#hate that i let this drag on so long you can go to hell
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here-am-i-sitting-in-a-tin-can ¡ 2 months ago
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brb crying to casual
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qprpbj ¡ 2 months ago
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thinking about paul darry casual and good luck babe tonight.
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nooripoori ¡ 2 months ago
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eddiegotout ¡ 2 months ago
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young daniel voice: young love i love being stupid dream of us in a year maybe we’d have an apartment and you’d show me off to your friends at the pier i know baby no attachments but we’re knee deep in the passenger seat and you’re eating me out is it casual now
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maybe I'm a loser but I kind of hate how casual got memed because of "I fucked you in the bathroom" and "knee deep in the passenger seat" and that because ist genuinely a beautiful song about what its like to put your all into someone only for them to not even care and think of you only as a small blip in their life when, to you, they were your everything
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ofthecaravel ¡ 8 months ago
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It’s truly unfair only being able to think of You Don’t Go To Parties when listening to Casual by Chappell Roan
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a) im extremely normal about any of my work being associated with Chappell in someones head oh my god thats the highest honor
b) jesus christ thats brutal but youre so so correct
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crowscacophony ¡ 2 months ago
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I am completely over everything until Casual by Chappell Roan starts playing
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eupheme ¡ 2 months ago
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— from eden
old man logan x mutant!f!reader
rated e - 5k
tags: Logan timeline, sorta divergent/fix-it fic, angst, hurt/comfort, everyone is going through it, wound tending, dark thoughts/references to violence/death (aligning with themes in the movie), neurodegenerative disorders (Charles), multiple pov, established relationship, shower sex, oral sex, PiV, feelings
a/n: still on my druid!mutant kick - reader absorbs the sun via photosynthesis and can transfer that energy to grow plants. no features described but small details & a codename are noted in reference to her mutation.
Every day you wish you could do more. More for Charles. More for him. But the harsh sun eats away at you. You weren’t built for this heat.
You were meant for gardens. For Eden.
But you think… as your fingers trail through the earth, your life force flowing down into the greenery below - if something can grow here, in the desert - then maybe, so can hope.
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Logan finds you in the garden.
It's generous to call it that. Carved out with old bits of metal, used like a spade. Scraping through dirt, packed and hard from the burning sun. Dust swirling around you - catching under your nails that are as tough as bark.
The only bit of green for a couple miles, at least. Incongruous to the climate - all you can see is desert around you.
It's only you that keeps it alive.
Your hands pass over each stalk and stem. The low thrum that used to come so easily, siphoning your life force to the roots below, comes slowly now.
Used to be able to make things bloom, just by feeling.
A garden had sprouted your first night together. Blooming lush - vines twining around the bookshelves. Wildflowers in your hair. Moss spreading out across the wooden floor, out and into the mansion.
Everyone had known you were in love.
It feels so long ago now. Another lifetime.
Now you can only tend them. You’re at your strongest in the rain, but it’s day twenty-three of sunny, blue skies. No more than a wisp of a cloud on the horizon.
It leaves you wilting. A half-broken lawn chair, dragged to face the packed-dirt road. Watching for him, as your face tips up to the sky. A slowly-recharging battery, one that hasn't been full in years.
But the sun is unforgiving. The tips of your fingers and toes darken - it's too much.
And not enough.
An eye cracks open, with the slam of a car door. There's a limp to his gait - a hand braced against the limo. Something you notice immediately. The way it takes him longer than usual to reach you.
That severe frown softening at the edges, but still holding a weight he's carried for years. A brown bag held out silently, the top crumpled from his fist.
Your fingers brush his, and you know he can see the burn. The mark between his eyebrows deepens.
"Don't push too hard, blossom," Logan rasps, "'Bout time to go in."
It makes your jaw grit, as you bristle.
You want to protest. Ask him "well, what in the hell do you think you're doing/?" He's the last person that should be lecturing you, as he shifts - a crimson glint of red near his collar.
But you don't. He doesn't mean it that way.
It comes out wrong, you've learned that by now. Misplaced anger - seeping into your roots like poison. Loving him so fiercely that it aches, to see him this way.
The Logan you knew and loved changed that day at the mansion.
"I will." You tamp the feelings down, burying them with the rest, "Let me get these started, and I'll be in."
He lingers, for a long moment.
You rip the seed packets open, scattering them across the earth you've prepared. Essentials, fit to feed Charles.
Carrots, beans, tomatoes, onions. Kale and fresh berries.
A packet of wildflowers.
There's a lump, lodged in your throat. You look over your shoulder, just as he disappears inside.
An inhaled breath, as you begin.
He knows you hate it, all the dust. The heat.
Knows you stay, for him.
Logan always was your sun.
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"He's bleedin' again." It's muttered out, in greeting.
Caliban's eyes flick towards the back door, "Don't know if I've got enough peroxide to get it out."
Your smile is weary, "We'll figure it out. Always do."
A fine pair the two of you make. Only the mornings and evenings spent together, in your slow rotation of work-Charles-eat-sleep, and always just out of sync.
He tends to the smelting plant. An attempt at keeping things in place, keeping things running. Something simmering on the makeshift stove, as you empty your apron into the sink.
Outside is your domain - days spent with wind-whipped skin. The desert heat surrounding you.
"Could use some potatoes," Caliban offers, without thinking.
Peeling back the husk and silk on an ear of corn, fished out. Peering down at the kernels beneath - still hesitating, even though it's clean.
Your arms cross over your chest, head tilting, "Well, you're welcome to ask him."
It all comes out hushed, even though you know Logan is out with Charles. He gives shoots a reproachful look your way - he's already taken an earful. Doesn't need another from you.
He's been with you both for a year now. A second set of hands, as the seizures worses. You hadn’t wanted to admit you needed help - but Logan had saw right through you.
Charles’s space feels like a tomb.
Each minute you spend in that dome makes you crave another five outside. Too much for you to handle alone - something that still eats away at you.
Never felt like you were doing enough.
Carried the others with you, as he did. The shame of feeling like you should've done more. That you should have been there with them.
Buried beneath the rose bush that bloomed, when you had first told Logan you loved him.
You had thought that he had been. Had spent two years adrift, so certain he had been lost. That adamantium had not been enough to suppress the force of the seizures - that it ripped through the metal and took him from you.
It's why you cling now. Worried. Seeing how each day changes him, like it does you.
It's why you grow the vegetables for them. Even then, it's not enough. The suppressants they released still worked its way into the water and soil. You'd already ingested enough food to have it affect you.
Used to eat for fun, for pleasure. Haven't had a bite in two years now. Haven't needed to, haven't wanted to. Looking to the sun instead, even if it burns.
Now, you're just maintaining. Trying not to worsen, trying your best to keep them afloat, even if it costs you.
"Sorry." You mutter.
Easing into the routine of ladling out bowls. Chunks of half-stale bread, from the last time he baked. Hadn't harvested as much wheat this season as you would have liked. Pests chewing up a portion before you noticed.
The drought makes you hazy. Running on fumes for a while now. Same as all the rest.
Two bowls set on a plastic tray. A glass of tepid water in a chipped mason jar tucked in the crook of your arm. Fingers swirling in the liquid to cool them, before you're tilting it back - taking a swallow. Just managing to ease your parched throat.
"How is he?" You ask.
Caliban's eyes are slow to meet yours. He looks at you like he knows something you don't. Few secrets between you, except ones like these that he keeps deep. It always sends a twist in your belly.
Curling vines, weaving between your ribs.
"Logan or Charles, dearest?"
"Both." You sigh, "Either."
“Logan is… well. You saw him.” Caliban mutters. His nose twitches. A breath - as if he means to say something.
He falls silent instead, pivoting, “And Charles still thinks he's in Macbeth."
It makes your heart lurch, how so kind and sound a mind had changed. Not his fault and it only makes you love him more, after everything.
“Been asking about someone named Erik lately, too.”
You and Logan had agreed. It was better that Charles didn’t know, if he didn’t have to. That the two of you would bear it - shielding him like he had shielded so many for years.
But it never made the memories any easier.
His head inclines towards the trays, "You want me to take those out?"
Caliban knows you hate it.
You know the sun is still setting, sitting golden on the horizon.
A shake of your head, as the tray tucks under your arm.
“Thanks, Cal. I've got it."
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The music comes first - 60s-era jazz, floating through the opened door. Voices come after, as you step into the shadows.
“-sorrow words, the grief that does not speak," Charles's reciting pitches louder, as his chair wheels in front of you, "Knits up the o-er wrought heart and bids it break-”
Logan stalks after, reaching for the controls.
"Enough."
"Thrice the brinded cat-"
The tray clatters on the top of an old desk. You step in front of them, arms spread wide, "Charles."
The chair halts, going still.
Something scrapes at your brain, when his hazy eyes meet yours. Fingers sifting through files. A dealer skillful hands, l shuffling through cards - snapping them back into place.
Plucking old memories from you like weeds. Dragging them to the surface, long buried.
He doesn’t mean to.
Doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
Your breath coming in a ragged gasp, eyes meeting Logan's. He doesn't need Charles powers to know what you're thinking.
Afraid that he'll see. What he’ll remember.
"Come on." Logan is hoisting him out of his chair. A grunt as he struggles, near dead-weight in his arms, “Enough poking around.”
Depositing Charles in his hospital bed, the last golden rays of sun streaking across the worn blankets. Logan just starts to move away, when a hand fists in his dark tie, dragging him close.
"You're not listening to me. No one listens to me." The words almost seem lucid, with how sharp his eyes suddenly shine, "Liberty, Logan. They're waiting for you. Eden-“
"No one is waiting for me." It's barked out.
Uneasy, tipping towards harsh.
Logan's patience has always ran thinner than a knife’s blade. It's love that keeps him here, you know that as well as you know your own name.
You have to step between them to break the connection. Hand wrapping around Charles' wrists - soothing, easing them down into his lap - as Logan fishes a bottle out of his pocket.
Slipping a needle into his arm. It's fluid, how you move together. Easier to help him together, then when you're alone.
It soothes the seizures. Thoughts slipping between his fingers, as he settles. The anger with it, as you bring dinner over to them. Your hand extended to take the pills that Logan shakes from a bottle.
"Take these, Professor." You coax, handing over a stained mug from the attached tray.
The chalky pills disappear, with the tilt of his head and a swallow of weak tea. Only then does it feel like you breathe. Letting your fingers drift across the makeshift herb garden he has sitting on the desk, something you tend together.
Eyes closing, as you concentrate. Pink petals blooming, plucked from the stem, and placed in Charles' open palm.
Logan's gaze a heavy weight - too tired from the day - you could already hear it in his voice. In the slow shift of his weight, as he eats.
"Only one?" The wizened fingers close like a cage around the flower, "You’ll have to work harder, Crescere."
The name is one that you haven't heard in years. It ricochets through you like a bullet, threatening to rip you open. You must show it in your face - a hand reaches to smooth down your back.
It soothes you, until an edge creeps into Charles's voice.
"If you cannot do more, how will you ever survive without soil?"
Logan goes stiff at the words. Breaking contact as if he'd been burned. A rough tilt of his head, as he pushes himself up.
“I’ll be inside.” It’s gritted out, through clenched teeth.
Leaving you alone, perched on the edge of Charles’s bed.
His mood already shifting, as it often did. The anger and confusion flaring. Melding with the medication that slows his tongue, dulls his thoughts.
“Crescere,” His eyes fix on you, while you watch the door creak shut. The moonlight has just started to stream in now, and it's just dark enough to imagine a breeze, “Have I told you about Eden?”
You tuck him in. The worn quilt tugged up high against his chest. A fingers smooth down to wrap in his - his hands frail with age, but his grip is still strong.
Tears prick your eyes, but you smile - your hand gently squeezing.
“Tell me again.”
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His fingers fumble with the buttons. The black tie tugged loose, hanging against his chest. A hiss of breath, as sore shoulders roll. The dress shirt caught against his bicep, the sleeves still pushed up around his elbows.
There’s a hand against his shoulder. Your fingers slipping beneath the fabric, easing it down his arms.
“You gonna stop running from me?”
It’s soft, in the room that you share. A far cry from the mansion - all cozy, stained wood. Home.
Here, it’s sheet metal. Car batteries running a broken coffee maker, blankets stained with sweat. An industrial fan, slowly spinning where it’s mounted into the wall.
Wasn’t trying to run.
Just couldn’t shoulder your hurt, knowing he caused it himself. Knows that the heat eats away at you. Has watched how you struggle, though you hide it so well.
And the open seas - the sun and the salt water - would it be enough? Could you ever be happy, away in a place like that?
You’ve told him all you need is him. But pretty thing like you should be somewhere else.
Somewhere safe.
Knew he was too old for you, even back at the mansion - and that was when his hair was just starting to grey at the temples.
Now, he wishes he could convince you to go. Even if he couldn’t live without you.
But he knows your answer. That set of your jaw. Rooting you in place, unmoving.
It flickers in you here, as your arms wrap around him. Nose buried against the nape of his neck, as he exhales a breath that he’s held all day.
His muscles going lax as he leans into your embrace - letting you move him. Touch gentle as you guide him towards the bathroom. Fitting between spread thighs as he leans against the cracked counter, your fingers tracing the red-stained rips on the white tank beneath.
A cloth, wrapped tightly around his fist.
“Running to you,” Logan husks, “Just lost my way.”
You soften before his eyes.
Unwinding the wrappings to check the wound across his palm. Your lips pressed against scar tissue. Moving to backs of his knuckles, between the angry red slits.
Something in his chest lurches. Calming the beast, as his palm cups your cheek. Letting you lead him into the old ceramic tub, even though the space was narrow.
Lets you strip him down, knowing your eyes flicker over each scar. Looking for ones you missed, though you know them all.
Already knows what you’re going to say, when your gaze catches on the still-healing wound - a bullet beneath his collarbone. In his chest, through his bicep.
“Can’t keep taking hits, baby.” You fingers trace just shy of the wounds. Blood flaking, where he hadn’t washed well enough - two days spent in a shitty motel, each one thinking of you.
Need to shield yourself. Pick your battles.
He’s heard it all before.
Tried to earlier - wanted to gut the Alkali-Transigen fucker who had climbed into his limo. He is trying, even if it doesn’t seem like it.
All he got was a business card burning a hole in his pocket. A lie of omission like a lead weight in his belly.
Another tucked against his chest - the bullet nestled in the pocket of his shirt. Resting against his heart while he drives. Hidden, when he returns home.
It’s insurance - but it would still crush you to find it.
“I’ll ease up when you do.” He counters, though his voice softens, “Pushing too hard, sweetheart. We could stand to eat less, if you need a break.”
You sigh, as you lean into him. Face muffled against his chest, and he only just catches the words.
“When I used to imagine playing house with you,” You breathe, “I always thought it would be a little different.”
It makes his heart jolt.
Something tearing inside him, as his mouth presses against yours. A hand searching to turn the handle - the water stale. A weak spray that only reaches room temperature.
But it’s enough.
You wash the red from him. Swirling down the drain as you coat the washcloth with a sliver of soap. Careful in your movements, as your hair dampens.
As his hands catch at your hips, looking for an anchor.
A little huff when you fingers twirl - when he has to let go, to turn around. Soaping up his back, fingers raking through his hair.
The stress of the day sluices from him. Melts away as your lips press against his back, trailing across his shoulders. Nails tracing against his abdomen, as he leans into your touch.
It’s always been softer than he deserved.
And when your hand drifts lower, swirling soap against the dark trail of hair that leads down, he guides your hand the rest of the way.
A throb, at the soft inhale of your breath. Fingers that close around him, coaxing him to full hardness. His own scrape against the tile, as he props himself up.
Eyes half-lidded, as you nuzzle against his scars. Fist working him from root to tip - he can’t resist bucking into your touch.
His own hand wandering. Hesitant.
Afraid he won’t find you the same.
Reaching behind him, feeling the stretch of healing muscle and sinew as he cups the curve of your ass. A held breath loosened, when he hears the needy sound you make, when his fingers slip to trace between.
Teasing, drifting down to where you’re slick. Honeyed.
Always for him. Only for him.
His eyes fully shut now, as his fingers work inside you. Feeling the clench, the way your hand stutters.
Your breathing turning harsh, panting. His name whined out as your hand dips to cup him - the pressure coiling low in his belly. Hips nudging against his as he pets at your clit, smearing your skin with your need.
Turning, when he isn’t able to take it any longer. Always would be strong enough to do this - to hitch your thigh around his hip.
Lifting you enough to rub his flushed cock against your folds. Your nails biting red marks into his shoulders as he lines himself up-
The water cuts off.
The evenings rations depleted.
Your laugh is more of a whine than anything, but it’s still a sound he treasures.
His own lips curving, and it feels like the first time in days.
The words rasps out, coated with need.
“Let me take you to bed, honey.”
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His skin is still damp when he lays you down.
Nestling you against the pillows - ignoring your soft protests of needing to take care of him, as he seeks out the honey between your thigh. Hands tracing up your leg, calf to knee. Up against smooth skin, until he can hitch one over his shoulder.
Letting him bury himself deeper. Tonguing at your clit. Down to dip inside you, a rough groan against your skin as his hips rut into the mattress.
He had you close already. You always unfurled for him, and that hadn’t lessened with his age. Automatic, in the way his fingers fit inside you, finding the spot that has your back arching as you cry out.
Stroking against it again and again, a groan caught in his throat as your fingers twist into his hair and tug.
Logan’s name a soft cry as he tastes you sweeten against his tongue. The tight pulse around his fingers, echoing where his lips shift to suck against your clit.
It’s only when you reach for his wrist does he stop, content to spent the night right here if you’d let him - make up for the time spent away.
Only then does he relent. His arm stretching out behind the pillows as he finally lays back, the tug of a smile as he watches you.
There’s a sweetness about you - all limp-limbed as your thigh lifts across his waist. Straddling him, as you lean - tugging supplies out of the end table.
Squirming, as his head lifts - unable to help mouthing at your breasts. A heady throb down low when he can feel your heart kick up a notch.
Always doing things out of order.
Each shift of your hips rubs your pussy against his cock. Slick and wet and warm, and he catches the curve of your lips.
The slow rhythm, as you pack padding against his wounds. Affixing tape to his skin, a kiss placed against one - as if it would help them heal faster.
His look heated, and he knows you feel it too. The hitch of your hips. The pressure when you grind down - your eyes blown dark when you look at him from beneath your lashes.
He can give you what you need.
A grunt, as a hand grasps at your hips. The loose supplies slipping from his abdomen, as he coaxes you into your knees.
His other hand wrapping around the base of his cock, tilting his hard length up to rest against your belly.
“Need you.” It’s gritted out.
On another day he might have swallowed it down. Let you come to him.
But right now, he can’t take any more teasing, wrapped in your soft touch. He’s already resisting the urge to drive into you, as you angle him against your opening.
The slightest pressure, as you start to give around him - opening up. And when you finally sink down flush against him, he forgets himself.
It’s now and it’s six years ago - all those evenings spent, entwined.
Fitting together, watching the way your brow still pinches as your body makes room to take him - the stretch as your hands curl into fists against his chest.
“Missed you, sweetheart.” It slips from him, when your hips fully meet his.
It only makes you squeeze more tightly around him, his breath caught in a low rumble in his chest.
Your own admission, as you dip down to kiss him, “Missed you more.”
Finding himself transfixed, in spite of the weariness. The ache in his bones that are now a part of him are forgotten in the way you watch him.
Eyes half-lidded, as you find your balance. Starting a slow grind of your hips, a look thrown his way when you feel his muscles string tight beneath you.
The lightest pressure of your palms against his chest, careful of his wounds.
“Want to make you feel good.” It’s a command, tinged with permission. It’s woven with love, and the thought of taking matters into his own hands ebbs.
“Always do, sweetheart,” Logan husks, “Every fucking time.”
Letting himself settle back against the mattress. Losing himself in the tight grip of your pussy. Your soft curves, as his hands wander.
Squeezing the soft flesh of your ass, urging you to ride him harder. Slipping up to tease at your tits, an upward flex of his hips when you cry out his name.
You once told him that you wanted him the first moment you met him. Now, he wishes he had met you sooner.
A year. A day. Even a minute.
The thought pulses in his chest, in time with his heart. Fingers skating over skin as you ride him. A flash of white when he thumbs against your clit, giving you something to grind against.
You’re molten around him. Soft and sweet and it’s all he can do to match the way you bounce on his cock. Feet planting against the bed to help can meet you, urging himself just that little bit deeper.
Melting just a little bit further, when you can’t help but lean down - needing his mouth against yours.
Flattening yourself against his chest, as your rhythm goes needy. Sloppy grinds instead of the sharp slap, taking him deep and keeping him there.
His thumb swirls, and your ragged moan breaks the kiss. Head dipping as you lean back - hips chasing your pleasure, rocking into his familiar touch.
Can smell how much you need it. How you drip around his cock, the coarse hairs matted with your desire.
Teeth clenching, and it only makes him fuck to harder into you, to loosen your tongue.
“Logan, fuck-” It’s whimpered, in that pretty tone that he loves, “Think I’m gonna come-”
The leash he grasps onto slipping between his fingers. A low heat in his belly burning brighter, a pressure ticking down with each slap of his hips.
“Know you’re close. Let go, baby. So fucking good for me-”
Something rasped out, as you flutter around his cock. Taking him deep, spearing him into your belly.
“Fuck, I can feel you coming on my cock.” It comes out ragged, his breath catching, “Gonna make me come, too-”
Your gaze is dark. Hands pressing harder against his chest as you find yourself again, riding him harder. Panting through it, as it tips towards too much - your orgasm still burning brightly.
He's surrounded by you, and he only wants more. Fingers pinching into your hips, driving himself into you.
“Wanna make you come,” You breathe, “Want to feel you tomorrow-”
It’s enough that he forgets himself. A hands tight against your hip, a sharp tug that pulls you flush. The other curls around the back of your neck as he flips you beneath him.
Your gasping laugh pairs with his snarl. An arm hooking under your knee - pushing, opening you up as he holds you in place.
Watching how your eyes glaze. Following the tug of your fingers, bringing his mouth down to yours. Your pulse thundering beneath his thumb, as his tongue licks into your mouth.
He tastes like you, as his eyes slip shut. You linger on his lips, smeared across his beard. A ragged moan as your hips lift to meet the sharp smack-smack-smack of his hips, and then his vision is going hazy.
Your name snarled out, twining with soft sentiments. Hilting himself just as the pressure reaches its peak, his cock throbbing as he spills with a growl inside you.
The tension easing with each flex of his hips, fucking himself empty into your warmth. Into your embrace, your arms wrapping around and keeping him close. The scruff of his beard scrapes your cheek, but you only hitch a thigh around his hips - nudging him deeper.
Logan would stay here forever, buried in you, if he could. It slips from him, then - rasped low into your ear.
“Fuck, I love you.”
He should tell you more often. Would tell you every day, if not for the guilt that twists in his guts each time you say it back.
But tonight, he can only lean into it. The soft whisper, as your lips drag against his cheek. You say it just like you used to. It still comes just as easily.
“I love you too, Logan.”
And when his breathing settles and his eyes open - his chest catches.
You're adorned with your devotion - hair dotted with alyssum. Forget-me-nots and primrose dappled across your shoulders, yarrow and heather blooming around your curves.
Had learned the names of them, long ago. They come back, as his fingers trace over each bloom.
You’re beautiful.
But you always have been.
Prettiest goddamn thing he’s ever seen.
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He bites harder, when he’s wounded.
No more than a cornered animal. But the anger - it takes a hold on him. Leaving him to soften, when there’s a hand he knows.
Making words slip from him that he’d tuck inside, on a different day.
“I do it for you, blossom.” It comes out quiet, in the darkened room, “You know that right?”
You shift against his shoulder. Head cradled against his chest, ear pressed to his heart.
“We do it for Charles,” You breathe, half-asleep. Fingers splaying across his sternum, tracing against the dark whorls of hair.
His own brush over petals. Used to help pluck them from you, after stolen moments during missions. Would love the way your face screwed up - a soft veil of embarrassment washing over you. His own lips pulled in a smug smile, as he had tucked one behind you ear.
Logan huffs, the sound low. Almost a laugh.
“I keep going for you.”
His heart would keep beating for a long time, but he thinks it would stop if yours did.
You press yourself tighter against him. It’s mumbled against his skin, “Keep going for you, too.”
There’s salt against his skin, tears you can’t afford to shed. Silent, as the stars creep higher in the sky above you.
Should be out driving, right now. Can’t bring himself to leave.
So he holds you, until your breathing slows. Until the tension eases once again, sleep taking you.
You never were afraid of him. Only for him.
Never hesitated to crawl into bed beside him, even with his nightmares. Can still remember your insisting.
Clip the stem of the flower, and the bloom will fade. Skewer it though, and it will grow around it - oozing golden ichor until it heals.
It's supposed to be a comfort.
But Logan doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s afraid that he plucked you from the earth, long ago.
You just haven’t realized it yet.
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Logan finds you in the garden.
Charles is out with you today. Tucked beneath the afternoon shadows of the smelting plant. He would laugh - does laugh - at your excuse of a garden. It pales in comparison to the mansion. The old ivy that crawled up the walls, across the sprawling grounds.
You laugh with him, because - what else is there to be done?
The sound dies, as the limo comes back early. A hand shades your eyes, as he steps out.
Still weary, though not as much as yesterday. Worry set in the lines around his eyes the grit of his jaw.
The reason revealed, when he steps to the side. A girl, stumbling out of the back seat of the limo.
Her eyes are feral, and there’s something so familiar about her that it steals your breath.
“Crescere.” Charles breathes - more lucid than you’ve seen him in days, “That is Laura. She’s the mutant I told you about. The one we have to help get to Eden.”
And for a moment, he’s the Charles he was a decade ago. The one you would have followed to the end.
Something blooms in your chest, at the sight of the girl.
The mutant, when there hasn’t been a new one in so long. A tight knot unfurling inside you, and it feels like a new beginning.
It feels like hope.
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and then they all left to find Eden together and nothing bad ever happened again! 😌💖 I'm heading back to Trouble Will Find Me and Come On And Show Me after this, just was struck with this idea and wanted to explore it! thanks so much for reading!!
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balletfilmss ¡ 11 months ago
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LOVERS LAKE
✸ pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader
✸ synopsis: you & luke escape to the lake and away from counselor duties!
✸ warnings: pre-tlt, established relationship, kissing, me believing whole heartedly that i can fix him
✸ authors’s note: ignoring that it’s literally christmas & this is so summer-coded, charlie bushnell brought back my original series luke obsession so here you go 🙈
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the lake was arguably the best place to be at camp half-blood, even for someone who hated the water and was all but dragged their by somebody else who loved it.
that someone was you, and the somebody else was luke.
that boy loved swimming in the lake like the stars love sitting in the sky, and the only thing that made it better was when you were there with him.
between knowing that fact and the pleading look in his pretty puppy eyes, how could you say no?
so now you and him were in the lake together, on a rare escape from your responsibilities as counselors during rec time. you may or may not have been hiding from your campers by staying hidden by the boathouse that stored the camp’s supply of canoes.
you were clinging onto the wooden dock while your boyfriend swam about, still putting on your angry facade at him after he threw you in the water initially.
was the way he scooped you up in his big strong arms and grinned like a little kid when he jumped in with you absolutely adorable? yes. did that mean you were going to let him get away with it? absolutely not.
pouting with your arms wrapped around the dock leg, you watched as the boy’s head disappeared underwater, not missing the mischievous glint that lingered in his eyes beforehand.
and just as you had expected, a wet head of dark curls popped up just beside you. just to be annoying, he shook his head like some kind of dog and laughed when you scrunched your face up at the flying drops of water.
the little loser laughed at you. now you were definitely mad, and would’ve crossed your arms and harrumphed if you weren’t still holding on to the dock like you’d die if you let go.
“are you ever gonna leave that poor dock be and actually come swim with me?” he asked, batting his pretty long eyelashes like he was pleading for you to do what he asked.
“go away.” you grumbled, looking away from him.
“aw, c’mon sweetheart.” he cooed, his tone teetering between teasing and sincere.
you felt familiar hands wrap around your waist as luke pried you away from the dock, ignoring your words of protest.
“you are literally going to drown me.” you frown as you have no choice but to hold onto him.
look, it wasn’t that you couldn’t swim, it was just that it was going to take one hell of a monster chasing you to make it happen.
“oh my gods, i am going to die.”
you were now out of arm’s reach of the shore, left with nothing but your boyfriend to keep you afloat. dam it.
“would you relax? i’m not gonna let you drown.” he chuckled, smiling at your antics as he kept both you and himself afloat.
“well you pushed me in, so you may as well.” you responded, sticking your chin up in dramatic negligence.
“hey, it was push you in or get caught and have about seventeen campers join us. which would you rather have?”
the first option, obviously, but you weren’t going to tell him that.
instead, you stuck to the silent treatment, which meant luke was left to his last and final resort.
“guess you leave me with no choice then,” he feigned a regretful sigh, even though you both knew he was ecstatic to do what he was thinking.
“wha- no. no no no no!”
luke had let go of your waist for no more than two seconds before you had screamed and clung onto him for dear life, your arms tightly wound around his neck and legs around his waist.
“i’m going to kill you, castellan.” you grumble, unable to see his reaction as your cheek was pressed against his.
there it was again, that gods damned chuckle of his that made your heart do little somersaults.
“love you too.” he said humorously. but when you didn’t reply with the same phrase, it was his turn to pout.
“hey.”
between the pout in his voice and the poke he delivered to your sides, you knew that your inattention had had just the effect you wanted.
this was the dance the two of you had done several times before. he’d annoy you, you’d ignore him and then you would relish in the way he turned into a lost puppy when it lasted for ten seconds too long, proving once again just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.
“hey. hey. hey.”
he poked you again and again, repeating the same word in hopes that you’d look at him, but you remained relentless.
“i’m not forgiving you that easily.” you insisted, as if your faces weren’t inches away from each other and water wasn’t the only thing between your body and his.
once again, he knew you too well to know there was little truth to your words.
he pressed a kiss to your cheek in hopes to get you to finally turn your head and look at him. again, nothing.
“hey, pretty girl.” he whispered, growing desperate and excruciatingly impatient. “would you at least look at me?”
feeling as though you’d drawn it out rather excessively, you listened and looked at him.
immediately, your lips were captured by his in a sweet kiss, the lake water seeping in between and tainting the flavor.
when he pulled away, luke wore a smirky kind of smile that made you want to kiss him again just to get rid of it and the giddy little feeling it gave you.
“am i forgiven now?”
he was, but instead of saying that, that was when you splashed a wave of water in his pretty little face.
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mrsbarnesblog ¡ 10 months ago
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Tattoo
masterlist ko-fi ao3
Tattoo Artist! Bucky Barnes x Bookshop Owner!Reader
Summary: When Natasha begged you to come with her to get her new tattoo done, you didn't expect that her actual plan would be to set you up with a fine-as-hell tattoo artist.
Word count: 5.8k
Warnings: +18❗️smut, p in v sex, oral sex (r receiving), protected sex, dirty talk, strangers to lovers, Bucky is hot as fuck, shy and socially awkward reader, insecurities.
Author's note: sooo, it took me forever to write, but I finally finished it and I'm kind of proud of this one. Bucky with tattoos and a low bun? yup, I'm totally ready to do whatever he desires! I hope y'all will like it too. feel free to leave comments or fic ideas💘
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“I’m going to be there almost for a whole day. I love those idiots, but I still need my best friend to cheer me up." Natasha threw her hand over your shoulders, trying to convince you to go with her on a tattoo session. It was not her first time, but now she wanted to get a much bigger one on her thigh, and, for some reason, she really wanted you to go with her, using the fact that it was your day off. 
“Nat, you know that I hate going to such places. I’m socially awkward; what am I gonna do there for so long? I don’t even know those people.” You frowned, already feeling a bundle of nerves in your stomach. 
You were what others may call boring, but you rarely went to unknown places or hung out with random people. You would rather stay with a book in your apartment and read for a whole day than get into such situations. Not to mention, that tattoo salon was full of men, and it made the whole situation even worse. 
“But you’re going to be with me. They are the nice guys, I promise. You will sit with us in the room; we can talk, or you can read another book, while Barnes will do my tattoo. I just don’t want to die of boredom there. Please?” She pulled you even closer, and you knew that she wouldn’t let that go. So you had no other choice but to agree. 
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You didn’t know what you were thinking when you decided that wearing a light, flowy dress would be a good idea. Because now, following Nat out of her car to that tattoo studio, it felt too short, too open, and just too much. You tried to calm down, thinking to yourself that there was nothing serious; you were just going to wait in the corner, and other people probably wouldn’t even pay attention or talk to you. Natasha, with her boldness and openness, was always the center, and you were totally fine with that. 
But you were so wrong. 
As soon as you walked inside, four men stopped talking, turning around to face you and Nat, and you honestly thought that you were going to faint. 
“Hey, guys. Hope you don’t mind that I brought my friend. So I do not have to listen to your boring asses complain all day." She teased, dragging you by the hand like a mom who tried to encourage her kid to talk. You were round-eyed, and a wave of heat washed over your body when you were face-to-face with a blonde and big guy. But before either of you could say or do something, a person who you didn’t recognise at first stepped in, pulling you into a hug. 
“Isn’t it my favorite book girly ever? How are you doin’?” Sam’s enthusiasm and energy were always so refreshing to you, so when he quickly pulled away, instead wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pushing you further into a studio, you tried to stay calm and not freak out.
"I didn't know that you were working here. How’s Sarah?” You asked, looking up at him. 
“Yup, for a few years. She is doing great, but AJ and Cass are a pain in the ass. They are growing too quickly, you know." He chuckled. “Now, say hi to those idiots.” He moved his head toward the men who were silently observing your interaction. “Tony, Steve, and Bucky.” Sam named them in order. Tony just nodded to you, Steve smiled with the friendliest smile you had ever seen, and Bucky... 
Your head became empty as soon as your eyes landed on him for the first time. He was leaning on the wall at the back of the room, so you didn’t pay much attention to him at first. He was hot. Unbelievebly hot. He was tall and muscular, with a low bun at the back of his head and tattoos covering the visible parts of his arms and neck. And as your gaze moved to his face, you almost choked on a fucking breath. 
Piercing blue eyes looked right directly at you, and the slightest smirk curled the corner of his lips. You didn’t know whether you felt too cold, too hot, or if you just wanted to vanish right on the spot. Your face heated, your eyes started running around the room, and your heart was beating a few times faster. It was overwhelming, and you thought that you would have to go out of there, but right on time, Natasha stepped in front of you, dragging all attention to herself. 
Bucky had to admit that once in his life, Sam was right. Sam tried to convince Bucky to go to that book shop for a few months, saying that he had to meet with the girl who worked there, but he was way too stubborn. 
He would have done it a long time ago if he knew you would look like the most precious, cute, and sweet person. Bucky could not take his gaze away from you as soon as Natasha dragged you inside, absorbing everything—from the way you looked so soft and pretty in that dress to the way you blushed and were nervous about the whole thing. 
He saw your reaction—how you became even more flushed after your intense stares at each other. Bucky was never the type of guy who liked to tease you, but Goddammit, he wanted to see how you would react if he stepped closer and talked to you. He also wasn’t creepy towards women, but the only thought that came to his mind was that he wanted to taste you. The desire to shove your back into the wall, lift up the skirt of your dress, and fall to his knees was shocking; he had never felt such an instant pull toward another person. 
“Barnes, are we going to start, or you’re planning on standing and staring for a whole day?” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest as if she were annoyed, but you thought that you heard something weird in her voice, as if she held back a smile. 
And then she quickly looked back at Sam and nodded with a smirk. 
You just followed Nat and Bucky to his own part of the studio. Too lost in your head because of your friend’s weird behavior, you sat down on the sofa in the corner, and the next thing you noticed was the tall figure leaning above you. You probably got carried away to much because now there was a cup of tea standing in front of you on the table.
You looked up, only to meet those pretty blue eyes again. Bucky looked down at you with the same smirk on his lips, and you could barely form a normal thought in your head. 
“Hope you don’t mind a hot tea, princess?” Yup, you were dead. Of course, he had to have the sexiest voice you have ever heard in your life. It was not enough for him to be charming or look like a fucking sin—he also had to sound hot. 
“Thank you.” You almost whispered. 
Bucky gave you another mysterious smile before going back to his place, where Nat was already without her pants and ready to start.
You and Nat were talking for the next few hours—well, she was mostly talking about a girl named Maria that she met not so long ago, and you were nodding, listening, and sipping your tea. That way, you almost forgot about Bucky sitting in the room with you because he was too focused on his job and didn’t even look away from the tattoo. 
To be honest, you accidentally looked at him one or two times because it was hard not to notice a few curls slipping out of his bun, or the way his tattooed and veiny arms seemed so sexy, or that perfect face profile... Fuck. But everything was good until Nat suddenly asked him to stop for a few minutes. 
“I really need to pee, Barnes.” She quickly jumped out of her place, winking at you as she walked away. 
“Natasha…” You hissed at her when she left you and Bucky alone in the room, your insides already shivering with nerves. She was fucking doing it on purpose. You were sure that everything here was her plan to set you up with Bucky because she had never left you anywhere alone, knowing your nervousness. 
“Are you afraid to stay with me alone?” Bucky chuckled, stretching his neck from an uncomfortable position. Your cheeks heated, and you unconsciously started scratching the surface of your phone case. He was charming. He obviously knew that, judging by the way he acted to tease you. When his question was left without an answer, he just shook his head, smiling to himself. “I didn’t know that Nat was dating girls.”
Bucky was desperately trying to make you talk. He saw how you looked at your friend when she left you alone with him, and knowing Nat, she would not have done it if you were truly afraid of him. So he was hoping that you were just too shy to talk to him and that he could make something out of it.
“Mhm. What, you hoped to have a chance with her?” You finally looked up, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your voice. Of course, Bucky was just trying to hit on your friend. Everyone tried. And you knew that she was so pretty and an amazing person, really, but you just wanted to experience it yourself at least once.
“With Nat?” Bucky almost laughed, genuinely taken aback by your response. “Nah, she’s cool, but not my type.”
“And who is your type?” You asked before you could even think about it. 
"You know, those cute and shy girls who can barely talk to anyone and easily blush or get nervous." You froze in your place, and you swore that the blood in your veins had done the same. Your eyes widened in shock, looking at the proudly smirking Bucky. Did he really mean that, or was it just a stupid joke? 
Natasha came into the room, curiously looking between you two, but you just stayed silent and looked away again, staying even quieter until the end of the session. 
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“Why did you do that?” You frowned, looking away from Nat and crossing your arms over your chest. As soon as she was done, you almost ran out of that place, the mixture of weird feelings bubbling inside of you, and you were too frustrated to even talk to someone there. 
“Did what?” Your head snapped back at her innocent, unbothered voice. She rolled her eyes, not looking away from the road. “I did that because I love you.” 
“And I love you too, but I hate that you and Sam put me in this position!”
“I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. Don’t be mad at what I’m about to say, but I know that you feel lonely and that you want to have someone or to date someone. I understand your anxiety; I really do, but I wanted to help you.” Her voice sounded so genuine, and even if you were mad, you knew that Nat had always tried to do what was best for you. “Bucky is a good guy. He’s attractive, he’s kind, he’s funny, and he's definitely not a player. I just wanted you to meet him, and from what I saw, there was a sparkle between you.”
You didn’t say anything to that, because she was totally right. Even if you had never said that out loud, you wanted someone to like you. Was it that much to ask? It was just hard to believe that someone as attractive as Bucky, who could easily get a good handful of women whenever he wanted to, had actually flirted with you. 
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The next day, when you finally returned to your favorite place in the world, it was crazy. For some reason, too many people came to the bookshop, and almost everyone needed your advice or help. You were running around the shelves, putting the books in their places, receiving the payment, and then welcoming new customers. So when, at 9 p.m., you put the sign ‘closed’ on the door, you felt the relief that the day was almost over. 
You still had a lot to do, though. Taking the pile of books from the front table, you went to the back room, where you stored some of them. Suddenly, you heard the bell ringing and heavy footsteps on the wooden floor. 
“I’m sorry, but we are already closed. Please come tomor—” You forgot what you wanted to say when you looked out of the room into the main part of the store and saw the last person you ever expected. 
“Hey, princess.” Bucky put his hands into the front pockets, which made him seem even bigger, and smiled at you in a way that made your knees weak. He looked similar to what you saw yesterday—a low bun, black jeans, and a shirt that revealed some of his tattoos. God, his tattoos made you imagine things that were too inappropriate to say out loud. “Sorry that I came so late, but I just got off work, and I really wanted to see the place Sam has been bugging me about for weeks.” He noticed how you were looking at him again, but he decided not to tease you about it. 
“Um, hi.” You dusted off your hands and fixed the bottom part of your dress to make sure that everything was in it’s place. Bucky couldn’t help but follow your hands, staring at the way the hem of your dress moved around your thighs. “Do you need something? Like a book? Or you came just to get rid of Sam?”
“Yeah, maybe a fantasy book or something like that.” 
“I can show you where we have it, but I, um, need to finish the work here, so it would be great if you'd find a book that you like by yourself. Is that okay?” His stare was intense, and you really didn’t know what to do with this. Was he always like that with women? But Nat said that he wasn’t a player, and you trusted her more than yourself.
“Totally.” You nodded, calmed down your nerves as much as you could to not embarrass yourself in front of him, and you showed the way to the shelves at the back of the shop. 
“Take as much time as you need; I’ll go... there.” You pointed behind you to the piles of books, and Bucky chuckled at the way you were nervous around him. That was so fucking cute that he wanted to just scoop you up in his arms and make you blush again and again. 
Almost ten minutes later, you showed up again with a few books in your hands that were from the fantasy section, and as much as you wanted to escape Bucky, you also wanted to finish your job. He just quickly looked at you, too interested in the book in his hands, but didn’t say anything. 
You tried to reach the highest shelf to put the book in it’s place, but it was too far away. Usually you used a small ladder, but it was somewhere else now, and you just tried to do it standing on the tiptoes. 
“Let me do it, princess.” Bucky chuckled, closing his book and putting it down, and reached out to help you.
“No!”
“You won’t reach it. Just give it to me.” He placed his hand on your back, stretching the other one. 
“I can do it myself!” 
You couldn’t. Because the next thing you know, the book slipped out of your hand when you tried to make more distance between you and Bucky, and you also lost control of the ones you held near your chest. Everything fell onto the floor with a loud ‘boom’ and you prayed that nothing got damaged. 
Your head snapped back to say to Bucky that it was his fault, but he was already looking down at you, and you immediately forgot about everything. Only then did you realize that he was so close to you; his hand was holding your waist, and your back was almost pressed against his hard chest. 
“Sorry.” He didn’t know what he was sorry for. That he distracted you and made you drop everything, or for what he did next. After his eyes quickly looked at your plump lips, his right hand fell onto your cheek, and he kissed you.
Your instant thought was to push him away, run, and hide in the storage room, but the firm hand on your face and waist made it impossible to move. Bucky almost devoured your mouth and completely controlled you, and you could barely keep up with the rhythm of the kiss. 
He was good at it. 
No one ever kissed you as if it were the best thing they'd ever tried, but Bucky just couldn’t stop. He spined your body, so you were not in that awkward and uncomfortable position anymore. Now that you were standing chest to chest, your back got pressed into the shelves, and Bucky was towering over you. It felt unknown but so right at the same time. Your experience in this area was really poor, but the adrenalin in your blood made you a little bit more sure of yourself. 
“You’re doing something to me.” He breathed into the kiss, and you just whined without realizing it. He connected your lips again, tightening his hands on your waste and, that way, pulling you even closer. You had no idea where to put your hands, but your body seemed to work on autopilot, so they landed on his chest.
You felt something hard on the lower part of your belly, and the thought that Bucky had become hard solely because of the kiss nearly drove you insane. Hot, handsome, and charming men had never kissed you as if you were their last meal, teasing you with their bulge in the middle of your shop. 
God, he must be big. 
Your heart started beating so fast that you heard it in your ears. Was it the right thing to do? What should you do or say after that? Did he think that you kissed badly? 
“I can almost hear the thoughts in your head. Why are you worrying? You don’t like or want it? Just say, and I’ll step away.” You licked your lips, as if you tried to taste him again. You felt how your face heated again from being so close to Bucky. He didn’t sound or look as if he were judging you, and it made you feel safe enough to tell what was going on in your head.
“I just—I'm not really familiar with it. I barely know you, and you just kissed me, and I am at a loss for what to do." You said, nervously playing with the material of his shirt. Bucky's hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. It surprised you that he didn’t try to do anything to push you, like many other men who just think with their dicks. Your stomach tightened from the way he stared at your face.
"I understand and that��s okay if you feel a little bit scared. I’m not pushing you and you can say no to me. I really came here just to talk to you, but I cannot think of anything else but you. Can I kiss you, princess?” Your eyes closed when you felt his breath on your lips again. You couldn’t deny that you wanted it too, so you just slightly nodded to his question. 
Bucky kissed you deeper and slower, allowing you to follow him. He stroked your cheek gently as his tongue slid into your mouth, causing you to moan. You swore that he smiled at your reaction, and it encouraged him to push his other hand from your waist to your thighs. 
Your skin started tingling when you felt it going under your skirt. Tattooed fingers traced the soft lines on your legs until they reached your underwear. Only then did you realise that you were getting wet. This whole time, it was not just nerves; oh no, your body actually just craved that man in front of you and now you could do nothing to hide it. In your last attempt, you tried to push your legs together, but you made it worse when Bucky’s hand slipped higher and touched the wet spot. 
“Holy fuck.” He growled, ending the kiss and looking down, where his hand stayed under your clothes. “You are not so innocent, huh?” 
“Shy and innocent are two completely different things, Bucky.” 
“Right.” Biting his lip, he looked up at you again with darkened eyes, and you felt his hand pressing onto your dressed core more firmly. “Can I taste you?"
Your eyes widen in shock. You were not a complete virgin, but unfortunately, you had never experienced that before. “My sexual life is actually really, and I mean really, meager, and no one ever asked me to do it.” You whispered, almost in embarrassment. 
“So you’re telling me that no one asked to eat you out, princess? Well, that’s a shame. I bet your pussy is as sweet as you are.” He ran his nose across your cheek, enjoying your delicate skin and the light scent of your perfume, until he reached the sensitive part of your neck. “Your scent drives me crazy... You’re so sensitive, God. When was the last time you were with someone?” You tried to act normal and not shiever, but when Bucky’s finger was running up and down the soft cotton of your panties, it was nearly impossible to do. 
“I don’t know. I did it just a few times, and I don’t date. Guys are not really interested in me.”
“Loosers.” 
“Bucky.” You moaned his name when he suddenly fell to his knees. That view was so surreal for you. He seemed desperate to touch and taste you, to please you, even though he was painfully hard in his jeans. But he did not go too far because he was waiting for your response. “What if someone walks in?”
“There is a sign on the door. Are there many people who go to bookshops at that time?” Bucky took your left leg, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your eyes followed every move with curiosity and a hint of worry when he turned his head to softly kiss your thigh.
“Okay.”
Bucky took your leg off his shoulder but only to slide his hands under your dress and take off your underwear. He did not break eye contact when he helped you step out of it and then put them in his jeans pocket. With a quick motion, your leg returned to it’s place near his face and you blushed, realising how close he was.
With his right hand on your thigh and the left one slowly creeping up your other leg, Bucky started leaving kisses higher and higher, until he finally reached your pulled-up dress. When his head suddenly lowered and you felt the first touch of his tongue, you almost died. 
Up until that moment, you didn’t even realize how tense your body was, but that first lick sent a hot wave over you and you could not hold back a whine. You just became a fucking puddle under his touch. 
Bucky was not much better than you. He gripped your thigh harder, as if he wanted you to be even closer, and moaned when your taste blossomed on his tongue. He knew that he was addicted now and that he could spend hours in between your legs. His tongue slipped across your folds, collecting your juice, and then circled around your sensitive clit. 
“Fuck, princess. You’re s’ sweet.” 
"Bucky—oh my god, please!” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but that tight knot in your stomach was becoming almost too painful, and you felt tears forming in your eyes. As if Bucky had already understood your body better, he put two fingers of his left hand at your entrance, slightly pushing in just the tips. 
You moaned again, your hand moving on it’s own and grabbing Bucky’s hair in despair. He slowly slipped inside, letting you adjust while still not stopping the movements of his tongue. You felt so fucking tight and wet around his fingers and his cock painfully twiched in his jeans. He started pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, and if you weren’t so far up in your head, you would’ve been embarrassed by the noises coming out of you. 
The combination of his thick digits and tongue pushed you into your first orgasm. Your back arched, and your legs unconsciously tried to close, but Bucky did not let that happen, gripping your thigh tighter and holding you in place. 
“Cum for me, pretty girl. C'mon, don’t be shy.” He encouraged you and that was everything you needed. 
You had no idea what happened next because your body felt like it was floating and your head fell back with a moan of Bucky's name. He let you go through it, slowing his pace and pulling out his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to stop, he knew that it was enough for you for the first time. 
You felt how Bucky jently lowered your leg and then, holding you by the waist, stood up and shamelessly licked his shiny lips. “I can’t believe you actually just did that. No one has ever given me an orgasm.” 
“Princess… You’re unbelievable.” He got closer to you, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. You could feel hardness in his pants, and while Bucky did not try to push it any further, the desire within you made you bold. 
“Do you have a condom?” Bucky immediately pulled away from you, his eyes darker than before and his hands tightening on your waist. You bit your lip and lowered your gaze, as if you said something wrong. 
"No, no, no, you can’t get shy after you just asked me this. Eyes on me, princess. Do you really want it?" 
“I do.” 
Bucky connected your lips, distracting you from unnecessary thoughts, and you felt two hands on the back sides of your thighs. Your legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as if your body knew what to do better than you. You both moaned when his bulge met with your dripping core; Bucky’s grip tightened and he slightly moved your hips. 
Firmly holding you in his hands, Bucky stepped away from the shelves and went to the table that was standing nearby. He blindly moved aside some books there, dropping a few on the floor and receiving a groan from you. He put you on the flat surface, not moving away from between your legs. 
Your hands finally felt more confident to study his tattooed skin. You never realised that you were into people with tattoos, but now, looking at the variety of things covering his tanned skin, your belly tightened with anticipation. Your hands slowly reached his neck, slightly pulling him closer. 
“You didn’t answer my question. Do you have it?” Instead of replying to you, Bucky, not breaking eye contact, reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. He opened it, taking the shiny square that was sticking out of there. 
Your eyes shot up at him, meeting his half-hooded and full-of-lust eyes. Bucky looked right back at you, mesmerized by your beauty—by the way your cheeks heated and your lips were slightly swollen. He quickly unbuttoned his pants, sliding them with boxers down his legs, until his hard as rock cock was free with pre-cum leaking from the tip. 
“If you’re going to look at me like that, then I might cum like a teenager before everything starts, princess.” Bucky growled, squeezing your thigh in his hand. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, then looked at his face again. You didn’t want to stare at his cock, but holy shit, it was better and bigger than everything you’ve seen before. You wondered what it would taste like, and that one thought made you clench around nothing. 
With a quick, smooth motion, Bucky opened the package with his teeth, sliding the condom down his shaft. His hand moved you closer to the edge of the table, so now your faces were just a few centimeters away and you could feel his cock through the fabric of your dress. 
“Be a good girl and hold it here for me.” Bucky folded your dress on your stomach, guiding your hand there, so he had better access to your sweet pussy. He had to see how he was disappearing inside of you with his own fucking eyes.  
“Bucky…” You whined because of the way you were exposed to him, but you still did what he said. With wide eyes, you looked at how he moved even closer to you, slightly brushing your folds with the tip. Your free arm gripped his tattooed forearm, digging in your nails. 
“So wet for me, so pretty... God, princess. I won’t be able to keep my hands from you. Say you want this. I need to hear it.” He palmed the side of your face, making you look up at him, and held himself at your entrance at the same time. 
“I want it. Please.” You whispered, your eyes running back and forth between his pretty blues. 
When he finally started slowly pushing into you, your mouth opened with a silent moan, and your eyes almost crossed with the way your whole body got covered with goosebumps. Bucky could not tear his eyes away from the place you two were connected. He felt every movement of your body and felt how your pussy almost sucked him inside. 
He knew that you would feel good, but he did not realize that it would feel like the most correct thing in his life. 
Bucky finally bottomed into you, stretching you the way you had never been before. You both thought that you could cum in that exact second, but you also both wanted to extend this moment as much as you could. 
“Princess…” That sounded so desperate when Bucky finally started moving his hips, dragging his cock out and then pushing right back in. "Fuck, I need to kiss you. You feel like a fuckin’ heaven, holy shit.” Not stopping sliding into you at a steady pace, he dragged your face closer, as if his life were depending on it. Bucky greedily bit and sucked your bottom lip, swallowing every moan and whine you let out.
“Mh— I can’t— oh, Bucky!” You cried, trying to hide your face in the crook of his neck.
He pulled you back away from his body, holding you that way so he had a better view of your face and body. He felt the way your thighs tried to squeeze together, your face started to heat and you tried to look away. 
“Don’t you dare become shy when I’m balls deep in you, princess.” He slowed his movements and teased you until you almost begged him to fuck you properly again. “You need to cum, huh? Show me those pretty eyes; don’t hide from me, c’mon.” You looked up, almost whining from the way he was looking at you. Pupils blown out, eyes slightly narrowed, and running around your face with interest and desire. “Do you need something? Speak up, sweet girl.”
“I want to cum. Let me, please.” 
“Good fucking girl.” 
Bucky started fucking you with a new forse; the table under you was squeaking with every move, making the whole scene even dirtier. You could not care about embarrassment anymore, moaning Bucky name and begging him to be harder. 
You both felt how close you were. 
Your hand, with your skirt in it, tightened around the fabric, your spread legs were trembling and you started uncontrollably squeezing Bucky’s cock inside of you. His dirty words made your vision foggy with satisfaction and the way he didn’t stop hitting your sweet spot was enough for you to go crazy with an overwhelming orgasm.
“Bucky! Bucky, oh my— fuuuck!” You cried in pleasure, feeling a few more thrusts of his throbbing cock, until he finally slowed down and emptied himself in the condom. Your body fell forward right into Bucky’s chest, too tired to even sit straight. He wrapped his hands around you, slowly stroking your back and kissing your temple. 
“You are fucking amazing, princess.” He mumbled into your hair and you just hummed in response. After a few quiet minutes, when your head started to clear up and the whole weight of this situation fell on you, you finally pulled away, hiding your eyes from him again. “What? What’s wrong?” 
“I just… I don’t know what we are supposed to do in this situation; I mean— it was just sex for you, right?” You asked, focusing on one particular tattoo on Bucky’s neck to not show how nervous you were.
Bucky didn’t answer for a few seconds, but you felt the weight of his eyes on you. Then he lifted your face with one of his hands and softly smiled at you. “If it meant nothing for me, I would’ve already been on my way home. I want you. I wanted you from the moment I saw you and I won’t be satisfied until you let me take you out. Are you free tomorrow evening, sweetheart?” He cooed, playfully tilting his head to the side. That man and his charm would be the death of you…
“Um, okay. I’m free, if you’re not kidding.”
“Not in the slightest. Now get dressed. I'm taking you home.” He pecked your lips before slowly pulling out of you and getting rid of the condom. You slowly jumped from the table, legs trembling from two mind-blowing orgasms, not missing how Bucky’s smirked at you. 
“You don’t have to take me home, Bucky.” You fixed your dress and hair as much as you could without a mirror and then picked up the books from the floor that were forgotten during your makeout session. 
“Well, I didn’t see a car near the shop, so I assume you’re walking home. And it’s dark.” He walked behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist and burying his face into your neck. “I don’t like this idea. I’m driving you home, princess.” 
“Fine. You won.” You playfully made an annoyed voice to what Bucky just chuckled and held you even closer. 
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bbydoll18xx ¡ 4 months ago
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She's Such a Good Girl
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You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her. 
Paige Bueckers x reader
Word Count: 1.9k
Themes: reader is a shy lil baby, a few inappropriate thoughts, paige being a huge flirt
Masterlist
A/N: hiii cuties! So I had a few ideas I've been toying around with, so I merged them together and came up with this. Also the third part of 'I Can Do It With a Broken Heart' will hopefully be out soon but I'm still trying to figure out the direction I want to take it in. Enjoy!
~
Your breaths are ragged as you lug your final suitcase through the front door of your new apartment. It was your senior year at UCONN, and you and your roommates had been assigned a new apartment, which you were ecstatic about. Long gone were the days of being squished into an old dorm room. And you were very excited about the lack of noise, which had kept you from your much needed 10 hours of sleep the past few years. 
The August heat was stifling, but you welcomed the cool air coming through the vents, as you began organizing your new bedroom to perfection. Eagerness bubbled in your chest as you thought about your upcoming year before graduation. You’d finally be free. 
College was supposed to be the time to find yourself before being inevitably dragged into the cruel pits of the real world. It was the time to go wild, get drunk often, and maybe even meet the love of your life. But you had spent your weekends studying and fine tuning the ‘good girl’ persona that you had adopted when you were a child. 
You were the eldest daughter with a raging people pleasing complex, and it was starting to feel like your downfall. Your two roommates had found adoring boyfriends, and they often found themselves drunk as hell on the weekends, reveling in being young and carefree. You were growing to hate your crippling shyness.
You’d be lying if you said your lack of experience hadn’t started to weigh on you. You really wanted to learn how to put yourself out there. But you were dreadfully shy, and the idea of dating or hooking up was terrifying. Your innocence was fucking embarrassing. How would you explain to someone that you were a virgin? And what if they thought you were too timid to be good in bed?
So you just continued on as you had been throughout college; you studied, and you buried yourself in your imagination, and you prayed and hoped that someone would be willing to overlook all of your own insecurities. 
Your thoughts of pity are interrupted by your two roommates calling your name. You walk out of your bedroom into the living room where the two girls are sharing shiteating grins, and you send them a questioning look.
“You’ll never guess who is across the hall from us,” Sarah says slyly, causing a pang of worry to shoot through your chest. The smirk on her face grew as you asked who it was.
“Paige Bueckers,” your other roommate, Taylor, shrieks as your face turns bright red.
Fuck. 
“You’re fucking joking, right?” You whisper, eyes automatically flitting towards your door. 
“Nope! I saw her and Aubrey Griffin walk out of the apartment literally five minutes ago,” Taylor announces, laughing as you fall backwards onto the couch.
“This is not good,” you whine dramatically, hands covering your face. 
“Now you can see her pretty face every day,” Sarah all but sings, taking great pleasure in how uncomfortable you felt.
You scoff in indignation. “I can see her pretty face every day from the safety and comfort of my phone. It’s not like I’m actually ever going to talk to her.”
Your roommates pout at your sheer stubbornness. They had been trying to get you out of your shell from the last few years, much to your displeasure. 
“C’mon, you’re so hot. You could totally catch Paige’s eye. You gotta have more confidence, girl,” Taylor all but whines exasperatedly. 
“Yeah, sure,” you snort derisively. “Maybe while I’m at it, I can rizz up Harry Styles.” You roll your eyes at their ridiculousness.
They sigh in unison, stopping their pleading.
“We’ll just have to see what happens,” Taylor says with a dramatic wink, causing you to stick out your tongue childishly. 
“I have spent the last three years avoiding Paige Bueckers’ beauty. I can do it one more year.”
Little did you know, though, that it would become quite hard to avoid the tall blonde.
~
Friday evening rolls around quickly, and because it was the last weekend before classes started, the students were eager to party it up. You had hoped the apartment building would be quiet, empty from the throngs of students out partying elsewhere. But the girls of the basketball team had other ideas.
The last few days, you had seen multiple girls coming and going from Paige’s apartment. The noise had been loud, but nothing too crazy. It was well known that the girls often went live on tiktok or instagram, and you had heard their laughter across the hall last night. So far, though, the volume levels had maintained a respectable level. 
You had obviously jinxed yourself by thinking that, as the laughter and music pounded through your own walls. The cacophonous sound sent you spiraling. If you wanted them to be quieter, you would have to go ask them to turn it down, and you hated confrontation.
But you were alone tonight, and if you wanted to go to sleep at a decent hour, that was your only option. 
You move in front of the mirror in your bathroom, subconsciously fixing your hair and muttering words of encouragement to yourself. You could do this. Paige is just a regular person. Sure, she was ridiculously attractive, but she was just a girl.
You walk out of the apartment into the hallway, your heart pounding dangerously as you near the door. The volume was insane, and you felt momentarily sad that you were wasting your Friday night alone at home, while everyone was having the time of their lives. 
You shake your head, internally chastising yourself for the brutal thoughts, and with all the courage you could muster up, you knock loudly on the door, hoping the basketball team could hear it through the noise. 
A few moments pass, and you momentarily think you’re about to pass out before the door opens and you are met with the glorious face of Paige fucking Bueckers. 
You gulp, immediately grabbing a lock of hair to play with, desperately attempting to mask your anxiety. You bite your lip and look up at her.
“H-hi,” you stutter, feeling the blush bloom in your cheeks. “I’m so sorry to bother you guys, but the music is a little loud.”
Paige's face morphs into a look of surprise. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I told KK to turn it down, but no one listens to me around here,” she jokes. “You live across the hall, right? I’m Paige!”
Her friendliness doesn’t necessarily shock you; she was well known for being a genuinely kind person around campus, but the fact that she knew who you were does shock you.
“Uh, yeah I do.” You introduce yourself with a shy smile, growing warmer under her gaze.
“Why don’t you come hang with us?” She prods, gesturing towards the living room with a large grin on her beautiful fucking face. 
Your carefully crafted plan to forget about Paige this year was crumbling around you. And before you could even begin to thinking about stopping yourself, you shyly accept her invitation.
There was no going back now. 
Paige ushers you in, leading you into the chaos, where most of the basketball team were enthralled in making tiktoks. 
As you walk in and stand next to Paige, you look around, all but staring at the tall girls. The whole basketball team was ridiculously attractive, and it made your shyness increase tenfold. Paige gets their attention, and their eyes turn to you as Paige introduces you. 
“She just moved in across the hall. And I told you the music was too loud, KK,” Paige adds, sending a sharp look towards the younger girl. 
She grins mischievously, walking up to you with the swagger you could only dream of having. 
“Sorry, girly pop, we’ll keep it down next time,” KK says, sending you a wink. You giggle in response, feeling more at ease already. 
Paige introduces you to the rest of the team. They’re all so friendly, and your nervous demeanor slowly melts away as you acclimate to their boisterousness. They take turns talking to you, but Paige stays beside you, never being more than an arms length away. 
You weren’t going to read into it. But the little voice in your head was screaming in both apprehension and glee. In the same way, you did not want to leave her side. In an insanely short amount of time, her presence had become a comfort to you, and you weren’t quite ready to give that up yet. So despite it being well past your respectable bedtime, you powered through, Paige’s aura energizing you. 
As you mused over your thoughts, Paige was stuck in her own head. She had seen you around campus before; your pretty face was a difficult one to forget, and she was secretly delighted when she had opened her door to reveal your timid face. 
She was determined to break you out of your shell. Little did she know how much she would. 
~
You look down at your phone a while later, and you’re shocked to see that it was just past midnight. You could not remember the last time you were out that late, and a yawn threatens to escape from the depths of your throat. You subtly rub at your eyes, and Paige doesn’t miss it. 
She nudges you, and you look up to gaze at her bright blue eyes.
God, she was so pretty. 
“You sleepy?” She asks teasingly, and you nod, a blush creeping up your neck again. 
“I’m not used to staying up this late. I should probably head back home,” you say, regret lacing your words. 
Paige nods, standing up to walk you out to the door. You don’t miss how her hand grazes your waist as she guides you. 
You wave goodbye to the girls who still remained, and they enthusiastically bid you a goodnight, making you promise to join them again soon. 
“Thanks for letting me crash,” you profess, heart still pounding dangerously from the subtle touches, tingles on your waist left in her wake. 
“Course,” she shrugs, a smirk on her face. She hands you her phone. “Let me know if we’re too loud again,” she whispers, leaning down to your ear. 
Her closeness has you flustered, and you quickly enter your contact information, avoiding the heat of her gaze. 
As you hand her cell phone back, her fingers brush across yours, and you subconsciously bite your lip to hold back a shaky breath from the view of her long fingers and her big, veiny hands. 
Fuck. 
The smirk doesn’t fade from Paige’s face as she notices you staring, and your face erupts in a vicious blush once more. . 
With a bashful wave and a smile, you leave, all but running back into your apartment. Your heart was pounding, and there was a slight ache down in your most intimate area that had you squirming in desire. 
Your little crush on Paige had been unrelenting the last few years, but it was still just casual. Things had changed, though, and now your feelings were undeniable. Long gone were the days of ignoring your sexuality.
Paige was so hot. And you were so screwed. 
~
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Please, please, please let me know what you think and if you want another part (or more)! Again, thanks for all the love and support!
xoxo katy
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musicgifs ¡ 1 month ago
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i hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell (insp)
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imaginaryf1shots ¡ 7 months ago
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Neighbour | Lando Norris
WC: 2K+
Lando x reader
Part 2
Summery: (REQUESTED) Your neighbour and you don’t get along, but what happens when your ex turns up to your house.
Warnings: Cursing, cheating, google translated french
A.N: Not my best work but I wanted to get something out
Masterlist
Lando Masterlist
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You've been living in Monaco your whole life, went to school there, went to college elsewhere before coming back to Monaco. It's true that it's a hub for all the richest of people, plus all motorsport athletes and fans. On most days you don't mind any of that, but you're starting to hate your life there. A lot of people move in and out of the city all the time, some rich some not, some nice some not, your new neighbour is anything but nice.
He isn't always there but when he is, he makes sure you know it, and makes your life a living hell.
But he's the last thing on your mind right now, you're going out with your friends and boyfriend to go clubbing. It's the weekend and you're all wanting to let loose, it's been a long weekend and your neighbour is back in town, so that adds to the sleepless nights and headaches.
Lando was dragged out of his apartment to go to a club with Max and Kelly. He just came back to Monaco a few days ago and his friends wanted to have fun. P was having a sleepover at her friend's, so it was perfect.
Lando knows who you are, he definitely does, he's seen your glare and heard your shouting more times than he can count. Always screaming in French and never letting him let a word out before you're marching off. He has no idea if you think he speaks French, or if you’re just cussing him out. That gets on his nerves, who shouts and then leaves without any explanation or waiting for any response. It irked him to no end, did it make him blast his music a tad bit louder? Yes he did, but she started it, she's the one that annoyed him and kept shouting.
Lando is dressed to go clubbing with a chain around his neck, his curls wild and free to do as they want. He met with Max and Kelly there, he chose not to drive, knowing he'd be drunk by the end of the night, and the club wasn't that far from his house anyways. Walking in the club, he felt the vibrations going through him, his blood was pumping, itching to have a drink and hit the dance floor, maybe ask the DJ for a go. The mood was amazing, everyone was having fun as if there's no tomorrow, Lando was dancing with this random girl and Max and Kelly were having a good time. An hour in, Lando made his way to the bathroom at the back of the club, he drank so much and needed to pee to be able to drink some more. It was much quieter at the back of the club, the music was muted, the lights were a bit brighter, and surprisingly there weren't that many people around. Maybe this is why Lando heard it, there was shouting, in thick accented English, different accents, but both speaking English. Maybe he was nosey, or maybe he just wanted to make sure that everyone's okay, but he quietly made his way to the corner at the end of the hallway, leading to the emergency door, he peaked around the corner. Seeing the back of a female in a short dress and hair loose, his eyes running up and down her figure, shouting at a guy much taller and bigger than her, the guy's face was pinched in anger, his hand was moving around.
"I saw you! Why are you still denying it?" The female shouted, her anger and hurt vivid in her voice.
"You saw nothing, because nothing happened!" The guy shouted back and she huffed, Lando could imagine her rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms. "Love, please believe me, nothing happened."
"How can I? When I saw you! I saw you and you have no excuse." She sounded desperate now, Lando debated walking back but he couldn't get himself to just turn and walk away, something made him stay.
"It's dark here, you're mistaken, believe me, please, I only have eyes for you." The guys said and took a step closer, his hands landing on the female's shoulders, Lando could see her tensing. "I love you, you know that right?"
"I know." Lando almost missed her words, he knew she was about to forgive him, and even though he didn't know what happened, he knew the guy was bullshitting his way out of cheating, and she was falling for it.
"Then believe me." The guy leaned in for a kiss, but she turned her head to the side, and Lando saw her face, his eyes went wide and he dipped his head back out of sight. He just saw his annoying neighbour fighting with her boyfriend and he had no idea. He checked her out and even liked what he saw. He wants to bleach his eyes for checking her out. How could he find her attractive? Knowing that her boyfriend won’t hurt her, he went to his original destination. Standing in the urinal he does his business before someone walks in and stands at another urinal one down from him. Lando looks up and sees your boyfriend standing there, looking unbothered. He even got out his phone and dialled a number.
"Hey babe... yeah, I'm going to be late... don't wait up for me.... I know, I miss you too... don't worry, I have tomorrow off and I'm spending it all with you... yeah... whatever you want... I love you... see you tomorrow my love." Lando is standing there in disbelief, that asshole is two timing girls. He may not like you, he despises you even, but that doesn't give that guy rights to cheat on you.
Lando debates telling you, as the alcohol in his system seemed to disappear and he doesn’t drink for the rest of the night, but he did manage to spot you a few times dancing with your boyfriend with a smile on your face, his first time seeing you smiling. Completely unaware, and over the fight you two had.
He decides not to tell you, you'll figure it out.
And you figured it out, one text sent to you by mistake was all it took. Scott kept calling you at all hours of the day and night, you had to block him but he'd get a new number and start calling you again, it left you sleepless and more sensitive. This is why you're standing here in your pyjamas at Lando's door pounding on his door at 8 PM, it isn't that late but you haven't been sleeping well and just wanted to get
to bed, but the music coming from Lando's house just made it impossible to do so. It took Lando a minute before he answered the door. That minute felt like a lifetime to you, you really wanted to strangle him by the time he made it to the door.
"What do you want?" Lando asked, he now knew you spoke English, he was surprised to see you there. You never come to knock on his door, usually your confrontations happen when he's going out at the same time as you or one of you is coming in and another is leaving.
"S'il te plaît, baisse la musique.” (Please turn down the music.) You say in French pinching between your eyebrows in a desperate need to stop the headache.
"Don't speak French, love." You sigh it takes you a moment to register what he’s saying and it seemed for the first time you realise he doesn't, and frown to yourself.
"What?"
"I don't speak French." He repeats amused.
"But-But that means every time-“
"Yes, I understood nothing." You huff and push your hair out your face, your pyjama top rising with your hand movement, giving Lando's eyes free access to your skin, he bites his bottom lip lightly.
"Okay, can you please turn the music down a bit, I can't sleep." You ask him to choose to ignore the fact that he can't speak French.
"It's 8" Lengo frowns and you sigh, he then realises how tired you are. "I'll turn it down."
"Thanks" With that you turn barefoot and walk back to your apartment, closing the door behind you, all while Lango is watching you. He shook his head and went back into his apartment and turned the music off.
You don't interact much but Lendo has seen you in passing during the next week, he caught your phone ringing a few times, it seemed to ring a lot lately and you never seem to answer, always declining the call and then blocking the number, he can only guess that you found out.
Finding out that your boyfriend is cheating on you is never easy, but finding out it’s more than one woman, and more than one time is much harder. How could you be so blind? you don’t get why he’s still calling you. You could only guess that he’s been dumped by all the women he was stringing along. You were going through the breakup, not getting enough sleep, not going out, spending your days on the balcony looking over the city.
You were sitting there with a glass of wine, your head leaning back on the chair as you chilled. Blindly taking a sip of the wine, only to find the glass empty opening your eyes you groan. Begrudgingly getting up to refill your glass when you glance down and have to do a double take, Scott’s car is parked in front of your building, the ugly purple car, eye-catching even in a city like Monte Carlo. “Fuck.”
Your brain came to one conclusion, you have to escape. You run inside, through your apartment and outside to the elevator, only to find it already on its way up. Not a lot of floors in the building, turning and looking frantically, your eyes fell onto your neighbours door, you run there and ring the bell while knocking on the door, repeatedly. Lando opens the door, he doesn’t have time to think before he’s pushed back and his door is slammed, his vision is filled with your hair, you have only managed to push him back a step. you’re looking through the peephole not caring that you just barged into his apartment without any rhyme or reason, offering no explanation.
“What the fuck?” Lando whispered to himself, before he heard it, pounding on your door. Your breathing picks up pace, your eye glued to the peephole.
“Shit, shit, shit.” You mutter over and over again.
“What is happening?” Lando asks and it seemed like you didn't hear him, so he gently moves you to the side and it's then you come out of the trace you're in and blink up at him, he looks through your peephole and sees your ex standing there in front of your door, he's started shouting and calling your name. “What is he doing here?”
“I-uh- I don't know.” You say weakly and look up at Lando, eyes filled with tears, shaking you head you continue voice wavering. “I don't know, he's-he's been calling me and sending me texts and I've blocked him but-but…”
You trail off as Scott starts cussing you out, and throwing threats, your eyes went wider. Lando’s jaw clenched, his hand formed into fists. Lando puts his hands on the door handle and just before he twists it, you place your hand on his to stop him, you're shaking. “Please don't leave me here, don't go out, please.”
“Okay, okay, it's fine, I’ll call security and have him kicked out and he'll be off your visitors’ list.” Lando says and places his hand on your shoulders to calm you down, you nod at his words and Lando just pulls gently to the living room where you collapse on the sofa, your head in your hands. “They’re coming up.” Lando says after his call and sits at the other end of the sofa angled to face you, you look up and Lando takes you in, eyes red, lips raw from you biting at them you're not shaking anymore, but still over all a hot mess. His heart breaks for you, all the past transgressions forgotten.
“Thank you.” You tell Lando honestly, you're grateful he didn't kick you out or tell your ex that you're here.
“No worries, couldn't let you out to that asshole.” Lando clenched his fists just in thought of your ex being outside. “Do you want to drink something, water, tea, coffee?”
“Wine?” You ask and Lando chuckles before he gets a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Thank you.”
Lando pours you a glass, the first one you down in one go. The second one you nurse, by the third you're both talking, fourth your mind is off your ex, and then you're sleeping.
Lando hadn't drank as much as you had, he debated moving you to the guest bedroom, but he's slept on the sofa a few times before and he knows that It's comfortable so he just moves you so you're laying down with a pillow under your head and a light bedsheets over you. Lando finds himself sitting on the coffee table facing you, you look so innocent sleeping, snoring lightly, and once more he just takes you in. “Maybe you're not so bad after all.”
Once he catches himself pulling an Edward Cullen he gets up and goes to his bedroom, leaving you to sleep, but all he could think about is you.
All you could dream about is Lando
Maybe he's not bad after all.
Part 2
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dwaekkicidal ¡ 5 months ago
Text
The Easy Way vs The Hard Way
˚ʚBang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: I was thinking about brat taming the other day and I came to the conclusion that Chris has 2 different ways to tame a brat. So I procrastinated on my fics + assignments and wrote this :)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, largely based around Daddy kink, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), breeding mentions, Chris calls himself Daddy, 'good girl' used #2: kinda hard dom!chris, man handling, spanking
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: sorry not sorry that 'hard' is longer than 'easy' (are u surprised? have you SEEN my content?) and take this off of schedule because I hate letting things sit in my drafts for more than a day 😭 ALSO Sharing is Caring part 2 coming out later this week :3 (along with a Jisung request I got hehe <3)
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
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I think he has 2 ways of taming brats depending on what his mood is. So here's a little scenario to picture so that I can explain what I mean!
After a long day for the both of you, you guys indulge each other in a nice hour or 2 of foreplay before he finally fucks you. After you both finish, Chris pulls away to watch his cum drip out of you and you wiggle your hips to tease him. He slaps your ass playfully in response and teases you back by saying something along the lines of “Unless you’re trying to get bred tonight, I suggest you stop shaking your ass at me like that baby.” “As if you would complain about that. For somebody who calls himself ‘Daddy’ and says he ‘DoEsN’t MeAn It LiKe ThAt’, you sure as hell are trying to become one.” He originally laughs, but once he processes that you mocked him he rolls his eyes at you, “Just have to be a little brat? Maybe I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” You scoff, crossing your arms and turning to look at him, “You think you do that anyways?”
So. How does theee Bang Christopher Chan deal with this?
‘Easy’ Way; aka “kill them with kindness”
“You think you do that anyways?”
He simply narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah?”
You proudly respond with an “Mhm." and stick your chin up.
He chuckles, stepping towards you and raising his hand to rest against your cheek, softly caressing the skin there. “But baby, you were just the one begging me to fuck you. Surely if I ‘never’ fucked you thoroughly enough, you wouldn’t be on your knees begging for my dick to be in you?”
You frown and he laughs in response, not giving you a chance to speak up before he continues. His free hand trails down your stomach and stops at your cunt, where he ghosts his fingers along your folds. You whimper and chew on your bottom lip, looking away from him shyly.
"And... Where did my good girl go? Hm? My pretty baby who listens soo well.” His fingers tease your hole before you’re filled with two of them. “My sweet doll who would never let her Daddy down like this.” His fingers double their efforts and the hand on your cheek slides a thumb into your puffy lips. "The good girl who doesn’t disrespect her Daddy like this… Where is she at?” Your breath suddenly becomes hectic and he can tell you’re getting close.
Between the bittersweet words and the eager movements against your pussy, you slip into another mindset all too easily. He smiles when you finally look at him with glossy eyes and respond in a small voice, "'M right here..." He tilts his head at you expectantly and you squirm in his hold before repeating yourself louder. "I'm right here Daddy.."
"Oh, hi baby. Is my good girl back now?" You nod desperately in response, tightening your hands into fists against his chest as you grip around his fingers. "And is she ready to behave?"
"Yes, Daddy. 'M sorry.."
"Shhh, it’s okay baby. Now be good and cum on my fingers, kay?"
Hard’ Way; aka “fuck around and find out”
“You think you do that anyways?”
His eyebrows furrow and his tongue drags against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah? You’re really gonna do this right now? Right after I was nice enough to let you cum?” You gulp but stand your ground, making a scene to roll your eyes and lean back against the headboard.
He sits there silently, trying to give you another chance to come to your senses to realize that you’re butt ass naked in front of him and at his mercy. When you instead cock your head sideways with a bunch of attitude, he sighs loudly. His hands suddenly grips your ankles and drags you towards him. Then you’re flipped into your stomach and he renters you with no warning.
Your jaw drops and you moan loudly in surprise. His hands take turns slamming down against your ass cheeks over and over, seemingly getting harder with each slap. He sighs contently at the way you cling tightly around him with each smack, and he only stops once your cheeks are beet red and you’re trembling below him.
He hums to himself and taps the flesh, making it burn more and watching as you shake. "Such a pretty thing with such pretty reactions.. If only you were a good plaything and shut that pretty mouth for once."
He watches as your head snaps back towards him for a moment, the angry face and tears running down your face only make him smile at you. You feel his hips drag away from you, painfully slowly, until only the first centimeter or two of his tip are in you. You're taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure when a hand grabs a tight grip of your hair and pulls you backwards, his hips slamming forward at the same time.
A choke leaves you at the suddenness but he wastes no time, using the leverage in your hair to hold you in place as he fucks into you roughly. The aftermath of your previous orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel another one building up in no time. You melt into the sheets at the feeling, shaking as you almost tip over from one of the faster orgasms you've experienced, but Chris proves himself to be faster.
In an instant he's pulling out completely and holding you down preemptively for when you start thrash and whine. He waits until you stop kicking your feet at him, a tell tale sign that the tightness in your stomach finally faded, then he all of the sudden plunges back into you. The slide against your walls is rough, but you can’t deny how well it’s breaking down your resolution.
He uses the hand in your hair to tilt your head up at him when he leans forward to tower over you. It's very uncomfortable but it gives him the advantage as his narrowed eyes bore directly into you. He eventually changes positions, not wanting to actually hurt you like that, and he uses the new one to bring you to another orgasm. One that he, of course, ruins immediately with no hesitation.
This happens multiple times across the next 2 hours, to the point where you lost count of how many orgasms slipped away. It's not until you're sobbing beneath him and no longer kicking at him with each ruined orgasm, that he's flipping you onto your back and leaning down to kiss your tears away.
"Are you done now, love? You ready to be my good girl again?"
Your arms wrap around his neck and your lower lip trembles as you nod. He smiles, petting your hair and cooing at you before returning to his previous pace fucking you.
"There we go..."
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girliism ¡ 2 months ago
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part 2.
nerdy!art hates parties but this was gonna be the first time the two of you hang out outside of studying. “please don’t tell me you’re wearing a button up to a party.” patrick stood in the door way of art’s room waiting for him to get ready. art look at himself in the mirror. “what’s wrong with a button up?” he mumbled.
it was impossible to not know that a party was going on. bright colorful lights and loud music could be heard from down the street. some people were already throwing up on the front lawn.
you spot art right when he walks through the door. you walk up to him smiling giving a small greeting to patrick before he walks off. art’s eyes roam your figure linger a little to long on how your nipples poked through your shirt despite it being very hot in the house. “follow me donaldson let’s get you drunk.” you pulled art to the kitchen making him chug whatever you poured into his cup then handing him a new one.
you dragged art all over the house. introducing him to your friends somehow getting him to play beer pong and dance with you. “do you wanna go upstairs?” you asked him out of breath from dancing. art answers yes way to quickly and it has you giggling at his eagerness. you lead art to some room upstairs laying down on the bed patting the spot next to you.
you turned your head to look at art who was laying next to you. you studied the way his glasses sat on his nose bridge. “thanks again for helping me pass.” you saw how art eyes would slip down to stare at your lips. “it was nothing. i knew you were gonna do good.” art was not one to take risks so maybe it was his hormones and alcohol mixing that lead him to kiss you.
when art’s lips touched yours you immediately sighed into the kiss. you could feel his glasses press against your face when the kiss got more intense. your tongues and teeth meeting. you move to straddle art sucking at his neck leaving faint marks. art’s steadily growing bulge pokes at your core. art lets out a groan when you grind against it. “wait wait wait.” you sit up in art’s lap looking down at him. “i don’t have anything with me.” art says. “it’s fine i’m clean. promise.” you went back to kiss him. art trusted you so he let his hands wander up your shirt fingers coming in contact with your nipples.
soon clothes are removed from your bodies finding their way onto the floor. “oh wow.” your eyes widened at sight of art’s cock, he was definitely bigger than other guys you’ve been with. art blushed getting shy from your comment but his dick twitched. “you’re so big.” you spit on your hand and started jerking your head up and down. “can barely fit in my hand how’s it gonna go in my pussy.” you kissed along his jaw. your moans blending together when slowly sank onto his cock until he was all the in.
you sat there for a second to get use to the stretch before moving up and down moans and whines falling from your swollen lips. the wet feeling of your walls squeezing him had art gripping at your hips. “you’re so tight around me.” art grunted bringing his hand up lightly around your neck and he started fucking up into you. “o-oh fuck-” a silent scream gets caught in your throat when art’s tip hits that soft spot inside you. “maybe you would’ve been passed if it ment you got fucked after huh.” art leans the two of you forward placing you on your back his hips beating into your faster. “y-yeah.” you slur mind fixed on how godly arts looks a top of you. his curly falling out of place and his glasses slightly slipping down his nose.
“harder go harder gonna cum.” art kisses and sucks at your neck fucking you harder. your hand comes down to rub at your clip. your back arches up into him and your free hand grips at the cover below you. your body twitches as your orgasm washes over you. art starts pulling out to cum on your stomach but your ankles lock around his lower back pushing him back inside. “inside please cum inside.” you squeeze tight around him and it sets art off. “fucking hell.” his head drops onto your shoulder as he spills inside you.
you finally let art pull out. he pushed his glasses back up his nose watching his cum leak out of you and on to the bed. the two of you stayed there kissing for awhile before getting cleaned up.
art insisted that he walk you back to your dorm neither of you commenting on the slight limp you had.
(glasses must stay on during sex 🙂‍↕️)
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darlingdaisyfarm ¡ 1 month ago
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Their reaction to tears (Stan & Ford)
Stan
Perhaps from the outside it seems that Stan is not a very sentimental guy. It’s wrong. Yeah, hugs make him feel nervous if they go on too long, and feelings? He’s spent most of his life avoiding those altogether. So when Stan sees you crying, his first reaction is to freeze. He’s really lost. And it’s you, so he can’t just brush it off or pretend it’ll go away. Not when you’re standing there, your shoulders shaking like that.
“Aw, kid. . .” he finally steps closer, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly feeling out of place. His eyes flicker over you, taking in your trembling hands, the hiccuping breaths.
He doesn't ask you for an explanation, he doesn't force you to pour out your soul. He knows that sometimes silence is better than any conversation, but the way he rubs slow circles into your back, the way his chin rests atop your head, you know he’s there. It's not very graceful embrace. It’s more like you’re getting wrapped up in a bear hug that’s meant to keep the rest of the world out. He squeezes you tight, maybe a little too tight, because that’s all he knows how to do. Hold on and hope it helps.
“Shh, it’s alright. I gotcha,” he mutters into your hair, though he sure as hell doesn’t know how to handle your tears, but he’s trying. “Whoever made you feel like this? I’ll knock ‘em into next Tuesday, swear to god.”
You let out a half-laugh, half-sob at that, and he pulls back just enough to glance down at you, raising an eyebrow like he’s confused by the sound. “What? You think I’m joking? I’ll even wear brass knuckles for the occasion.” his thumb brushes away a stray tear. He frowns, like maybe he’s mad at himself for not fixing it faster, for not knowing what to say to make it all go away. “C’mon, sweetie,” now his voice a little softer, “You’re tougher than this. You’ve got me. Ain’t nobody messes with you when I’m around, okay?”
“It’s. . . It’s so stupid, Stan, i don’t even know-“ you try to explain, sobbing and bursting into tears.
“Tell me, who do I gotta rough up for this? ’Cause I can call in some favors. I know a guy who knows a guy.”
You sniffle, laugh breaking through and he grins at that, just a little. He hates seeing you cry, but getting you to smile, even if it’s weak, that’s the goal.
“There we go,” he says, all smug and proud. “See? That’s better. You keep cryin’ like that and I’m gonna have to start cryin’, and trust me, you don’t wanna see that. I’m an ugly crier.”
Stan stares at you a bit longer than usual before continuing. “You know, tears aren’t your best look,” he says after a moment, his thumb brushes your cheek, wiping your tears in a way that’s more careful, gentle, than you’d expect. “You’ve got a real pretty face, baby, but it’s kinda hard to see it through all this mess.”
You laugh, even if just a little, because that’s. . . That’s just Stan. He’ll drag you out of your darkest moments, even if he has to fight the whole damn world to do it.
Ford
Ford is a man of deep thought, logic and intellect. But when he sees you break down in front of him, crying softly, trembling and sobbing, it shakes something in him that’s far beyond logic. His heart stumbles. The man who’s faced interdimensional monsters, who’s braved the edges of space and time, suddenly feels lost when he sees you like this.
At first, he doesn’t move. He’s watching you, brow furrowed, processing. Ford wants to understand, to fix, but emotions aren’t equations and you are something far more complex than anything described in his journals.
“Hey. . . hey,” he whispers, finally reaching out, his voice soft, calm, quiet. He’s cautious, careful, like he’s afraid of overwhelming you. His hand hovers for a moment before settling lightly on your arm. “What’s wrong? what happened?” Ford asks because he needs to know. He needs to dissect the situation, to piece together what’s hurting you so he can find a solution. But there’s more to it than just answers for him.
When you can’t quite form words, when your tears keep spilling, he gently pulls you closer, his hand resting on your back as he guides you to sit with him. His touch is gentle as he slowly, soothingly runs his thumb over your shoulder.
“You don’t have to talk yet,” he speaks, his breath brushing against your temple. “I’m here.” and those words, so simple, carry so much weight coming from him. Because Ford isn’t a man who offers empty promises. If he says he’s here, he means it in every sense.
And then, because Ford can’t help the way his mind works, he begins talking in that soothing voice of his. “You know,” he starts in a thoughtful tone. “tears are a natural response to emotional stress. It’s. . . it’s a sign of strength, not weakness. Your body is releasing what it can’t hold anymore.”
Ford is not trying to seem all smart and logical, it’s just how he comforts, by giving you the understanding you deserve, by showing you that it’s okay to feel everything you’re feeling, by explaining you. And when you hear him, his hand moves to gently wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb, so careful, like he’s touching something sacred.
“Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together,” Ford promises you. “You’re not alone in this.” he kisses your forehead, slowly, letting you feel his presence. And when you’re breathing just a little steadier, Ford tilts your chin up, his eyes searching yours, and there’s nothing but warmth in his gaze. “You’re going to be alright.” he says, and somehow, you know he means it.
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