always appreciated them from the sidelines.

A knock on the bathroom door startled Din out of his thoughts.

“Hey, are you done in there? I gotta pee so bad!”

Din couldn’t stop the smirk from growing on his face.

An hour later, Din was laying on the bed close to the edge with the hotel blankets covering him from the waist down. He was checking in with Dieter’s manager and signing off for the evening. Dieter was curled up next to him a respectful distance away.

“Hey, Din?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry,” Dieter mumbled.

Din plugged his phone in and set it down, looking back at the actor with a frown. “What for?”

Dieter sighed. “Making you share a bed with me, I know it’s not… I know you probably don’t want to.”

“You didn’t make me do anything, Dieter,” Din said softly. “Besides, this is my job. If anything, I can guard you easier from here.”

A flicker of sadness crossed Dieter’s features before he chuckled humorlessly. “True. G’night, Din,” he mumbled, turning onto his side away from Din and turning the lamp off.

Din bit his lip in thought, but ultimately didn’t push anything. “Goodnight, Dieter.”

3:37 AM

Din has always been a light sleeper, but especially so when on the job. So, when he hears Dieter moaning and groaning in his sleep, it doesn’t take much for Din’s eyes to open.

Dieter was often very cuddly, but he always kept a respectful distance from Din. Din supposed that changed once he was asleep, because it wasn’t long before Dieter was curling his arms and legs around the guard’s entire body and squeezing tightly.

Dieter made a satisfied hum in his sleep and cuddled closer, resting his head on Din’s broad chest.

Din froze, then subtly moved his arms so it was more comfortable. The actor made a quiet noise in his sleep, making Din watch him carefully. Dieter’s hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions. Din thought it was adorable, and before he could stop himself, tangled his fingers into the thick curls.

“Mm, keep doing that,” grumbled Dieter, voice thick with sleep.

Din froze, tugging on Dieter’s curls in the process. A quiet gasp left Dieter’s lips, making the actor lift his head to blearily look at his bodyguard.

“Wha’ y’ doin’?” Dieter slurred, rubbing a big hand over his face.

Din’s face was like stone, but he blinked rapidly as his cheeks warmed. “Um. Y-you were cuddled close and it woke me up,” he whispered.

“Ohh, sorry. I can move–”

“No, it’s okay. Just– Just go back to sleep, Dieter.”

Dieter furrowed his brows, assessing Din’s motives before a smirk grew on his face like he’d just clocked Din from across the room. He saluted Din sleepily and giggled. “Sir, yes sir!”

Din rolled his eyes, but smiled to himself when Dieter rested his head on his chest again.

“You’re warm,” Dieter hummed. It wasn’t long before he was snoring again.

Din snorted and shut his eyes. “Thank you.”

Din woke up at 6:30 every morning. It would be a miracle if Dieter got out of bed before 10am. Thankfully it was a day off, so Dieter didn’t have anywhere important to be for once.

Even though Din’s eyes were open and he was awake, he didn’t move. Couldn’t move, actually.

Dieter was clinging to him and subtly, well, humping Din’s thigh. There was no way Dieter was fully conscious.

Din took a deep breath and steeled himself. He looked down and the sight before him was probably one of the most erotic things he’d seen in a while.

All in Dieter’s sleep, the actor was rolling his hips against Din’s muscular thigh and burying his face into the bodyguard’s torso, mouthing at the thin material of the shirt. Din was sure if he weren’t wearing anything, there’d be a hickey on his chest.

“Mm,” Dieter moaned quietly.

Din blinked, then looked towards the growing bulge in his own pajama pants.

“Dieter,” Din whispered. When the actor didn’t respond, Din tried again, voice sharper.

”Huh? What, what happened?” Dieter stirred awake, eyes still mostly closed.

”Um, y-you…” Din gulped, unsure how to say anything. This was probably the least composed he’d ever been on a job.

Dieter squinted at him, trying to figure out what was wrong. When he felt something twitch against his leg, he looked down, then froze. Dieter slowly looked back up, but never removed himself, his leg still curled around Din’s waist.

“You, uh…” Dieter cleared his throat, a shy smile gracing his features. “You want some help with that?”

Din’s eyes widened as his mouth opened and closed like a fish.

Dieter giggled, leaned over, and kissed the bodyguard languidly. Din made a noise in the back of his throat, but slowly melted into it, kissing the actor back. Dieter hummed happily, crawling onto Din’s lap properly.

”I have lube, gimme a sec,” Dieter breathed and nipped Din’s bottom lip. He quickly got up from the bed and tossed his pajama pants to the floor, leaving him stark naked in the hotel room as he dug through his bag for the lube.

”D-Dieter, wait, this isn’t—“

”Do you not want to?” Dieter asked, standing over his bag, hard cock protruding proudly from between his legs and lube in hand.

Din blushed. He looked away for a second and asked whatever god above that would listen to make this not weird afterwards. He exhaled a heavy breath, and turned back to the actor.

”I do.”

Dieter felt like his face would split in two from smiling so hard.

They’d been making out for what felt like hours. Din’s cock was starting to throb between them. Dieter had removed Din’s pajamas like he was a piece of precious art and Din wasn’t sure how to react to that.

”Din, please, I’m ready,” Dieter pouted, humping Din’s thigh impatiently.

Din chuckled and nodded. “Alright,” he paused, holding Dieter’s pudgy hips. “Hand me the lube, please.”

Dieter grinned and leaned over, passing the bottle to Din’s strong hands. Din drizzled a generous amount onto his two middle fingers before pulling the actor closer to him. The sensitive heads of their cocks brushed against each other, making Dieter gasp weakly, and Din hiss in pleasure.

”C’mere,” Din grunted, pressing Dieter’s chest against his own so the actor’s ass was poking out and slightly spread from how he was sitting. “Relax for me,” he whispered.

The first press of Din’s middle finger against Dieter’s rim had the actor’s eyes rolling into the back of his head. The temperature difference between the lube and Din’s warm body had him shuddering hard.

“That’s it,” Din hummed, pressing his middle finger inside to the second knuckle.

”F-fuck—!” Dieter gasped, his face buried in Din’s neck.

”Mhm,” the bodyguard grinned, slowly working Dieter up to a second finger. It wasn’t long before Din was pumping his two middle fingers inside Dieter’s tight hole, the lewd squelch from the lube nearly echoing off the hotel walls.

Dieter moaned, rolling his hips back against Din’s fingers as he tried to fuck himself on the thick digits. His eyes were half-lidded and his cheeks were flushed, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the handsome, competent bodyguard underneath him.

His cock oozed pre-cum onto Din’s belly, the head flushed a deep red color. “Want you… inside me,” Dieter panted, biting his lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

Din watched Dieter closely, fucking his fingers at a steady pace. “That what you want?” He asked, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried his best to keep a cool head, but Dieter could tell from the sweating beeding at his temples that he was holding back a lot. The actor wanted to see him let go for once.

”Y-yes. Please, Din,” Dieter pleaded, leaning over to kiss the guard’s neck tenderly.

”Alright,” Din groaned, slapping one of Dieter’s cheeks, but not enough to leave a mark. Maybe next time, Dieter thought. “Get up. You wanna ride me?”

Dieter’s cock twitched hard between them. “God, yes, more than anything,” he groaned.

Din got comfy against the pillows and squeezed Dieter’s thighs. “Go slow, okay? I don’t…” He bit his lip in thought. “Don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

A crooked smile grew on Dieter’s face. “This ain’t my first rodeo, cowboy,” he winked. Dieter knee-walked until Din’s shaft was nestled between his ass. He hummed at the feeling and relished in Din’s big hands on his hips and thighs, but he could tell Din was a little nervous.

Dieter cupped Din’s face and kissed him properly, easing Din down from whatever ledge he’d led himself to. “I’ll be okay,” he whispered, lifting his hips. He reached between his legs and slowly, carefully sank down onto Din’s cock.

A punched-out groan left Din’s lips at the tight heat enveloping him. He breathed hard, closing his eyes. Dieter smiled, his chest heaving as his body grew accustomed to the stretch.

”It’s… It’s been a while, gimme a sec,” Din wheezed, pressing his head into the pillows underneath him.

Dieter hummed happily and ran his hands over Din’s strong chest. He did this often enough that his body was already starting to relax. This particular stretch though, knowing it was Din’s cock inside him, had Dieter going a little lightheaded.

Din nodded and looked up at him. “Okay,” he smiled shyly. “I’m ready.”

”Good, because I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” Dieter smirked. He lifted his hips and slammed them back down, making himself moan out loud.

Din joined him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and lips parted in shock.

Before either of them knew it, Dieter was treating Din like his favorite dildo, fucking himself like his life depended on it. He rode Din’s cock lewdly, his own dick bouncing between them and covering their skin with pre-cum.

Dieter tossed his head back as Din’s cock hit his prostate. “Mm, fuck,” Dieter giggled, resting his weight onto his hands on Din’s chest. He rolled his hips, watching Din’s fucked out face closely.

”Fuck,” Din breathed. “You’re so…”

Dieter’s breath hitched a little and he smiled, wrapping his arms around Din’s neck. He kissed the bodyguard’s cheek. “So what, huh?” He teased.

Din groaned and gripped onto Dieter’s pudgy hips tightly, digging his nails in. “C’mere,” he growled, planting his feet onto the mattress to get better leverage. He lifted Dieter’s body enough so he could fuck up into the actor’s body.

Dieter moaned out loud, throwing his head back. Din set a punishing pace, fucking Dieter hard. “D-Din! Fuck,” he gasped. He could feel the weight on his tummy and thighs jiggle with each of Din’s thrusts and it made him blush all the way down to his chest.

A loud smack broke through the heavy, sweaty air as Din lost himself in the pleasure. Dieter felt a sting on his left ass cheek and it made him bite his lip.

“I’m gonna c-come, Din,” Dieter whimpered, feeling his cock throbbing between their bodies.

“Good,” Din growled again, holding Dieter’s soft body close against his hard one. “Come for me,” he panted, not letting up on the pace he had.

Dieter whimpered into Din’s neck and stilled, coming hard over Din’s chest and tummy. He moaned weakly in the aftershocks as Din followed the waves with his thrusts.

Dieter deflated against the bodyguard’s broad chest, catching his breath. Din pet his hair, moving the sweaty curls off his forehead. “Did so good,” he hummed happily. Dieter’s eyes lit up with the praise and it made his head go a little fuzzy.

”Now you. Wanna suck you off,” Dieter decided, voice full of determination. He was down there between Din’s legs before he could protest.

Dieter hummed appreciatively and curled his fingers around the thick shaft, lightly tapping the head against his tongue

”Jesus, Dieter,” Din groaned, hips bucking slightly. Dieter engulfed him in one fluid motion, bobbing his head in a steady rhythm. Din moaned, arching his back off the mattress. His fingers tangled through Dieter’s curls and tugged hard. Dieter whimpered, his whole body shivering in response.

His cock twitching heavily and before he could warn Dieter, Din came hard down the actor’s throat. Dieter moaned in shock, but swallowed everything down happily.

Dieter lifted his head off of Din’s cock with a lewd suck and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He grinned and crawled up the bed to cuddle against Din’s chest. “We’re doing that again.”

Din laughed low in his chest. “Not anytime soon, gimme a minute,” he chuckled.

Suddenly, the hotel room phone started ringing, startling them out of their afterglow. “I got it,” Dieter said, standing next to the bed and answering quietly. He hummed along in response to the hotel clerk before saying, “Oh, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” He hung up shortly after.

”What was that?” Din asked, stretching his body like a lazy cat against the sheets.

”Oh, a room with two beds opened up,” Dieter said, jumping back onto the bed.

Din blinked, his brain slowly catching up with itself. A smile slowly grew on his face when he realized Dieter turned it down.

“C’mere, you.”

Dieter giggled as Din pulled him close.

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