#how to unlock iphone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mcrdvcks · 3 months ago

Text

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ you're too sweet for me

chapter summary: You and Jean come up with a playful bet that goes slightly out of hand.

word count: 9.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is actually quite a fluffy fun chapter - we have a few more "filler" chapters left before we get to some more important things!

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, fluff, cat, cat allergy, playful bet, implied ovulating/period, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, slight praise kink

series masterlist - chapter 9 → chapter 11

“Here,” you said simply, handing Logan the brand-new iPhone. He stared at the sleek black device like you’d just handed him an alien artifact.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” he asked, his brow furrowed in suspicion. His fingers brushed over the screen, but he didn’t press anything.

“You’re supposed to use it,” you replied, grinning at his hesitation. “It’s a phone, Logan. Welcome to the 21st century.”

He turned it over in his hands, clearly unimpressed. “My flip phone works just fine. Makes calls, takes messages. Why’d I need this fancy piece of crap?”

“Because,” you said patiently, sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter with your own new phone in hand, “your flip phone doesn’t even have a battery life anymore. And this isn’t just a phone. It’s also a camera, a computer, and… well, it’s everything.”

Logan squinted at it, still unconvinced. “What do I need all that for? I don’t even like computers.”

You laughed. “You don’t have to like it. But you’ll get used to it. Trust me, once you figure out texting, you’ll never go back.”

He grunted in response, swiping his thumb experimentally across the screen. It didn’t do anything. “How’s this damn thing even work?”

“Okay, okay,” you said, hopping off the counter. “Let me show you.” You stood beside him and reached for the phone, your fingers brushing against his as you took it.

“First, you tap here to turn it on.” You pressed the side button, and the screen lit up. Logan flinched slightly, then scowled at the glowing Apple logo.

“Great. Now it’s starin’ at me,” he muttered.

You stifled a laugh. “It’s booting up. Once it’s on, you’ll see the home screen, and from there, you can—”

The phone buzzed in your hands, and Logan jerked back like it had shocked him. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s just the haptic feedback,” you explained. “It vibrates when you touch certain things. Don’t worry, it’s not going to bite you.”

Logan’s glare deepened, but he didn’t stop watching. When the screen finally loaded, you handed the phone back to him. “Here. Try unlocking it.”

He hesitated, then tapped the screen the way you had. It didn’t respond.

“No, you have to swipe,” you said, guiding his hand with yours. “Like this.” Together, you swiped across the screen, and it opened to the home screen.

“See? Easy.”

Logan grunted again, still not convinced. “So what now? How do I make a damn call?”

“Okay, let’s start simple. See the green icon with the phone? Tap that.”

He did as you said, his finger pressing down awkwardly on the screen. When the keypad appeared, he gave a small nod, clearly relieved. “Alright. This I get.”

“Good,” you said, smiling. “Now you just punch in a number, and when you’re done, hit the green button again to call. Easy.”

He muttered something under his breath but seemed to be following along. After a few moments, he handed the phone back to you. “Still don’t see the point.”

“Because it’s not just for calls,” you reminded him. “Here, let me show you how to text.”

“Text?” he repeated, his tone laced with skepticism.

“Yes, Logan. Text. It’s how people communicate now.” You opened the messages app and started a new message, typing out a quick “Hi” and sending it to yourself. When your phone buzzed in your pocket, you pulled it out and showed him.

“See? Now you can send me messages instead of yelling from the other room.”

Logan smirked. “But yellin’ works just fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

“Nah,” he said, slipping the phone into his pocket. “Just old-fashioned.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek but staying at his side with your arms around his waist. “You know how you always complain about being only able to hear my voice when you’re on a mission? Now, you can video call me.”

Logan raised a skeptical brow, glancing down at the phone still tucked into his pocket. “Video call? Sounds like somethin’ outta Star Trek.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for your own phone. “It’s not that complicated. Look, I’ll show you.” You tapped a few buttons, and within moments, Logan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out like it was a ticking time bomb.

“It’s just me, Logan. Answer it.”

He frowned, poking at the screen. “Which one do I press?”

“The green button,” you said, trying not to laugh as his finger hovered over the wrong icon.

After a few seconds of fumbling, he finally managed to tap it. Your face popped up on his screen, the image slightly grainy but clear enough. Logan stared at it, his brows furrowing deeper.

“There. Now you can see me,” you said, grinning.

Logan tilted the phone away like he didn’t trust it, his gaze shifting from the screen to you. “Why would I wanna see you on a little box when I can just see you in person?”

You snorted, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Because sometimes you’re halfway across the country, grumpy old man. And maybe I miss you.”

His expression softened slightly, though his gruff exterior remained intact. “You miss me, huh?”

“Of course, I do,” you replied, nudging him playfully. “Not that I’d admit it to your face.”

“Too late,” Logan muttered, his lips quirking into a small smirk. He glanced back at the screen, his thumb brushing over it lightly. “So this thing’s not completely useless.”

“High praise,” you teased, closing the app on your phone. “See? You’re already learning.”

He let out a low chuckle, slipping the phone back into his pocket. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Still don’t like this thing.”

“Noted,” you said with mock seriousness, patting his chest. “Now, can we go out for lunch? I’m starving.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he replied, slipping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you headed for the kitchen.

---

While you were grading papers before your next class, Logan walked in, his brows scrunched at his phone. “What the hell is this?”

Logan held the phone out like it might explode at any second. The screen was open to a message from Jubilee, a chaotic string of emojis: 🎉✨🔥👩‍🎤🌈🐱🛸.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation. He frowned at the tiny icons as if they had personally offended him. “Is this even English?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose as you glanced at the screen. “It’s emojis, Logan. They’re… expressive.”

“Expressive, huh?” He squinted at the screen, unimpressed. “Looks like she smashed her face into the keyboard.”

“Well, it’s Jubilee. What did you expect?” you teased, taking the phone from his hand to get a better look. “She’s probably excited about something.”

Logan crossed his arms, his frown deepening. “Then why not just say it? What’s the point of all this… nonsense?”

“Because it’s fun,” you explained with a shrug. “Sometimes words aren’t enough. Emojis add personality.”

He snorted. “Personality, my ass. Looks like a damn hieroglyphic puzzle.”

You chuckled, handing the phone back to him. “Just text her back and ask what she means.”

“How the hell am I supposed to do that?” Logan grumbled, poking at the screen clumsily. “This thing barely listens to me.”

“It’s not voice-activated,” you said with an exasperated smile. “Here, I’ll show you.” You stepped closer, your hands brushing against his as you took the phone again. “Tap here to start typing.”

He watched as you opened the keyboard, his expression skeptical. “And what? Just start pecking at it like a chicken?”

You stifled a laugh. “Pretty much. Or you can use the voice-to-text feature if you want. It’ll transcribe what you say.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Transcribe? You’re makin’ it sound fancier than it is.”

“Okay, fine,” you said, grinning. “It writes down your grumpy muttering. Better?”

“Much.” He leaned over your shoulder, watching as you demonstrated how to use the feature. His proximity made your heart skip a beat, though you did your best to focus on the task.

“See? Easy,” you said after dictating a quick test message. “Just press the little microphone icon and speak.”

Logan eyed the phone like it might bite him. “You’re tellin’ me this thing’s smart enough to understand me?”

“It is,” you assured him, holding back a laugh. “Give it a try.”

With a reluctant sigh, Logan tapped the microphone icon. “Jubilee,” he said, his voice low and deliberate, “what the hell do all those pictures mean?”

The phone transcribed his words perfectly, and you grinned as you hit send. “See? Not so bad.”

He grunted, crossing his arms again as he waited for a response. A moment later, the phone buzzed with Jubilee’s reply: “LOL Logan! It means ‘party time, let’s rock, cats rule, aliens are cool!’ 🎸🐾👽✨”

Logan stared at the screen, his frown returning. “Party time? Cats? Aliens? What the hell kinda conversation am I havin’ here?”

You laughed, patting his arm. “It’s Jubilee. You’re lucky she didn’t send you a meme.”

“What the hell’s a meme?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Oh, you’ll find out eventually,” you said, grinning. “For now, just stick with the basics.”

“Basics,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Textin’, emojis, memes… what’s next? The damn thing makes coffee?”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, leaning into him as he slid the phone back into his pocket with an annoyed grunt. “You’re doing great, Logan. One step at a time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, though there was a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t expect me to start usin’ this thing all the time.”

“Of course not,” you said, still smiling. “But admit it—it’s not as bad as you thought.”

He didn’t respond, but the flicker of amusement in his eyes was enough for you.

---

“Why’d ya call me in here?” Rogue asked, standing outside Jubilee’s room.

“Well… me and Kitty went into town and came across something. Come in.” Jubilee opened the door just enough for Rogue to walk inside before closing it.

"Aw, poor thing," Rogue murmured as she stepped closer to Kitty, who cradled the small black cat in her arms. Its fur was scruffy, and a small scab marred its leg. The cat let out a weak meow, and Rogue's expression softened even further. "Where’d y’all find it?"

“Behind that old diner downtown,” Kitty explained, stroking the cat’s head gently. “It was just sitting there, all alone. We couldn’t just leave it.”

“Yeah,” Jubilee chimed in, folding her arms. “It’s clearly seen better days. Probably hasn’t eaten in a while.”

Rogue raised an eyebrow. “Y’all know we’re not allowed to have pets, right?”

Jubilee waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, but c’mon, Rogue. Look at this little guy. We can’t just kick him back out there.”

Kitty nodded fervently. “We’ll keep him hidden. Nobody has to know.”

Rogue sighed, her resolve already weakening. “Fine. But if we get caught, this is on y’all.”

“Deal!” Jubilee grinned. “Now, we just need to figure out where to keep him.”

---

For a few days, things went smoothly—or as smoothly as they could with three girls sneaking a cat around the mansion. They took turns feeding and caring for it, stuffing it into backpacks or under blankets anytime they heard footsteps in the hallway.

But then, the sneezing started.

You rubbed at your nose, frowning as another sneeze tore through you. “This doesn’t make any sense,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Spring allergies don’t usually hit me like this.”

Logan glanced up from the newspaper he was reading at the kitchen table. “You okay, darlin’? You’ve been sneezin’ all morning.”

“I don’t know.” You sniffled, grabbing a tissue. “I woke up like this. It’s weird.”

He gave you a once-over, his brow furrowing. “Maybe you’re comin’ down with somethin’.”

“I don’t think so,” you said, blowing your nose. “I feel fine otherwise. Just… stuffy.”

Jean walked in then, grabbing a cup of coffee from the pot. “Morning, guys. Y/N, are you okay? You sound congested.”

“I am,” you admitted, gesturing vaguely. “But it’s not a cold. It’s like I’m allergic to something all of a sudden.”

Jean frowned. “That’s strange. Did you change anything recently? New detergent? Perfume?”

“No, nothing.” You sighed, frustrated. “It’s probably nothing. I’ll just take an antihistamine and see if it helps.”

Logan didn’t look convinced, but he let it go for now.

---

Back in Jubilee’s room, the three girls huddled around the cat, who was now cleaned up and looking much healthier after a few days of care.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Kitty said, scratching behind the cat’s ears. “No one suspects a thing.”

“Yeah,” Jubilee agreed, though she looked slightly guilty. “Except… uh… maybe Y/N.”

Rogue’s eyes widened. “What? Why?”

“Well, she’s been sneezing a lot,” Jubilee admitted, wincing. “And I think… I think she might be allergic to cats.”

Rogue groaned. “Oh, great. Now what?”

“We just have to be more careful,” Kitty said quickly. “Keep the cat away from her. Maybe she won’t notice.”

Jubilee nodded. “Right. Easy.”

---

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. Over the next few days, your sneezing got worse, and Logan grew increasingly suspicious.

“Darlin’, this ain’t normal,” he said one evening as you sat on the couch grading papers, tissues scattered around you. “You sure there ain’t somethin’ in the mansion messin’ with you?”

“I don’t know,” you said miserably, pushing your glasses up your nose. “I’ve never had allergies like this before.” You tilted your head as you blew your nose, “I mean, I remember I had a reaction when my grandpa was fostering a cat, but that was when I was 12.”

Logan folded the newspaper, his brow furrowing as he watched you rub your nose again. “You remember, huh? The cat thing? From when you were a kid?”

“Yeah.” You sniffled and leaned back on the couch, tossing the tissue into the growing pile on the coffee table. “It was awful. I couldn’t breathe for weeks. Grandpa had to send the cat back to the shelter.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his instincts flaring. “Thinkin’ it’s a cat now?”

You shrugged, frustrated. “I don’t know, Logan. I haven’t seen a cat around here, and it’s not like anyone’s hiding one. It’s probably just a weird allergy flare-up.”

Logan didn’t look convinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll take a look around, just in case. Mansion’s big, but nothin’ gets by me. If there’s somethin’ here, I’ll find it.”

“Logan, come on,” you protested, waving him off. “You’re overreacting.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, standing up. “But humor me, darlin’. If somethin’s makin’ you sick, I’m not lettin’ it slide.”

You sighed as he left the room, your glasses sliding down your nose as you pinched the bridge again. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

---

Meanwhile, in Jubilee’s room, the girls were scrambling.

“We’re in trouble,” Rogue hissed, pacing as Jubilee held the cat protectively against her chest. “Logan’s got a nose like a bloodhound. He’s gonna sniff this thing out.”

“Relax,” Jubilee said, though her voice was anything but calm. “We’ve kept him hidden this long. We’ll just double down. No more letting him wander around.”

Kitty frowned, glancing at the cat. “But what if Y/N’s really allergic? She’s been sneezing a lot.”

“She’s fine,” Jubilee said quickly, though the guilt was clear in her tone. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Is it?” Rogue crossed her arms. “We need a plan. If Logan finds this cat, we’re done for.”

---

The sneezing didn’t stop. In fact, it got worse. Logan had been keeping an eye—and nose—on you, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off.

One evening, after you’d gone to bed early with a box of tissues, Logan cornered Ororo in the kitchen.

“Something’s goin’ on,” he said, his voice low. “Y/N’s been sneezin’ her head off for days now, says it’s allergies, but she ain’t allergic to anything in this house.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “You think something’s triggering her?”

“Yeah,” Logan said, narrowing his eyes. “And I think it’s a cat.”

“A cat?” Ororo repeated, surprised. “Logan, there are no cats in the mansion.”

Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Maybe not officially, but I can smell somethin’. Been catchin’ whiffs of it in the halls. I’m gonna find out who’s hidin’ it.”

Ororo sighed. “If there is a cat, we’ll deal with it. Just… don’t go tearing the place apart.”

Logan smirked. “No promises.”

---

The next day, Logan followed his nose. He caught a faint trace of something feline near the girls’ dorms and honed in on Jubilee’s room. He knocked once before pushing the door open without waiting for a response.

“Alright, what are y’all hidin’ in here?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

Jubilee froze mid-step, her eyes wide. Kitty quickly shoved the cat under a blanket, but Shadow let out a soft meow, betraying their secret.

“Damn it,” Jubilee muttered.

Logan’s eyes narrowed, and he sniffed the air. “Knew it. You got a cat in here.”

“We can explain!” Kitty blurted out, holding up her hands.

Logan glared at them, stepping fully into the room. “You do realize Y/N’s been sneezin’ her head off ‘cause of this, right? And cats ain’t allowed here for a reason.”

“We didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Jubilee said quickly. “We just… we couldn’t leave him. He was all alone, and he was hurt.”

Logan glanced at the lump under the blanket, his expression softening just a fraction. “Lemme see it.”

Reluctantly, Kitty pulled the blanket back to reveal Shadow, who blinked up at Logan with wide green eyes.

Ororo appeared in the doorway then, her arms crossed. “Logan, what’s going on?”

“Found the cat,” Logan said simply, nodding toward Shadow.

Ororo sighed, stepping into the room. “I’ll take care of it. I know someone who can give the cat a good home.”

Jubilee and Kitty looked crushed, but they nodded. “Okay,” Kitty said softly.

“Thank you for saving it,” Ororo added gently. “But next time, talk to me first.”

As Ororo left with Shadow, Logan turned back to the girls. “If this happens again, you’re all gonna be on clean-up duty for a month. Got it?”

“Got it,” they chorused.

---

That evening, as you sat on the couch feeling significantly less congested, Logan walked in and sat beside you.

“You were right,” he said, draping an arm over your shoulders.

“About what?” you asked, leaning into him.

“There was a cat,” he admitted, smirking.

You stared at him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Kids were hidin’ it. Ororo’s takin’ it to a new home now.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Well, I guess that explains it.”

“Guess so,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You feelin’ better now?”

“Much,” you said, smiling up at him. “Thanks, honey.”

“Anytime, darlin’.”

---

“I don’t think Scott will even notice,” Jean said, as the hairdresser trimmed her hair.

You sat next to her, but instead you were getting your nails done. It was something you’ve never done before, but since Jean wanted a trim you tagged along. “I don’t think Logan’d notice either,” you replied, referring to your manicure.

Jean snorted, “you kidding me? Of course he’d notice. He noticed that you were using a different bookmark.”

You rolled your eyes, a soft smile playing on your lips. “It’s a completely different thing, Jean. My bookmark literally had sparkles. Scott’s not going to miss a haircut. Haircuts are major.”

Jean leaned back in her chair as the hairdresser put down the scissors. “Alright, Y/N. Let’s make it interesting. If Logan notices your nails before Scott notices my haircut, you owe me a week of grading those awful pop quizzes.”

“And if Scott notices first,” you countered, raising an eyebrow, “you’re in charge of my quizzes.”

Jean smirked. “Deal. You’re about to owe me big time.”

---

When the two of you got back to the mansion, you headed straight to the kitchen, where Logan, Scott, Ororo, and a few students were gathered. Logan stood by the counter, his arms crossed as he waited for the coffee to brew. His eyes immediately found yours as you entered the room.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted, his gaze dropping to your hands as you fiddled with the edge of your sweater. He tilted his head. “Nice nails. You don’t usually go for this kinda thing, but they suit you.”

You froze, your mouth opening slightly in shock. Jean had the audacity to grin next to you, clearly enjoying the moment.

“Thanks, Logan,” you muttered, feeling a slight heat rise to your cheeks.

Jean was practically bouncing on her heels as the two of you left the kitchen. “Told you!” she whispered triumphantly. “The man doesn’t miss a thing.”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Scott hasn’t even seen you yet. It’s still anyone’s game.”

---

By the time dinner rolled around, Scott still hadn’t commented on Jean’s hair. You sat beside Logan at the table, glancing over at Jean, who was conspicuously brushing her hair back every few minutes to make it extra obvious.

When dessert was served, you leaned over to her and whispered, “Nothing yet?”

Jean sighed dramatically. “Not a word.”

Logan looked over at the two of you. “What’s with the whisperin’?”

“Nothing!” you said quickly, shooting Jean a warning glance.

Jean just smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, it’s something. Y/N owes me now.”

“Not yet,” you hissed back.

---

The following week, the bets continued.

“I’m telling you, Logan will notice,” Jean said, as she put on extra blush. You bet that Scott would be able to notice that her cheeks were rosier than usual.

“Jean, it’s a belt. One you can’t even see since my shirt covers it,” you responded, exasperated as you pulled the hem of your sweater down over the new belt she’d somehow convinced you to wear.

Jean smirked, brushing her freshly trimmed hair over her shoulder like the reigning queen of I told you so. “You underestimate your husband, Y/N. He’ll notice. Logan always notices. And when he does, I’ll be sitting pretty with zero quizzes to grade next week.”

“Jean,” you said slowly, adjusting your glasses and staring at her like she was mildly unhinged. “There is no possible way he’ll notice a belt. Unless it starts glowing or shoots lasers, it’s not happening.”

“Don’t act like you’ve forgotten. He clocked your new bookmark,” she shot back with a laugh, tucking her hands into her hoodie pockets. “Scott, meanwhile, couldn’t pick me out of a crowd if I wore a completely different outfit. You’re lucky this bet is low stakes because you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

“Yeah, well, he still hasn’t noticed your haircut, so maybe don’t count your chickens,” you muttered.

“Oh, honey,” Jean teased with mock sympathy. “Let me know how that fantasy pans out for you.”

---

Later that evening, you were in the living room grading assignments when Logan strolled in, towel slung over one shoulder from a workout. His flannel was untucked, and his hair looked especially messy, which meant he'd probably gone a few rounds in the Danger Room. He grabbed a beer from the fridge before pausing, narrowing his eyes slightly as he looked at you.

You didn’t notice right away, too caught up in deciphering your students’ atrocious handwriting. Logan cleared his throat. “New belt?”

Your pen stalled mid-word, and you looked up at him with a mix of horror and disbelief. “How did you—?”

“Color’s different,” Logan said casually, gesturing with the bottle before sitting down next to you. He tipped his head, inspecting it with sharp, curious eyes. “Nice look. Suits you, darlin’.”

Jean, who had been walking by the open doorway, stopped just long enough to poke her head in. “Pay up,” she sing-songed before continuing down the hall.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Logan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” you grumbled, wishing you could sink into the couch and disappear.

---

The bets didn’t stop there. Jean was relentless in her ability to cook up increasingly obscure wagers on Logan’s observational skills. It turned into a kind of perverse sport, one where the stakes felt comically high despite how trivial the differences were.

One day, you and Jean went to the mall, and after the two of you walked out of the candle store, she pulled you across the walkway to a perfume store.

You smelt different perfumes—though you probably weren’t going to buy any, you always used the same one—when Jean came along with a small bottle. “Smell it,” she said, holding her spritzed hand to your nose.

You furrowed your brows, “that smells exactly like mine. Just a different brand.” Jean’s grin grew as you finally realized what her plan was. “There’s no way he’d notice! I can’t even tell the difference!”

“Well, let’s put it to the test shall we?”

The next morning, you spritzed on the new perfume Jean had chosen. It smelled so similar to the one you always wore that even you had to second-guess yourself. There was no way Logan would pick up on this. Jean, however, was practically vibrating with confidence when she caught a whiff of you in the hallway.

“Perfect,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Let’s see how long it takes.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress a small smile. “I’m telling you, he won’t notice. This is ridiculous.”

Jean tilted her head, her red hair catching the sunlight as she smirked. “We’ll see.”

---

By lunchtime, you were beginning to think you might finally win one of these bets. Logan had been around you all morning—at breakfast, during your shared training session with a group of students, and even in the library when he stopped by to drop off a book you’d left in your classroom. Not once had he made any comments about your scent.

When you met Jean in the kitchen for a quick snack, she raised an eyebrow at you. “Well?”

“Nothing yet,” you said smugly, popping a grape into your mouth. “Looks like I might actually win this one.”

Jean leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Don’t get cocky. He’s probably saving it for the perfect moment.”

“You sound way too confident for someone who’s about to owe me a week’s worth of grading,” you shot back, adjusting your glasses with a grin. “And don’t forget, Scott still hasn’t noticed your haircut from two weeks ago.”

Jean just shrugged, her confidence unshaken. “Scott’s a lost cause. Logan, on the other hand? He’s practically a bloodhound when it comes to you.”

---

Later that evening, you were curled up on the couch in the living room, grading papers with your glasses perched on your nose. Logan walked in, his flannel sleeves rolled up and his hair still damp from a shower. He settled into the armchair across from you, cracking open a beer and watching you with a lazy smile.

After a moment, he tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “You smell different.”

Your pen froze mid-sentence, and you slowly looked up at him. “What?”

Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied you. “Different perfume. It’s close to the one you usually wear, but not the same. Did you change it?”

You stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “How… how could you possibly tell?”

He shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I know you, darlin’. You’ve been wearin’ the same one for years. I like the new one, though. Smells nice.”

From the hallway, you heard a quiet but triumphant “Ha!” followed by the sound of Jean’s laughter fading as she walked away.

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Unbelievable.”

Logan chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “What am I missin’ this time?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, still hiding your face. “Just… nothing.”

---

Over the next few weeks, the bets escalated. Jean had an uncanny knack for picking the smallest, most inconsequential changes for Logan to notice about you—new socks, a slightly different shade of nail polish, even a replacement pair of jeans that were identical to your old ones. And each time, Logan noticed.

Meanwhile, your attempts to get Scott to notice Jean’s increasingly obvious changes were met with failure after failure. She even dyed a streak of her hair a darker shade of red, and Scott’s only response was, “did you change shampoos?”

By the end of the month, you were drowning in papers to grade thanks to losing every single bet. Jean, of course, was absolutely insufferable, though she did occasionally offer to take pity on you.

“You know,” she said one afternoon as the two of you walked to the garage for a supply run, “you could just admit defeat and stop betting.”

“And let you win without a fight?” you replied, narrowing your eyes at her. “Not a chance.”

Jean laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Suit yourself. Just don’t forget—Logan always notices, Y/N. Always.”

By mid-afternoon, you were in the study with Logan again, this time discussing a new training schedule for the students. He leaned over the desk, pointing out a few notes you’d written in the margins.

“Why’d you change this one?” he asked, tapping the paper.

You blinked, momentarily distracted by how close he was. “Huh?”

“This,” he said, gesturing to the note. “You usually write your reminders in blue ink, not black.”

You stared at him, completely floored. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Logan frowned, straightening up. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “Just… nothing.”

From the doorway, you heard Jean’s voice: “Another one bites the dust!”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Jean strolled into the room, grinning like the cat who caught the canary. “Not a chance.”

Logan looked between the two of you, utterly bemused. “You two wanna clue me in, or are you just gonna keep bein’ cryptic?”

Jean patted his shoulder, still grinning. “Don’t worry about it, Logan. Just keep being you.”

As she walked out, Logan turned to you with a raised eyebrow. “What’s her deal?”

“Don’t ask,” you muttered, already dreading the next bet.

---

It finally got to a point where you just laughed at the predicament you found yourself in. Jean was crouched down on the floor, putting the smallest dot of white paint on your shiny black flats.

Even from your view, you couldn’t see it. The dot of white paint Jean had dabbed on your shiny black flats was so small it disappeared when the light hit your feet. You sighed, running a hand through your hair as Jean straightened up, a self-satisfied grin plastered on her face.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you muttered.

“Ridiculously fun,” Jean corrected, crossing her arms. “Come on, Y/N, this one is foolproof. There’s no way Logan notices.”

You gave her a flat look. “He noticed a belt. A belt, Jean. Do you realize how small this dot is compared to that? I can’t even see it!”

Jean shrugged, smug as ever. “Well, that’s why it’s the perfect test. He’s either superhumanly observant or…” She trailed off, her grin widening. “Well, actually, there’s no ‘or.’ He’s just superhumanly observant when it comes to you.”

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses as you stepped back. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

---

Later that evening, you were sitting in the library with Logan, your grading spread out across the table. Logan had a book in his hand, but you could feel his gaze flick to you every few minutes.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Just trying to get through these papers,” you replied without looking up, circling yet another wrong answer on a physics test.

Logan hummed, leaning back in his chair. A few seconds later, you caught him tilting his head, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” you asked, your voice tinged with suspicion.

He pointed toward your feet with his beer bottle. “You step in somethin’?”

Your heart sank. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s a white speck on your shoe,” Logan said, setting his beer down and leaning forward to inspect it closer. “Looks like paint.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “How…?”

Logan shrugged. “Hard to miss.”

From the doorway, Jean leaned casually against the frame, her arms crossed as she grinned. “And that,” she said, her voice dripping with triumph, “is why you never bet against me.”

You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “Unbelievable. How do you do this every time?”

Jean just laughed, sauntering off down the hall. “It’s not me, Y/N. It’s Logan. He always notices.”

---

For the next few days, you tried not to think about Jean’s unbroken winning streak. You’d resigned yourself to the fact that Logan was apparently the most detail-oriented person alive—at least when it came to you.

“Y’know,” Logan said one evening as you both sat on the couch, “you and Jean seem to be schemin’ a lot lately.”

“We’re not scheming,” you said quickly, though your cheeks warmed under his knowing gaze.

Logan raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of his beer. “Uh-huh. And these ‘not-schemes’ don’t have anything to do with you suddenly changin’ little things every day?”

Your eyes widened. “You noticed that too?”

“Darlin’,” Logan said with a smirk, leaning closer, “I notice everything about you.”

You groaned, covering your face. “I’m never going to win.”

Logan chuckled, pulling you closer as he kissed the top of your head. “Maybe stop bettin’ against Jean. Or just accept that I’ve got a soft spot for you.”

You peeked up at him, your heart softening despite your frustration. “You do, huh?”

“Biggest soft spot there is,” he said, his voice warm as his arms tightened around you.

For a moment, you forgot all about losing.

But only for a moment.

---

It all came to a head the next day, when you told Jean to wear a neon yellow jumpsuit, in hopes Scott would finally realize something.

But by the afternoon he still hadn’t said a single word.

You weren’t sure what overcame you, though usually when you berate or yell at someone it’s always Scott. The three of you were fixing one of the AC units outside, and after finishing you thought Scott would finally say something about Jean as he looked at the bright yellow outfit, but instead he said: “Wanna a drink?”

You grabbed Jean’s arm, pulling her to your side, your frustration finally boiling over. “No, she doesn’t. Maybe if you paid attention, she would.”

Jean blinked, clearly startled by your outburst. “Y/N—”

Scott cut in, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Is this about the things you’ve been changing?”

“What?” you and Jean said in unison. Jean added quickly, “You noticed? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Scott hesitated, running a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking between the two of you. “Because you seemed happy. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Jean’s mouth opened and closed a few times, her confident demeanor faltering. “You… didn’t want to ruin it?” she echoed, her voice softer now.

Scott shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “I know I’m not great at noticing stuff like Logan is. But I saw you were having fun with Y/N, and I figured it was your thing. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Jean stared at him, her face a mixture of disbelief and something softer—something almost tender. “Scott Summers,” she said finally, crossing her arms over her bright yellow jumpsuit, “you are absolutely infuriating.”

Scott blinked, clearly thrown off. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t say anything!” Jean huffed, but there was no real heat behind her words. “You let me walk around in this—” she gestured to her jumpsuit, “—like a highlighter with legs, and you didn’t say a word?”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “You look good in it.”

Jean froze, her cheeks turning pink. “That’s not the point.”

Scott smirked faintly, clearly enjoying her flustered state. “Maybe not, but it’s true.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to hide your grin as Jean sputtered for a response. “Okay, fine,” she finally muttered, looking away. “But next time, say something.”

Scott stepped closer, his voice low and sincere. “Deal. But only if you promise not to bet against Logan anymore. He’s impossible to beat.”

Jean turned back to you, wide-eyed. “You told him?”

“I didn’t say a word!” you protested, holding up your hands.

Scott chuckled, shaking his head. “You didn’t have to. It’s not hard to figure out when the two of you are constantly whispering and sneaking around.”

Jean groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is so embarrassing.”

You patted her on the shoulder, your smile softening. “At least now you know he notices, even if he doesn’t always say it.”

Jean peeked at Scott from between her fingers, her expression caught somewhere between annoyance and affection. “Fine. You win this round.”

Scott smiled, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I always do.”

Jean rolled her eyes but didn’t pull away, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. For all their differences, they made sense together.

As the three of you headed back into the mansion, Jean nudged you with her elbow. “So… what’s our next bet?”

You groaned, but you couldn’t stop the laughter bubbling up. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” Jean said with a wink.

---

Usually during this time of your cycle Logan could be… clingy. You knew it was completely unintentional; his senses could pick up the slightest change in your body, but the past few days he’s been more clingy and touchy than usual.

You, Jean, and Ororo were going out to a nice dinner spot, something that needed a slightly fancy outfit. You put on a pair of slacks, some flats, and a white shirt with structured bodice and a sweetheart neckline, complemented by gathered puff sleeves and a fitted waist.

You walked out of the bathroom, grabbing your purse and smoothing down your slacks as you made your way over to the bed. Logan was sprawled out on top of the blankets, one arm behind his head, the other holding a book that looked far too small for his hands. When he heard your footsteps, his gaze flicked up, and the book was immediately abandoned.

“Darlin’…” His voice was low and appreciative as his eyes swept over you. He sat up, his movements slow and deliberate, before standing and closing the space between you. His hands found your waist as his eyes lingered on your shirt. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a soft laugh escaping you. “Is that your way of saying I look good?”

“More than good,” he said, his fingers tracing the edge of the bodice. His hands moved to gently spin you around, taking in every detail of the outfit. “Where’d you get this shirt?”

You started to answer, “I found it at—” but Logan’s hands were already toying with the puff sleeves, smoothing them out like they needed adjusting. His touch trailed lower, and he paused just below your collarbone, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric.

“It’s the sleeves,” he murmured, his tone teasing. “They’re distractin’.”

“They’re supposed to be,” you replied, tilting your head to look up at him. “It’s part of the charm.”

Logan smirked. “Oh, I get the charm, sweetheart.” His hands slid lower, adjusting the fabric around your waist before his palms rested over the sides of your ribcage. He gave a mock-serious nod. “There, now it’s perfect.”

You narrowed your eyes, fighting back a grin. “You’ve fixed it, huh?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a deadpan expression, his fingers lightly brushing your sides. “Though I might need to check somethin’.”

Before you could reply, he carefully cupped the sides of your breasts, adjusting them ever so slightly in the bodice with an exaggerated level of precision. You gasped, batting his hands away as a laugh bubbled up.

“Logan!”

He grinned, completely unrepentant. “What? Just makin’ sure everything’s sittin’ right.”

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what you were doing.” You shook your head, trying to hide your laughter.

“Hey, don’t go accusin’ me of somethin’ I’m innocent of.” His tone was mock-offended, but the mischievous glint in his eyes gave him away.

“You’re impossible,” you said, smoothing your shirt back into place.

“And you love me for it.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You sure you don’t wanna stay in tonight? I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Jean and Ororo are waiting for me, and I’m not about to bail.”

Logan sighed, stepping back reluctantly. “Fine. But you’re gonna turn heads in that outfit, darlin’.”

“Good,” you teased. “Maybe you’ll think twice before touching the sleeves again.”

He chuckled, leaning down for one last kiss before you headed for the door. “Have fun, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you get back.”

As you left, you couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to telling Jean and Ororo about Logan’s antics.

---

You grabbed your short block heels from your closet and moved to sit on the ottoman to put them on. Before you could reach down, Logan was already kneeling in front of you, gently pulling the heels from your hands.

“I got it,” he said, his voice gruff but affectionate, his thumb brushing against your wrist briefly as he set the shoes on the floor.

You tilted your head, giving him a playful smile. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

Logan ignored your protest, his focus entirely on slipping the first shoe onto your foot. His fingers worked deftly but with surprising care as if even this small act deserved his full attention. He adjusted the strap to make sure it sat just right before moving to the other shoe.

“I like takin’ care of you,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you rolled your eyes to cover it up. “It’s just shoes, Logan. I think I can handle it.”

He glanced up at you, his expression soft despite the smirk tugging at his lips. “Doesn’t mean you have to.”

Once he finished with the second shoe, his hands rested lightly on your knees as he looked up at you, his eyes holding yours for a moment. There was something reassuring, grounding, about the way he looked at you—like you were the only person that existed to him in that moment.

“You’re fussier than usual this week,” you teased gently, brushing an errant strand of hair away from his face.

Logan chuckled, his thumbs drawing absentminded circles over your knees. “Might be because you’re distractin’ me.”

“Me? Distracting?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Damn right,” he replied, leaning in slightly as his voice dropped lower. “How am I supposed to focus when you’re sittin’ here, lookin’ the way you do?”

You laughed softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to the top of his head. “You know, most people would be flattered, but I think you just like causing trouble.”

He smirked, standing up and offering you a hand to help you to your feet. Once you were up, he let his hands settle on your hips, pulling you a little closer. “You figured me out, darlin’.”

“We’re going to be late,” you reminded him, but you didn’t make any effort to step away from him.

Logan’s brows furrowed as he leaned in to nuzzle against your temple. “Couple minutes won’t kill us.”

“It might if Ororo finds out why,” you said with a grin, earning a soft laugh from him.

He pulled back reluctantly, grabbing your blazer from where it hung on the back of the chair and holding it out for you. “Alright, sweetheart, let’s go. Can’t have you bein’ late for physics, now can we?”

You slipped into the blazer and grabbed your bag, smiling at him over your shoulder as you headed for the door. Logan stayed close behind, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as the two of you walked down the hall toward the classroom wing.

As you reached the corridor where your paths split, Logan leaned in for a quick but lingering kiss. “See you later, sweetheart.”

You smiled against his lips. “Try not to terrorize the students too much in your class, okay?”

“No promises,” he replied, smirking as he headed off toward the Danger Room for his class with Ororo. You shook your head, watching him go for a moment before continuing on your way, feeling lighter than you had in days.

---

Sitting next to Logan hadn’t been enough, neither was your legs on his lap. Instead, the perfect position for the two of you to be in was you straddling his lap, your book on his chest as you held it in place. When he first pulled you onto his lap, he had started to kiss you, but you were able to pull back and pout about not being able to read your book.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light over the room, highlighting the way your glasses perched on your nose as you concentrated on the book in your hands. Logan, however, had other plans. He leaned back against the couch cushions, his large hands resting lazily on your thighs as you straddled him.

At first, he was quiet, his sharp eyes tracking your expressions as you read. But Logan being Logan, he couldn’t sit still for long. His fingers began tracing absent patterns along your sides, drifting upward before sliding back down.

"Logan," you murmured, not looking up from the page.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His tone was all innocence, but the way his hands tightened just slightly on your waist betrayed him.

"You’re supposed to be good," you reminded him, trying to focus as his lips pressed a kiss to the corner of your jaw.

"I am," he murmured against your skin, the scrape of his beard sending a shiver down your spine. "Haven’t moved, have I?"

Your lips twitched, fighting the urge to smile. "You’re moving right now."

"Don’t count, darlin’," he teased, his lips trailing down your neck, slow and deliberate. "Just enjoyin’ my wife while she’s sittin’ pretty on me."

You adjusted your glasses, willing yourself to stay focused as his kisses grew bolder, moving to your collarbone. His hands slid to your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly, bringing you closer.

"Logan," you said again, though the firmness in your voice wavered.

"Yeah, darlin’?" This time his voice was lower, more gravel in it, and his lips skimmed just above the neckline of your nightgown.

You tried to ignore the heat spreading through you, gripping your book tighter. "You’re distracting me."

"Good." His lips curved into a grin against your skin before dipping lower. He pressed a kiss to the swell of your breast, just above the lace trim.

That was it. The book slipped from your hands onto his chest with a soft thud as you exhaled sharply. "I thought you were supposed to be good."

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I am," he said, his voice husky. Before you could respond, his hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly.

"Logan!"

"I am bein’ good," he murmured as he carried you toward the bed, the playful glint in his eyes betraying his words. "Lemme show you just how good."

You didn’t even try to argue, not when his lips found yours, and his hands settled you onto the bed like you were something precious. He kissed you again, deeper this time, and you gave up any pretense of finishing your book. Logan’s weight shifted above you, one of his hands bracing against the mattress while the other slid along your side, tracing the curve of your hip.

You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips traveled down your jaw, leaving a warm trail that made you shiver. “Logan,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” His lips curved into a grin against your neck, his beard scraping deliciously against your skin.

You didn’t have an answer—or at least, not one that didn’t involve him doing exactly what he was doing. His hands slid beneath the hem of your nightgown, rough fingertips tracing the sensitive skin of your thighs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

His lips found your collarbone, then lower, teasing the edge of lace that framed your chest. You couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped you, your hands gripping his shoulders as his fingers hooked beneath the thin straps of your nightgown, sliding them down your arms.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he said, his voice rough with affection. He kissed the curve of your shoulder, then moved lower, his lips brushing over the swell of your breast. You felt the cool air against your skin as the fabric pooled at your waist, but the warmth of his mouth more than made up for it.

You tugged at his shirt, your fingers fumbling with the hem. “Off,” you demanded softly.

Logan chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through you. “Yes, ma’am.” He sat back on his knees, peeling his shirt off in one smooth motion before tossing it aside. His broad chest, covered in a scattering of scars and dark hair, was a sight you’d never tire of. He caught the way you were looking at him and smirked. “Like what you see?”

“Always,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. Your shy tone made his smirk soften into something warmer.

He leaned down, kissing you again as his hands found your hips. He tugged the rest of your nightgown away, leaving you bare beneath him. The way he looked at you made your breath hitch—like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Logan…”

“Relax, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and soothing. His hands slid down your thighs, gently spreading them apart. He settled between your legs, his lips finding your inner thigh. “Let me take care of you.”

Your breath hitched as his kisses grew closer to where you ached for him most. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just above your center.

“Logan,” you gasped, your fingers clutching at the sheets.

“I’ve got you,” he promised, and then his mouth was on you, warm and insistent. Your head fell back against the pillows, a soft moan escaping your lips as he worked you with a precision that left you breathless. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and tasting in a way that had your thighs trembling around his shoulders.

“Oh, God,” you whispered, your hands flying to his hair. He hummed in response, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body.

Logan didn’t rush, taking his time as he built you higher and higher. His hands held you steady, his grip firm but not restrictive as he pushed you closer to the edge. When his tongue circled a particularly sensitive spot, your back arched off the bed, a sharp cry escaping you.

“That’s it,” he murmured, pulling back just long enough to speak before diving back in.

It didn’t take much more. With a soft, broken moan, you shattered, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure washed over you. Logan didn’t stop, his tongue and lips coaxing you through your release until you were trembling and gasping for air.

“Jesus, Logan,” you breathed, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grinned up at you, his beard glistening slightly. “Not done yet, darlin’.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, his tongue exploring you with renewed fervor. The overstimulation made you squirm, but Logan held you steady, his hands tightening on your hips.

“Logan, I—” Your protest dissolved into a moan as the heat began building again, faster this time. He worked you with an intensity that left you reeling, his lips and tongue driving you higher and higher until you were teetering on the edge once more. When you came again, it was with a cry that echoed through the room, your body trembling in his hands.

Logan finally pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up the bed to join you. His lips found yours in a kiss that was equal parts tender and hungry, his hands cradling your face as if you might disappear.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough but filled with concern.

You nodded, your cheeks flushed and your breath still coming in short gasps. “More than okay.”

He smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good.” His eyes softened as he looked at you, a quiet intensity in his gaze. “Love you, Y/N.”

“Love you too,” you whispered, your voice shaky but sincere. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss.

As you pulled away he whispered against your lips, “was I good?”

You let out a small giggle, one you couldn’t hold back even if you tried. “Well… I’m not readin’ anymore…”

Logan’s smirk deepened, a spark of mischief lighting his dark eyes. “Good. That book’s been hoggin’ my girl all day.” His voice dropped an octave, thick with heat as he slid a hand up your side, tracing the soft curve of your waist.

“Logan,” you murmured, a warning that lacked any real bite. Your breath hitched when his hand dipped lower, brushing the inside of your thigh.

“Darlin’,” he rumbled, leaning in close enough for his lips to graze your ear. “Been thinkin’ about this all damn day. Couldn’t stop. You sittin’ there, all serious, those glasses makin’ you look so damn sweet…” His hand shifted, cupping your jaw to tilt your face toward him. His gaze burned into yours, equal parts desire and adoration. “But we both know how not sweet you can be when I get my hands on you.”

The words sent a shiver coursing through you, your pulse racing under the intensity of his stare. Before you could summon a response, Logan kissed you, his mouth firm and demanding, the scrape of his beard adding to the delicious roughness. He kissed you like he needed to prove something, like he was desperate to remind you exactly who you were to him.

You moaned softly against his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The heat of his body pressed against yours, solid and unyielding, grounding you in the moment. Logan shifted, his weight settling between your legs as he deepened the kiss.

The faint scent of woodsmoke and leather clung to him, familiar and intoxicating. Your hands moved instinctively, tracing the expanse of his shoulders before dipping lower, fingers brushing along the waistband of his sweats. Logan growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pulled back just enough to speak.

“You’re makin’ it real hard to stay good,” he murmured, his voice rough. He gripped your hips, grinding against you just enough to make your breath hitch. “Tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

Logan didn’t need to be told twice. In one fluid motion, he pushed his sweats down just enough to free himself, the thick length of him pressing against your bare skin. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting and spreading you further as he settled between your legs.

He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he searched your face. “You okay, darlin’?” he asked softly, his voice a stark contrast to the heat burning in his eyes.

You nodded, reaching up to brush a hand along his jaw. “I’m more than okay.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. Logan leaned in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as he guided himself to your entrance. He pushed forward slowly, the stretch making you gasp and clutch at his shoulders. He was careful, deliberate, giving you time to adjust as he filled you inch by inch.

“Jesus,” he muttered, his breath warm against your neck. “You feel so damn good, Y/N.”

Your fingers dug into his back, your body arching to meet his as he began to move. Each thrust was measured at first, slow and purposeful, but the restraint in him was palpable, barely holding back the raw intensity that simmered beneath the surface.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice cracking on his name. “I—God, don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ to,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with more force. The change in pace had you crying out, your nails raking down his back as pleasure bloomed in waves, overwhelming and all-consuming.

Logan groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he drove into you harder, deeper. “You’re mine,” he murmured against your skin, the words raw and possessive. “Always gonna be mine.”

“Yours,” you gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. The new angle sent a bolt of heat through you, your body tightening around him as the pressure built. “Logan, I’m—”

“I know,” he rasped, his lips brushing your ear as he thrust harder, chasing your release. “Let go for me, darlin’. I’ve got you.”

It only took a few more strokes before you shattered, your cry muffled against his shoulder as your body clenched around him. Logan followed seconds later, his movements turning erratic as he buried himself deep inside you with a guttural groan.

For a moment, neither of you moved, your breaths mingling as you clung to each other. Logan finally lifted his head, his hand brushing a damp strand of hair from your face as he looked down at you, his expression softening.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and tender.

You smiled, reaching up to touch his cheek. “Better than okay.”

Logan grinned, the corners of his mouth quirking upward in that familiar, boyish way that always made your heart skip a beat. “Guess I was good, then.”

You laughed softly, your chest still heaving as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss.

that is 2011!

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #scott summers x jean grey #i love you in every time #i love you always and forever #abby's works ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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dwonfilm · 10 months ago

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Teaching tech. | Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Butcher tasked you with the job of teaching a freshly thawed Ben, aka Soldier Boy, how to use technology. First off you started with teaching him about the iPhone.

Warnings: bit of Solider Boy being Soldier Boy but otherwise, mostly fluff.

“Dammit!” [Y/N] heard Ben’s voice from the other room and she sighed. Next was a smash and that made her rush back into the bedroom. Immediately Ben’s eyes lifted up to see her coming in and he scoffed. “I didn’t break the cocksucking thing this time.” He stated plainly. “Good,” she answered. “I don’t have the money to buy you a fourth phone.” She moved to sit on the bed next to where he was currently sitting. “This shit ain’t a phone, it’s a thin ass rock with futuristic shit inside. Phones have a base and a receiver or they were these massive bricks with buttons—not whatever the fuck a touch screen is-“ Ben ranted, but [Y/N] just laughed. “Yeah, they were those things once but this is 2022. Life’s changed a lot and eventually you’re gonna need to learn all these things.” She spoke, picking up the phone that was on the bed between them, swiping up to unlock it. Bits of her [Y/H/C] hair covered her face while her attention focused on the screen. Ben just watched, a grumpy expression on his facial features. “How’d you get stuck doing this anyway? Where’s the Cum Guzzler or the Cheerio?” She laughed, Ben’s nicknames for people were always pretty humorous. “Hughie is scared of you and Butcher can barely explain anything in the entire history of life’s existence.” Ben gently laughed at her answer. Fingers moved across the screen, making selections that she didn’t think were necessary to explain to him at the moment. “So, the bean pole’s afraid of me huh?” He asked, not really expecting an answer. However it did bring up another question. “Why aren’t you scared of me?” His tone seemed indifferent but there was a hint of something more inside his eyes. Something she was oblivious to since her own were focused on the screen of the phone in her hands. Though, she slowly gazed up from it for a moment. “Honestly,” she began with a pause directly after. It was as if she was attempting to think about how to answer him. “I was at first, a little bit, but I just try to sympathize.” He scoffed almost immediately. “You sympathize with a piece of shit like me? No wonder it’s so easy to get you women in the sack. Jesus Chris-“ She turned her head and shot a glare at him. “You can sympathize with people without wanting to fuck them, for starters.” She rolled her eyes, moving her gaze back to the phone in her hands. “No one’s perfect, not that it’s excusing.. well everything. Despite all that, no one here has any real room to judge too harshly.” Ben quirked a brow at that. “That so? Don’t tell me a pretty lil’ thing like you has baggage!” Part of him was sort of mocking her, though he was getting curious. “Moving on, I made the email for you and set up an account for you to use the phone.” She began to explain, looking over to him but finding a confused expression on his face. “E-what?” He asked plainly, green eyes gazing into her own. “Right, I forgot you have no grasp on the basics.” She turned towards him now.

“Email is pretty easy, it’s like sending letters to people—only digitally and in a much faster time period. It used to take y’know, days, weeks for those to be delivered. Now it just takes seconds—also instead of a home address you just need their email address. Does that make sense at least somewhat?” Her voice was gentle, not sarcastic or cruel. [Y/E/C] eyes meeting his green ones as he was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I guess.. I mean it seems straightforward enough—though doing that stupid shit is gonna be harder than understanding what the fuck it is.” He answered. “Well, yeah, but we’ll get there.” [Y/N] offered a half smile at him. “No one’s asking you to be Steve Jobs after a day,” she tried to encourage him but his face was blank yet again. “Who the fuck is that?” He asked, to which she sighed gently. “…never mind, it’s not important. What I meant is that none of us are expecting you to know how to use it all within the blink of an eye.” She replied before moving her gaze back to the phone. He peered over at the phone while knitting his brows together. None of it made any sense to him. Now the screen was black again, before the stupid symbol popped up. “..the fuck is it doing now?” He asked, moving his glance to her face. “It’s updating the software,” she spoke before shifting it to an analogy he’d understand. “..which is like maintenance on a car kind of—it makes sure everything’s working and also is.. replacing the parts in a sense. Fixing things that weren’t working and replacing them with things that will work and hopefully work better.” It took a second, but the analogy did help. “Makes sense I guess.” He spoke, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes watched for a moment before he became bored, so, he did what he usually did and turned his attention to whoever was occupying the space with him. “So tell me, how’d a gorgeous gal like you get tangled up with a fucker like Butcher anyhow?” She laughed softly but she didn’t look up at him this time. Mostly to hide the fact that she was blushing just a little. [Y/N] knew that she shouldn’t be feeling this way, by all accounts this man was still Soldier Boy. He wasn’t a good person, but the more she spent time with him the more she realized he was letting her see the man behind the persona and maybe.. maybe there was more than what he’s done in the past. After all she was preaching sympathy just moments prior. “Flattery will not get you out of the tech lesson, but since it’s updating you’ve got a little wiggle room.” She took a gentle breath before beginning to tell a very condensed version of events. “Becca, Butcher’s wife, she was my mom’s best friend. When my mom got killed in a car wreck, Becca sort of.. became my maternal figure.” Ben nodded, feeling some of the strings attached to his heart pulling. “I’m sorry about that, doll.” It was the least he could say. “Where the hell was your dad?” He asked, not knowing subtly if it were to bite him on the ass. She sighed gently. “Couldn’t tell you, never met him.” Ben could sympathize with that in a way, his own father being a piece of shit and all. “Sorry ‘bout that too.” He spoke, keeping his gaze on her own. She simply nodded before the phone’s screen lit up in the bright colors again, signifying that the software update had been completed. Picking the phone up, [Y/N] swiped up to begin the process of actually setting things up. “Okay, back to this-“ she spoke but was immediately cut off by Ben’s loud groaning. “Fuck sakes, is this really necessary?” He grumbled, which caused the woman next to him to roll her eyes. “You already know the answer to that.” Again he grumbled, acting like a mix between a grumpy old man and a stubborn child. “If this was forty years ago and some fine piece of ass was trying to tell me I had to do somethin’..” She turned and her [Y/E/C] eyes met his face with a pointed glare. There was a momentary pause as Ben contemplated whether or not to continue.

However, he was mischievous by nature and so he opted to continue on with his train of thought. “..I’d have grabbed her by her pretty little chin and talked her into getting on her knees so I could show her a better way to use that mouth.” [Y/N] again rolled her eyes. “Anyway,” she brushed it off and moved on immediately though Ben was wearing a little smirk. “Picturing it, aren’t ya’?” He asked, clearly attempting to make the woman flustered. She turned her gaze back towards him with a blank expression upon her face. “Picturing me, punching you in the face? Absolutely I am.” She answered, which had Ben’s smirk fall completely. “You new age women, chicks in my day would’ve been creaming their panties at the chance to get with Soldier Boy.” Ben grumbled, irritation showing on his face. It was amusing to [Y/N] that he thought he’d get her to crumble so easily. Pushing herself up into a better position she’d lean the phone towards the Supe. “Alright, so I made two emails—one has the Soldier Boy name on it, just in case there’s.. I don’t know people that have business offers or something. Granted, that’s if we all live and you don’t get thrown into jail or whatever they do to other Supes and the other is for, well, more personal shit. That’s the one I was telling you about when I mentioned it initially, the one that’s tied into everything on the phone. I downloaded some stuff but now you need to try it.” She handed the phone over to Ben, praying he wasn’t gonna break this one. It was clear that he was trying to hold it gently, which would’ve made her giggle out loud—however the man was in an overly sensitive state and she wasn’t going to push that. “Alright, so tap the icon that says ‘App Store’ and wait for it to open.” [Y/N]’s voice was gentle and Ben nodded, putting his finger over the square with that name underneath it. However he left it there and so the apps began to all shake. “What the fuck is happening?!” He exclaimed, to which she gently moved her hand and pressed the button labeled ‘done’. Now the apps went back to being still and she sighed. Gently she grabbed his index finger and lightly pulled it towards the screen again, Ben wanted to grumble but he was too distracted by how her fingers felt against his own. Where his skin was rough, battle tested and calloused.. hers was soft, maybe a scar here and there but nothing compared to his and the contrast? It was more enjoyable than he’d ever admit out loud. [Y/N] pulled his finger down toward the screen and gently tapped it against the screen to open the app. “You just gotta tap, see.” She spoke, letting go of his finger. “Huh.” He replied, but it wasn’t very loud. “Now typing on these things is probably gonna annoy you, it annoys us all and we’re used to the technology. Just.. try to not freak out and break it yeah? Shit is easy for you to snap, given y’know..” After she said that, she couldn’t help but to chuckle. When she did Ben felt himself smirking just a little. There was a split second where their eyes met and lingered, before she spoke up again. “Alright, so if you just click on this one it’ll take you to the place where you can download them. I think most things that are necessary for now are already there but I wanted you to know how to do it, so.. you like sports right?” She asked, tone kept gentle. “Uh, yeah, obviously little less on the up and up these days.” He replied, to which she nodded. “Alright well type in ‘MLB’ right there in that search bar, click it first though.” [Y/N] explained and for a moment Ben just stared at her, as if she had three heads. Eventually though he moved his gaze to the phone and tapped the screen over the search bar, which brought up the keyboard. “So.. these fucking things are called apps?” He asked, typing the three letters slowly into the bar and then she pointed to the blue button labeled ‘search’, which he tapped before looking up at her again.

“Yeah, they have one for just about everything these days.” She replied, pointing to the button that said ‘get’. Ben tapped it and the symbol to signify it was downloading appeared. Once it had finished, she smiled slightly before reaching underneath his arm for a second. “So, to close an app, you just swipe up like this.” Gently she placed her thumb on the screen and swiped upward to bring the phone back to the Home Screen. “Now, that closes it for the moment. Swiping up in a short motion brings up all the open ones like this-“ she explained, demonstrating. “Once they’re up like this you can swipe up again and fully close them.” She closed all of the currently open apps to demonstrate to him how to do it. “You really think I’m gonna remember all this shit?” He asked, almost glaring when he looked in her direction. It was a lot of information to take in, so she took a gentle breath and locked the phone. “Okay, fair, let’s take a break then.” [Y/N] placed Ben’s phone on the bed between them and slowly pulled out her own. He couldn’t help it, curiosity took hold and he glanced over. “You can put pictures on that thing?” He asked, noticing her Lock Screen photo of a drawing of the moon. Quirking a brow for a moment, she then figured out what he meant. “Oh, yeah! You can. Did you wanna do that on your phone?” Her voice was sweet as their eyes met yet again, bringing back the slight tension that continued to linger between them. “Fuck it, shit looks better than whatever the fuck it comes with.” He replied after a moment or so of silence. “Do you have anything specific you want?” She reached up with her free hand and tucked some of her [Y/H/C] hair behind her ear. Ben’s expression was pensive for a moment or so as he tried to think of anything he’d like to have as a background on the phone. “I dunno, just find something badass—none o’ that girly shit.” She shook her head before thinking herself, trying to figure out something she could use. “I’m gonna go take a leak.” He spoke up, pushing his frame up and off of the bed before grumbling about something and making his way over to the bathroom door. Once he’d closed it, she thought for another second before smiling to herself. Lifting the phone up at a decent angle, she quickly opened the camera app and primped herself slightly—snapping a couple of pictures of herself right after. Flicking through the few she found the one she liked the most and made it his Lock Screen wallpaper. Thumbs darted across the screen and within another two minutes or so, spent entirely on Google, she’d found a nice photo of Ben’s shield. It worked well for a Home Screen.

It wasn’t long after that [Y/N] heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on, seconds passing before the door was pulled open and Ben re-entered the bedroom. Lifting her gaze up to meet him, his green eyes held something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She gently laid his phone onto the mattress and kept her attention on him while he sat back down onto the bed. “Are we doing more of this shit? ‘Cause I think my fuckin’ brain might implode.” His voice was deep, housing a distinct rasp to it. [Y/N] couldn’t help but to chuckle at the old man antics he was displaying before answering the question. “No, I think we’ll save some lessons for another day. After all, there’s much more than just the phone you’re gonna need to learn.” After she’d spoken, he groaned for what felt like the millionth time. “It’s amazing how you bounce between acting like a senior citizen and acting like a teenage boy.” Her voice held a humorous tone as she again chuckled, it was Ben’s turn to now offer her a pointed glare but there was definitely a layer of amusement behind it. Just as he was about to offer up a retort, the bedroom door was pushed open and Butcher popped his head in. “Oi [Y/N], need ya’ to come help Frenchie with a little project.” His accent was thick and his eyes held a wild expression that was pretty standard for the man. [Y/N] sighed and slowly pushed herself up from the mattress, but turned towards Ben with a gentle smile. “If you have any questions just.. come find me.” He nodded, because his brain wasn’t sure how to react to the little smile on her lips. Sure there was a lot of unholy and downright vulgar thoughts swimming around in his noggin about her, there had been since he laid eyes on her—however there was something more that lingered and that was causing a short circuit in his mind. She turned back to the Brit and groaned. “This better not be anything messy because the last time-“ she was cut off by Butcher’s laugh. “It ain’t, I swear.” [Y/N] rolled her eyes as the two left the room, closing the door behind them. After a couple of minutes Ben remembered [Y/N] lecturing him about locking the goddamned phone, but she had left it unlocked. Pushing the button he heard the clicking noise, but tapped onto the screen to make sure he hadn’t accidentally turned it off somehow—and that’s when he saw it. There underneath the time and the other bullshit, was a picture of her and her smiling face. Since he was by himself, he didn’t have his guard up and his lips curled upward into a smile. “Pretty lil’ lady.” He spoke out loud, his heart feeling something he’d not felt in quite some time.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi guys! I am soooooo sorry about how long this took. Between writer’s block and my fear of it sucking, I was just struggling for a while. This is my first attempt at writing for Ben so if it’s bad, I’m sorry! He’s a more complex character to nail in writing and hopefully I’ll get better at it over time. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

• —– ٠ tag list: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester @stillhere197 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @aylacavebear @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @jc-winchester ✤ ٠ —– • ·

#fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy imagines #the boys #the boys imagine #x yn

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mistyyyy · 5 months ago

Text

𝑷𝒂𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒁𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒈 𝒙 𝑴!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓.

🍊Reader does have locks and of course, this is a black reader blog.🍊

Wc: 4142

🍑Patrick is in love with reader, reader is “straight” with a girlfriend, reader eating pussayyy, reader kissing booyyyssss for the first time, weed smoking, Patrick licking cock and ba- lemme chill LMAO, freaky ass girlfriend. 🍑

Every time he had looked at you he had to remind himself that this was okay and that he could live with this. It’ll go away. The way he felt about you that is.

He knows he’ll never get to hold your hand the way you hold your girlfriends, or hold you close against his chest, or even have you press your chest against his back, nah, not like the way you do with her. So instead he’ll be the supporting friend, the friend that’ll joke about one-night stands, playfully nudge you away, and sometimes make homoerotic jokes towards you, knowing you were thinking he was joking. He honestly should’ve just asked you before you had gotten into that relationship. Did you feel anything towards him?… not even after that time during high school when they went to that party and… never mind… and then they…yeah, never mind.

He should’ve asked you. Were you sure you were straight? Not even a little bi-curious towards him or any one of the same gender for that matter? He should’ve asked you if you felt anything towards him when you sat this close to him on your twin XL, laptop sitting on their lap and popcorn between his thighs. Because he felt something. He felt something every time you reached down to get the lightly buttered snack and put some between your lips, he felt something every time you laughed at a corny joke from the movie, he definitely felt something when you shifted and your legs grazed his and your shoulder did the same.

How could you not feel anything? All he did was feel everything.

The way you breathed, the way you shifted ever so slightly against the headboard, the way your body spray smelled a little tainted by something more feminine. Something more her.

“You okay?”

“Huh?”

He didn’t even realize he was staring at you for this long, his nail subconsciously rubbing against the boil sitting between his thighs as he watched you watch the movie. He blinks, his eyes dryer than usual before he looks back down at the laptop resting on their legs, on his right, on your left. “Yeah, I’m fine… just zoned out.” He clears his throat, clearing the gruff undertone.

“Hm…” you brushed it off, hand reaching over to your phone that rested on your mini fridge to check if your girlfriend had made it back to her dorm safely. She did, a small smile growing on your lips as you typed back your reply and hit send. Your girlfriend had done nothing but be nice to Patrick, yet right now all he felt was jealousy and envy as he watched your thumbs move efficiently across the screen. With a small sigh of contempt, you place your phone back onto the fridge and reach down to move the laptop. “I gotta piss, be right back.” You announced as you shifted to the ground. “Want me to pause it?” Patrick asked, knowing the answer was gonna be, “Nahh, I’ll catch up.”

He watched you slid on your Nike slides, and left out your room to go into the bathrooms.

His eyes zeroed into your phone, the device unlocked, waiting, tempting. He knows he shouldn’t do it, he knows he shouldn’t disrespect your privacy and snoop like an insecure girlfriend.

But he does it anyway.

Your phone was small in his palm, his fingers used to pro maxes, and he couldn’t help but think of all the times he’s offered to get you a new phone. “Dude. Why do you still have a button on your iPhone?” “What? Not everyone got old school money, Zweig.” “I’ll literally buy you a new phone and pay it off-“ “absolutely not.” “Dude.” That was how the recent conversation went.

He stared down at the phone, the messages of you and her still popped up on the screen. He glanced back up at the door, his throat bobbing as he nervously swallowed down his spit. This was stupid. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t want to hurt his own feelings…yet. So he left out of your girlfriend’s messages and opened your photos instead. It was regular boy shit, the same shit on his phone. Except for the pictures of you and her that is, on dates, hanging out, pictures that she had taken on his phone just because she could, sleeping pictures of her.

He almost wanted to delete them.

But there were things in there with them. Art was in some of them as well. He inhaled deeply and left the app to go to… oh is that Snapchat?

Tap.

A smile grew on his face as a picture of the two of you popped up in the memories. Summer of 2018, on their way to 9th grade. They were so young. Your hair not fully matured yet, little coils on top of your head, and braces in his mouth. He loved you even then.

He moves on to the note app, his thumb quickly hitting the search bar and typing in his name. Nothing pops up.

He doesn’t know if he should feel relieved or disappointed. If you were to type your name in his notes…well.

Okay, you were probably taking a crap by now, it was time to hurt his feelings, yet again. With a shaky sigh. He closes out Snapchat, the notes app, and the photo app, before hitting the message app. His thumb hesitates above her name, before pressing it. He could feel the guilt eating him away as he read up your text threads. So many I love yous, good mornings, beautifuls, and handsomes. It was starting to make him a little nauseous.

But then he sees a specific message, a message that has his heart pounding a little faster and his eyes nervously up to your door.

His finger hovered over the invisible ink effect, the devil on his shoulder telling him to swipe back and forth while the angel was telling him to put the phone fucking down AND SAVE HIMSELF THE HURT AND PAIN.

Okay, fuck it.

His thumb swipes back and forth on the screen, only to see… nothing. A black screen with a play button, a video.

“Holy shit…” He breathed out.

It was a video, and it was dark, at first. There was shuffling… and then there was breathing… and then moaning. And then he saw you, the flash was on, your eyes low. Your eyes and nose were the only thing he could see, the flash lighting up your pupils as you looked over the camera, and then into the lens before they fell shut.

“Oh fuck…” he repeated

“Oh fuck, baby…” she moans out, something warm filling Patrick’s belly as his mind finally caught up to the fact that.. he was watching you eat out your girlfriend. Her hand pushed down your head, your nose pressing into her clit before his mouth moved up to lick and suck on the sensitive nub. “Mm…” you moaned out as you made out with her cunt, and Patrick had to physically stop the video to control his breathing.

He blinked for a second, his sweatpants feeling tight, the inside of his boxers just a little sticky.

“I should’ve brought my phone, I was in there reading the febreeze can.” You settled down beside him once again, your phone back on the mini fridge and your pillow snug on his lap. “Well… you didn’t miss much.” He lied, he wasn’t really paying attention to the movie when you left.

“Cool, cool…” you trailed off, your back slouched against your headboard, your weight kinda leaning on him. He swallowed thickly, his hands tightening on the popcorn bucket. You shifted the laptop onto the pillow on his lap, and he couldn’t feel anything, but damn he wished he did, touch it, grab it, lick it- please do something! He felt like a dog in heat, why the fuck did he have to go through your shit!

You didn’t notice the way his hand twitched at his side, fingers flexing, the ghost of a temptation running through them as they just barely grazed your thigh. You didn’t notice the way he bit his lip, trying to will away the heat curling in his stomach.

And Patrick? Patrick realized, in that moment, he was in trouble.

Suddenly you yawned, your tongue coming out to lick your slightly dry lips, your body slouching against your mattress, and your legs spreading as you grew a little lazy. “You should stay the night. I don’t want you driving back to your hotel this late.”

“Yes sir…” The brunette mumbled sarcastically, his eyes scanning the way your body flexed underneath your clothes, your white beater hugging you tight, basketball shorts sliding down your thighs, your boxer briefs showing just slightly on your thighs. You breathed out an amused breath at his dry tone.

Patrick forced himself to focus on the movie, eyes locked on the screen but seeing absolutely nothing except your reflection through the screen. The warmth of your thigh resting on his, the subtle rise and fall of your breath—it was too much. His pulse pounded in his throat, his fingers drumming anxiously against the mattress.

Patrick let out a slow breath through his nose, tilting his head back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut. He willed himself to think about something—anything—other than the video still burned into his mind. The way your voice had sounded, the way your tongue had moved… fuck he was so hard, he was throbbing… your hands, the way they looked squeezing her thighs, your goatee, dripping with her fluids.

Stop it. Stop thinking about it.

“Wanna get high?”

“Absolutely.”

The movie had been done and over with, Berleezy now playing in the background as the both of them laid on their backs, passing the jay back and forth. “You ever kissed a boy before?” Substance encouragement.

“What?- ack!-“ you choked out the smoke, the thick gas puffing from your throat as you tried to catch your breath as Patrick just cackled at you.

“You good?” Patrick teased, his grin barely visible in the dim light of the laptop screen. You sat up slightly, coughing out the last bit of smoke. “What kind of question is that?” Patrick shrugged, taking the jay from your fingers. “Just wondering.” He took a slow hit, eyes locked on yours as he exhaled. “You ever think about it?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “Bro, no.” But the way your voice wavered at the end—too quick, too defensive—made Patrick smirk.

“Nah?” He shifted closer, his shoulder brushing yours. “Not even once? Not even, like… curiosity?”

You swallowed, the heat from his body sinking into your skin. Patrick always had this way of pushing boundaries, but this felt different. More deliberate. You laughed, but it came out uneasy. “Why? You trying to get me to say something?” Patrick grinned, leaning in just a fraction more. “Maybe. Or maybe I just think you’d like it.” You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. “You’re smoking dick.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” Patrick shot back. He flicked the lighter absentmindedly, the small flame dancing between you before disappearing again. “If you’re so sure you wouldn’t like it, then prove it.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Kiss me.”

Your stomach flipped. It physically felt like you were about to spit it up. “Bro—”

Patrick just tilted his head, challenging. “One kiss. If it’s nothing, then it’s nothing. But if you can’t do it, maybe it’s because you don’t wanna know what it means.” The room felt smaller. Tighter. The laughter from the laptop felt distant like it belonged to a different world. You looked at him—really looked at him—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips parted just slightly like he was already expecting your answer.

Your mouth felt dry. “You’re really serious?”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah.”

Silence. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in. You never pulled away from a challenge, even as gay as this one. Your heart pounded as the space between you disappeared. It was slow—hesitant—like giving yourself time to back out. But Patrick didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned in too, his breath warm against your lips.

Then, it happened.

Soft. Just a press of lips, barely anything, but the second it did, something inside you flipped over, like the first drop on a rollercoaster. It should’ve been weird, should’ve been a joke—but it wasn’t. You pulled back too fast like you’d been burned. “Shit,” you muttered, running a hand through your locs. “Okay. There. Happy?” Patrick just stared at you, eyes darker now, unreadable. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips like he was still tasting you. “That’s all you got?”

You huffed out a nervous laugh, shaking your head. “Bro, shut up.” What the hell was he saying?

“I’m just saying,” he said, that teasing lilt still in his voice, but there was something else under it now—something heavier. “Felt like you were holding back.” You rolled your eyes. “Oh, so now you’re a kissing coach?” “Nah.” Patrick leaned back on his elbows, stretching out like this was nothing to him. “But I know when someone’s not being honest with themselves.” Get the damn hint. Was this considered manipulation?

That got you. Your jaw tightened, and you turned away, staring at the laptop. You tried to focus on whatever Berleezy was saying, but the words just blurred together.

Patrick nudged you. “Yo.”

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Did you hate it?”

You opened your mouth—ready to fire off something quick, something dismissive—but nothing came out. Patrick’s voice dropped, softer now. “You liked it, didn’t you?” You swallowed hard. Every instinct told you to deny it, to laugh it off, to push him away. But you couldn’t. Because the truth sat heavy in your chest, buzzing in your veins like the smoke still lingering in your lungs.

Finally, you exhaled. “Yeah,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. Patrick’s smile was slow, knowing. He sat up, reaching for the jay again. “Told you.”

You shook your head, a nervous chuckle slipping out. “You’re a dick head.”

Patrick just grinned. “Maybe.” He took a hit, then passed it to you, his fingers brushing yours a little too long. “But now what?” You hesitated, looking down at the burning ember before taking a slow drag. You let the smoke sit in your chest, let the weight of the moment settle. Then, exhaling, you turned back to him. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I think I wanna find out.”

Patrick's smirk softened, something warmer slipping into his eyes. He nodded once.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned in again.

This time, there was no teasing, no hesitation. His lips met yours with more confidence, testing, pressing-like he was trying to figure out just how much of this you could handle. And, to his surprise, you didn't pull away.

You kissed him back.

It was awkward at first, both of you adjusting, hands twitching with uncertainty. Patrick's breath was warm, his lips softer than you expected, and for a moment, neither of you knew what to do with your hands. But then, instinct kicked in. Patrick's fingers skimmed the side of your jaw, tilting your face just slightly as he deepened the kiss, slow and unhurried. You responded naturally, melting into it, letting yourself feel the heat, the weight, the quiet thrill of something you shouldn't be doing but didn't want to stop.

And just when the awkwardness faded, when it started to feel good-really good— Patrick suddenly pulled back like he'd been electrocuted.

His eyes were wide, lips still wet, chest rising and falling. Then, like a switch flipped in his brain, panic settled into his face.

"Wait. Shit." He swallowed hard, staring at you like he'd just remembered something terrible. "You have a girlfriend."

You blinked, still dazed, lips buzzing. You saw the way Patrick's entire body tensed, the way his breathing grew uneven like he was really processing what just happened.

But you? You just shrugged. "She doesn't care."

Patrick's face scrunched in confusion. “What—what do you mean she doesn't care?”

You exhaled, not wanting to talk about it, not wanting to ruin this-whatever this was.

So, instead of answering, you reached forward, gripping the collar of Patrick's hoodie and pulling him back in. You reached behind you, the joint getting snubbed out against the mini fridge, and you locked in.

And this time, when you kissed him, it wasn't hesitant or awkward. It was intentional. Patrick let out a muffled sound of surprise but didn't resist. He let you take control, let you push your lips against his with more pressure, more urgency. His fingers curled around your wrist like he wanted to stop you-but he didn't.

Instead, he gave in.

A soft sigh left his lips as his body relaxed, his hands sliding down your arms, gripping you back. Whatever confusion, whatever conflict he had-it disappeared in the heat of your mouth, the way your tongue brushed against his, the way your fingers dug into his hoodie like you didn't want to let go.

And for now, he let himself forget.

He couldn’t get enough of you, and he was beginning to get greedy. He didn’t want to push your boundaries, he didn’t want you to run away from him, but he couldn’t help it, the throbbing pain in his sweatpants just wanting some kind of relief. So he rubs his hips on the side of your thigh, a surprised grunt leaving the both of your mouths as you feel each other's excitement.

The both of you broke the kiss, your breaths heavy, lips wet, and hearts faster than your minds right now. The both of you didn’t say anything, your eyes doing all of the talking.

I don’t think we should do this.

Why not, you said it was okay.

Can I touch you?

I don’t know.

Please?

You swallowed thickly, before nodding, and Patrick didn’t waste any more time, sitting up on his knees and making his way between your thighs. You watched him with low eyes as his fingers slipped under your shorts, your hands nervously gripping the sheets as his thumb teased your half-hardened length over the shorts. “Patrick, man…” You breathed out, head falling back to the pillow, as your hips twitched upwards. This didn’t go past the brunette, his lips turning up into a smirk as he started pulling down your shorts with your boxers, his grey eyes trailing down your treasure trail, and your buzzed pubic hair.

He honestly couldn’t believe this was happening right now, years of just imagining what you looked like naked, nights of him stroking his dick to the thought of you and him, or to just you.

Finally, he gets to see you.

“Wait…pat…” You didn’t quite understand why you were saying wait, your hand already sliding into his black curls as his tongue licked up the length of your cock, lips sucking onto your frenulum before taking your leaking cock into his mouth, the taste of your pre-cum finally being on his tongue after years of wanting you caused him to groan into you, your thighs tensing from that delicious vibration. “Oh shit…oh shit” you groaned a little louder as his mouth slid down your length, his mouth hot and wet. He couldn’t take it all, but he sure as hell tried, like he was trying to prove that he was better than her, that he could get you off better. He could feel you grow inside his mouth, your cock fully hardened and hitting the back of his throat.

You could tell he was struggling, his throat tightening as he tried to hold in his gags. “Slow, slow… yeah, just like that…mmm…” If he wants to please you, then you’ll just enjoy it, and coach him how to do it right. Fuck. Patrick groaned around you from your breathy encouragement, his glassy eyes looking up at you, but your head was tilted back, rested back against the pillow while your hand was firmly gripping at the strands in his head.

He couldn’t stop himself anymore, his cock in his boxers starting to hurt from the neglect. So he began grinding his hips against the bed, the rough sticky material rubbing against his length deliciously. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open, your mind fuzzy but your senses in ten. Your teeth clenched tightly as his mouth messily licked and sucked on your balls, your stomach caving in and a low whimper leaving your throat as his hand stroked you slowly, taking his time. He didn’t want it to end, he wanted to keep you just like this, all to him. “Mng…gonna fucking cum, oh fuuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you finally looked down at him as you announced your release, that familiar tight feeling twitching at your nuts, his anticipation soaring from the thought of tasting you, in having you in a way that wasn’t platonic.

“Yes, please…” his voice was raspy, drool down his mouth as he lazily suckled on your tip, hot tongue almost suctioning to the underside of your head, almost as if he was sucking on a straw. It felt like he was sucking the life out of you, your toes curling and brows pushing together as you watched your best friend bring you there, bringing you to that edge. “Pat, Patrick-“ you tried to warn him, the hand that was in his curls tugging to try to pull him away.

You were about to cum, you were about to cum in Patrick’s mouth, your best friend since- forever. He didn’t detach from you, his hips rolling even harder into the bed. He almost disassociates, cum the only thing on his mind right now. You didn’t bother wasting your breath in warning him again, one hand tightening in his hair as you pushed his mouth down on you, and the other one tightening on the sheets. With a guttural groan, your eyes fluttering and your hips raised, he almost gagged when your hips twitched upwards, your cum squirting- hot and fast into the back of his throat.

He was right there behind you, a whimper, almost something feminine like a whine leaving his throat as he swallowed your load, his cock twitching and his hips stuttering as he spoiled his underwear, ruining the inside with his slick. “Fuck…” he breathed out, your hand in his hair pulling away as you laid slack against the mattress. You needed a few seconds of nonverbal time.

The two of you lay in a tense yet comfortable silence. The two of you couldn’t believe that just happened, yet you weren’t uncomfortable, the high easing your anxiety yet your body tensed with want. You wanted it again.

You looked over to him, his back now resting against the bed and your shoulders pressed against each other. Then you reached for his hand, your pinky nervously grazing his knuckles before he got the hint and just linked your fingers together. “Um…” you mumbled, eyes moving upwards to stare at the popcorn ceilings. “Yeah?…” he whispered, his gaze not meeting yours, also staring at the ceiling. “I don’t want to seem gay or whatever…” you said, a hint of a smile in your voice as you joked, and Patrick grinned with a huff of laughter. “ but I kinda wanna do that again….”

Patrick’s grin lingered, but there was something else behind it now—something softer. He squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your skin.

“Yeah?” he murmured.

You swallowed, your heartbeat picking up even though neither of you was looking at each other. “Yeah.”

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that settled in when something unspoken was hanging in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

Then, Patrick exhaled, shifting slightly so his knee knocked against yours. “Well,” he started, voice low, teasing, but careful. “What’s stopping you?”

You finally turned your head to look at him, and he was staring at you now, his expression unreadable.

And suddenly, everything felt different.

Like something between you had shifted for good.

You hesitated, then squeezed his hand back, grounding yourself. “Nothing, I guess.”

Patrick hummed. “Then…” He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “C’mon.”

“Can you record me this time? Kayla likes stuff like this…”

#blackreader #top!reader #dom!reader #fanfic #smut #dom reader #challengers #patrick challengers #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig #patrick x reader #sub!character #male reader #male dominance #male!reader #male!oc #challengers x reader

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viviennemaeve · 3 months ago

Text

✨Mind and Body Alchemy ✨

You ever feel like your mind and body are in a toxic situationship? Like, your body is clearly giving signs it needs rest, water, and maybe a vegetable, and your mind is like, nah, let’s stay up overthinking until 3 AM.

Or maybe your mind is screaming at you to get your life together, but your body is just lying there like a dead iPhone with no charger in sight.

So, let’s talk about how to get these two to stop ghosting each other and start working together.

1. Stop Betraying Your Own Energy

Some days, you wake up feeling like a main character. Other days, your brain is buffering and your body is lagging. Listen to that. Pushing through exhaustion isn’t “hustle culture,” it’s self-sabotage.

✔ If your body feels sluggish, give it movement, not punishment. A walk, a stretch, some music to get the energy flowing.

✔ If your mind feels foggy, declutter it. Journal, meditate, talk it out—even if it’s just yelling at yourself in the mirror.

Your energy isn’t a fixed state. Ride the waves instead of fighting the tide.

2. Romanticize the Bare Minimum

No, you don’t need a 20-step morning routine with moon water and imported matcha to have your life together. Romanticizing the bare minimum makes consistency feel ✨aesthetic✨ instead of a chore.

✔ Drinking water? Put it in a fancy glass, pretend it’s a potion of vitality.

✔ Eating a meal? Light a candle, play some background music, and call it a “self-care date.”

✔ Sleeping on time? Tell yourself it’s “beauty rest” and you’re waking up to be that girl/guy/person.

Make the basics feel luxurious. Because let’s be real—if taking care of yourself feels like a punishment, you won’t do it.

3. Your Body is Your Ride-or-Die

You can leave a toxic ex. You can quit a bad job. But your body? You’re stuck together. Forever. It carries you through life even when you don’t treat it right. Maybe it’s time to return the favor.

✔ Move it, fuel it, rest it. Not because you “have to,” but because it deserves it.

✔ Stop speaking about it like an enemy. Would you tell your best friend they look bad today? No? Then why do it to yourself?

✔ Listen to the warning signs. That gut feeling? That burnout creeping in? That’s your body trying to help you, not sabotage you.

Your body isn’t just the shell carrying your mind—it’s part of you. Treat it accordingly.

4. Mind & Body = Power Couple

The moment your mind and body start working with each other instead of against each other, you unlock main character energy.

✔ Prioritize both: Mental health days matter as much as gym days.

✔ Tune in: A healthy mind makes it easier to have a healthy body, and vice versa.

✔ Find balance: Chase goals, but rest too. Hustle, but enjoy the moment. Be delulu, but also self-aware.

Your mind and body are in this together. Might as well make them a power couple.

Take Care of Yourself, Babe.

Self-care isn’t just bubble baths and spa days—it’s listening to yourself. You deserve to feel good. You deserve to rest. You deserve to thrive.

Now go drink some water, stretch a little, and romanticize the hell out of your life.

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ameliora-j · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, hope you're doing good today 🤠 a blurb or HC on Sugar Daddy!Hotch coming home to reader 🥺👉🏾👈🏾

hi baby !! i’ve missed you on my page 🥹 i’m doin good how are you ? 🩷

content: fluff, sugar daddy!hotch, sugar baby!reader, fem!reader, suggestive at the end, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

you sit on your large california king, painting your toes quietly. aaron was due home tomorrow night, and you wanted to make sure you were ready. you showered—shaving and exfoliating with all the expensive products that aaron had bought you. once you finished your shower, you had latered yourself in cocoa butter, and done your skincare routine.

you now have on your sheer pink fluffy robe—newest iphone propped up on your nail supply box as you facetime with aaron. your chin rests on your knee, funny bunny nail polish brush in hand as you delicately color your toes.

“why are you painting them yourself, princess? i would’ve sent money to get a pedicure” he frowns softly as he stops at a red light. he was in the car, driving back to the hotel for the night he had told you.

“i know daddy, jus wanted to pamper myself tonight” you explain, smiling softly at him. you gently fan your hand over the wet toes, attempting to dry them a bit before pushing them under the led light aaron got you after you complained about a nail tech not curing your nails correctly one time and needing to fix it.

he hums softly in understanding, turning his attention back to the road as the light turns green once more. “i miss you a lot” you pout softly.

“would you believe that i miss you even more, princess?” he smiles genuinely then, though still doesn’t look at you. you lean forward and snap a quick picture of him—his face illuminated by the gentle golden hour glow, smile dazzling in the sunlight.

your face heats a bit at his sentiment, and you smile softly. “jackers misses you too. jessica took him tonight, he fell asleep on the ride home from the waterpark and she told him she was making him monster pancakes in the morning” you giggle.

“oh yeah? did you ask for some monster pancakes too?” he teases, and you can’t deny that he looks undeniably sexy doing a simple task like driving as he pulls into a parking space.

“no, dickhead!” you giggle, throwing a paper towel at your phone screen.

he chuckles softly, humming a bit. “watch it, princess” he warns—gentle, but firm as he knows you’re only teasing. it’s a warning really, letting you know that you’re teetering close to the line.

“yes, daddy” you smile softly, and he hums a gentle ‘good girl’ as he gets out.

“i’m gonna head into the elevator soon, princess. so i’ll call you when i’m in the room, okay?” he smiles.

“okay, daddy. i love you” you smile.

“i love you too, gorgeous” he hums before hanging up.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ °

you have the tv turned up pretty loud, getting comfortable after you and aaron had hung up the phone. you knew that he was going to shower and settle in before calling again, so you had time to watch a bit more of your show.

once your toes had finished curing, you got everything pulled away and curled into your silk sheets, making yourself comfortable. the volume of the tv explains why you didn’t hear the door unlocked, and your focus on the show explains why you didn’t hear his shoes clicking up the stairs.

it was just getting to an intense part as aaron opened the door, the creaking of the hinges startling you a bit—causing you to jump. “aaron…” you gasp softly as you turn and see him.

“hi, pretty girl” he smiles softly. you stand from the bed, rushing over snd wrapping your arms around his middle in a tight hug. he hums in appreciation, hugging you back just as tight as he kisses your head. “missed you more than anything” he whispers, breathing in your scent.

it’s delicious. cocoa butter and a hint of vanilla—just you… home. “i missed you too” you murmur, leaning up and kissing his jaw. “you’re back early” you whisper, nuzzling against his chest.

“we finished early” he explains, rubbing a large, warm hand up your back. “wanted to surprise you” and he kisses your head once more. “well…since you just showered, how bout you let me cleaned up a bit, then we can cuddle and… make up for lost time” he smirks, squeezing your hip as he kisses your jaw.

“yeah daddy. that sounds good…” you hum softly, closing your eyes in pleasure as he nips your neck. “i’ll keep the bed warm for you” you whisper, smiling softly.

#fanmail 💌#sugar daddy!hotch #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x yn #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner fluff #sugar baby!reader

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joshslater · 2 years ago

Text

Cat

This is my take on a TF request by octuscle. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

I guess it's kind of like what magicians feel like. Sure, you can train all you like in your bedroom, and you can do it in front of your mates, but when you do it for real, for a real audience you get the same jitters before the trick and a certain rush after it. No one noticed how I did the misdirection, how I lifted the phone and stashed it in my pocket in a smooth motion that started well before and ended well after those two events, making it seem completely unrelated and hiding the true intent. I was well out of their sight long before they realized they'd been pickpocketed.

I should have just held the power button to shut it down, make it untraceable until the nerds can open it up, make it lose its mind, and become resellable. Not as a luxury phone as it once was perhaps, but good enough for someone short on cash who was willing to not think too hard about where they got their goods. I should have, but it was like a reflex to press the unlock button once I fished up the phone from my pocket, safe some blocks away. "Chronivac Anti-theft Technology" flashed on the screen and a timer counted down from 10. "Enter pin to deactivate." I frantically pressed and held the power button in various combinations with no effect. Would the phone report its position? I could just leave. Would it make a noise? Wouldn’t matter here, and again, I could just leave.

It did make a short, high-pitched screeching sound and it kind of twisted in my hand. Not like the vibrator went off. More like a static shock, but not quite that either. The sound when it landed on the ground surprised me. A dull rattle and not the normal crisp sound of an iPhone maybe shattering on the stones. Even more surprising was the yellow rubber case with the black Caterpillar CAT logo on the ground. Confused I picked it up and turned it over to find a feature phone in the case, with physical keyboard and all, and on the screen words were scrolling by faster than I could read. I managed some words like "dumber", "stronger", and "stoner". As I stared at the words "manual laborer" I had a nagging feeling I should know what it meant, and that perhaps it wasn't the scrolling speed by the reading speed that was the problem.

The screen said "Wipe complete. All data secured." and turned black.

I tried to remember why I was standing in an empty back alley, but couldn't come up with a good reason. I adjusted my wifebeater inside my dungarees. Dungarees are great because you can play with your balls whenever, but the top isn't really held in place, so it can show you go commando if you aren't careful. I might as well smoke a joint while I figure out where I should be.

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babydollmarauders · 2 years ago

Text

RIGHT HERE — JOHN MARINO

summary: in which y/n can’t let go of her situationship

warnings: NSFW!!! fingering, p in v (unprotected), substance use (weed), praise, sir kink

notes: inspired by Right Here by Chase Atlantic. this is 3.4k words even after editing, not proofread

“oh c'mon y/n, you're not seriously calling him, are you?” Kate's voice drifts over the edm song blasting from the speakers of the Hoboken club, her face painted in disappointment.

“he's not good for you.” Taylor sing-songs, attempting to pry the phone out of my hand, but i keep a firm grip on the electronic.

“how do you know that?” i rebut. “he makes me feel good.”

“yeah, for like an hour.” Kate rolls her eyes, finally wrestling the iphone from my hold, clicking the red button to end the call before it can even connect. “then we have to pick up the pieces after he inevitably leaves you alone again.”

she holds the device out of my reach, swatting my hands away with her other hand as i reach for it.

“y/n, we love you. we just don't wanna see you hurt.” Taylor coos, a hand playing with the ends of my hair. her doe-like eyes soften like her tone.

“we came out tonight for you to find someone else.” Kate reminds me, her stern voice a stark contrast to Taylor's. she glances down at the phone screen, leveling me with a stare before she hands it back to me. “two calls? really? get a grip, y/n, please. if he didn't answer the first time, then he doesn't want you tonight.”

“i don't want someone else. if i find someone else, then i have to teach them what i like.” i huff. “John knows my body and he knows how to please me. and if you aren't gonna support me in my... situation... with him, then i don't wanna hear anything about it.”

“we just want the best for you, babes.” Taylor chimes, clearly trying to de-escalate the situation.

“i'm going home.” i announce, stuffing my phone in my clutch and standing from the bar seat.

“going home? or getting in his bed?” Kate chuckles, sipping her drink.

“fuck off.” i scoff, walking away and leaving my so-called friends in the club.

it doesn't take me long to walk the fifteen minutes from the club to my apartment, one of the main reasons i had suggested that club tonight; but by the time i get up to my place, my feet are killing me.

ripping the high heels from my feet, i let my bare soles relax against the wooden flooring, heaving out a sigh of relief as i throw the shoes to the side.

i slump onto my sofa, opening my clutch and retrieving my phone. i just stare at it for a few moments, wondering if Kate is right. is three calls in a night too much?

it doesn't take long for my mind to wander, thoughts of the ice hockey defenseman in between my thighs, flashbacks to the two of us tangled between my sheets, his fingers working wonders against my heat as his lips attach to my neck. thats all it takes for me to snap, unlocking the device and clicking on his contact.

one call. i'll give him one more call. if he doesn't answer, then i'll just leave it for the night; try to get myself off or suck it up and go to bed frustratedly horny.

i listen silently as the phone rings with the outgoing call. once. twice. three times, before it connects.

“hey, pretty girl. three calls in a night.” his voice is raspy and slow. i can hear the faint voices of Jack and Dawson in the background of the other line, and just from those clues, i know what he's up to at the moment.

“please.” i can't hold back the whimper at the sound of him, clenching my thighs together at his teasing chuckle. “i need you, Johnny.”

“i'll be right there.” he replies. i can hear shuffling on the other end, the sound of keys jingling, and i assume he's stuffing them in his pocket.

“hey, Johnny?” i bite my lip, waiting for his voice again.

“yeah, pretty girl?”

“bring a blunt.” i tell him. he huffs out a raspy laugh, agreeing before he ends the call.

it's twenty minutes later that the sound of a knock echoes throughout my apartment and i get giddy, jumping up from the sofa and fast-walking to the door. i take a second to compose myself before i open it, John standing on the other side with a smirk.

“hey, baby.” he steps into the apartment, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “so which one are we doing first?”

“smoke.” i say, gesturing for him to follow me while he pulls a ziploc baggie out of his pocket, holding two blunts.

“you can start while i get changed.” i inform him, stepping into my bedroom with him hot on my trail. i look back to see him nod, snatching a lighter from the top of my dresser as i dig in my drawer for something sexy but comfortable.

i leave him sitting on my bed, the rolled object between his fingers, smoke drifting into the air from his lips. stepping into the bathroom, i get changed quickly, out of the itchy sparkly club dress and into a red satin slip nightdress.

opening the bathroom door, i notice the atmosphere has changed, the ceiling light off in exchange for my LED lights, a blue glow settling over the room.

John's eyes watch me hungrily, locked on the curves of my waist as i stalk towards the bed, kneeling onto the mattress and bending forward to steal the blunt from his lips, sticking it between mine. his gaze darts between my lips and my cleavage before settling on my eyes.

i crawl up the bed, sitting down sideways beside him, my legs thrown over his.

we're silent for a while, at some point telling alexa to play our playlist. we just enjoy the music, passing the drug back and forth a few times.

“my friends think you're bad for me.” i tell him through a choked laugh. he smirks, his hand rubbing up and down my bare thigh, causing me to clench them together, which results in a knowing look from John.

“baby, take a look around.” he remarks. “i don't give a fuck about your friends, or what they think. i'm the one right here.”

his response makes a pit settle deep within my stomach, a mixture of want and need.

i take a hit, hooking a finger under his chin to bring his face to mine, before letting the smoke drift from my lips to his.

pulling back, lust clouds his eyes and i let him take the substance from my grasp, settling back on my hands as he sets the small bit of leftover blunt on my nightstand. he turns back towards me, knocking my legs off of his and maneuvering to hover over my body.

he dips his head into my neck, pressing sloppy kisses against my racing pulse, his hand sliding up my waist and over my stomach before clutching at my breast, his thumb ghosting over the fabric that covers my pierced nipple. his touch elicits a moan to escape my lips, my hips bucking up to graze his.

“shhh,” he hushes me, pulling back from my neck to look into my bloodshot eyes. “be a good girl for me.”

his hand leaves my breasts to push my hips down, holding them in place against the bed. his lips return to my skin, trailing kisses up my jawline before he finally reaches my lips. the kiss is sloppy and slow, teeth clattering and tongues exploring. he sucks at my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth.

his hand explores my body once more, this time sliding down my thigh before gliding back up, pulling my dress up with his touch. his fingertips trail up my inner thigh, causing a shiver to wrack my body, a whimper bubbling up my throat.

he reaches his destination, pulling my panties to the side and swiping two fingers through my soaking core. my hips buck up again at his touch, making him let out a dark chuckle.

“so wet for me.” he tuts.

“yes, sir.” i moan as his fingers brush over my clit. “just for you.”

“yeah?” he urges on, pulling my panties down my legs, throwing them off to the side, landing in a heap on my bedroom floor.

he brushes his touch over my heat again, drawing out another moan from me.

“please.” i whine.

“what do you want, baby?” he questions, scanning my face. “you want my fingers, hm?”

my head bounces up and down, nodding fastly.

“can you say it for me? use your words, baby. tell me to fuck you with my fingers.”

“please, fuck me with your fingers, sir.” i whine.

John seems to deem it enough begging, because he slips a single digit into me, causing a mix of a moan and a sigh to drop from my swollen lips. my eyes screw shut in pleasure, my jaw going slack.

he crooks his finger inside me, my hips grinding down onto his hand.

“more.” i plead, my hands fisting the sheets beneath me. he adds a second finger, dragging them lazily inside of me, his thumb now providing a pressure point to my clit.

“open your eyes, pretty girl. look at me.” my eyes flutter open at his command, locking with his. he holds that eye contact as his fingers pump into me.

the crude sounds of his fingers gliding in and out of my wetness fills the room, mingling with my moans and calls of his name. ready for something more, i grip his shirt, pulling on it and bringing his lips down to mine, engaging him in a deep kiss.

“please, John.” i mutter, my lips brushing against his. “i want your cock.”

his fingers scissor and curl in a 'come-hither' motion a few more times, the knot in my stomach growing, before he removes them, leaving me empty.

he brings his hand up to my face, his wet fingertips tapping against my bottom lip, and i open my mouth, letting him press his fingers on my tongue. the taste of me settles on my tastebuds and i suck around his digits, letting my tongue lap at them.

John lets out a groan at the feeling and the sight of me beneath him. he pulls away, his fingers leaving my mouth with a pop. standing from the bed, he pulls his shirt over his head while i scoot to the edge of the bed, fumbling with his belt.

he chuckles as i get frustrated when i can't undo it, knocking my hands away to remove it himself. pulling his pants and boxers down, his dick slaps against his lower stomach as he kicks them off.

my mouth waters at the sight, my pussy clenching at nothing but the phantom feeling of him filling me up, the remembrance enough to make my breathing speed up.

he bypasses me, climbing back onto the mattress and settling in the middle, slumped against the headboard.

“c'mere.” he insists, pulling me towards him. his hands grip my hips as he guides me to straddle him, holding my nightdress up just enough to put my pussy on display. “ride me like a good girl.”

i grasp his length in one hand, a grunt passing his lips at the feeling of my hand wrapped around him. my other grasps his shoulder as leverage to keep me up. sliding his dick through my folds, my back arches and i let out a shaky breath, mixing with his own groan at the feeling.

his right hand leaves my hip to slap my ass.

“don't be a tease, baby.” he warns. “sink this cock into your pretty pussy.”

at his order, i line him up with my entrance, lowering myself down slowly. my head drops back in content, gnawing at my bottom lip and letting out a muffled cry of pleasure.

his hand cups my cheek, pulling my face back to look at him. his thumb pulls my bottom lip from my teeth.

“let me hear those pretty sounds. let me know how good i make you feel.” he grunts out, his voice tight.

“yes, sir.” i comply, letting my moans leave my lips freely as i grind down on him, bouncing on his cock, leaning forward towards him in order to achieve a new angle.

he buries his face in my neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and suckling on the spot he knows makes me squirm. his hands slide up my hips and waist, pulling at the satin and tugging the top of my nightdress down to free my tits. he grips them in his hands, his thumbs circling my perked nipples, before he pinches them, making me whimper.

he pinches and prods at the jewelry thats runs through my nipples, and i pick up my pace, grinding down harder and bouncing faster. he uses his hands on my chest to push me up, leaning forward to bring my left nipple into his mouth, sucking on it and letting his teeth graze it. my back arches, a shiver running down my spine at the feeling.

“yes!” i call out, my hips stuttering as the knot grows in my gut once more. he picks up on my tell, taking this time to switch his mouth to my right breast as he thrusts up into me.

his tongue swirls my nipple as he sucks, and i clench around him. his hand leaves my breast to sneak in between us, using his middle finger to circle my bundle of nerves. he continues to thrust up shallowly as i bounce on him, and i can feel my climax quickly approaching.

his lips leave my breast and he looks back at my face, my eyes rolling back in my head at the intense pleasure i'm overcome with.

“look at you, taking me so well.” he coos. “such a good girl, aren't you?”

“yes.” i nod quickly, my hand rising to grip my breast in attempt to ground myself from the euphoria that's clouds my mind.

“bouncing on my dick like my own personal puck bunny.” he snickers. my other hand falls to his abdomen, and i can feel his abs tighten at the touch.

“yours.” i mutter out through the pleasure, his finger speeding up on my clit. “all yours.”

“who's pussy is this?” he uses his free hand to grab at my face, forcing me to look at him.

“yours.” i repeat.

“that's right.” he mutters. “this pussy belongs to me. only i can make you feel this good, isn't that right?”

“yes, sir.” i nod again, my eyes squeezing shut as i feel myself teetering on the edge, my movement stuttering again as i shudder.

he pulls me forward, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear as he whisipers, lust dripping from his voice.

“come for me.”

i let go at his words, my breath halting as my orgasm washes over me. my vision goes pitch black, stars dancing through it as he bucks his hips up, his finger never stopping on my clit as he fucks me through my release.

i open my eyes when i come back down to earth, panting to bring oxygen back into my lungs. but John is ruthless, flipping us over so that he hovers over me.

he plunges back into me, pushing his hand against my stomach, feeling himself deep within me. he thrusts fast and hard, grinding himself against my overstimulated clit.

i whimper, not sure if i can take any more, but he doesn't stop.

“one more.” he assures me. “you'll be fine.”

my fingers grip at his back, surely leaving red scratches down it as i attempt to pull him closer. one of my hands slides down to settle on his ass, bucking my hips up to meet his.

“that's it. you can do it.” he smirks, his words barely audible over the sound of our skin clapping against each other. my moans and whimpers echo throughout the bedroom, tears pricking at my eyes from the amount of pleasure coursing through me.

“John.” i breath, the sounds of his grunts like music to my ears.

“yeah, baby.” he dips down to press a kiss to my lips. “i'm right here.”

i can feel his hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier as he gets closer and closer to his finish, and my own stomach gets tight as i get close to mine.

“come inside me.” i whisper against his lips. “fill me up.”

his pace falters at my words and he leans his forehead against mine. his thumb drops down to my clit, rubbing fast circles against it and my face goes red as i clench around him, reaching my second climax. he lazily pumps in and out a few more times before his lips part and a moan drops from them as he reaches his own orgasm.

he falls on top of me, both of us panting to catch our breath, his bare chest againt my exposed breasts. his weight helps ground me back to the moment, and it's only a minute later that he rolls off of me.

he lies beside me on his side, his fingers dancing across the red satin that covers my abdomen for a moment before he stands.

“i'll be right back, baby.” he doesn't bother getting dressed, walking into the bathroom to clean himself up, prior to returning with a washcloth, soaked with warm water.

he kneels on the end of the bed, prying my still shaking legs apart and cleaning me up with the towel, my hips bucking slightly at the feeling. he laughs at my movement, before throwing the washcloth into the hamper in the corner of my room.

pulling his boxers back on, he stalks out of the room, disappearing for a few minutes. he returns with a bottle of water and a granola bar, handing me both. once i have the items in my grasp, he pulls the top of my nightdress back up to cover my boobs.

as he climbs back into the bed, i scoot over so that i'm no longer in the middle of the mattress, allowing him his own side.

he waits for me to take a few sips of the water before he sets it on the nightstand for me. laying down on his back, he pulls me towards him and pulls my leg to rest over his abdomen.

we're silent as i eat the granola bar, his hand rubbing aimlessly up and down my thigh. i hand him the wrapper when i'm done and he sets it beside the water bottle before his hand returns to my thigh.

“John?” i whisper, scared to break the peace, and afraid of his reaction to my next words. he hums in interest, looking down to meet my eyes. “i don't wanna fuck around anymore.”

his brows thread together in confusion, no doubt thinking this was an odd time for me to call off our situationship after being so needy with him just moments ago.

“what do you mean?” he questions, his tone thoroughly confused.

“i mean, i want more.” i admit. “i need more. and if you don't want that too, then that's fine. but i need you to let go of this hold you have on me if you don't want more with me.”

he's quiet, staring deep into my eyes, and i brace myself for him to break my heart, but his next words cause my heart to skip a beat instead.

“i don't wanna leave this bed.” he confesses. “i don't wanna leave you.

“i really like you, y/n. and i'd really like if you'd let me be your boyfriend.”

a grin spreads across my face as i nod.

“yeah, i think i'd like that a lot.” i tell him, straining my neck up to press a kiss to his lips.

“good. now, you wore me out, i'm ready to sleep.” he chuckles, grabbing the remote to my LED lights and turninng them off, leaving us in peaceful darkness.

“i wore you out?!” i laugh, smacking his chest lightly.

“uh, yeah. you're a fiend.” he smiles, cheekily grabbing at my ass.

“me?! you made me come twice!” he waves his hand in dismissal at my words.

“semantics.”

“ugh, you and your big words.” i roll my eyes playfully, burying my head in his neck as he covers us with the blanket thats now bunched up beside him. “mr. Harvard graduate.”

“babe, thats not even a big word.” he laughs as i press a finger to his mouth to shush him.

“semantics.”

#john marino x reader #john marino imagine #nhl smut #john marino fic #john marino #john marino blurb #john marino smut #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

Text

Rusty | Chapter 9 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer embark on a night on the town and things grow awkward fast when you met a handsome stranger. Spencer’s jealousy leaves him determined to show what he’s capable of. But even that doesn’t go quite to plan.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, smoking, making out, swearing, jealous Spencer, tears, mild argument, erectile issues, fingering, titty sucking, coming untouched, coming in pants, vomit, build up to dissociation.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl

Spencer sat on the porch as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, jabbing his finger at the screen of his new phone. It had no buttons, just a large touchscreen. It unlocked by reading his face and didn’t have the same kind of tactile quality he was used to in a phone.

Unfortunately, they simply didn’t make devices like his old one and he’d had to settle for this iPhone, for which he had no idea how to use.

You’d somehow managed to sort it so it could keep the same number and magically transferred all of his existing contacts onto it. It all went over Spencer’s head and he stopped questioning it.

Now he was attempting to send Garcia a text message after receiving one from her, positively disbelieving he had spoken to both Luke and Morgan but wouldn’t answer her calls.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to write a reply, his fingers not dexterous enough to figure out the touch screen keyboard. As he finally corrected all of the spelling mistakes and hit send, he heard the door to your lodge open.

He was hesitant to go along with you to the 11th Street Bar for multiple reasons. For starters, bars were not fun when sober, not that he’d ever particularly enjoyed them when he did drink either. Then there was the fact that in two years he’d never interacted with these people and according to you they already thought him rude. He didn’t like socialising, why could no one understand that?

He pushed himself up from the chair, his knee aching slightly but the pain was lessening. You locked the door to the lodge before gliding down the stairs and down the path until you were closing in on him.

It was only when you were in front of him that he could fully appreciate you and he felt a lump begin to form in his throat as he took you in. You wore a floral, off the shoulder dress which stopped at your knees and showed more skin than he ever dreamed of seeing. Pairing it with your red riding boots and you looked almost like a local, the epitome of a cowgirl.

You also looked absolutely ravishing. Spencer’s raging heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest to show you exactly how divine he thought you looked. But his slack jaw and wide eyes said enough and you blanched a little, tilting your head to the side.

“What?” You scuffed your boot in the dirt. “Never seen a genu-wine cowgirl before?” You impersonated a southern drawl.

“I…I, uh…” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, you just…you look…jeez Y/N.”

You giggled at his inability to form a coherent sentence. You had rendered him speechless.

“Well you know, I want to fit in around these parts.” You swung your hips side to side, the dress billowing around you as you did so. “Don’t look so bad yourself, stud.”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush red, the heat quickly spreading down his neck. He still wore his black jeans, the ones he’d noticed you checking him out in yesterday. He also dusted off an old button down from back in his BAU days, in a dark purple colour.

He tucked it into his jeans and left the top few buttons undone. He spent a long time taming his hair and forewent a stetson once he was happy with how it looked.

“Uh, thanks.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“Gonna make being friends with you real hard if you keep looking at me like that.” You smirked at him, still impersonating that thick Texas twang.

“Just get in the car, okay?” He shook his head, trying to ignore the way your outfit made him quiver.

You hid your amusement by turning towards the car, Spencer following behind. You paused at the driver’s door.

“Just gotta grab something from the trunk, jump in.” You called over the hood and Spencer nodded before cautiously sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Once he closed his door you sidled around to the trunk and opened it. You glanced up through the car to make sure he wasn’t looking before you lifted the trunk lining.

Hidden away in the empty shell that had once held a spare tyre was a black duffle bag. You quickly unzipped, revealing the wads and wads of bills concealed inside. You grabbed a couple of twenties and folded them, stuffed them in the side of your left boot before zipping the bag and secreting it back away under the trunk lining.

Soon you were hurrying around to the driver’s seat like nothing had happened.

***

The discomfort distended to every single one of his nerve endings the moment the two of you stepped inside the 11th Street Bar. The place was packed and all eyes were instantly on you.

As you sauntered inside you were met by wolf whistles and catcalls and it made Spencer feel incredibly protective of you even though it wasn’t his place.

He watched their hungry gazes linger on your bare legs and bare shoulders and move onto your clothed breasts and backside.

It made a pit form in his chest, more so when you sent smiles and winks across the room in various directions.

He wanted to blanket you, both physically and metaphorically. He wanted those animals to stop staring at you this way. He wanted you to stop enjoying the attention so much.

He followed you like a stray dog towards the bar, where you leaned on the counter, no doubt giving the balding bartender an eyeful of your cleavage.

“Well looky here, if it ain’t Miss Lizzie come back to join us.” The old man hissed as he spoke. “Lookin’ mighty fine tonight if I do say so too.”

“What, this old thing?” You glanced down at your dress before waving a dismissive hand at him.

Spencer felt more out of place than he ever had done in his life. This was quite honestly the last place he ever wanted to be.

Sensing the presence hovering behind you, the bartenders gaze lifted over your head to where Spencer awkwardly stood.

“And if it isn’t Cosmo, gracing us with his presence.” The older man scoffed. “Nice of you to finally show your face round here.”

Spencer swallowed, chewing on his lip.

“His names, Spencer and be nice.” You clucked. “Spencer, this is Cole.”

“What can I get ya missy?” Cole ignored the introduction and looked back at you. “No more of my home brew I hope.”

“Definitely not.” You shook your head. “I will take a shot of tequila and a beer though.”

“What’ll you have, Cosmo?” His eyes shot back up to Spencer.

“Uh, a ginger ale?” He posed it as a question.

Cole pulled a face of disdain and shook his head.

“Ain’t ever met a sober cowboy in all my life.” Cole muttered, turning away to get your drinks.

You felt Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him.

“I hate it here.” He whined. “Can’t we just go home and you can drink that bottle of scotch?”

“I want to stay. I like it here. You can go if you want.” You shrugged, turning back to face the bar.

Turning your back on him. You were turning your back on him.

“You think I’m going to leave you here with all these creeps staring at you?” He moved closer to you, his chest pressed into your back and he spoke against the shell of your ear. “There is not a man in this bar who doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, not turning back to him. “Might just be some guys lucky night then.”

Spencer felt the pit in his stomach grow larger, his heart practically falling into the open chasm. He put his hand on your shoulder again, skin against skin, and spun you slightly roughly back to look at him.

“Don’t make jokes like that.” He growled.

“Who’s joking?” You shook him off with a frown of impatience. “Just because you don’t want to bed me, doesn’t mean someone else can’t, Cosmo.”

Spencer’s mouth fell open, somewhat hurt at your crude summation of your fleeting relationship. Is that really what you thought? Did you really believe he didn’t want to? If only it were that simple.

He wished he didn’t want you so much. It would be far easier for him to not want you with a white hot desire. It had nothing to do with not wanting you, he just couldn’t have you. Not in that way.

When he couldn’t form any words of response, you spoke again, folding your arms over your chest.

“We’re just friends, Spencer. You made that perfectly clear. So as far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever the hell I want. You wanna hang around? Fine. You wanna go home? Also fine. But I’m staying.” You spat, once again turning your back on him as Cole brought your drinks back over.

You were quick to down the tequila before thanking him with a flirtatious smile and paying him with a bill from inside your boot. You practically shoved Spencer’s ginger ale into his hand before brushing past him with your beer.

Cole was looking at him, an odd expression on his features. Spencer felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Girl’s a heartbreaker.” Cole shrugged after a while. “Knew it the minute I laid eyes on ‘er. Careful how you tread there.”

With those sage words, Cole was walking away to serve his next customer, leaving Spencer reeling.

***

Two hours later Spencer had procured a table for himself but you wouldn’t stay still long enough to join him. The more tequila you drank, the more energy you seemed to have and you appeared to talk to everyone in the bar but him.

He was still nursing the same ginger ale, feeling much like a spare part. He deliberately missed two calls from Luke, staring at the device as it rang in his hand. He’d hoped after they spoke yesterday Luke would stop with the incessant phone calls. Spencer had half a mind to block his number. He didn’t want it to come to that, but something had to give.

He ignored his phone after a while and watched the way you worked the room. The whole bar was eating out of the palm of your hand, hanging off you every word. You were undeniably in your element.

And it only went to further Spencer’s belief that the two of you were from completely different worlds.

***

You lit a cigarette and meandered out the back of the bar for some fresh air, which you didn’t miss the irony of. The large rear garden of the 11th Street establishment was about five times the size of the inside, with a stage at one end and even an outside bar.

You leaned up against the nearest wall, the tequila pulsing through your veins and offering you that blissful tipsy sensation. You sucked on the cigarette and observed the goings on around you.

You’d managed to hide yourself in plain sight. No one would ever think to look for you in this little backwoods town. You’d taken all the necessary precautions, didn’t leave a paper trail.

The car parked outside was the fourth you’d stolen on your journey. Take one, drive it for a distance, abandon it and then find another far enough away from the first they wouldn’t be tied together.

You’d picked up this car just outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. You’d broken into a junkyard for this particular vehicle as it was likely they may never notice it was missing. You changed the plates just in case.

The money in the trunk had been procured from your mother’s safe which not even her scumbag second husband knew about. She’d kept the nest egg of cash ever since you were a little girl and only you knew the combination.

“It’s for a rainy day, Y/N. One day I won’t be around anymore and I want to make sure you have everything you could ever need.”

It was as though she’d envisioned something bad happening to her. When she married the second time, he’d convinced her to put all of her savings into a bank account under his name effectively meaning you’d never see a dime.

But he didn’t know about the safe.

You’d taken a bunch of your late mother’s clothes too, brought a few more items with the cash, including the dress you wore now. Only ever cash, couldn’t leave a trail.

Bandera might not have been your first choice of hideout but you couldn’t deny it had its perks, and you were certain no one would ever find you here.

And if they did, you would simply run again.

You took another drag on the cigarette as a tall, dark and handsome stranger headed your way. Although on closer inspection he wasn’t entirely a stranger to you.

The man wore all blue denim, a large eagle on his belt buckle, bolo tie and black stetson. He was smiling at you as he approached.

“Hey there little lady,” he stopped in front of you, hands on his hips. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You work at Busbees? I think I saw you there yesterday.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, you’re the big tipper.” He chuckled. “I never forget a big tipper. Or a pretty face.”

“Elizabeth.” You held out your hand.

“Charmed,” he took your hand, brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Grant.”

Without warning he plucked your cigarette from your fingers and took a long drag on it. He sucked in the smoke and spoke again as he exhaled it.

“Things’ll kill ya.” He chuckled.

“Live fast, die young.” You shrugged.

“Leave a good lookin’ corpse?” He laughed too, a deep, vibrating sound.

“Certainly appealing.” You agreed.

He took another drag on the cigarette before placing it back between your lips. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip as he did so. It lingered there for a moment or two, while you took your own drag.

Removing it from your mouth, you held it between your fingers as you blew smoke over his head. You leaned further back against the wall, puffing your chest out. He took a step closer to you and you didn’t mind at all.

You caught the scent of a musky cologne as he drew closer.

“I don’t mean to forward ma’am but you are hotter than a firecracker that’s been lit at both ends.” His lip quipped into a smirk.

You shuddered, the hunger in his eyes causing your legs to shake. You inhaled sharply as his hand came to rest on your cheek.

“Imma kiss you now, if that’s okay with you, little lady?”

You whimpered but couldn’t speak, so instead you nodded. Grant chuckled as he leaned in closer. His lips soon crashed against yours, his whole body pinning you to the wall.

You dropped the forgotten cigarette on the floor and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you fiercely, deeply. Your legs trembled at the sensation.

His hand that wasn’t on your face ran up your thigh and you moaned into his lips. And Spencer Reid was the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Spencer finally decided he’d had enough when two old twins who called themselves Boone and Butch invited themselves to sit with him. They proceeded to mock him on everything from his clothes, his hair, his accent, even his ‘city boy good looks’. He’d eventually excused himself to go in search of you.

The bar was small and it only took a few minutes to ascertain you weren’t inside. He pushed his way out the back door and breathed in the fresh air. It took only moments to find you, pressed up against a wall by another body who was kissing you with force.

One hand was on your thigh, beneath your dress and Spencer swore his blood froze in his veins. His brain must have short circuited because normally he wouldn’t have been so bold as to square up to a man of his size, but he found himself marching over and grabbing the large shoulder of the man kissing you and tugging him backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer raised his voice, glaring at you and your kiss swollen lips.

You wiped the back of your hand over your mouth, chest heaving.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” You spat. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Spencer?” The man spoke up, looking between you and him in heavy confusion.

Spencer tensed, slowly turning back to face the man whose lips were equally as puffy as yours. He hadn’t recognised him by the back of his head and now he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“G-Grant?” Spencer croaked.

“You know each other?” You took a step away from the wall. “I didn’t think you had any friends around here?”

“We’re not friends.” Grant spat, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest. “How do you know each other?”

“I asked first.” You cocked your head to the side.

Spencer was unable to speak, paralysed by the unfortunate situation he had found himself in.

“He asked me on a date and stood me up.” Grant hissed.

“Oh…oh.” You looked between both men. “Well this is sufficiently awkward. Looks like we have the same taste in men, Spence.”

Spencer reddened, averting his gaze to the floor and wanting to crawl into a dark crevice somewhere and never come out.

“Are you two…?” Grant frowned at the two of you.

“Friends.” You finished for him. “Isn’t that right, Spencer. We’re just friends. Which is why you had no right to march over here and tear us apart.”

“I really don’t want to be a part of this conversation.” Spencer mumbled to the floor.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you interfered. Why, Spencer? Why did you interrupt us?” You took a step closer to him.

“Please,” he looked back at you, eyes full of torment. “Please can we not do this here.”

“I ain’t looking to step on any toes, I didn’t realise y’all were-”

“Friends.” You barked, cutting Grant off. “We’re fucking friends.”

Without warning you shoved Spencer backwards by his shoulders, the sudden touch causing him to flinch. But you didn’t notice it because you were already storming away. Spencer huffed out a breath and dared to glance at Grant who was looking at him in something close to pity.

“If I were you,” Grant clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, again causing him to recoil. “I’d go after her.”

“Duly noted.” Spencer groaned. “But can I just say…” he trailed off for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I should have apologised. I really am sorry for standing you up. I got here and I just couldn’t make it inside. I wanted to, I really did. But, uh, I’m honestly terrible at dating and I freaked myself out. I should have apologised, I wish I had. And I’m sorry.”

Grant inhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not expecting that from him. He let his arms fall to his sides and offered Spencer a melancholy smile.

“You hush your mouth, it's water under the bridge.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Listen ‘ere Spencer. There ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit, you get me?”

“Not in the slightest.” Spencer shook his head.

Grant chortled deeply, slapping his palm on his knee while Spencer simply stared at him, brows pinched.

“Layman's terms: there’s somebody out there for everyone. Don’t you go thinking there ain’t. Whatever it is you been through, ‘cos you have been through somethin’, don’t write yourself off. Go after your lady.” He patted Spencer’s shoulder again and Spencer winced.

He wanted to argue with Grant but it was completely pointless. Instead he forced a smile and nodded before turning on his heels.

He made it back out the front of the bar without incident and found you kicking around the dirt with the toe of your boot.

“You don’t get to do this.” You spat, arms wrapped around your body like a shield. “If you want me you can have me. If you don’t let me go.”

Spencer shuffled down the front steps, ambling towards you.

“I really wish it were that simple.” He reached you and cupped your jaw in his good hand, leaning in and resting his forehead against yours. “I want you but I can’t give you everything, there’s a huge part of me I just can’t give you. And you deserve the whole world, Y/N. I want you to have it all. But selfishly I don’t want you to have that with another man.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I do or do not deserve? Spencer, I didn’t want to kiss that guy. I did it because I wanted a rise out of you. I want you to want me.” You felt tears spring to your eyes.

“Let me be clear here,” he moved his hand to your cheek. “I have wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. This has nothing to do with that.”

“I’ve never felt like this about someone before.” You confessed. “And I barely know anything about you. I don’t care if you can’t tell me your life story, I don’t even care if you don’t want to have sex with me! I just want…I want someone to care.”

A few tears escaped your eyes and Spencer brushed them away with his thumb. His breath was hot on your face and his forehead was a little sweaty against yours.

“I do care,” he admitted. “Too much considering I barely know you either. I don’t want you making out with other guys. But it’s unfair of me to ask that of you.”

“Spencer?” You whispered.

“Yes, Y/N?” He replied in equally hushed tones.

“Do you have any kind of proclivity towards me making out with you?”

He hissed, his body quaking at the mere thought.

“Right now?” He breathed. “I have an extreme proclivity towards it.”

And then his lips were on yours, chapped and rough just as you remembered. His tongue was quickly plunging into your mouth and he held you so close as though afraid you would disappear.

It grew exceptionally heated in a matter of seconds and you wanted to tear all of his clothes off right there in the middle of the street. He guided you back towards your car without breaking the kiss and soon you felt your back pressing against the side of the vehicle.

When he did end the kiss, his pupils were blown out wide with lust.

Not another word was shared between you. You handed him the keys silently and you both climbed into the car. In the passenger’s seat you had to clamp your thighs together as a heat spread through you.

You hoped that by the time you made it back to the ranch he hadn’t let himself overthink this.

***

He tensed up when he invited you into his lodge, hands shaking as he opened the door and closed it behind him. His nerves were written all over his face.

He slowly moved closer to you, once again cupping your cheek in his hand in such a delicate manner.

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispered as his lips ghosted over your own. “The way you made me feel the other night.”

You whimpered at the thought, desperate for any kind of pleasure he wanted to bestow upon you.

“P-please?” You whined as his hand slipped into your hair.

“I just, uh…you don’t need…I don’t need you to, uh, return the favour? So don’t…” he trailed off, frowning at himself.

Don’t touch me, you heard the underlying words.

“Okay.” You nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you. I think I just need to…test my boundaries if that makes sense?” He whispered before pressing his lips against you again.

“Hmm,” you mumbled into his lips. “Boundaries. Sure.”

He led you towards his bedroom blindly, holding out his casted arm so as not to bump into anything. He kicked the door closed behind him before toeing off his boots. You did the same.

He tore his lips away from yours and ran his fingers down the fabric of your dress before stopping at the hem. You nodded, giving him the green light to proceed.

You had to help him remove the garment as he only had the use of one hand. Together you got it over your head before tossing it on the floor.

He made a whining sound between parted lips when he cast his eyes upon your body, clad only in a pair of lace panties.

His jaw clenched and you noticed it. You smiled at him, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. You kissed him again and moved your hands to the buttons of his shirt but stopped before you could undo any of them.

You weren’t sure if he meant he didn’t want you touching him at all and you didn’t want to risk this ending before it could begin so you moved your hands away.

Spencer led you backwards again and then laid you gently on the bed. He stood over you for a moment, eyes wandering almost lazily up and down your torso.

Swallowing a lump in his throat to stave off any fears, he started on his own buttons, again not the easiest feat with only one hand. Once undone he dropped the shirt to the floor leaving him in a t-shirt, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to remove that.

The bandage still remained snug against his bicep, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his tee. His purple cast started at the crook of his arm, only allowing a sliver of left limb to be revealed to you.

He did however pop the button on his jeans and shimmy them down his legs. You noticed a matching bandage on his thigh, you could only hazard a guess it was shielding wounds that were created by his own hand.

You tried not to look too long and let your gaze flick to his tight fitting underwear. There was a slight tenting within, but it was apparent he hadn’t reached full tumescence, maybe not even half.

His cheeks reddened as he noticed your slightly sad gaze on his crotch and he quickly climbed on top of you and stroked your cheek.

“It’s not you.” He insisted, kissing you again. “I swear to you, it isn’t you. It doesn’t always…do as it should.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that so you said nothing, opting to kiss him deeper instead.

He was trying to view it like an experiment without sounding too clinical. He wanted to gauge his boundaries, figure out how far he could push himself without crumbling. And with any luck over time those frontiers might expand to cover more ground.

His hand wandered your body in a vain attempt to recreate the pleasure you’d given him. His fingers brushed across your collarbones a few times before dipping between your breasts, across your sternum.

He palmed the swell of your left breast, fingers swiping out to ghost over your hardened peek. You moaned into his lips, bucking your hips against him at the sensation.

He did it again and elicited much the same reaction before doing the same to your other breast. You hummed into his mouth, writhing beneath him.

His own hips rutted against your leg and he was certainly getting harder. He didn’t let himself focus on his own arousal though, this was all about you.

And who knows, if he managed to take this step he may be able to take others too.

His fingers wisped down your torso, hand splaying out across the planes of your stomach. It travelled left towards your hip and his soft touch caused goosebumps to erupt beneath your flesh.

The fingers brushed over the waistband of your panties, down towards your thigh. He could feel the heat emanating from between your legs and he had to pull back from your lips to let a feral moan escape him.

He let his fingers brush over the fabric of your underwear and you wriggled under him.

“More.” You whined, the same way he had done to you.

He kissed you again as he toyed with them, teasing you in a way that he could tell was driving you wild.

He let his fingers dance between your legs, feeling the soaked material and moaning again. He couldn’t resist any longer, he was desperate to feel you. He also worried if he took too long he might change his mind entirely.

He pushed the fabric aside and dared let his nimble fingers glide between your folds. He bucked against your leg and moaned into your mouth. He was fully erect now, you could feel it as he grinded against you.

His lips had slipped from yours in lieu of sucking on your neck, teeth nibbling against your skin. The friction caused by his stubble tingled and stung in the most intoxicating way.

His fingers brushed back and forth between your legs as though he wanted to collect every tiny drop of your arousal.

You were whimpering, begging him for more without saying the word. And he must have read your mind because suddenly, with no warning, he plunged two fingers inside of you.

You mewled at the welcome intrusion, back arching off of the bed and you swore you felt him smirk against your neck.

His long, nimble digits thrust as deep as he could, until he was completely buried inside of you. He hissed against your neck, unable to remember the last time he’d been inside a woman like this.

You clenched around his fingers, walls fluttering, tight and pulsing. It was such an unfamiliar yet conversant sensation. It caused a pinching in his stomach, a tightening in his chest.

He remained still for several moments, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, adjusting the overwhelming feeling that flooded his entire body.

It was new yet well remembered; he was both a novice and well versed in his craft.

You wriggled beneath him as he was still for so long you worried he was going to freak himself out. He raised his head from your neck so he could look at you.

His eyes were brimming with emotions, lips curled into the softest smile.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Just a little overwhelmed by how amazing you feel.”

You cupped his chin and brought him closer, placing a chaste kiss to his lips and mumbling, “more, please?”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He curled his fingers inside of you, driving impossibly deeper inside of you and brushing against your cervix.

A wanton moaned travelled from your mouth to Spencer’s and your thighs clamped around his hand.

He withdrew his digits enough so he could plunge back inside of you, gently at first but after a few thrusts he got a little rougher. But judging by the sounds you were making, he was doing something very right.

He continued with this rhythm, curling his fingers each time he pushed back inside of you, and each time he brushed against you, you shuddered beneath him.

He started scissoring his fingers, pushing his fingers against your walls and finding it dizzying how your body bent to his will. He was continuously rutting against you, the friction it caused was delirious.

His lips roamed across your collarbones, travelling further south. When his lips wrapped around your nipple your back arched off of the bed again and you whined.

He sucked your nipple into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the swollen bud. He teased a third finger between your legs and your staggered breaths sounded out in delight.

As he dove three fingers inside your weeping cunt at the same time his teeth grazed your nipple, you howled so loudly you wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard from the stables.

Spencer smiled to himself around your hardened peak, slightly disbelieving he could make anyone feel this good.

He pumped three fingers into you, once again feeling the way you stretched around him. It was a heady feeling, and caused his cock to leak with precum.

The sounds of your arousal as he continued his thrusts filled the room as well as a string of moans from your lips.

He moved his lips to your neglected nipple and offered it the same treatment as the first.

Your thighs clamped hard around his hand and you could feel your slick coating the inside of your thighs. Spencer was relentless in his ministrations, pitching in and out of you, stretching you and curling his fingers, ensuring to hit your sweet spot over and over again.

He was rocking on top of you, his hardened member grinding against your leg. You could feel the wet patch forming in the front of his boxers and feel your own stomach starting to coil.

You cautiously cupped his jaw, extracting his lips from their venture. When he looked at you his pupils were blown wide, lips swollen.

You drew him by the chin for a kiss. It was messy and sloppy, teeth bumping together as tongues fought to explore each other's mouths.

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, hoping that meant you were as close as he was. He continued to kiss you and plunge deeper, deeper, until you were trembling beneath him.

“C-close…” you stuttered against his lips. “S-so close.”

He moaned at the mere idea of making you come, increasing his speed with his thrusts, desperate to give you the pleasure you’d so easily given him.

All at once the cords holding you both together snapped. With a final shuddering breath as you nibbled Spencer’s bottom lip, your walls tightened around his fingers as you gave over to wave after wave of pleasure.

You moaned his name under your breath as you came undone. The sound of his name on your tongue and the feeling of you coming around his digits pushed him over the edge.

Still rocking against you, he came with a stifled moan, burying his head into the crook of your neck and breathing frantically.

He withdrew his fingers and you whimpered at the loss of contact but you wrapped your arms around him all the same.

Your hearts beat erratically against one another’s while you fought to catch your breaths.

All at once, Spencer came unravelled. With his eyes closed he could see them, hear them.

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!”

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.”

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!”

He’d pushed too far. The boundaries he’d been trying to test were coming crumbling down around him.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to…

Oh fuck.

“Fuck,” he suddenly pushed himself up and rolled off the bed, ignoring the twang in his knee as he got to his feet. “Gonna…fuck I’m so sorry.”

You watched him run to the bathroom through bleary eyes. He slammed the door closed behind himself and seconds later the sound of vomit hitting porcelain filled your ears along with Spencer’s retches.

You slowly pushed yourself up, the post orgasm haze still heavy and you blinked several times.

“Uh,” you croaked. “Are you okay?”

You were met with another horrid gagging sound.

“I’m so sorry.” His shaky voice followed through the door. “This isn’t…it’s not you.”

“Kinda hard to believe that right now.” You stood up on trembling legs and found your dress on the floor before throwing it back on.

“I swear it’s not…I’m so sorry. I pushed too far, I wasn’t ready.” He was sobbing, choking.

You rolled your lip between your teeth as tears welled behind your own eyes.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…I should go.” You swallowed.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Inside the bathroom, hugging the toilet bowl, Spencer heard your footsteps get further away and then he heard the door.

Tears streamed down his face and the wet patch in his boxers made his stomach turn again. He retched once, twice and then narrowly managed to turn his head back over the toilet before he vomited again.

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!”

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.”

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!”

“I’m not whole.” He sobbed into the toilet, emptying his entire stomach contents. “I’m never going to be whole again.”

He wailed, crying until his eyes were sore and he couldn’t see a hand in front of his face. He vomited until there was nothing left to come up.

His whole body shook violently as he drew his legs to his body, ignoring the stickiness in his pants and the pain it caused his knee. He wrapped his good arm around his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

The tears wouldn’t stop, they just kept coming. He snivelled and sobbed loudly and fitfully. His temples started to throb and a near blinding headache came out of nowhere.

His vision grew hazier around the edges before it darkened. He’d been so focused on other variables he didn’t feel the rising anger in his chest.

By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late. And it wasn’t at all a surprise when he awoke covered in blood once again.

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

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