#i need to make a masterlist for him......

[madamechrissy]

Would you come with me?

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x F! reader

Summary: You have been Satoru's best friend for such a long time, and one day he asks you a really big favor- marry him. What!?!? Well, Satoru has to take a wife as he's running the Gojo corporation, and what better way to get them off his back than 'marry'? In name only, just best friends living together for a year to calm them down, sounds so perfect and uncomplicated, right!!! Well, living with Satoru Gojo makes you both question everything, is this fake marriage feeling... real? and can you just be friends after this?

CW: NSFT-MDNI- So much FLUFF and SMUT in this chap- they've been PENT UP so lol, warnings- oh boy- oral (f and m recieving) cum swallowing, breed kink, talking you through it, overstimulation, creampie, semi public sex, fingering, masturbation (both of you) multiple rounds, dirty talk, Toru obsessed, ya'll both down bad. Three parts- WC this Part- 6.7k

Songs for this - Hands to Myself // Love Me Harder // With You

This is the end omg! Thank you for all the love on parts one and two!! I hope you all enjoy this cute ending for them as well! Comments and reblogs appreciated!

<<<Part Two - Masterlist

Part Three (Final Part)

“Oh sweetheart, this isn't where I wanted to take you first.” He murmurs, as he lifts you up so you’re bent over the counter, tip running along your glistening folds, making your head fall back in mind numbing pleasure. “Wanted it in m’bed, f-fuck you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

“Mnh!” Is all you manage, gasping when just the tip is in, stretching you so fucking good, you’re gushing out when he pulls it back, whining. “Satoru…”

“Aww, my sweet girl needs something?” Satoru laughs softly in your ear, breath tickling it as his fingers wrapping around that throat under your chin, pressing his tip back in, and he could damn near come from that, you feel so good around him. Gummy walls gripping and convulsing around his tip as he eyes your flushed cheeks, your glittering eyes.

“I swear… to god if you don’t just…” You’re arching your ass back, pressing it against him as he has your panties shoved to the side, his tip slipping down to your clit now. “Satoru!”

“Use those words, hmm? What do you want?”

“You inside me, please.” Is all you say, softly now, and he moans, sinking inside you in one stroke, filling you so good you can’t take it, shuddering as his cock stuffs you fuller than you’ve ever been. “Ah!”

“Fuck… oh my god, feel her.” His eyes shut for a moment at the sensation of you gripping his dick so well, at his tip kissing your cervix, his hand squeezing just so, tilting your chin to catch his blue eyes in the mirror. “Look at you, so fucking pretty.”

“Mnh…” You can’t manage anything else, not when his thumb presses between your lips and he begins to move, to pump inside you, you see black spots in your vision. You’re trying to catch a breath as you struggle to focus on the blurring reflection, when he fucks you so deep and slow, savoring every inch, and there are so many.

Satoru’s crying out in your ear, one hand holding your thigh then and lifting it higher, sinking even deeper into your pussy, which clenches and pulses all around him as you’re drooling. He’s slamming his cock up inside you, over and over now, a maddening rhythm as he buries his face in your neck, teeth sinking into your delicate skin, stuffing you more full, impossibly full.

“Toru… oh my… m’gonna…” You’ve never felt this, even with Satoru’s play, even with your own play, the sensation of his tip dragging on that spot in your slick walls is too much, you’re feeling the pressure build when he shoves in fully, bottoming out and turning your chin to face him.

“Cum f’me, lemme feel her, please baby.” He whispers, a mix of needy and dominant that shouldn’t make sense, but it does, as he slams his lips on yours, drinking your cries while you feel yourself come apart on him. “There it is, mmm, that’s it, let go f’me.”

You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to, the insane sensations overwhelming your every sense, everything fades when you whine into his mouth, when his tongue dips in your mouth, his cock slamming in with a lewd smack. You’re cumming so hard you can scarcely breathe, everything is him, it’s all Satoru Gojo, and you sure the fuck don’t see him as a friend right now.

His white hair is falling just so over his brow, as he yanks down your dress, revealing just enough of your pretty breasts to the mirror, moaning as he sees them bouncing with each thrust. He’s consumed by you, inside you, god he’s never felt anything, better, and he knows he’s not pulling out, fuck he never wants to even leave you.

“There you go, you’re doing s’good, taking my cock like you’re made for it, huh sweetheart?” Satoru whispers, you’re a mess when he pulls back, tilting your chin back to the mirror, as you see your face, he laughs softly. “Fucked out, so pretty. Drooling on my cock, and all over your chin huh?”

He swipes some of your drool off your face as you bite your trembling lip, tears falling at how intense every sharp thrust is of his thick cock in you. You gasp when he reaches around, rolling his finger on your clit, and you hear your squelching cunt sucking his cock so greedy, echoing off the bathroom.

“What… are we… oh my… Toru, too much, too-” He covers your mouth with one hand, while the other works your tiny clit, making you build back up, as if you’re going to explode, fucking faint.

“I love you loud, but let’s be quiet till we’re home, Sweets.” He huffs, acting as if you’re not driving him insane, as if he’s got any composure, as your cunt is milking him for everything. “You on… something?”

You nod quickly, as he’s pushing you more and more, the little circles mixed with long, slow thrusts insanity. “Pill.”

“Kinda… ha… wish you weren’t…” You attempt to scowl, but it’s just more drool as you’re hiccuping with pleasure, hands clinging to the counter, one leg dangling, the other propped up for his perfect angle.

“Wh-what?” Is all you whisper, and you catch it, the bright blue gaze, pupils pinpoints, his insane feral grin, like he’s lost it.

“Wish you weren’t… on any… want me to fill you up so good?” You’re dreaming, right!? This is some wicked day dream, yeah?

But you’re nodding, weakly, pathetic when you feel him pulsing. “Please, fill me… Toru.”

“I’ll give you anything.” He huffs, and you know it then, as you’re trembling, as he watches you so hungry while he takes you.

He’ll fucking ruin you for anyone.

He already has by existing… but this!?

“Can you take it sweetheart? All of it, like a good girl?” You nod once more, looking as the images in the mirror of you both are gone suddenly, replaced by white bursting stars as he sends you over the edge with him. “Oh my… she’s milking me, huh?”

You have absolutely no clue what he means, you just know you’re cumming so hard then you both have a hand on your mouth to muffle your cries, when he’s busting his hot load into your pulsing hole. So deep you feel it against your cervix, feel him in your tummy, pumping you so full as your muscles are contracting, damn near pushing it back down his veiny length.

“Oh m-my… baby, fuck…” He’s whimpering in your ear, hand clamped firm on your mouth as he empties is hot sticky load inside you, you’re trembling as the orgasm washes in waves, as you’re dizzy you’re so fucked out. “Best I’ve ever… you’re so perfect…”

He’s murmuring all these sweet words in your ear as he finishes pushing, and finally releases you, you’re shaking when he eases you down, cock pulling out of you, making a sticky mess between your thighs. You struggle to focus, to stand, legs so weak from cumming, from feeling him so deep, when he’s spinning you and turning you to him.

Your eyes meet, as you both take breaths, before you hear it then, the door, and you quickly adjust yourselves, Gojo pretends to be helping you with your strap, smiling charmingly to the woman there. “Clothing mishap.”

“Such a sweet couple.” She says, going to the bathroom, making you two burst in quiet laughter, grinning so big your damn cheeks hurt, looking up at Satoru then, as it all starts hitting.

What are you two?

“Are you okay?” He murmurs softly, as he watches your brows draw together, your teeth pressing into your lower lip again, so hard you’re tearing the delicate skin there. “Was I too…”

“No, no… we need to get out of here.” You take his hand in your little one, pulling him and entering the auction once more, feeling his cum sticking to your panties as it starts to trickle out, a sensation you’ve never had before.

“Are you sure? Did I hurt you?” Satoru whispers in front of the bathroom, quietly in your ear, you exhale now, looking up into blue eyes filled with a myriad of emotions, reflections of everything he’s always felt, and now more. 

“No, you didn’t.”

“Then… Do you regret it?” At the pain in his voice you shake your head, tears filling up in your eyes.

“God no, Satoru.”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, talk.” He says, voice husky, you nod in agreement as he’s pulling you away, only to be irritatingly stopped by more and more people, then once outside, more reporters.

“How do you deal with this shit, Toru?” He sighs, wrapping you in his jacket as he waits for the limo.

“It’s gotten worse now, it wasn’t this bad before. Well, you know… you’ve been in stories with me.”

“Yeah, shit they used to call me your mistress.” You say with a snort, and he chuckles just a bit, both of your breath making puffs in the night.

“You’re my wife, though.” His words make you falter, as drips of rain start to fall, and you’re both there, you shivering in his big expensive Armani jacket, him just in some dress shirt worth more than your old car. You look how beautiful he is then, he’s always been so pretty it hurts, but how he’s looking at you!?

“Don’t say that, don’t look at me like that.” You whisper, lip trembling now, as more drops fall, and he’s cupping your face with his big hands.

“Look at you like what, sweetheart?” He murmurs softly, and you take a shaky breath then, your hands gripping his wrists, thumbs pressing over his pulse.

“Like you could love me.” Satoru laughs then, he laughs, making you scowl, shoving at him. “It’s funny!?”

“Shh, brat.” He kisses you, while more rain is falling, splashing all over your feet, and the car pulls up, the driver opening an umbrella and handing it to Satoru before sitting back in the car. Satoru takes it for a moment, opening it, as you’re both under the pattering protection. “Do you remember the day we met?”

“Yes.” You take a breath, looking up at the clear umbrella, showcasing every fat drop of precipitation, the sound merging with your heart beating in your ears. “I didn’t have an umbrella.”

“You didn’t, you were soaked, your hair all stringy.” You giggle a bit, shaking your head. “Your skin, it was glimmering… it was a weird thought for an eighth grade boy to have, glimmering. I didn’t think it was a word I knew.” Your heart nearly pounds out of your chest as he strokes your cheek, dewy from the rain.

“Satoru, I…”

“Shh. And what happened that day?”

“You shared your umbrella.” Your lips curve up at the memory. “You were grinning so big, sunglasses in the rain, you had this giant umbrella too. With little fish all over it.”

“I still have it.”

“What!? No way.”

“Mmhmm, that was the day I met you, soaked and walking home, and what I should have said then, is that I fell for you, the moment I saw you.” You blink back tears, shaking your head, but he exhales and leans closer, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of it, as everything in the world tilts on its axis.

“You fell for me?” You whisper, and now he’s swiping your tears, smiling so big at you, a grin on his face.

“That’s what’s funny, you didn’t even know. But something clicked into place, like you were always supposed to be here, with me.”

“I fell for you that day, when you protected me from the rain, when you gave me your jacket because I was soaked.” You’re sniffling, tears flowing just like the rain all around you, his lips part just so. “I fell harder every year, every moment, every day, but I was so scared-”

“To lose me.”

“Yes, to lose you. Friends don’t just leave each other’s lives, I thought it was how I could keep you forever.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He tilts your chin up, looking at your pretty face in the night, finally ready to say it. “I can’t play it anymore, I can’t pretend, especially after being inside you. All I can think about now? Is making you mine, again, and again, and again…”

He kisses you, thinking he should have that day you met, but now there’s so much behind the kiss, as you breathe into him, as you both huddle together under your perfect little umbrella, images flash in both of your minds. Middle school Satoru and Middle school you, versus now. You were in jeans and converse, now you’re in a pretty red dress and glittery heels.

Satoru was in some dark blue jeans and a baby blue polo, you can’t forget it, nor his round glasses he wore then, now in this fancy three piece suit, but the two of you, your souls and hearts are the same. You remember your heart skipping a beat as he met you, and now his lips are taking you over. You’re clinging to him, arms around his neck, pulling back to finally say it, the words bursting forth.

“I am in love with you, Satoru Gojo. I have always been, from a crush to puppy love, to so much more, to where you consume me.” You whisper, the words like a healing balm on a soul that you didn’t realize was aching this badly.

“And I’m so in love with you it’s stupid, god I want this real, the marriage. I want it real, you in my arms, waking up in the morning, looking at this pretty face every day. Fuck every day forever if you will.” You’re sobbing as you nod, kissing him over and over again.

“Yes, I will. I’ve always wanted to.” He feels tears burning his eyes as his hand cups your pretty face, and your mouths move, more and more passionate with every tilt of your head, until you’re both breathless.

“I’ll never let you leave my goddamn bed.” He murmurs, making your cheeks heat up, your tummy clenching.

“God, we have been so stupid.” You murmur, he chuckles, blinking back his own tears.

“We were so stupid. Everyone always said so.”

You sigh, a hand brushing along the undercut, the soft damp hair pressing against your fingertips. “I love you.”

“And I love you, sweetheart. With every bit of my dumb brain and heart. I’m sorry I didn’t-”

“No, don’t.” You stop him then, shaking your head. “But you can make it up to me, I think. All these years of pining.” You tease, and his voice drops an octave, eyelids lowering.

“Yeah, how?” His cock twitches right back to life when you guide him to the limo now, raising a brow, giggling just a bit.

“We have a lot of time to make up for, hmm?” Satoru’s got you in his lap, as you’re both just a bit damp but uncaring, you’re straddling him and whining, grinding where you’re both so sticky.

Satoru’s kissing every inch of you on the short ride home that he can reach, as you grind on his clothed cock, pressing your twitchy little clit, and you’re both whispering your love, your needs, your wants. A mix of sweet and completely filthy, your tongues dripping with saliva as you take over each other's senses, barely noticing as the driver knocks on the door.

Oh, Satoru is absolutely making it up to you when you run into his home, and he has you spun and pressed against the door, easing your zipper down, pressing kisses along the back of your neck. When you’re bare to him, and you turn, he sees you fully naked for the first time, his eyes wide as they run down your soft pretty breasts, the curve of your waist and hip.

“Oh my… you’re fucking beautiful, baby.” He murmurs, and you believe him, relaxing instantly, as he worships you with his gaze, and you’re shaky and unbuttoning his dress shirt, revealing his perfect, toned body, hands trailing down each defined line and muscle.

“You’re beautiful, Satoru.” He moans now, kissing you, but you’re sinking to your knees now, his brain short circuits for a minute, a blush dancing on his high cheeks.

“Shit I’m dreaming…” You giggle softly, shaking your head, swallowing when you see his length, still sticky from you, as he gets fully naked, his pink tip oozing precum, lapping your tongue up it, tasting his sweetness then. “Oh m-my… baby…”

He’s falling apart when you wrap your lips around his tip, sucking him in your hot, wet mouth, his hands enwrapping in your still damp hair, pulling as he fucks into your mouth, making you throb at the memory of his cock inside you. Making you crave him even more as he loses control then, bracing one hand on the wall as the other pulls your head up and down his veiny length,

“Mmnh!” You’re whining as he hits deeper, pausing.

“Too much, sweets?” He murmurs. “Can you take it all f’me?”

“Probably not.” You say, pulling back with a pop of your lips, he moans at the sight of you, of the drool down your lips and chin. “You’re huge, Toru.”

Satoru knows he’s huge, but something about you saying it makes him lose it, shoving as deep as he can until you’re gagging, and he’s trembling, his cock twitching down your throat. “Know how long I’ve w-wanted this, how much I’ve stroked him to the thought? F-fuck…”

You’re soaked further, picturing it, but you have no clue the desperation and need he’s had for you, the way he’s stroked it right outside your room, whispering all the things he’d do when he had a chance. You’re even better than he could ever dream of, there’s nothing like you. Your pretty eyes looking up at him, fuck even your tears just make him harder as he pulls back then with a hiss.

“Shit, shit… get up here.” He yanks you up by your hair then, pulling it at the nape, only serving to turn you on more when he presses his lips, tasting himself as he swirls his tongue inside your mouth, bending down then, gripping you by the waist and picking you up in his arms. “The bed this time, I swear to god we’ll make it.”

“Oh will we?” You tease softly, he moans, hands gripping your ass now, feeling it fill his hands, as he’s pressing against your bare cunt, and your thighs are squeezing around his hips, whining out.

“Yes, dammit. We can fuck on this door later.” You’re giggling, so breathless as he rushes you into the room, nearly tripping in his excitement, until he’s laid you on your back, brushing your hair back gently for a moment, grinning. “I can’t believe we get to do this!?”

“You’re excited huh?” You tease, and Satoru exhales, kissing down your throat, leaning up and gripping a breast, pressing sweet kisses down the slope of it.

“Prettiest titties I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.” He murmurs, as he squishes one in his hand, sighing. “I knew it, but shit.”

“Ah!” Satoru’s sucking a nipple in his mouth now, hot tongue swirling around your areola, as your hands find purchase in his silky white locks, he elicits lewd moans from you, finally able to be loud, earning his cock rutting on the bed. Dying to fill you in every way he can, he’s latched onto the other as you’re whining softly, hips arching up, letting him feel your heat.

“Perfect, god so perfect.” Satoru’s humming to himself as he licks a trail between the valley of your breasts, hot sticky trail that glimmers under the light, igniting something in him. Glimmering.

“Need you… need more, please.” You whisper, and he grins up at you with those sharp teeth of his.

“So greedy already, huh sweetheart?” He’s cooing now, how he goes from whimpering to cocky you don’t have the brainpower to think.

“Ngh… ah! Mnh!” He’s eliciting lewd moans as he’s gripping your hips, kissing on your tummy, laughing a bit, making it tickle.

“Imagine it so fucking full?” You blink a bit, but then he’s spitting on your clit, watching it drip down as he spreads you wide, sighing as he sees it, trickles of his cum still pouring out. “You kept some in your perfect pussy, aww. You’re such a good girl.”

“Huh? Are you talking to her or m-me-ah!” Satoru’s scooping the remnants of his own cum out, tasting the both of you together.

“Mmm, I was talking to both of my girls.” You can hear and feel Satoru’s vibrating groans as he laps hungrily at your entrance, as your thighs threaten to close on his head, but he shoves them apart.

“Hold 'em up, sweets. Now.” You do as he asks eagerly, and you are just feeling so exposed, but he’s groaning even louder at the pretty sight of you. “Good girl, lemme clean you up, get you ready hmm?”

“Y-yes… Please…”

“Lemme take my time, f-fucking look at you.” He’s studying your glistening folds, your drooling little hole, shoving his tongue deep inside, his straight nose pressing on your clit, inhaling you as he drinks you both.

“Ohmygod, m’gonna-”

“Cum.” He whispers, looking up under white lashes for just a moment, and then slipping his tongue back inside, making you shatter around him, fuck he almost cums from just that, pressing against the bed more and more eager, lapping every bit of your juices up.

“M-messy… shit…” He laughs a bit as you look at him, coated in your slick, sucking on two fingers before inserting them in your sore pussy, making you hiss just a bit.

“You are messy, aren’t you? All f’me though, isn’t it?” He’s leaning over you, pressing that spongy spot in sticky gummy walls that grip him, and you nod weakly, gasping for a breath as the dizziness of your orgasm is hitting in waves. “Use your words.”

“All for you, only for you.” He moans now, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself and his cum as you’re trembling thighs squeeze his wrist, but he’s unrelenting. “It’s too much, Toru.”

“No, you can do it hmm? Gimme one more before I fill you, be good f’me, would you?” You nod weakly, earning his grin as he leans on an elbow above you, stroking his cock, watching your reaction. “Good girl, good little messy girl. So wet just for me, mmm.”

“Yes, all f‘you.” You’re whispering, your eyes rolling back a bit as he’s playing with you, feeling so overwhelmed, his cock is so warm and heavy and you’re already drunk off it, you’re feeling his sticky precum slap on your inner thighs now, making your walls clench around his fingers. “I want it in me, please”

“Mmhmm, that’s what I like to hear, begging for it, so needy, god I couldn’t even have imagined this.” He whispers, stroking his cock from the base to the tip, as you’re arching your hips up, silently begging.

“Please, in me, Toru…”

He pulls apart your legs further, easing his fingers out and kissing you deeply, his cock pressing against your soppy little hole, making you shiver as he slips it up to your clit, moaning. “Fuck you feel so good.”

“In me, please- ah!” You whine out, and with one swift thrust he’s in, so deep, making you cry out, and he’s groaning into your mouth, his eyes rolling back as he’s filling you, stretching you, owning you. His hand comes to entwine with yours, leaving you breathless as you look up into his glittering eyes. “Oh god, oh god, Toru!”

He’s thick, so thick and long, hitting deeper than he had in the bathroom, fuck it’s almost too much, it feels like you’re going to split in half. He’s giving you no time to adjust, his eyes dark now, almost black as he loses himself in you, at your pretty face, at your reddened lips. Your cunt fluttering around him, he’s sucking in a breath now, shaking his head.

“Can’t take it, you’re too good.” He huffs, then he’s moving, the sound of his hips slapping against you, your squelching cunt sucking him in greedy when your brain doesn’t know if you can take it. “You’re mine, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yours, all yours- ngh!” You scream out then, and he’s picking up the pace, fucking you quicker and harder, tip dragging along that spot over and over, as he loses himself, maddened by how perfect you feel.

“Like you’re made f’me, f-fuck baby.” He’s shocking you as he shoves your thighs up high, bending you in half. “Gonna fill you so good, can you take me?”

You just nod, unsure as your thighs squish your breasts, then he hits so deep you both scream out, that soft spot up in your cervix. His drooling tip leaks right on it as his vision blurs, focusing on the bulge forming from his cock right between the spot of your thighs, making him lose it more and more.

“Gonna give em a fuckin heir, huh? How m-many?” You can feel yourself tightening around him at his words, losing yourself in him, as he loses his mind, all the ways he’s pictured you can’t compare. No vision or image or touching himself comes close to feeling you beneath him, as he’s fucking harder and harder, losing his rythm, watching your eyes roll back in your skull.

His words are just fueling it, as his hips snap and he’s making the headboard slam against the wall, over and over as he works you, as you feel him wreck your pussy and ruin you, his blue eyes are insane to handle, but you stare right at them, hands clinging to his broad shoulders.

“That’s it, hang on t’me.” He’s whispering, lost in you now, in how impeccable you feel, in how gorgeous you are as your manicured nails press into his shoulders, only making him closer to the edge. “Wanna cum again, all over me?”

Your tears trail as you nod, sniffling as he presses in deep and his leaky tip kisses your cervix, the pleasure is so intense you can’t even think, your nails are digging into his back now, leaving little half moons as he’s pumping in and out of you, your legs shaking. You’re so close, already so exhausted from the pleasure he’s brought, but you crave more, just like him.

“I’m gonna fill you up, so good this time, even more.” His husky whisper mixes with your heart pounding in your ears, with his fancy headboard slamming the wall and the huge bed shaking with his force.

“P-please, fill me ngh!” You cry out as he buries his face against your neck, hands gripping your hips and shoving you fully on his length, eight inches stuffing you so full you’re drooling down to the balls smacking your ass now. You hear the sounds of them smacking, hear his whimpers mixing with yours, as your body feels overwhelmed with every sensation.

“You’re gonna take it all, aren’t you?” He’s grinning into your neck, before he bites you hard with sharp canines, and you’re gasping out in pain and pleasure, when he slams in and rolls his hips, making you feel like you’re floating.

“Y-yes, yesss!” You’re clinging to him desperately, he moans against your ear then, and just like that, he’s letting go, his cum shooting inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh m-my… you feel so fucking…” He’s huffing as he keeps pumping so much, pulling up to kiss you as he does, making you shiver and cum around his cock just from the hot gooey cum in your hole, coating your walls, so much you think you might die from the pleasure.

You’re struggling to keep tethered to the earth, clinging to him as his mouth kisses yours, and you’re messy kissing, saliva pooling as he moans and cries out, clinging to you. “Love you, love you.” You’re whispering, weakly just a breath, he leans up then, exhaling as he cups your face, studying you.

“God, I love you so much, sweetheart.” He says with a sigh, his cock twitching, still pumping his warmth in you, little spurts that make you whine, breath catching from the aftershocks of you both pulsing. “We could have been doing this, shit.”

He kisses across your collarbone, where it’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat. A hand is sliding down your waist, pressing against your rib cage. You’re trying to come down, to control your breathing, hands enwrapped in his hair then.

“I can’t believe it’s real, it feels like a dream.” You murmur softly, pleasure building back in your tummy as he nips on your collarbone, cock easing out finally.

“I know, it does.” He looks at the mess he’s made of you, smirking deviously then like a little shit, like the Toru you know, and you glare.

“What’s that look for?”

“You’re so fucked out, and look.” He scoops the cum that’s dripping out of your hole, taking it on his fingers and shoving it back in, making you hiss at the soreness, at the overstimulation.

“Too much!”

“But I want her to keep it in.” He says with a pout, watching your greedy pussy suck his fingers back in now. “Look, she’s all puffy and beat up, hah.”

“I can’t stand you.” He’s chuckling, sucking both of you off him, making your mouth drop open at the sight of him, as the moonlight is filtering the room and catching on the hollows of his cheeks, your tummy heating up again. “Satoru, I think you’re actually insane.”

“You haven’t seen shit yet, sweets.” You blink in confusion, because how wasn’t this freaky!? “You’ll find out in time, you’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

“Y-yeah.” You admit shyly, you’ve never done anything close to this, the back to back orgasms and being stretched by him have you throbbing in soreness.

“How about a nice hot shower hmm?”

“Yes please.”

Soon you’re in his luxurious shower, the one you may or may not have played with yourself in, and the one he absolutely played with himself in, and you’re sitting on his bench seat, getting your hair washed, sighing. He’s lathering it up so carefully, fragrant shampoo filling the shower, along with the rising steam of the scalding hot water beating against you both.

“I could get used to this.” You admit, he chuckles now, rinsing your hair out with one of the detachable heads, sighing as he studies you.

“I’ll wash your hair any time.” He says softly, tilting your chin up now, your eyes meet his, watching droplets fall from his snowy lashes as your hands trail down every line of his sculpted frame. “I’ll do anything for you.”

“And so will I, Toru. Anything.” He pulls you up now, against his hot naked body, both slick as he presses you against the shower wall.

“You’re my wife, you’re all mine.” He murmurs, bringing emotions into your throat.

“I’m yours, Toru, yours.”

Two Months of being married to your best friend, Satoru Gojo (it’s not fake anymore, is it?)

Satoru’s father got better, but he let Gojo take control of the company, and though it’s only been a short amount of time, you and Satoru are an absolute force to be reckoned with, the two of you the perfect power couple as you make changes from every aspect. Every higher up is affected by the changes Satoru makes, as he silently takes so many of them down.

People who need it make more money, and the rich people are still greedy little shits in their own way, but Satoru makes sure they have no easy time with it any longer, always ready to take another peg down. Of course Satoru is rich and he loves his thousand dollar shirts and fancy cars, but the generosity he has and the care speak for themselves.

You both are finishing up a press meeting, when someone in the reporters’ seats asks ‘Mr. Gojo, are you thinking of running for office?’

You pause then, smiling just a bit, as Satoru laughs loudly, shaking his head. “Oh god no, fuck all that, I would be gone from my wife too often.” He pulls you against his side now, smiling at you, his blue eyes lit up as your hand slips up his chest. “She’d be mad at me if I didn’t come home every night.”

“That’s right, I’d miss him too much.” You murmur, and everyone is oohing and ahhing as he kisses you right in front of them, but this isn’t for show.

It never was, really for show, Satoru always wanted this, he wanted to keep you forever, he just didn’t know he could in this way. He was so scared of fucking up and losing you, he kept you there in that zone of friendship, because you were just too important to him, as did you, but now you both were fully open, and it was like every piece of your puzzle fell together.

“I need to get my wife home now.” He says huskily, throwing them all a big peace sign, whispering in your ear - “I need you baby.”

You all have been insatiable the past few weeks, like flood gates opened the moment he entered you, unable to keep your hands off very long. Years and years of longing poured into him taking you in every position, some you hadn’t even seen or heard of, a mix of fucking and making love that was addicting for the both of you.

But mostly, it was easy, easy like breathing to be together, you’ve known each other forever, and those moments of peace with coffee on the balcony, or wine on the couch, were even more precious to you both. Without the unspoken feelings, with finally being open with each other, the deeper you fall in love with him every day you wake up in his big strong arms.

“You should show me, Satoru.” You murmur that night, as you’re kissing in the foyer, his hand entangled in your hair, the aching need building again.

“Show you what, sweetheart?” He murmurs, you’re both backing your way into his room, jackets tossed, stockings ripped, hunger making you both lose control, you lean up on your tiptoes, pulling him down, lips against his ear.

“How you stroked yourself for me. How often was it?” You pull back and catch his blush on his cheeks, his lips parted.

“You’re a freaky little thing, what have I unleashed?” He whispers, chuckling as you giggle, your own blush coloring your cheeks.

“I wanna see.” You pout at him now, and he rolls his blue eyes, before getting a devious smirk.

“Only if you show me how you did it.”

“Oh…” You’re nervously on the bed with him, as he lays you down, kissing across your breasts, biting on a nipple while you take your fingers, trailing them down your tummy. “You wanna see how I failed at cumming hmm?”

“Yes, but one rule. You can’t play with yourself unless I’m here.” You blink in confusion. “It’ll make me jealous.”

“You’re insane!”

“I’m serious, pookie.” He pouts now, and you’re laughing, shaking your head before you feel him taking your hand, pressing your fingers to your clit. “Let me see you play with your pretty little pussy.”

“Y-you too. Your cock, please let me.” You’re whining, soaking wet already as he leans back, stroking his length now from the base to the pretty pink tip, you watch his eyes flutter as he looks at the sight of you. “H-how often d-did you?”

“It’s… a lot.” He admits, stroking harder now, as you’re rubbing your clit in little circles, whining softly in want for him.

“Oh y-yeah?” He grins now, teeth glinting as his muscles flex, and his huge hand works his veiny length, cock twitching as he spreads your thigh with his other hand, pressing his long fingers against the plush of it.

“You’re so cute.”

“Cute, I’m m-mas- ah!”

“You’re so cute, so pretty, so s-sexy…” He’s whining now, shaking his head as you’re trying to finger yourself, crying out. “Too tiny, pathetic.”

“Oh… you’re still an… arrogant- ass of a- ngh!”

“Need help, sweets?” He huffs, and you nod, eyeing him just so, the way that melts him, ends him.

“Let’s switch.” You tug on his cock instead, the slick of your cunt making your silken little hand feel so much better, as he slips two fingers inside your soppy little cunt, and you’re gasping, back arching. “Yesyesyes!”

“Oh my god… you’re soaked…” He murmurs, leaning over and pressing that spot again and again, watching the wedding ring glint as you stroke him.

“How m-many times, didn’t answer.” You mumble, already fucked out off his fingers, Satoru sighs then.

“Three times a day.”

“Wh-what!?”

“At least.” He’s kissing you now, yanking your hand off and pinning your wrists above his head, lining his cock up with your entrance. “I also caved and took a pair of your panties.”

“You what now?” Your eyes narrow, and he’s giving you this shy, dopey grin, even as he presses his tip in your entrance, and you’re whining at the stretch.

“I tried not to, but… you really made it hard not to wanna taste you, smell you, have you on my face.” His words make your mind swirl, his eyes turning insane as they do when he’s in you, he goes from this sweet and passionate lover to batshit crazy.

But you love it.

You love him.

“Crazy ass.” You mumble, but he’s laughing as he sinks inside you, so deep, so perfect and right, and you’re whimpering, cunt dripping down his length, as your eyes struggle to not roll back.

“You love it.”

“I do.” He kisses you as he fucks into you, as you fall apart under him, until he’s on you while you’re on your tummy, pressing so deep, taking you over. You’re exhausted when you both finally have had your fill, and you’re collapsed against him in his arms as he strokes your hair.

“Maybe we should… do another ceremony.” He murmurs softly, and you yawn then, turning your head to study his face in the night.

“I don’t need one, Toru, to know how I’m your wife.” He exhales, pulling you so close against him, feeling your body and how it’s so right there, nestled against his front, how you fit perfectly. In his life, in his arms, wrapped around him, next to him.

“I kinda want one.” He admits, as you’re fading in and out of slumber, and he studies your cute little fucked out face, one he loves to watch in your sleep.

“If you want, we will. Anything you want.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart. I’ll give you anything.” You kiss him, as you feel yourself fading out, smiling against his lips.

“I just want you with me. That’s all.” You’re soon lightly snoring as Satoru cuddles against you, his best friend, his wife, his everything, plotting all the things he wants to do, wants to show you, burying his face against your neck and inhaling your scent, as he hears a sleepy ‘love you Toru’ everything feels perfect.

“I just want you to come with me. Everywhere I go. Forever.” He murmurs, you’re knocked now, but he can’t stop all the pretty images in his head of his wife, and every place he wants to take her, and every surface he wants to fuck her on. He gets so excited he wonders how tired you are.

“Toru!” You’re whining later that night with his cock inside, his fingers on your clit, as he takes you from behind, spooning you, and he realizes you’re never that tired for him. You’ll always take him, and come right with him.

A/N- Aww fr ty for the love on this, I enjoyed writing it! It was supposed to be a one shot but at 22k I felt like splitting it up made sense. This was a thank you for 5k but I'm almost at 6k!? Ya'll blow my mind. Love youu

taglist one: @plaggi @baepsays @victoria1676 @flwerie @luringfantasy @moncher-ire @allonyyourmom @kindablackenedsuperhero @evelynxxo @jkslaugh97 @sugurusfavemonkey @ninikrumbs @s4ikooo1 @bunheadusa @twinkling-moonlillie @chameleonsoul111 @nina-from-317 @naammiii @whippedbyikemen @alygator77 @uarmyhopeworldwide @1satoruu @theclassbookworm @jud3thedude @isleqt @mcromer2999-blog @silvarys @orikixx @jiejies-corner-store @assbutt-inlove-with-koreans @lordbugs @ari-sa @blue-musingss @minaa-06 @uhnosav @cvixmei @seeiin @indiewritesxoxo @loafteaw @moonlitwitchdaisy @beachaddict48 @miizuzu @honeybunnnnie @gojosukuna2268 @4acoffee @whoreapika @arabellasolstice

[bestalbertcamuslover]

Her Ex Got Engaged

↳ Masterlist

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✯ pairing: Max Verstappen x GF! Reader ✯

✯ content warnings: None✯

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Almost two years had passed since the end of the longest relationship she had ever had. Six years that had introduced her to romantic love—and to romantic deception. She could still picture the subtle yet undeniable shift in his expression as she spoke animatedly about the future she envisioned for them. It wasn’t until much later that she realized that moment had been a warning, a quiet revelation that he did not see her in his.

She soon learned what a breakup truly felt like—the endless crying, the ache in her chest, the unbearable helplessness. Absolute hell.

Looking back, though, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the conversation that ended it all. Painful as it had been, it had given her the clarity she needed. It had hurt—stung far too much—to realize he had known for some time that she was not the one but hadn’t ended things sooner. She had spent too long wondering why. But perhaps, if he had, she wouldn’t be where she was now—with someone who loved her the way she deserved. And for that, she was grateful.

It was late morning, and as Max played with the cats beside her, she scrolled through Instagram stories to see what her friends and other people were up to. Clubbing, dinners, traveling, running—the usual things people posted. She would glance at each for just a second before swiping to the next. But then she stopped, her finger frozen on the screen as she stared, at one point almost vacantly, before tapping on the shared post.

Engaged. She stared blankly at the caption, the single word mocking her. After what—a year? He was already engaged to someone else? How? Max barely glanced at her phone at first, still focused on scratching behind the cat’s ears. But when he noticed the way she had suddenly stilled, eyes fixed on the screen, he leaned in slightly.

“Who’s that?” he asked, peering over her shoulder. “One of your friends?”

She blinked, hesitating a second too long. “Uh—”

Max smirked, nudging her playfully. “Tell me it’s not another wedding. I’m running out of excuses not to go.”

That earned a small, breathy laugh from her, but it wasn’t quite right—too forced. She locked her phone and placed it face-down beside her. “No wedding,” she said lightly. “Don’t worry.”

Max tilted his head. “Then why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”

“I don’t,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing.”

His smirk faded slightly as he studied her face. “It’s someone, though.”

She sighed, knowing there was no way out of this. “My ex,” she admitted. “He got engaged.”

Max’s expression didn’t change immediately. He just stared at her, then let out a quiet huh.

For a second, she thought maybe he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it. But then, with that signature bluntness of his, he asked,

“So why do you care?”

She turned her head sharply. “I don’t.”

Max gave her a look, eyes flicking to her phone. “You do.”

His eyes met hers again, piercing through her, almost imploring an answer. Why did she care? It had been two years. She was happy—with herself, with him, with her life in general. And yet, it felt like a hard punch to the stomach.

“I don’t know,” she sighed.

Max’s jaw tensed slightly, his fingers drumming against his knee as he studied her. He wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions, but something about this—about her reaction—itched at him in a way he didn’t like.

“You don’t know?” he echoed, his voice quieter now, but there was an edge to it.

She ran a hand through her hair. “I mean, it’s offensive,” she said, trying to explain. “That he just—engaged so fast.”

Max’s brow furrowed. “And that bothers you because…?”

She sighed. “Because it makes me wonder how long he knew I wasn’t the one.”

Max was quiet for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. Then, in a tone sharper than before, he asked,

“And do you still care?”

Her head snapped up. “What?”

“About him,” Max clarified, his expression unreadable. “Because you look like someone just punched you, and I don’t know why else you’d be this upset if you were actually over it.”

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Max, no—”

“Because if you’re not happy with me, you should tell me,” he continued, his voice still controlled. “If you still want him—”

“I don’t,” she cut him off, shaking her head firmly. “I swear, I don’t.”

He exhaled, looking away for a second, his fingers tightening into a fist before relaxing. “Then why?” His voice was quieter now, but no less intense. “Why does it feel like you’re still stuck in it?”

She opened her mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. It wasn’t about her ex, not really. It was about time, about the fact that she had spent years loving someone who hadn’t loved her back the same way. It was about realizing that she had been so blind to it.

But looking at Max now—his guarded expression, the slight clench of his jaw, the way his fingers twitched like he wasn’t sure whether to reach for her or pull away—she realized that he didn’t see it that way.

Her chest tightened.

She reached for his hand, curling her fingers around his. “Max, I’m happy, the happiest I’ve ever been,” she said, her voice softer now. “With you. I swear, I don’t want him back. I just—it caught me off guard. That’s all.”

His shoulders didn’t relax immediately, his thumb ghosting over her knuckles as he studied her face, searching for something.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and for all his bluntness, there was something vulnerable about the way he said it.

She squeezed his hand. “I’m sure.”

Max exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly like he was mad at himself for even thinking otherwise. Then, finally, he tugged her closer, his hand slipping to the nape of her neck as he rested his forehead against hers.

“I don’t like seeing you like that,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “And I really don’t like the thought of you still caring about him.”

She smiled, brushing her nose against his. “I don’t.”

His lips barely curved, but the tension in his body faded just slightly.

“Good,” he murmured before kissing her, slow and deliberate, like he was grounding himself in her. Like he was making sure she was here. With him.

Max pulled back just enough to look at her, his hand still cradling the nape of her neck. His expression had softened—still serious, but there was a hint of something else now. Something almost teasing.

“So,” he murmured, thumb brushing absently over her skin. “If you’re so bothered by him getting engaged, you wanna just… get engaged too?”

She blinked. “What?”

Max shrugged, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah, why not? Even the score.”

She scoffed, shoving his shoulder. “Oh, now you want to propose, just to be petty?”

He chuckled, but there was a glint in his eyes, something more thoughtful than his usual teasing. “Maybe. I think we’d look better in engagement photos, anyway.”

She rolled her eyes while smiling. 

Max smirked and leaned in again, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before murmuring against her skin, “One day, though.”

Her breath hitched slightly.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something undeniably genuine. “Not just to ‘even the score’ or whatever,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But because I want to.”

She swallowed, her heart skipping a beat at the certainty in his tone.

“One day,” she echoed, her lips curving slightly.

Max’s grin widened. “Good, and it will be a much fancier ring than that, okay?.”

She laughed, shaking her head as he pulled her into him again. “Okay.”

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✯ authors note: English is not my first language and I hope you liked it <3

[reiderwriter]

hi Kacie :"> it's me :"> just thinking about ''reader sitting on his face in reverse cowgirl and decides to just unbutton and zip down his pants, turning this to a 69 and somehow both of them make it into a 'who's gonna make the other one finish first' competition'' nothing much how has your afternoon been I hope you'll have a great day xx -kei

A Kei request a day keeps the chances of my going to heaven away 🙏 I <3 smut

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, use of pet names (good boy), sub(ish) Spencer Reid, munch!Spencer, oral (m +f), 69ing, rough sex, face fucking, unprotected oral sex, no plot just sex. Literally no plot.

Masterlist <3

With a cock that perfect and neglected right in front of your face, you could hardly resist the temptation to give it a tiny taste.

It wasn't like it was against the rules of your non-hookups with Spencer. He'd ask for explicit pictures twice a week, which you'd happily send for the chance to be sat on his tongue by 10pm that Friday evening, days on which cases landed notwithstanding.

Hotel rooms were very convenient hook up spots, especially the ones with free condoms and tissues on both the nightstand and by the desk chair.

Not that you ever needed condoms, really. You'd never so much as touched Spencer's cock, let alone had it inside you. He was too much of a giver to take something like that from you. His cock was always hard, always visible through his pants, but he was so focused on your pleasure, he didn't care about his own needs being met.

Spencer's tongue was your personal sex toy. You'd fucked his face multiple times, grabbing his hair and forcing his nose into the bristles of hair at the end of your pelvic bone as you ground your cunt into his wet, hot mouth. You'd laid back contentedly and let him peacefully lick and suck slowly for hours on end, cumming multiple times as he explored your sensitive parts.

You'd sat on a chair, legs spread, and let him lap up your cum on his knees, because there was nothing in the world he wanted more.

More than once, you knew, he'd walked away with cum dampening his pants, having enjoyed your moans and taste so much that he'd lost it before really touching you.

But Spencer Reid was being unfair getting you to sit on his face, to look at his big, thick cock atraining through his pants, straight on, and telling you to sit still and enjoy his tongue when all you wanted was to take him as far down your throat as he could get.

“Fuck, Spencer,” you moaned again as he nipped at your clit, tongue flicking it as you felt a familiar burn of stimulation at your core.

You were going to end up roughly fucking his face if you weren't careful. His tongue just felt too good.

You slid your hands down his stomach a bit, landing on his loose pants as you repositioned your knees.

“Spencer, that's it keep going. Good boy, good boy.”

You gripped his pants tightly, using the little bit of tension to help you arch back, pushing more of your ass onto his face than before.

But your arms, already weak from a rough day at work, slipped again pushing his pants down just one more inch until his cock could finally spring loose. You wanted nothing more than to taste it, reaching forward and looking at it intensely as your mouth watered. You didn't get closer than a breath away, as Spencer immediately stopped when your mouth almost achieved its goal.

“Fuck, fuck, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Spencer mumbled crawling out from underneath you as he scrambled to get his cock back in his pants.

“Spencer-”

“I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll-”

“Spencer, slow down. What?”

You'd seen Spencer flushed with desire before, but the redness of his cheeks was different somehow now. More embarrassment than anything else.

Slowly, you crawled towards him again, trying to look as non-threatening as you could, clad only in hastily pushed aside panties and dishevelled dress. Your hand slowly traced up his thigh, and you kept it there, still for a second watching to see what Spencer would do next.

“Spencer. Why can't I see your cock?” You asked, voice low but light, almost surprising yourself with how breathy and needy you sounded.

“I… I thought you wouldn't want to see…” he trailed off, and you pouted up at him, stroking his thigh as he looked down distractedly at you.

“I want to. Can I have it now?” You asked in a sickeningly sweet voice.

“Y/N…. It's… I've had complaints in the past, it's not…” he struggled to find the words as your hand brushed over his crotch now tracing the bulge in his pants as his head dropped backwards.

“It's not what? Big? Don't lie to me.”

“That's not it… I get… I get too overwhelmed if you do that, I get too-”

“Too….” You mimicked, dropping a hand into his underwear as his hand fell over yours, unsure whether it was to stop you or to set the pace of your impromptu hand job.

“Rough,” he said, as you firmly gripped his cock, using your other hand to free him from his pants and underwear, knocking his hand away as you ran your palm along the length of his hard cock.

“Rough?” You said, gripping the tip of his cock, teasing it until it shone with precum.

His hand fell back over yours, more firmly this time, as he met his eyes with yours.

“I didn't want to hurt you, but I get so overwhelmed if I use it that I… I get rough, I don't listen well-”

You were practically dripping listening to his explanations for not fucking you, or even letting you see his cock.

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yes! It's like… Y/N, I'd treat you like a sex toy, not a person, and I want this to be good for you, too, so let's not-”

You cut him off with a rough kiss as you pressed him back into the bed, straddling his thighs as you gently fisted his cock, rubbing up and down slowly.

“I'll make a deal with you, Spencer,” you said, between gasps of air. “I'll sit on your face again, and you let me suck your cock. When you get rough, if you get rough, you'll be able to feel how much I'm enjoying it, okay?”

He nodded between kisses, words forming and melting on his tongue as his hips began thrusting into your hand, his thigh digging into your mound as he thrashed towards a climax.

“Good boy,” you said, kissing him one last time before letting go of his cock and climbing out of his lap.

His body twitched in protest, but his big hands grasped you quickly, pulling you up the bed as you eagerly went with them, losing your panties on the way as you let your dress fall around his face in an all too familiar position.

But this time, you lowered yourself down, too, spitting on his tip quickly as his tongue got to work teasing your clit slowly.

You gave him a few pumps, before lowering yourself more completely on his face, pressing your chest close to his abdomen and taking his cock slowly onto your mouth.

Spencer wasn't small, but you also weren't going to let him be a challenge. You got a few inches down before you decided to come back up again, hands still stroking the base and massaging the rest. You did that a few times before you felt Spencer's body angle up into you again.

Changing his leg position on the bed, Spencer thrust his cock up into your mouth as you forced yourself to breathe. His cock thrust up again, quickly but totally and he left it there for a few seconds before pulling it out again.

The entire time, he hadn't let up his work on your cunt. His to guess flattened out against your clit, roughly stroking that sensitive area with a precision only he knew. A hand clasped around your hips, gripping your ass kept you firmly in place on his face, as his hips bucked into you.

He got faster, wilder, and yes, rougher.

You didn't want to pull off his dick, but moving back was instinctual. He pushed you right back in with a hand on your head, fisted into your hair as he synchronised your movements, pulling your head up as he pulled his cock away from your lips, and pushing it back down when his hips snapped up.

You moaned hysterically when you came apart on his face, feeling your cum trickling down your leg as he continued to use you to get off. His to guess never stopped, even after wave after wave of your juices hit him.

The only sign of his impending orgasm was the tightening of his hands, both of them now coming down on your head, forcing you to the base of his sizable cock as your tongue touched his balls. He came down your throat and immediately releases you, spluttering and coughing as your legs trembled.

Spencer scrambled to get you on your back, pushing you upright and patting your back as you regained your breath.

“I'm sorry, Y/N, I said it wasn't a good ide-”

You pushed your cum stained tongue into his mouth, shutting him up quickly as he tasted himself, and you tasted yourself, and your tastes mingled quickly, as you climbed into his lap again.

“Spencer,” you said, catching your breath once again, collapsing into his arms.

“If I need to beg for your cock, I will. I like it rough. I-” you gasped again, feeling his cock stirring with each word.

“I very much like it when you use me like a sex toy. So… so in the future, please use all of me, and I'll use you, too.”

[landoughnut]

Made With Love

♡ masterlist - request - emoji anons

♡ pairing - max verstappen x fem!reader

♡ summary - while visiting your boyfriend working, why not bring a little surprise sign you made for him?

♡ warnings - blushy and in love max, drivers and fans teasing max, fluffffff

♡ w/c & a/n - 1.08k | IM BACK 🫶🏻 hehe sorry yall this isn't too great but I gotta get back into the groove so pls send in thoughts or requests bc my minds a blank canvas

Race weekends were always chaotic, but the energy in the paddock today was on another level. Fans packed the grandstands, waving flags, banners, and signs - some are more simple, some are memes of the drivers, yet they were all made with the same excitement for the race ahead.

And somewhere in that sea of people, standing right at the front, was you. Normally, you’d be in with Red Bull but you went over to the fans to join them for the time being. Some had given you bracelets and asked for pictures, which you happily agreed to. 

So here you stand, clutching a sign you had spent way too much time making the night before.

It wasn’t your fault, really. You had been up late, watching Max’s past races for “inspiration” (which was really just an excuse to admire him), when an idea popped into mind. With a few markers, a ridiculously pathetic and cheesy pun, glittery heart stickers, and maybe a questionable drawing of you two, you created what could only be described as likely the most embarrassing thing he would ever see before a race.

“DRIVE FAST BUT NOT TOO FAST, I HAVE PLANS FOR YOU LATER ;)”

You could already imagine his reaction - probably an exasperated sigh, followed by that little smirk he always gave you when he pretended to be unimpressed but was actually very much an attempted cover up of how he falls deeper in love with you. 

The drivers started their walk to the grid, and your raced just a little bit when you spotted him looking impossibly handsome. Max looked calm - focused, sharp, already in his zone - but you knew him well enough to see the tiny traces of nerves beneath the surface. 

As they passed by, you lifted the sign above your head and glanced at some of the fans around you who giggled when they read it.

It took him a second, but then he stopped.

He just… stood there, staring at the sign like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or melt into the asphalt. His mouth was parting and closing again, unsure of how to react, but you just gave him your perfect smile and it made his heart flutter. His ears went pink first, then the blush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks.

“Oh, for f-” Max muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple, but the amused smile on his face betrayed him.

And that’s when the teasing began.

Lando cackled loud enough for the entire grid to hear. “Oh, this is GOLD!”

Before Max could escape, Lando slung an arm around his shoulder, grinning like he’d just won the championship. “So, what’re these ‘plans’ about, mate? Anything we should be worried about? Should we clear the podium early?”

“Do we need to tell Christian?” Charles chimed in, barely holding back his laughter. “You know, just in case he needs to schedule some extra… recovery time for you.”

A chorus of laughter followed. Max groaned, dragging a hand down his face, but the pink on his cheeks only deepened. “You’re all the worst,” he grumbles.

Meanwhile, the nearby fans had caught on fast.

“Oh my god, he’s BLUSHING,” one girl gasped, tugging her friend’s arm.

“He’s practically making heart eyes, how adorable,” another comments, phone already in hand and recording the scene.

Max, looking positively doomed, glanced at you - a mix of betrayal, affection, and desperate pleading. But you? You just continued to smile sweetly with a tilted head.

“You like it.”

“I hate it.”

“You’re literally blushing.”

“I’m warm.”

“Mhm,” you roll your eyes and chuckle.

The teasing didn’t stop as he pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture of your masterpiece, grumbling something about “evidence to haunt me later.” But before he walked away, he pointed at you, eyes narrowed.

“You’re lucky I love you.”

Your heart did a little flip and you grinned. “Oh, I know.”

And just like that, he was gone, back into the pre-race frenzy - but not before stealing one last loving glance at you over his shoulder.

Later on, the celebration was loud and chaotic. Max had finished on the podium - not a win, but a damn good race - and when he finally found you in the paddock, you barely had time to react before he crashed into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, voice still breathless with adrenaline.

“Loved it. Thought you might’ve forgotten about my sign, though.”

“Oh, trust me,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Hard to forget when the im being tagged in posts of it nonstop.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He sighed dramatically before pulling out his phone. Everywhere, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, was flooded with clips from earlier.

Fan tweets scrolled across the screen:

“THE WAY HE STOPPEDDDD LOOK AT HIM. HE’S A GONER”

“If my future man doesn’t hold up a sign like this for me, I don’t want him”

“This man is so down baddd LOOK AT THE BLUSH”

“MAX VERSTAPPEN ‘I’M WARM’ CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE)”

You bit your lip, trying (and failing) not to laugh. “I mean… they’re not wrong,” you poke his cheek.

Max groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re never making a sign again,” he says, although you both know he doesn’t mean it.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying slightly. “Oh, baby, you know that’s a lie.”

Before he could argue, you kissed him, soft at first, teasing. But then he tilted his head, deepening it, fingers pressing into your waist like he didn’t care that people were watching.

Somewhere in the background, some group of fans started shouting.

“Oh my goshh, he’s in love!.”

“Life is so unfair! Where’s my Max?”

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he was grinning like a lovestruck idiot.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“And you love it.”

His gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. “That I do.”

Later, when you made it back to his driver’s room, you caught him slipping the sign into his bag, folding it carefully like it was something worth keeping.

“… You’re keeping that?” you asked, amused.

He shot you a look. “Shut up.”You didn’t push it. But you did smile. He bites his lip, placing it into his pocket, knowing that no matter how many trophies he collects, this - you - might just be his favorite thing he’d ever won.

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@fern-reads @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @glassgulls @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @z-wantstowrite @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[daeniradraconis]

Age Is Just a Number…Right? - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke. Age gap. Jack being a menace as usual, making sure you're not getting away that easy. Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, flirtation, age gap (6 years)

Note: Hey, lovelies! So, originally, this fic was all about Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith, but then I realized—Will is 19, and honestly, he’s just a baby to me. Even if he said he loves older woman. Boy go back to kinder garden. (Sorry Will, love you, I promise!) So, I decided to swap in the Hughes boys instead. I’ve gotta be honest, it gave me a bit of a headache. Now, this started as a quick, short fic. I swear, I had every intention of keeping it short. But, well… 7048 words later, here we are. I got hit with a ton of ideas and feelings, and the story just kind of... grew on me. You’ll probably notice the tone/style shifts halfway through, and I’m definitely sorry for that!

But hey, I hope you all enjoy it despite the wild ride! ❤️ For more fun: masterlist

The first thing you notice is warmth.

A heavy arm draped over your waist. The steady rise and fall of breath against the back of your neck. The scent of clean laundry, cologne, and something distinctly him clinging to the pillow beside you.

The second thing you notice—you are not in your own bed.

Your stomach flips as your brain reboots, sluggishly piecing together fragments of last night.

The blind date.

Luke.

His charming smile. The way his chestnut curls fell into his eyes when he laughed. The way he leaned in when you spoke, like you were the only person in the room. The teasing brush of his fingers against yours when he reached for his drink. The electricity that crackled between you when you finally caved—when he kissed you outside the bar, his hands firm at your waist, his body pressing into yours like he couldn’t help himself.

And then… more.

Your face burns as memory after memory floods in. His hands, his mouth, the way he whispered your name like it meant something.

Nope. Not thinking about that.

Carefully, you shift beneath the covers, untangling yourself from his hold. Luke stirs but doesn’t wake, his arm slipping away as you ease yourself upright.

That’s when it really hits you.

He looks so young.

His chestnut curls are a mess, his lips slightly parted, his entire face softened in sleep. He looks… peaceful. Innocent, almost.

A strange unease settles in your stomach.

Your gaze flickers around the unfamiliar room. It’s nice but lived-in—hockey gear shoved into the corner, a few discarded clothes on a chair. Your eyes land on the nightstand, where his wallet sits slightly open.

You don’t mean to snoop. You really don’t.

But something about last night nags at you.

Just a quick peek. Just to make sure.

Fingers trembling, you reach for it, flip it open.

And your heart stops.

Luke Hughes. Age: 21.

Twenty fucking one.

As in, young enough to still pull all-nighters for fun. As in, could still be in college.

And you? You are twenty-seven.

Oh. My. God.

Your hands fly to your phone as you furiously type out a message to your friend.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU SET ME UP WITH A 21-YEAR-OLD. I AM A GROWN WOMAN. I PAY FOR MY OWN HEALTH INSURANCE."

No response.

Coward.

Panic thrums in your veins as you stare at Luke—still peacefully asleep, completely unaware that you are having a full-blown identity crisis in his bed.

You need to leave. Now.

Right?

But for some reason, you hesitate.

Because Luke… Luke is the first guy in a long time who actually made you interested. Who made you laugh so hard you snorted into your drink. Who listened—really listened—when you talked, instead of just waiting for his turn to speak. And, well. The man or more like a boy, had managed to get you to orgasm. Twice!

Which, considering your track record, felt almost miraculous.

Your past partners had barely managed to get you there once—if at all.

And now you’re just supposed to sneak out of here like it never happened? Like he was just another bad decision?

Your stomach twists.

But then you glance at the wallet again. Twenty-one.

Yeah. You need to go.

Sliding out of bed as silently as possible, you scan the room for your clothes. Your shirt is on the floor, your jeans halfway under the bed. You grab them quickly, yanking them on with the precision of someone defusing a bomb. Bra? Found. Socks? One is missing, but you’ll live.

Once fully dressed, you tiptoe to the door. Your shoes. They’re outside the room. You remember kicking them off in the hallway.

One deep breath.

You ease the door open, peeking into the dimly lit living room.

Empty.

Good.

You take two careful steps out, eyes locked on your shoes near the front door. Almost there. Just a few more—

“Busted.”

You scream.

Not a blood-curdling horror movie scream, but a very real, very startled yelp that absolutely does not help you maintain any dignity in this situation.

Your body jolts like you’ve just been electrocuted, arms flailing wildly as you spin toward the voice.

There, sprawled across the couch, is a guy watching you like this is the best morning of his life.

Tall. Ridiculously handsome. Light brown hair, messy in a way that suggests he just woke up. Sharp cheekbones. Blue eyes filled with pure mischief.

And a smirk so unbearably smug that you immediately want to punch it off his face.

You clutch your chest, heart racing. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you?!”

The guy grins wider. “Damn. Didn’t even recognize me? That hurts.”

“Am I supposed to?”You blink, still catching your breath.

His smirk falters for half a second before returning full force. “Oh, that’s good. That’s really good.” He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of rare specimen. “You actually have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Why the hell would I?” Your frown deepens.

He lets out a dramatic sigh, like this is somehow the greatest tragedy to ever befall him.

“You’re telling me,” he starts, sitting up slightly, resting his arms on his knees, fully entertained, “that you came home with my brother, slept with him, and have no idea who we are?”

Your stomach drops.

Brother?

You knew Luke had brothers—he mentioned it—but you had no idea they were famous.

Your eyes flick toward the bedroom, then back to him. “You’re—wait, you’re one of Luke’s brothers?”

He snorts. “Wow. No recognition at all. That is humbling.”

“Should I recognize you?” You narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugs, mock-offended, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I guess I’m only one of the most famous people in this city.”

You blink, a little thrown off. “…You’re a local weatherman?”

He chokes, eyes widening. “A what?!”

“You’re acting like I should know you,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t keep up with the news, but you definitely have the vibe of a guy who points at maps for a living.”

He definitely doesn’t. If anything, he looks more like a kooky stripper with an annoyingly fit body. But there’s no way you’re feeding his ego—this idiot would probably take it as a compliment.

For a split second, he just stares at you, his mouth hanging slightly open.

Then, as if the tension snaps, he howls—full-body laughter, throwing his head back and wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

You cross your arms, trying to mask the irritation bubbling up. “Glad I could contribute to your morning entertainment.”

“No, you don’t get it,” he says between gasps for air, leaning forward with an infectious grin. “This is amazing. Incredible. I live for moments like this.”

You raise an eyebrow, your patience wearing thin. “Moments like what?” you snap, unable to hide the rising edge in your voice. Honestly, you’re just relieved Luke didn’t inherit Jack’s over-the-top, obnoxious personality. If he had, you probably would’ve bailed on this blind date five minutes in.

“Moments where I get to witness something so spectacularly awkward, so painfully embarrassing, that it will sustain me for weeks.”

You glare at him with pure annoyance. “I hate you already.”

He clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch. That wounds me.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Oh, no doubt.” He smirks, and for a moment, it almost reminds you of Luke—though the two brothers couldn’t look more different. But that same confidante smile? It’s unmistakable. “Especially since I now have the upper hand in every conversation we ever have from here on out.”

“We’re never having another conversation after this!” You try to sound firm, but your voice cracks, betraying you.

He just grins wider, shaking his head like he’s heard that before. “That’s what you think.”

You exhale sharply, fed up with the entire exchange. “Look, I’m leaving. Forget you ever saw me.”

“Not a chance.” He leans back against the couch, thoroughly amused. “You’re trying to sneak out of my baby brother’s room like a damn criminal. This is gold.”

You scowl again. “I’m not sneaking out.” You fumble with your shoes, trying to get them on while defending yourself. Luckily, the hallway and living room are one open space, making your escape a bit less awkward.

“You literally just tiptoed past me like you’re starring in Mission Impossible.”

You groan. "I was trying not to wake him up." Rolling your eyes, you keep wrestling with your damn laces—of all times to betray you, it had to be now. Frustration bubbles up as you huff, "I need to go."

Jack cocks an eyebrow. "Why?"

You freeze mid-motion, exhaling hard through your nose. "...Just because."

"That's not an answer." His arms fold across his chest, his gaze pressing into you like he’s daring you to crack.

Your stomach twists. Heat rises to your face. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to give him the satisfaction—but the words rip out anyway.

“Because I just found out I slept with a 21-year-old, okay?! I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference! That’s a whole presidential term and a little extra! That’s a—”

You stop, realizing how ridiculous it sounds now that you're saying it.

Jack stares at you, blinking. There’s a long silence before you speak again, but his expression shows no understanding of the mental chaos you’re in.

You sigh and tug at your hair in frustration. “I wasn’t expecting this. I thought maybe he was older, and now… I just don’t know how to feel.”

Jack, for the first time, softens his teasing expression. But it’s clear he doesn’t quite get what you’re saying.

“Well,” he shrugs casually, “you’re still not leaving. You’re stuck here until Luke wakes up.”

“No, I’m not.” You shake your head, stubborn.

“Yes, you are!”

Before you can argue, you hear movement from the bedroom.

“Jack, why are you yelling?”

Shit.

You freeze.

Jack just grins wider.

You turn, and there he is—Luke, standing in the hallway, shirtless, hair an absolute mess, looking at you with adorable confusion.

Jack smirks. “Oh, you know. Just chatting with your date about how she was totally about to dip.”

“Wait. You’re leaving?” Luke’s voice is a mix of confusion and hurt, and suddenly, you feel a wave of guilt wash over you.

You shift awkwardly, caught in the middle of it all. “I just… didn’t want to wake you.”

Jack snickers. “Translation: she found out you’re barely legal and panicked.”

Luke’s eyes flick to his nightstand, where his wallet still sits open.

“…Wait. Is this about my age?" He sounds confused—adorably so. Too adorably.

You open your mouth, but Jack is already cackling.

“Oh, it absolutely is,” Jack says, shaking his head. “She took one look at that ID and nearly had a full-blown existential crisis.”

Your face flushes deep red. Jesus, you really can’t stand that blue-eyed bastard.

Luke blinks, then sighs, clearly frustrated a little bit. “So, last night was… amazing, but now it’s a problem because I’m 21?”

You shift uneasily. “It’s not a problem, exactly. It’s just…”

Jack grins mischievously. “Hilarious?”

You glare at him, a mix of embarrassment and irritation burning through you. “Not the word I was going for.”

Luke tilts his head, watching you closely. “Did it feel weird last night?”

Your face instantly flames. “LUKE.”

Jack cackles. “Ohhh my God, this is so good.”

Luke shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just saying. You didn’t seem to mind my age when you were begging for—”

You lunge at him, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Jack, leaning in with barely contained joy, grins wider. “Oh, no, let’s hear it! This is the best! I live for this shit.”

You whip around, shooting daggers. “Do you really have to be here?”

Jack places a hand over his chest, feigning innocence. "Of course I do. I’m just the clueless bystander, watching your meltdown. It’s my duty as a brother. How else am I supposed to tease Lukey later?"

Luke licks his lips, glancing between you and Jack. “Wait… so you’re really freaking out over this?”

You sigh, your frustration starting to boil over. "I just… didn’t realize you were so young."

Jack snickers from the side, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, no, I think she’s just overthinking it. But hey, it’s cute.”

Luke shoots him a glare. “Jack.”

Jack raises his hands, completely unbothered. “I’m just here to state the obvious.”

You groan, feeling a headache start to form at the base of your skull. "Can I just… go? Please?" The words come out sharper than you mean, but you’re too tired to care.

Luke looks at you, his gaze softening with that same sleepy affection from last night. You almost hate how it makes your chest ache. "You really want to leave?"

You pause for a long moment, considering.

And truthfully?

No.

You don’t.

Last night wasn’t just a fling—it was Luke.

Luke, who had you laughing through dinner, making you feel like you were the only person in the world. He treated you like you were someone worth admiring, someone worth cherishing. And when he kissed you, it felt like the first rainstorm after a drought, washing away everything but the two of you.

And now he’s standing there, messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, looking at you like he’s trying to figure out what’s going through your mind.

Jack, sensing the shift, leans back dramatically. “Ohhh, she’s thinking about it.”

You glare. “Shut up, Jack.”

Jack smirks like a little kid in the candy shop. “Nope.”

Luke lets out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with both hands, his puppy like eyes softening as he looks at you. "Alright," he mutters, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Let me make you breakfast before you decide I’m too young to function."

Jack perks up from the couch. “Oh, hell yeah. Stay. Luke makes a mean omelet.”

Luke shoots Jack a teasing glare, his eyes rolling in exasperation as he half-smirks. "Why are you even involved in this?" he says, clearly annoyed but with a playful edge, like he can’t decide if he should laugh or strangle his brother.

Jack shrugs dramatically. “Because I live for chaos.”

You hesitate for a moment, staring at Luke as you battle the urge to stay or run.

“…Fine. One omelet.”

Jack fist-pumps the air. “YES.”

Luke grins like he’s already won. “Good. Because I was going to make you stay anyway.”

—

You don’t know how you ended up here.

One second, you were committed to sneaking out like a thief in the night. The next?

You’re standing in Luke Hughes’ kitchen, watching him move around with annoying ease, pulling eggs and cheese out of the fridge like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Jack, of course, is sitting at the kitchen island, grinning like the mischievous idiot he is.

“You look tense,” he observes, propping his chin in his hand and resting his elbows on his knees. “Regretting staying already?”

You shoot him a withering look. “I regret a lot of things. Letting you talk this morning is at the top of the list.”

Jack gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I was, being such a warm and welcoming host.”

You roll your eyes. “You ambushed me.”

Jack shrugs casually, sipping his coffee. “Semantics.”

Luke, bless him, doesn’t engage. He simply smirks to himself as he cracks an egg into a pan, clearly used to Jack’s shenanigans. “Jack, are you actually gonna eat, or are you just here to be annoying?”

“Oh, I ate already. I’m just here for the show.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You get some kind of thrill out of torturing me?”

He’s an asshole, but damn, he’s the kind of asshole that almost makes you laugh.

Jack flashes a devilish grin, clearly enjoying the chaos he's creating. "You're sharp. I like that. Smart women are way more fun to mess with." He leans back, arms crossed, his eyes twinkling with mischief as if he's already plotting his next move.

Luke huffs a laugh, the sound full of fond exasperation. He rolls his eyes, his messy hair falling into his face as he nudges Jack with his shoulder. “Just ignore him. He thrives on being a menace,” he says, shaking his head, but you can tell he's not actually mad.

Jack grins even wider, clearly proud of himself. “Yep. It’s what I do best,” he says, puffing out his chest like he’s just announced some kind of grand achievement.

You rest your elbows on the table, watching as Luke flips an omelet with impressive skill. “Okay, I’ll bite—how did you get so good at this?”

“Gotta learn some life skills when you live with Jack. Otherwise, you starve." He shoots his brother a pointed look, one that’s half annoyance, half fondness.

Jack scoffs, dramatically pressing a hand to his chest like he’s been wronged. "That’s unfair. I provide entertainment." His voice is teasing, but there’s a clear twinkle in his eye.

Luke snorts, barely stifling a laugh. "Entertainment doesn’t make up for the fact that you once tried to microwave a frozen pizza."

Your head snaps up at that, eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "I’m sorry, what?"

Jack groans, cheeks flushing with a rare hint of embarrassment. "It was one time, and the oven took too long!" he mutters defensively, but you can see the red creeping up his neck.

Luke smirks, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he gestures vaguely toward the stove. "You almost burned the apartment down," he points out, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

Jack waves a dismissive hand. "That’s an exaggeration," he says, clearly attempting to downplay the incident, but his voice betrays the tiniest hint of guilt.

Luke shoots you a sly look, his eyes dancing with amusement as he leans in, like he’s about to let you in on a secret. “The microwave was smoking,” he adds, his voice dropping low, the tone almost playful—like he’s about to drop some juicy gossip.

Your jaw drops in disbelief. "Oh my God."

Luke, clearly pleased with the chaos he’s caused, gestures at Jack with the spatula like he’s just won some kind of victory. "See? This is why I learned how to cook."

Jack grins wide, unbothered. "And I get to reap the benefits, so really, we both win," he says with a cheeky shrug, as if his utter lack of skill somehow balances out Luke’s culinary expertise.

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I don’t know how you put up with him."

Luke smirks,"It’s a daily struggle," he says, voice deadpan, but the small curve of his lips gives away the amusement he’s trying to hide.

Jack grins, shaking his head slightly. “Oh, the betrayal. I’m crushed,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, though the smirk gives him away.

Luke just rolls his eyes and slides the finished omelet onto a plate before setting it down in front of you.

You look down at it, genuinely impressed by how perfect it looks. Then, you glance back at Luke, a little taken aback. "Not gonna lie… this looks really good."

Luke’s grin widens, his eyes briefly locking with yours, the kind of connection that makes the moment feel charged. "Told you."

You pick up your fork, still a little skeptical, and take a bite. Holy hell.

Your eyes go wide in surprise. "Oh my God. This is actually amazing."

Jack leans in, looking smug...again. "See? I wasn’t lying." He gives you a little wink, clearly basking in the moment like he’s somehow been proven right.

Luke smirks, pleased by the compliment. “I take my breakfast very seriously.”

“Clearly. This might be the best decision I’ve made today.” You shake your head, chewing.

Jack gasps dramatically. “Wow. So staying was a better decision than leaving?”

You pause, realizing what you just admitted.

Jack grins like he’s just scored a win, and for a second, you seriously consider wiping that smug look off his face.

Luke’s smile, however, is filled with pure happiness, as if this moment is exactly what he’s been waiting for.

You sigh, stabbing your omelet. “I’m never gonna live this down, am I?”

Jack beams. “Absolutely not.”

Luke leans closer, his voice suddenly lower, more intimate. “I mean, I’m glad you stayed. It’s not every day I get a pretty girl in my kitchen, making my morning way more interesting.”

You freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. His words hang in the air, electric.

“Oh, so now I’m ‘pretty,’ huh?” you tease, trying to maintain your composure, though your heart skips a beat.

Luke raises an eyebrow, a slow, confident smile curling on his lips. “Oh, I thought that was obvious.” His gaze flickers down to your lips, his voice dropping even lower. “You’ve been keeping me on my toes since I woke up.”

Your cheeks warm, but you force yourself to look away, focusing on your omelet. “Flattery won’t make me forget about you being 21.”

Luke’s grin widens, and he leans in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough that only you can hear. “Maybe not. But I think it’s a pretty good start.”

Jack, completely oblivious to the flirtation unfolding right under his nose, leans back on the kitchen island with a self-satisfied grin. “God, I can’t believe I’m witnessing this. I thought I was supposed to be the one who charmed the ladies.”

Luke snorts, rolling his eyes at his brother but keeping his focus on you. “Jack’s the type to talk about it. I’m the type to show it.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That was smooth. Really smooth.

You take another bite of your omelet, trying to hide the smile spreading across your face. “You sure you don’t just want me to stay for the food?”

Luke leans back, his gaze softening as he gently takes your left hand in his, his thumb slowly tracing circles over your knuckles. “I mean… if that’s your only reason for sticking around, I won’t complain,” he murmurs, a playful yet tender smile curving his lips. “But I like to think I’ve got more to offer than just my cooking skills.”

His words, along with the warmth in his eyes, wash over you like a wave, pulling you in deeper. You lock eyes with him, your breath catching as your pulse quickens. There’s something in the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it impossible to think straight.

Then Jack clears his throat loudly, and you break the spell, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Alright, alright,” Jack says, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s just caused. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone so you can finish your breakfast in peace. No need to make me a third wheel.”

You roll your eyes, but Luke doesn’t seem to mind. He just shrugs, unfazed.

“Good idea. Go entertain yourself, Jack.”

Jack winks. “Don’t mind if I do.” He stands up and heads for the door, adding, “You two just make sure to keep it PG—some of us don’t need to see that much chemistry before our coffee kicks in.”

You watch as Jack exits, still grinning like the mischievous brat he is.

As the door clicks behind Jack, the quiet of the kitchen settles in, leaving just you and Luke alone, the lingering tension between you two impossible to ignore. Luke shifts, his hands still resting on your hands as he pulls you gently into his lap. Your heart beats a little faster at the sudden closeness, but you refuse to let the thrill of it distract you from the conversation you know needs to happen.

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes—eyes that are soft but hold that familiar spark of mischief, the kind that makes it hard to think straight. He tilts his head slightly, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he runs his thumb over your hand, tracing slow circles. The warmth of his touch makes your breath hitch, but you bite your lip, determined to have this talk.

“Luke,” you start, your voice softer than you intended, “We need to talk about last night. About... us.”

Luke's expression changes, the playful gleam fading into something more intense. He doesn’t pull away, though. Instead, he tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you just a little closer, and his voice drops an octave. “I thought we were past talking. I thought we were just... enjoying each other.”

His words make your pulse quicken, but you hold firm. You need to address this.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice steady, though your chest betrays you with its nervous flutter. “I need to know where this is going, Luke. You’re 21, I’m 27. That’s a six-year difference. I’ve been through more in my life. I want a family soon. I want stability. Not... something fleeting.”

Luke’s gaze darkens, and his thumb continues its slow, soothing motion over your skin, but there’s a new intensity in his eyes. He’s quiet for a moment, absorbing your words. The air feels thick with unspoken thoughts, the weight of what you’ve just said hanging between you.

“You think I don’t want the same things?” he asks, his voice steady but with a sharp edge, not defensive—more... thoughtful. “I’m not some kid just looking for a fling. I’ve thought this through. I’m looking for something real. I’ve spent too much time in meaningless situations to want that anymore. I went to our date because I was looking for something serious. And my friend told me you’d be looking for the same thing.”

He lets your words settle, his eyes never leaving yours. “After spending the night talking with you, I felt like I wasn’t just talking to someone who’s interesting—I felt like I was talking to someone who gets it. Someone who’s looking for the same kind of connection. I’m not here for something that’ll fizzle out in a few weeks. I’m here because... I think you might be the person I’ve been waiting for.”

His words hit you in a way you weren’t prepared for. You’re caught off guard, unsure how to respond, but something stirs inside you. Something warm, something you didn’t expect. You can feel the truth of what he’s saying in your chest, and for the first time, you start to question the assumptions you’d made.

“Yeah, but you’re still figuring things out,” you say, your voice shaky now, a trace of worry creeping in. “You’re just starting out in life. Maybe you don’t want the same kind of commitment I do. I need someone who’s already ready to settle down.”

Luke doesn’t hesitate. His fingers slide up to your jaw, his touch firm but tender, like he’s grounding you to the moment. His gaze holds yours, no longer playful, but filled with something deeper. Something real.

“I’m ready for that,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of conviction. “I know what I want. And I want you. If you’re worried about my age, let me show you I’m more than just a number.”

His words are almost a whisper, but there’s a quiet confidence in them that sends a thrill through you. His lips are so close now, you can feel his breath on your skin as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m not asking for a lifetime yet, but I’m asking for the chance to prove myself. To prove that I’m capable of giving you the kind of future you want.”

You close your eyes, your breath catching in your throat. He’s not backing down, and the sincerity in his words leaves you no room to doubt him. But still, you can’t help but voice the doubts that swirl in your mind.

“I don’t want to get hurt, Luke,” you whisper, finally letting yourself admit the fear you’ve been pushing down. “I’ve been through enough heartache. And if you don’t want the same things I do, if you’re not ready for it... I don’t know if I can take that risk.”

Luke leans in just a little more, his lips brushing against your cheek before he pulls back slightly, his hands cradling your face. He’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of his skin, the steadiness of his gaze. “I’m ready for you. Ready for everything that comes with it,” he says, his voice resolute. “I wouldn’t be here, sitting with you like this, if I wasn’t.”

You search his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but there’s none. What you see instead is determination—an unspoken promise that, for all his age, he knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.

The air between you two shifts, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt, but filled with something new. Something that makes your pulse race.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “Then show me.”

At that, his lips crash against yours, the kiss deep and slow, filled with all the unspoken things you’ve both been dancing around. His hands slide to your back, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens. Your hands find their way to his curls, tugging him in as if you can’t get close enough. The world around you fades away—there’s only the feeling of his mouth against yours, the pressure of his body against yours, the shared certainty that whatever this is, it’s more than just physical.

When you finally pull away, both breathless, Luke grins, his forehead resting against yours. 

Luke leans back a little bit, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous glint as he watches you, a teasing smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You know," he says casually, his voice thick with satisfaction, "I have to admit... I’ve never had a night quite like that. You really know how to use that beautiful mouth of yours."

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you mean?"

Luke shifts a little closer, his grin widening. "Well, I’ve had my fair share of nights, but... last night? You...You were next level. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to be that blown away."

You feel your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and flattery. "Really? Well, I kinda feel the same. I’ve never... finished two times in one night."

Luke’s eyes narrow in surprise. "What?! Baby, that wasn’t even that much. I think we can go for four or five next time." He winks, his tone playful, but there's a hint of challenge in his voice.

You laugh, trying to hide the blush creeping up your neck. "Is that so? You really think you can keep up?"

Luke smirks, leaning in just a little closer, his voice low and confident. "Oh, I’m definitely up for the challenge. You just wait."

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Maybe this whole 'young boyfriend' thing isn’t such a bad idea after all... Good stamina and all that."

Luke grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Told ya!" He leans in, planting a series of quick, soft kisses across your face and neck, each one sending a delightful shiver through your skin. You can't help but laugh at his actions, brushing your nose against his cheek as your giggles mix with his gentle kisses.

Just as you're starting to recover from his playful assault, a voice slices through the moment like an ice-cold splash of water.

"Can you drop the sex talk, guys?" Jack's voice rings out from the kitchen doorway, dripping with disgust but clearly amused by the whole situation. "I didn’t need to know this much about my little brother."

You freeze, eyes wide, before you turn to Luke, who looks utterly unfazed, that smug, victorious grin plastered across his face. It’s as if he’s just won some kind of prize, and he's wearing it like a badge of honor.

Embarrassment creeps up your neck, but before you can even process the awkwardness, you find yourself laughing. The tension dissolves in the shared amusement of the moment. Luke just shrugs casually, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Relax, Jack. It’s called maturity," you reply with a wink, and Luke chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek.

Jack groans dramatically, rolling his eyes. "You two are gross. And seriously, for the future, we need some rules. These walls are way too thin. I do not need to hear you two in action. Thank God I wasn’t home yesterday."

You let out a horrified gasp, hiding your face in Luke’s neck. "Jesus, Jack," you mumble, half laughing, half mortified.

Luke just keeps laughing, clearly entertained by the situation. "You heard nothing. Just a couple of adults figuring things out," he teases.

Jack mutters something under his breath before calling out with a playful, exaggerated gag. "God, I need to vomit. You two are so disgusting."

"Guess this means you're sticking around, huh?" Luke whispers against your mouth, his voice low and warm, sending another wave of heat through you.

You nod, content, leaning into him with a soft smile. "Guess so," you murmur, brushing your lips against his in return.

Jack, clearly fed up with the display, huffs dramatically and walks away with an exaggerated sigh. "You two are the worst."

As he exits, you look up at Luke, feeling that warmth in your chest—the comfort, the excitement, all mixed together. You can get used to mornings like this, even if it means dealing with Jack’s teasing. Or, you think with a smirk, maybe you’ll just strangle him in his sleep. Problem solved.

Luke catches the glint in your eye and chuckles, clearly knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Careful,” he says with a playful smirk, “I’d hate to lose my new favourite person just because you can’t handle my brother.”

You laugh, pulling him in for one last kiss.

[corroded-hellfire]

Forever Young - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Summary: It’s Eddie’s 40th birthday and when everything else is making him feel old, you aim to show him that he’s still young.

Note: in honor of our birthday boy

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m! receiving, older!eddie, Eddie still has his breeding kink of course

Words: 2.7k

[As You Wish masterlist]

To say Eddie wasn’t excited about his 40th birthday would be an understatement. The closer it came to the day, the grumpier your husband became. He’d grumble under his breath, the words obviously not meant to be heard by you or the kids; but the sentiment was still conveyed.

Months before his birthday, Eddie made it clear to you that he did not want a party. Although he loved spending time with his friends and loved ones, he had decided that he only wanted to spend this particular day with his family. But just because he would be getting through the day unscathed by in-person jokes and ribbing from the likes of Steve Harrington and Dustin Henderson didn’t mean his own family wasn’t going to tease the patriarch.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Luke holds a card out to his father. His grin isn’t necessarily mischievous, but it’s smart to always be on guard when it comes to the teenager.

“Thank you.” Eddie takes the indigo envelope from his son and slips the card out. Before his eyes can even take in the bold bubble letters on the front, a pamphlet slips out. Eddie catches it before it can fall to the floor and holds it up to take a proper look.

Hawkins Comfort: The Exceptional Home for Senior Living

The clenching of Eddie’s jaw causes Luke to snicker. Your husband tosses the pamphlet at your son’s face before reading the card itself. Luckily for Luke, the card itself was sweet and didn’t add further insult to injury.

With a heavy sigh, Eddie nods his head and closes the card.

“Thanks,” he reiterates.

“Aw come on, Dad,” Luke says, stepping forward and patting his father on the back. “I’m just messing with you.”

Freshly dressed for the evening out, Eliza zooms into the room, the three-year-old already tickled pink at the thought of having some cake after dinner. She runs into her dad’s legs and wraps her little arms around them.

“Happy birthday!” It’s the fourth time she’s told him this today and he knows it won’t be the last.

“Thank you, baby girl.”

“See?” Luke says, nudging his dad. “You have a baby. You’re not old.”

Eliza’s face goes from gleeful to rueful.

“‘M not a baby!”

“Excuse me, miss.” Luke bows to her before snatching the toddler up into his arms. “I meant to say that Daddy has a young lady for a daughter.”

Placated by that explanation, Eliza nods her head once. “Better.”

As you walk into the living room, a minute later than Eliza due to her rapid speed, Luke gestures to you with one hand while the other one supports his little sister.

“And look! You have a wife who is in her twenties.”

Eddie’s tongue pokes out of the side of his lips, internally trying to decide if that fact makes him feel better or worse. He does have a young, hot wife. But does that make him feel young as well or does he just feel each and every day of those eleven years between the two of you?

“See! Mama is young!” Eliza says.

“Are they ganging up on you, honey?” You playfully pout as you approach your husband’s side.

“Luke’s ready to check me into a nursing home,” he gripes.

“Why you need a nurse?” Eliza asks.

“He doesn’t,” you say before Luke gets a chance to be a wiseass. “Daddy takes care of himself and all of us. Right, Lize?”

“Yeah!”

“Are we ready to go?” Ryan asks, waltzing into the room as he pats his flat stomach. “I’m starving.”

“Didn’t you have a bowl of cereal an hour ago?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “An hour ago.”

Eddie sighs, remembering the days when he too was a teenager and could inhale food all day and keep that small waist of his. As if able to read his mind, you slip your arm around your husband’s middle and give it a small squeeze.

“Alright gang,” Eddie says, “let’s head out.”

After you all return home, Eliza isn’t nearly as excited about cake as she was before. Her head rests on your shoulder, soft whines coming out of her mouth as you carry her into the house.

“We told you not to eat too much ice cream,” you say.

“Daddy said I could,” she groans.

The restaurant gave Eddie a free ice cream sundae for his birthday and he invited all of you to share it with him. The boys, of course, had room even after finishing off their dinner plates completely. But Eliza’s tiny tummy was already decently full of her noodles before she picked up a giant spoon and started scooping the vanilla dessert into her mouth.

“But you had too much.” You press a kiss to her curls before setting her down on the couch.

Eddie hangs his keys on the hook by the door before coming over and wrapping his arms around you.

“Thank you for a nice dinner, princess.”

You smile up at him and press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Daddy?” Eliza asks.

“What’s up?”

She pushes herself to sit up straighter and tucks her legs beneath her.

“How old you now?”

He gives her a small smile as he drapes his arm across your shoulders.

“40.”

“Whoa.” Eliza’s eyes widen comically. It’s hard for you to keep your laugh in. “That’s big number. I don’t think we got enough candles for the cake me and Ryan made.”

This time you have to turn your head to the side and hide your smile in Eddie’s armpit.

Thankfully, Ryan is able to assure Eliza that they don’t need to put the whole 40 candles on the cake. With a gaggle of offbeat singing surrounding him, Eddie smiles and closes his eyes to think of a wish. Apparently, he takes too long for his daughter’s liking. She sighs, naturally dramatic as always, and everyone else laughs.

Eddie is able to blow out all the candles in one go and you cut the cake, giving pieces to your two sons who are eyeing the confection with glee. You’re unable to keep from snorting in amusement at their never-ending hunger and you take a seat next to Eddie to eat your own piece. Deciding to power through it, Eliza manages to eat half off a slice before she lays across her dad’s lap, hands holding her once again full belly.

The perk to her being so full is that it’s easier to wrangle her into her pajamas and under her covers. With one last wish of a happy birthday to Eddie, he presses a kiss to her forehead and her eyes begin to flutter closed.

The boys aren’t far behind. Whether or not they’re going to sleep, you’re not sure. But as long as they’re in their rooms you’re happy. Because you have one last surprise for Eddie today.

You come up behind him as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it out of the denim loops on his black jeans. His shirt raises up slightly and you take advantage, slipping your hands beneath the fabric, letting your nails gently scratch over his pale skin. Eddie starts to unzip his pants and you press trailing kisses across his shoulder blade.

“Baby?” Eddie steps forward out of your grasp and turns around to face you. “I’m pretty tired.”

A frown creases your brow. Eddie has every right in the world to be too exhausted to fool around and just want to climb into bed, but you’re not buying that’s really the case right now.

“Okay,” you say softly, stepping forward and gently cupping his face in your hands. “We can just lay down and cuddle if you want. But something tells me you’ve got something on your mind.”

There’s silence for a moment. Then, Eddie sighs and steps backward out of your hands, and takes a seat on the foot of your bed. You move to stand in front of him and gently card your fingers through his bangs resting against his forehead. He rests one hand on your hip and appears deep in thought for a few minutes.

“I just…” he finally says. “I just feel like the older I get the more pronounced our age difference is.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting that to be what’s on his mind.

“Hey.” Gently, you take his chin between your thumb and forefinger and lift his head so he’s looking you in the eye. “So what?”

Eddie’s brow furrows and he looks at you, skepticism dancing across his face.

“What do you mean ‘so what?’”

“That exactly. So what if you look like you’re forty and I look like I’m twenty-eight? Those are our ages. Just like you looked thirty-two when we got together and I looked twenty. And how in thirty years you’ll look seventy and I’ll look fifty-eight. What does it matter? Do you really think I give a shit what anyone else thinks? The only two people in this marriage are you and me, buddy.” You grab his shoulder and gently shake him back and forth. “I knew how many years apart we were when we got together. When I married you. When I had a baby with you. You think I would’ve stuck around all this time if I had doubts about our age difference? No way, baby. You’re stuck with me. Even when I get gray hair and all.”

A finger absentmindedly brushes against Eddie’s temple as you speak. Your husband stiffens, connecting the dots between your words and where you touched him.

“I have gray hair?” He jumps up and scurries to the full-length mirror in the corner of your room.

“What?” A heavy sigh deflates your body as you realize the conclusion he jumped to. “No, Eddie. You don’t have any gray hair.” His inspection in the mirror bothers you, so you walk forward and manage to squeeze between him and the mirror. “But even if you did, you’d still be the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

Eddie sighs and rests his forehead against yours.

“I don’t feel forty,” he whispers to you. “I feel like a kid still.”

“Well, you are a big kid,” you tease, managing to pull a small smile out of him. Relieved to see him feeling a bit lighter, you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck. “And besides, I think I’m the last person in the world you have to convince that you’re still young.”

“And why’s that?” he asks.

Giving him a suggestive smirk, you lean in until your lips ghost against his.

“Because,” you whisper, “of how nice and good you fuck me.”

A low groan reverberates from your husband’s chest and he pulls you flush up against his body.

“Yeah?” His voice is dripping in lust. “You like how I make you feel, princess? How hard I pound that tight little pussy of yours?”

“Uh huh,” you whimper before pressing your lips against his.

Eddie’s fingers dig into your hips as you walk him backward towards the bed. When the back of his knees hit the mattress, all it takes is a small push from you to have him falling onto his back. His eyes are dark with need as he watches you tug his open jeans down his legs. The two of you work together as he yanks his shirt off over his head and you tear his boxers off.

As you fall to your knees between Eddie’s thighs, he sits up enough to pull your top off as well. Once you’re free of the offending fabric, you take Eddie’s cock in your hand. You move it up and down slowly, feeling him harden in your grip.

“Fuck,” Eddie growls.

On a swipe down you lean in and press a kiss to the tip. The resulting moan from your husband sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. You pump his cock a few more times before you can’t hold off any longer and have to take him into your mouth.

“Yes,” Eddie hisses.

You run your tongue along the underside of his length, making sure to keep eye contact with him the entire time. The way he watches you with lust-blown eyes and his chest rises and falls in rapid succession with his shallow breaths has you squeezing your thighs together.

You start to bob your head up and down, taking him a little deeper each time. He becomes impossibly harder in your mouth. A large hand gently cups the side of your head and pulls you off of him. The way you whine in protest makes Eddie chuckle darkly.

“Sorry, baby,” he says. “Feels too damn good, though. Need you up here.”

He helps you to your feet and shed the rest of your clothes. Eddie shuffles back towards the pillows, eyes taking in your every movement as you crawl up towards him. When he moves to sit up, you put your hand on his shoulder and push him back down.

“You just lay there,” you coo, lifting one leg to straddle across his thighs. “Rest those old bones and let me take care of you.”

Eddie narrows his eyes, playfully glaring at you and the shit-eating grin on your face.

“Fine,” he challenges. Eddie raises his arms and laces his fingers together behind his head. “Get going.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice. You line him up with your entrance and slowly lower yourself onto him. The two of you moan in tandem, the feeling of being united insanely pleasurable.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you start to rock your hips back and forth. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut and bites at his bottom lip. His fingers dig at the back of his head, digging into his scalp to keep from caving and grabbing ahold of your body.

Sensing his resolve breaking, you rest your hands on his chest and lean in to speak softly.

“What do you think, Eddie?” you croon. “Want to get me nice and knocked up on your birthday?”

“Shit.”

Your words snap the last bit of restraint he was holding onto and his hands fly to your hips, helping your body move against his.

“Come on, handsome,” you continue through labored breaths, “fill me up with your cum.”

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie huffs a laugh and tilts his head up, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m fucking forty now, I should be able to last longer than this.”

“You forget I know how to push your buttons.”

“Mm?” Eddie looks back down at you, raising an eyebrow as you bounce on his cock. “You mean like this?”

A ringed hand slides between your body and rubs quick circles over your clit.

“Fuck!” You bite down on your lip, attempting to keep your voice low.

“Let’s go, princess. Want you to come with me.”

Unable to respond in any articulate way, you nod your head and hum incoherently. With one hard flick against your clit, the coil in you snaps. Your head falls forward, your jaw hanging open as your high washes over you. The way you clench around Eddie has him following right behind you, the two of you rutting against one another as you ride out your orgasms.

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans as both of your bodies begin to come down.

Suddenly boneless, you flop down against Eddie’s chest and he instinctively wraps an arm around you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head and lets his heavy eyes close.

“I love you so fucking much,” you mumble against his chest, slightly sticky with sweat.

Eddie breathes a chuckle and rubs his hand up and down your back.

“How are you so perfect?” he asks.

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

“I’m going to remind you that you said that next time you get all grumpy over me making fun of your age.”

Before you have time to process his movements, Eddie grips your waist and flips the two of you, smirking down at you as he settles his weight against your body.

“I’ll just have to keep proving how well I can fuck you then,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Is that supposed to discourage me?”

[zepskies]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 1

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: My day tomorrow is going to be a bit packed, so I decided to release this a bit early for you guys! So here we go! The first chapter of yet another new series, my first ever 1940s AU. 🥰 I hope you have fun on this one, because I sure did. Again, very much inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker. 💜

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: For this chapter it’s “Cry Me a River” by Ella Fitzgerald

Word Count: 3.9K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, PTSD, historical tidbits

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 1: Legal Grounds

November 2, 1945

Dean idly read the pamphlet stacked with others on his brother’s desk, which advertised his new and successful enterprise.

Law Offices of Winchester, Bialystock & Bloom

What do you know? His brother had his own office, his own business, and his name on a pamphlet.

Dean couldn’t help but curl a finger around a steel ball on the abacus sitting at the head of the mahogany desk, right next to Sam’s nameplate.

He let it fly. The abacus began to clack as one ball hit the other.

Sam looked up from the deposition he was writing to give his brother a wry brow raise.

“So this is what you do, huh?” Dean remarked, crossing his arms.

Without his jacket, his suspenders were on display over his shoulders. His red pinstripe tie was still in place, but his white dress shirt was rolled up to the elbows. Meanwhile, his brother preferred to keep himself more presentable with his sleeves down to his wrists. Jacket on.    

Dean glanced around the office, nodding at the line of bookshelves behind Sam, framing him as the bookish academic he’d always been. There was limited seating in here though, just a spare chair in front of the desk, and another to the right of it. Dean stood on the opposite side.

“If you’re bored, all you have to do is say so,” Sam said. “Which is strange, considering we’re smack dab in the middle of a city that never sleeps.”

He was right, Dean could concede. His little brother had given him a veritable list of things to do in New York City: visit the park, go to the zoo, see a picture show, visit a nightclub, or sample a host of restaurants that Sam knew Dean would probably enjoy.

He’d seen a lot of this place in the week that he’d been here visiting Sam, but a good deal of it he’d either spent alone, or with any willing young lady Dean came across, thanks to the demands of this office. If he was honest, entertaining young ladies was eating into the wallet in his trouser pocket, and the hustle and bustle was starting to be a little much for him.

“You don’t get tired of it?” Dean asked, gesturing to the out there beyond them. “The, uh…the lights, the noise, all the people?”

Sam picked his head up from his paperwork to consider the question. “No, I like it. Keeps my mind busy, and…I guess it makes me feel alive, you know?”

Dean supposed he could understand that, so he nodded.

Sam wasn’t fooled though. He thought he could tell what was running through his brother’s head, watching him fidget, and turn his head a bit sharply when a bus honked loudly outside the office’s glass doors as it thundered past.

It had only been two months since the end of the war. Two months since he and Dean met back in their family home in Lawrence, Kansas after three years fighting on two different fronts, in two different countries.

Both of them had enlisted, but Sam had spent most of his time in London while he was deployed, helping British Intelligence. Dean had clawed his way out of Normandy, and later, out of the Ardennes—the last offensive before the end.

Their experiences might as well have been worlds apart, but one thing remained the same: it had been three years in which neither brother knew if they’d see each other again.

Now, Sam saw the signs. Dean seemed a bit jumpy, overstimulated, but willing to be here to spend a little more time with Sam before he went back home. Guilt prickled in Sam’s gut. 

“I’ve got some work here to finish up, but afterwards let’s go to dinner,” he suggested. “Maybe see a show?”

Dean’s lips flickered at a smile. “You’re burning both ends of the candle. You know that, right?”

Sam opened his mouth to reply, when there was a knock on one of the glass doors—at the entrance to the small building. Their heads turned, and through the open door of his office, they spotted you standing there in the evening light. You wore a wide-brimmed hat on your head and a scarf underneath, wrapped over your hair and under your chin to shield your face. You knocked again with a hand covered by a leather glove, more persistently.

Cocking his head in confusion, Sam stood from his desk and left the room to let you in. Dean hung back and sat on the corner of the desk to wait. He withdrew a cigarette from the pack and a lighter from his pocket as he did so, but he heard you talking with his brother by the door.

“I’m sorry. We’re closed, miss,” Sam informed you.

“It’s still two minutes until closing. At least, according to my watch.”

“…Well, I suppose you’ve got me there.”

“So can I come in? I need to speak to a lawyer.”

“You sure it can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I’m afraid it can’t, sir.” Your tone was firm, and it more than implied that you wouldn’t be moved. Sam paused then, perhaps to take a steeling breath.

“All right. Come with me, please.”

You later followed behind him through the hallway and into the office. With a lit cigarette between his fingers, his arms crossed, Dean took note of you. He subtly glanced down at your crème-colored blouse, neatly tucked into the long, burgundy skirt (with lipstick to match), your modest, classy heels, and the way you wore your hair. His brows subtly raised. He’d met quite a few girls this week, but he hadn’t seen a lady like you in quite some time.

Should’ve shaved this morning. The thought was accompanied by the way he swiped a subtle hand over his prickly chin.

You gave him a cursory glance in turn, and offered a polite, “Hello.”

He stood from the desk and switched his cigarette to his other hand, so he could shake yours.

“Hey there. Dean Winchester,” he said. He offered a smile with no small amount of charm. “Pleased to meet you…”

You dutifully gave him your first name only. He found that a little strange, but you soon slipped your hand out of his and focused on the nameplate on the desk, followed by Sam himself.

“So you’re brothers,” you realized. “Do you work together?”

Dean scoffed. “Nope, I’m just here to distract him.”

Sam tossed him a sidelong glance. There was a subtle edge of bitter truth in there somewhere, and you didn’t seem to miss it. You looked between the two men, a hint wary.

“Well, as I said, I’m here to speak to the solicitor,” you said. 

“That would be me,” Sam nodded. He went to his desk and sat down behind it, gesturing for you to do the same in front of him. You obliged him, smoothing your hands down your skirt once you were seated. “How can I help you?”

You met his eyes with a directness that surprised him a little.

“I want to divorce my husband,” you said.

To say it shocked the room would be an understatement. Behind you, Dean gave his brother a pair of raised brows. Sam didn’t allow himself to react too much in order to remain professional, but he still tilted his head, blinking, before he focused on you again.

“What’s your husband’s name?” he asked.

“Michael. Michael Milligan.”

“Why do you want a divorce, Mrs. Milligan?” 

Here, your gaze fell to the folded hands in your lap. 

“I have reason to believe he’s been unfaithful,” you quietly replied.

Once again, there was a pregnant pause.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sam said. His sympathy was genuine, because he could see the way you’d hesitated to say the words, like they embarrassed you, shamed you, and saddened you all at once. 

“But I have to ask,” he added, “do you have proof?”

Dean glanced his way, his brow raising once again. Sam knew what he was thinking, just as he saw how you frowned as well. But there was a reason why he asked, and it wasn’t to be unkind.

You sighed. “What kind of proof?” 

“Pictures. Letters. A witness. Something of legal standing that we can use as leverage and as grounds to grant you a divorce, whether he wants it or not,” Sam said. 

You let out another heavy breath through your nose. “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

“Then what makes you so sure he’s steppin’ out?” Dean chimed in. By now he was leaning against the wall, off to the side where he could smoke with the window cracked open. It let in the sounds of cars and distant honking, people traversing the sidewalks. 

You turned in your seat to give him a tight look. “If you must know, there’ve been…signs. I won’t trouble you with the details, but I’m sure.”

You met Dean’s gaze, and then Sam’s firmly. 

“So will you help me?” you asked him. Sam nodded.

“Yes, I’ll look into your husband and try to find some evidence of his…extracurricular affairs.”

Your lips pursed. “And how long will it take?”

Since you were being so direct, Sam levelled you with honesty.

“It may take time,” he said. “Realistically, we’re looking at months, even after I find what we need… It would be easier to legally separate.”

You had been slowly deflating the more he spoke, but now your expression became stony.

“Mr. Winchester,” you began. “I don’t want to just be separated. I don’t want to live in our apartment, let alone share his bed or wear his last name.”

Despite your best efforts, your voice began to shake. Tears welled up and stung in your eyes.

“I don’t want anything from him, other than his signature on the damn papers,” you said. “The case is that I can no longer tolerate that man in my sight, much less in my life. Will you help me? Or should I look for another lawyer who will actually do his job.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. For his part, Dean couldn’t remember the last time he heard a woman curse. Despite your outburst, the tears clinging to your lashes stirred both men.

“I understand, Mrs. Milligan,” Sam said. “I’ll help you. Don’t worry.”

He began to look for his handkerchief, but you retrieved one of your own from your purse and quickly dabbed at your eyes, sniffling. You were embarrassed.

“What about your fee?” you said, withdrawing your checkbook. “I, um…I have a little money stashed away. I’ve always worked, you see.”

Sam nodded and went over what his rate would be going forward. Once the two of you came to an agreement, you signed the first check right then and there, even though he felt bad for even taking it from you.

You were still sniffling, and twice you dabbed under your eyes to make sure your face was dry. When you handed over the check, your hands shook, just a little. Sam wouldn’t tell you that he discounted his usual rate.  

Again, he mentioned that he would need some time first to investigate your husband and begin collecting evidence for your case. He asked you for any documents you could safely bring him of your finances, for example. You agreed to do an investigation of your own.

“Just be careful,” Dean cautioned. He was getting an idea of what kind of man your husband was, but Dean couldn’t be too sure of what the man was capable of. He’d hate to hear of a girl like you getting hurt over a few papers.

Dean put out the bud of his cigarette on the ashtray lying on the windowsill. He pushed off the wall to approach where you and Sam were getting to your feet. You gave Dean a nod of acknowledgement.

“I will,” you agreed. “Thank you both. I’m sorry I’ve taken up so much of your time, but I’ll be heading home now.”

“Did you take a bus or a taxi?” Sam asked.

“Oh, I walked,” you replied, and you checked your watch as you gathered up your purse. You headed for the coatrack, but Dean got there first, helping you into your beige wool coat. It went nicely with the burgundy you had on, namely on your painted lips.

“Thank you,” you said to him, but you still didn’t smile. You were a hint demurer now. It seemed with Sam’s promised help, the fire had dimmed behind your eyes and your tongue.

“How about I give you an escort, make sure you get home okay?” Dean found himself offering. “It’s getting pretty late on a Friday.”

Sam shot him a knowing look, but Dean ignored him, instead focusing on your face.

You hesitated. “It’s a bit far though. Out of your way, I’m sure.”

“All the more reason that you shouldn’t go it alone at this time of night,” he argued.

You considered his offer, and him, with a quick perusal. You seemed to be judging for yourself if he was trustworthy. Dean kept his posture straight, yet relaxed. Maybe he’d liked what he saw the moment he took you in, but after hearing your situation, he felt for you. It really was just an honest offer to walk you home.

“Where did you serve?” you asked. “The Army, the Navy, or the Air Forces?”

The question took him off guard for a beat, but he answered you.

“The Army,” he replied.

“Your rank?”

“I was a sergeant, ma’am.”

You looked at him a little more shrewdly, then you relaxed.

“I might’ve guessed,” you said. “All right, Sergeant. Let’s go then.”

You buttoned up your coat and turned to leave the office. Dean shot his little brother a raise of his brows and a what do ya know? kind of smile. He grabbed his dark brown jacket and hat and followed you out.

Sam’s smile was more reserved, with a shake of his head. He closed the door behind you and Dean and locked it. He still had some work he wanted to finish before tomorrow, and Dean’s little show of chivalry would give him time to do it.

Dean had his hands in his coat pockets as he walked with you down the long city sidewalk. Night had drawn into the November sky, but with all these lights, he couldn’t see many stars. It was also cold as all hell. The frigid wind slapped at him every time they turned the corner of a building, snapping right into his bones.

Still, he supposed there was a kind of attractiveness to the city at night. The stores and their signs were all lit up gold and other neon colors. Couples and families walked together, all done up nice for wherever dinner reservation or movie they were trying to get to. It begged the question of what your husband was doing right now if he didn’t notice his wife out at this time of night.

“Where’s your husband tonight, if I might ask?” said Dean.

You shot him a look, reading between his lines.

“He claims to be working late virtually every night of the weekdays,” you said, “but he usually comes home stinking of alcohol.” Your eyes dimmed, even with the pretty lights shining in them. “He was in the Army as well. A corporal. He’s had a hard time adjusting to being back home, and I know that… He doesn’t sleep very well. And do you know, he had a hard time finding work for a while too. Luckily, he has his father’s business to fall back on.”

Dean tried not to show how much your words resonated with him. He didn’t think it a good thing to have common ground with your husband, if he was the kind of man you said he was.

“Yeah? What’s his business?” he asked.

“He manages a meat production plant, of all things,” you said.

“Ah, located in the Meat Packing District, I presume?”

“You’d presume right.”

Dean nodded. “I get it. I inherited the family home back in Lawrence. I just need to figure out what’s next.”

“Lawrence?”

“Kansas.”

“Oh, the Midwest,” you inclined your head. “What’s it like there?”

Dean scoffed. “Dusty.”

You almost laughed at that. At least it earned him your first smile of the night.

“Do you have an idea of what you’ll do for work?” you asked.

Dean chuckled. “Not just yet. Didn’t plan that far, you know?”

“Why not?” you asked.

“Hmm. Guess I didn’t see the point,” he replied with a mild shrug. It hid a deeper, darker well inside him. The part of him that hadn’t thought he’d make it back home after the war.  

You turned to him then, and you saw it behind his eyes. The two of you walked in silence for a little while as the neighborhood blocks began to shift and change, becoming somewhat quieter, more residential. Dean put himself between you and the sidewalk when a taxi zoomed by too close to the curb, resting a hand on the small of your back for protection.

Part of you trilled inside at the small touch, but you immediately beat that reaction down. Dean Winchester was an attractive man, to be sure. His hair was a lighter brown than his brother’s, and shorter too. He had an air of roguishness about him, even though he’d been perfectly pleasant so far.

But by the way he eyed you when you came into the law office, you had a strong feeling he was a flirt. You had no room for that in your life, and not only because you were still a married woman.

Yet, there was something about him that…well, made you curious.

“I was a nurse,” you said eventually, earning his attention. “I was there when they liberated Paris.”

Dean turned to you with newfound interest lighting his green eyes. “You were at Normandy.”

You nodded. “For a while. Almost a year before D-Day.”

Dean let out a short, if humorless chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“Well, that’s where I was. At that time, at least,” he said. You gave him a similar look; respect, and perhaps finding a kindred spirit.

“I did what I could do before, during, and afterwards,” you said. “I think that’s all we can do now, Mr. Winchester.”

“Call me Dean,” he said. “If you like.”

A second smile almost tugged at your lips. You nodded in agreement.

“Dean,” you said.

In another ten minutes, he was walking you up to your porch at your apartment building. You travelled up the four small steps, while Dean stopped at the second one. For the first time, you had the vantage point above him as you turned on your heel to face him. You were about to thank him when he shook his head, scoffing.

“This guy must be dumb, deaf, and blind, sweetheart,” he said.

Your face warmed in a blush, and you gave a rueful smile when you realized what he meant. He was looking up at you like someone who couldn’t understand your plight. You knew the feeling.

“That’s kind of you, but you don’t have to do that,” you said.  

His brows furrowed. “Do what?” 

“Try to make me feel better,” you said, scuffing the toe of your sensible heels against the brick platform. Dean crossed his arms. 

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because the fact of the matter is, Sergeant, words don’t move me anymore.” You picked up your gaze from the ground, and you met his. “Flattery is just a pretty way of lying, and I’ve grown to really, truly hate lying.” 

It took him a moment, but Dean nodded.

“I guess that’s fair,” he said. He had to stop himself before he proved your point with a smart word on your pretty smile. Although, it wouldn’t have been a lie. He tipped his hat up. “Goodnight then, Mrs. Milligan.” 

You stopped him from leaving with just your voice. 

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

He gave you a charming grin and a more casual soldier’s salute. Then he stuck his hands back in his pockets, turned on his heel, and began to walk back the way he came. You couldn’t help but watch him go for a second or two. His legs were slightly bowed under his slacks, you noticed.

With a blush, you shook your head to rid yourself of those silly thoughts. You closed the door.

That night, Michael came home late, as usual—this time at two in the morning. He reeked of alcohol, also per usual, but this time when he rolled over towards you in bed to say goodnight, you stiffened. He also smelled like a woman’s perfume. Expensive stuff. 

This was one of those signs you hadn’t wanted to tell Sam Winchester. Frankly, it was crude and embarrassing.

“Sorry it’s so late, darling. Got held up,” he said, kissing your shoulder through your nightgown. His fingers played with the ends of your hair while you laid facing away from him.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You were fighting every instinct you had inside you that wanted to recoil from his touch and bolt out of the bed. When just a few months ago, his touch was all you craved, almost desperately so. 

“Where were you?” you asked. Somehow, you kept your voice steady and calm. “You weren’t at the office all this time.”

“Had a couple of drinks with the guys after,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. The night got away from us, but, uh…I’ll be home on time for dinner tomorrow.”

With your back turned to him, you were able to roll your eyes.

“What’d you make tonight, outta curiosity?” he asked.

“Egg salad sandwiches,” you replied flatly. 

“Hmm. No real loss there then.” 

Your teeth clenched. “If I thought you were actually going to be home when you said you would, maybe I would make a rump roast with all the fixings.” 

Michael paused, but then, he grasped your shoulder, slowly turned you around in the bed until you were facing him. His face was sterner. 

“Excuse me?��� 

You remained quiet. Your gaze travelled downwards, avoiding his.

Michael huffed, shaking his head. “Sometimes you got a real mouth on you. One of these days, you just might regret it.” 

He turned his back on you, laying on his side. You did the same while trying to stem your tears.

When did this become your life?

AN: Oof, sorry for all that angst at the end there, but I hope you liked the first chapter! Did you enjoy soldier!Dean and soldier/lawyer!Sam? Do you want to find a dark alley for Michael yet? 😅

And are you ready for what's coming up next? 😘

Next Time:

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

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[captain-huggy-bear]

Just thinking about how clingy Jack is after a roadie. That man won’t let you do anything

Yeah, lets be real, Jack is a clingy baby. Olympic levels of clingy when he's finally back home. Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

Jack's always been clingy. This is only made ten times worse when he's missed you. He's under your feet every time he comes back from a roadie. He's a tactile person by nature, always reaching for you on any given day, but it's made 100 times more severe when he's been gone for a few days or worse a week. In a lot of ways it's sweet and flattering that he cares and misses you so much that he has to be on top of you the moment he’s home, has to be under your feet. In other ways? It's a bit of an inconvenience, and depending on your mood can actually make you a little grumpy.

It starts with him just being in the same room as you, whether it’s watching you cook or watching you fold laundry, Jack’s eyes follow you wherever you go. But, it never stays like that for long, maybe 5 minutes tops. Soon he’ll start physically following you around the room, not quite under your feet, but close enough that he’s in your peripheral vision, your shadow. You can feel him behind you, can sense where he is at all times even when he isn't yapping away at you. This is manageable, he’s not in the way and he’s never stopping you from doing what you need to at this point, but it never lasts long. Usually within 20 minutes of Jack being home he’s on you like the plague, arms latched around you, chest to your back, face nuzzled into your neck.

It’s sweet but impractical, you’re trying to go about your day and he refuses to let go of you, he has to be physically attached to you in some way whether it’s wrapping you in his arms and waddling behind you or putting his chin on your arm or a hand on your leg.

"Jack, I'm trying to make my lunch," You can't help but laugh as you try to cut up some veggies, arm movements somewhat restricted by the band of arms wrapping around your chest. Jack's so close to you he's practically pressing you into the counter.

"You can still make lunch like this..." He grumbles into your neck, pressing kisses to the skin there, the kisses are so light that you can't help but giggle at the ticklish sensation. This only draws an encouraged smirk from him, one that you can feel widening against your skin.

"Jack..."

"Angelllll...."

"Jackkkkkk," Nothing you say or do will get him to let go, he'll waddle around the kitchen with you, waddle to the kitchen table. Even when you sit down, he drags a chair so close to you that your legs are touching from hip down to ankle and he's got his arms wrapped around your waist, chin pressed into your shoulder the entire time you eat. You can't help but feel a mite embarrassed at him watching you so intently with those baby blues while you eat, the only thing making it bearable is the fact he's smiling the whole time like you're doing something amazing. Not just eating lunch.

Even when you try to shower, he's there, unable to detach himself from you because he's been gone so long and don't you love him? Didn't you miss him? He just wants to be around you...and Luke will more than happily confirm that Jack has been unbearable the entire roadie, nonstop talking about how he can't wait to get back home to you when he isn't talking about hockey.

“Jack, baby, I need to shower…” Your hands are pushing at Jack's shoulders in an attempt to get him to unlatch from you, but he's a hockey player. He's strong and if he doesn't want to be move then he's not moving.

“Can’t I just shower with you?”

“As if you could keep your hands to yourself..." You scoff at him trying to peel his arms off you, Jack only squeezes your waist tight. He's pouting up at you like you're being mean for wanting to have a shower without his arms attached to you for five minutes.

"I promise I can, I promise, baby..."

"No."

"Then I'm sitting in here." It's like watching a toddler sit on the floor of a supermarket refusing to get up because they can't have the thing they wanted. The way he points at the closed toilet lid to further illustrate his point, that he's not going anywhere.

"You're going to sit there and watch me shower? Like a creep?"

"Like a boyfriend who's missed his girlfriend who he loves dearly and who's girlfriend won't let him help her shower because she doesn't trust or love him." He's ultimately joking, you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes. You know if you told him that you wanted him to leave, that he was making you uncomfortable, he would. It's what makes the whole thing sweet and endearing because you don't mind him wanting to constantly be under your feet, you actually kind of love it.

"I trust you..." you pause for a second before grinning at him, "I just don't trust you to keep your hands to yourself."

"Baby..." He whines at you, almost throwing a tantrum, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. You know this phase will go soon, after a day back he'll still be clingy but not to this extent, so you find it cute and endearing rather than irritating while it lasts.

"Do you promise to help me wash my hair and not make any untoward advances?"

"Yes! Yes, I promise!"

"Okay, you can help me shower you big baby."

And he does help you wash your hair, but maybe his hands do wander a little...because he's Jack and he's missed you.

[entitled-fangirl]

Little Doe (P2).

Cregan Stark x Velaryon!reader

Warnings: making out, dom!Cregan, talks of death and ptsd, etc

A/n: This is short and sweet and a cliffhanger but- there will be a part 3, don't you fret

Part 1

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..............................................

Cregan entered his solar. And the moment the door closed, his hands rubbed over his face and into his hair. His fingers tugged at the long strands as he forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Is everything alright?" Her soft voice called.

He'd almost forgotten about the small settee he had moved in here specifically for her. After doing so, she hardly ever left it. Especially on days she knew he'd be here. 

He stretched his shoulders back as his eyes took her in. He loved her in this relaxed state. It had taken a few weeks to get her there, but this was bliss. She was blissful. No need to keep up with the royal looks of tight dresses and intricate hair- not when she was with him. She was comfortable with him, trading it all for more relaxed dresses and hair loose from braids. He loved her just like this.

But the current concerned wrinkle in her brow as she looked at him ruined it. "'M fine. Just a disagreement at petitions today."

She abandoned the Stark History book to give him her full attention. "A disagreement?"

He sighed again at the thought of it, interlocking his fingers over his head. "There is a lord that simply does not know his place."

She hummed, choosing to say nothing to make him fill the space.

"He's j-" Cregan bit back his words, the anger turning into crude amusement. "He's both vial and vain and… much too blunt for my standards." He aimed his words at her, "I appreciate a disagreement. I will not tolerate disrespect." He wanted to make a point. But more than that, he just wanted her to agree with him.

"You do not deserve disrespect," she breathed. She was beginning to find her voice with him. Though, it was still soft.

"No, I do not."

"Nor should you have to tolerate it-"

"-I shouldn't!" He huffed, throwing his hands up. "I shouldn't. Perhaps a public example must be made of him." His voice quieted as he thought. "What would your mother do, hm? What did she do with disrespect? Or your father?"

They didn't speak much of her parents. Rhaenyra was long gone, her remains stuck in King's Landing. It loomed over the silver-headed few that survived like a dark storm cloud.

What would Rhaenyra have done?

"I'm unsure," she finally answered. "I was… kept from those parts of the kingdom."

A small chuckle left Cregan as his angered gaze turned admiring. "I know that, doe. But surely your brother talked."

Jace did. He was the finest gossiper she knew. That's how she always got her information during the war.

And Cregan knew that. He knew the two eldest Velaryons better than he knew himself at this point.

She dared to think that Cregan missed Jace.

As for her father dealing with disrespect? Which one?

Harwin would fulfill his name of 'Breakbones'. Laenor would have a strong talking to. Daemon… well. He fought a war for his wife's name, didn't he? 

"Perhaps he spoke a few times," she spoke, deeply in thought, seemingly lost in the memories of Dragonstone. Those warm days in the sun. Jace letting her ride with him on Vermax. Teaching Joffrey how to swim. 

The death of Luke. 

The death of Jace.

She physically blinked as the thoughts turned more and more sinister. "I try not to think of those things anymore."

He watched her face turn more convoluted and lost. He wanted to hit himself with how easily he'd brought back the horrid remembrance. She had been so comfortable and he had to come in and ruin the little peace she had.

"Don't tire yourself over it, sweet girl. Was only curious." He sat next to her on the settee, almost comedically with how large Cregan's body was on the small sofa. His shoulders slumped as the weight of his life set it- like it did every time he was comfortable. "I never quite know what to do," he admitted softly, keeping his eyes glued to his hands. "When your actions affect all of the North, they have to be right."

She shimmied into his side, resting her head against his shoulder. "What does a Stark wolf do?"

His lips quirked up. His sweet doe is telling him to give into his wolfish instincts. "Suppose I should banish him then?"

She wrapped her hand around his bicep, heaving a soft sigh and shrugging.

"Can I kiss you, doe?" He asked softly. 

He'd asked it before. That first time. And he'd been denied.

He said he could be patient. But that was proving itself to be a lot harder than he originally thought. 

He was her husband already. A man of his stature wouldn't have waited this long. He didn't care. It just made the rewards sweeter.

So he looked at her to gauge her reaction.

She had set her chin against his bicep now, looking through her lashes. Her big does eyes gaze up at him.

She slowly nods.

He has take a deep breath. He can't get too carried away with the small liberty she's given him.

His hand slowly reaches into her hair, pulling her away from his arm so he can turn and lean down to her level. "Your words," he reminds her, but his eyes are only on her lips. He wants to capture her voice perfectly for what she'll say now.

She hesitates, the words capturing in her throat. Until finally, a small plea makes its way through in a hoarse whisper. "Please, kiss me."

Cregan closes the gap with no hesitation, cupping her face in his large paw of a hand. 

His kiss was heavy. It felt weighted with both intensity and words unspoken. But he made it feel light.

With careful movements, he trails his other hand from her hair to her lower back and begins to lay her down on the settee. His lips never disconnect from hers, slipping his tongue past her lips with an expertise that made her gasp.

Her mother had once had a brief talk about sex with her. It was broad and strange. Something about feeling something bolden within your lower stomach- like adrenaline shooting up your spine.

She thought she was beginning to feel it.

She braved bringing a hand up his chest and back down again. It was frightening to not know exactly what to do. But exhilarating all the same.

He groaned and began to tug up her thin dress as he climbed comfortably over her. He swears he's not felt more beautiful skin in his life as his fingers brush over her legs.

But as his calloused hand runs up her thigh, she lets out a small sound of surprise that breaks his train of thought. He pulls his face from hers worriedly, though he's still holding back the feeling of ravaging her.

He takes in the sight of the small pants that break through her parted, swollen lips. She's a sight to behold.

He pulls her dress back down, relishing in the fact that his wife truly is beautiful. Even if he has yet to see all of her.

She pushes herself up to try to catch his lips again. But as their lips brush, he turns his head. And when she tried again, he muttered, "Don't."

Her face fell a bit. "Cregan-"

"Don't ask what a Stark wolf would do. Ever again," he warned lowly. "Don't encourage it."

She realized just how much he was holding back. Like he was hungry and had yet to eat in days.

But he tried to lighten his sudden harshness, tucking his face into her neck and nipping. "Might bite you, doe."

She gasped at the surprise of it, but flushed when it came out as a small groan.

"Oh," he muttered against her skin. "You liked that? You want me to give in? Mark you?" He traded his nipping for soft kisses, trailing them up her jaw until he hit a spot that pulled a noise out of her. He kissed and left kitten licks against it until her hands pulled at his hair. He admired the way she was putty in his hands. "Let all of the North know how the doe controls the wolf, hm? How he worships her? You want that?"

Cregan pulled away to get a look at her. Her glazed eyes set on him. Words tried to come from her lips but failed to make it through. Her mouth opened and shut with hazy intention. If that's how she responded to a kiss, he couldn't help but let his mind wander.

He grinned, gripping her chin. "Hm?" He asked again. "Cause I promised not to touch you until you let me, little doe."

.............................................................

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[kurooangel]

₊˚⊹  babysitting .ᐟ

featuring       ᰔ  kuroo tetsuro, miya atsumu, sakusa kiyoomi.

warnings       ᰔ  fluff. a baby piss on atsumu. characters on their early 20s. masterlist.

★ kuroo tetsuro ; his sister was busy and, well, he didn't mind spending time of his nephew. the only problem was that he doesn't has the slightest idea of how taking care of a year old baby. he runs a hand through his hair while he sees you feeding the baby, and he knows you're holding back a smug smile because of how stained of apple puree he is.

"how can you do it so good?" he groans, taking off his stained shirt. "because you have to do it with love, tetsu" you chuckle, making the airplane with the spoon for the baby. "I was doing it with love, but then that little devil throw me the spoon. the full spoon" he throws his shirt in the wash machine and stays beside you, watching how you seem so natural with his nephew. "wanna try again?" you say softly, a sweet smile on your face that he can't resist. kuroo takes the spoon from your hand and gently approaches it to his nephew, who starts crying and throws him the full spoon again, cheek and abs stained with puree. "okay, I get it, he hates me"

★ miya atsumu ; he was extremely happy about having a nephew. osamu didn't trust him at all to take care of his baby without messing anything up, but he needed to open the restaurant again and his wife needed to rest, so he trusted that you put some sense in his brother's head this while you've been dating.

"who is the cutest miya ever? that's right, me! but you're the second, don't worry" he says holding the baby. you were changing his nappy and while you were throwing it in the trash, he grabbed the baby and raised him in his arms. you snorted at his words and shook your head amused, but you raised an eyebrow when you saw his shocked face and his wet shirt. "did he...?" you hold back a laugh. "pissed on me? yeah, and he has great accuracy" he mumbles, paled face.

★ sakusa kiyoomi ; omi thinks babies are weird. tiny, silly, little humans who depend to everything and cry a lot. he didn't mind having your sister's baby at your place, tho. he looks from away, watching you play with him, and he makes eyes contact with the small girl. she giggles and crawls towards him, hugging his leg.

"hi" he says, an eyebrow arched and he glances you quickly, a silent ask for help. "omi omi!" your niece says, giggling at your boyfriend's name. he holds her, eyes squinted while she forms an 'o' with her mouth because of the sudden height. "do you like uncle kiyoomi?" you say playfully, leaning against his side. "tall! very high!" she laughs again. "she likes you" you kiss his cheek, and you tease with a soft smile. "so stop looking at her like she's an alien, this little thing is called a baby"

[punkshort]

Swept Away: Season Two

Prologue: Two Rings

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: To celebrate taking a step forward in your relationship and moving in together, Joel charters a yacht for the night. He couldn't possibly have an ulterior motive, right?

Chapter Warnings: language, reader has a strained relationship with her parents, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, unprotected piv sex, oral sex f! and m!receiving, multiple orgasms, reader has at least shoulder length hair, food and alcohol consumption

WC: 7.7K

Series Masterlist

"Reschedule it for next week. I made a promise."

Seven days never flew by so fast.

Joel had been pacing around his house like a caged animal all morning. It was Saturday, but he still took a few work calls just as a distraction. It didn't help much. He found his hand drifting to his pocket every two minutes where a flawless diamond ring in an expensive box was kept.

A couple months prior he had woke up early with you curled up against his side. There wasn't anything particularly exceptional about that day. It was a workday, he remembered that much. It was raining, which was unusual for Los Angeles. But on that day he woke up and looked at you sleeping so peacefully in his bed and it hit him out of nowhere: he wanted to wake up like that for the rest of his life. He had never felt more certain about anything.

He quickly ran into a problem, however. You technically already had an engagement ring. One that was used as a prop, although a very fucking real and very fucking expensive prop, back when you first met and accompanied him to Fiji. He had hired you through a dating agency that specialized in catering to higher end clients like himself. His needs were slightly unusual, however. He had wanted you to pose as his fiancée with the stipulation you weren't to breathe a word about your fake arrangement to anybody in order to win over a real estate tycoon and bid for the last parcel of land on the island.

Behind closed doors, you had your separate rooms.

It was temporary. It was only supposed to be one month and he would never see you again.

It made him laugh now to think about it. He didn't stand a chance. You had him hooked from the moment you stepped into his office with your quick wit and no-bullshit attitude. It took him a while to accept it, but once he did, he never looked back.

When you returned from the island, Joel insisted you keep the ring, which you'd worn on your right hand ever since. He went back and forth over it for weeks. Should he get you a new ring, or should he use the old one and propose to you properly?

He was going to let you decide. Either way, they were both yours, which he anticipated fielding an argument over as you still struggled to adjust to your new, lavish lifestyle with him.

As he looked out the window at the moving truck and two cars puttering up the long driveway, he wondered if he should have spaced things out a little for your benefit. Asking you to marry him on the same day you were moving into his home might be a lot for you to handle all at once. But then he saw you step out of your beat up car, one he planned to replace as soon as possible, and smiled at the excitement written on your face.

He was about to step away and go downstairs to greet you when he saw your mother and father step out of the second car. He froze for a moment, an unexpected jolt of nerves rocking through his chest. He hadn't met your parents before and when you told them you would be moving in together, they suddenly decided to drop everything and travel all the way from Tennessee to help you pack your things.

You thought it was a nice gesture given your delicate relationship with them, but he knew better. They were worried about you and they wanted to make sure he wasn't some psycho coming along to take advantage of their only daughter.

He didn't blame them one bit and he suspected he would behave similarly when Sarah met somebody one day. But he knew how he came off to people. He had a tendency to be gruff and a little cold. It was the by-product of a few horribly failed relationships, as well as years and years of cutthroat business deals. Anyone would have to be hardened to get to where he was in his career.

Still, he intended on making a good impression. These were your parents and, hopefully, his future in-laws. He wouldn't let anything screw this up.

"Honey?"

"In here, Mom!" you called from Joel's master bathroom. Your master bathroom now.

Your mother appeared in the doorway, eyes bugging out of her head when she took in the sizable room. A crystal clear glass shower that could easily fit two people, something you and Joel had already proven more than once, sat in one corner with a built in granite bench and custom tile walls imported from Italy. In the opposite corner was a massive claw foot tub that sat in front of a huge window overlooking the breathtaking ocean view from Joel's backyard. Currently, you sat on the floor in front of the double sinks built into the white marble countertop going through your boxes of toiletries.

"My goodness," your mom breathed with a hand pressed gently against her chest. "Why on earth would he have a tub right in front of a window? Anybody could see you bathing!"

"It's one sided," you giggled. "You can see out but no one can see in."

Her face relaxed and she took a step into the room, making a surprised little noise when she felt the warmth emanating from the tile floor.

"It's heated," you explained before she could ask. She nodded slowly and continued to look around in awe.

"I see."

You could hear her tone, a tone you had grown too familiar with your whole life. She wasn't pleased.

"What's wrong?" you asked, setting down your bags of makeup so you could give her your full attention. She bit her lip nervously before quickly shutting the bathroom door and joining you on the ground.

"Don't you think all this is a little... much?"

You frowned. "Much?"

"This lifestyle is what I mean. This isn't you, honey," your mom said with a soothing squeeze of your arm.

"No, but I'm getting used to it," you said defensively. "This is what Joel is used to and I love him. It doesn't bother me so much, it's just an adjustment."

"He's got a whole staff to tend to this place," she continued with a low voice. "I saw a gardener and a pool boy. Don't tell me he has a maid, too."

"Well, yeah, he does-"

Your mother's jaw dropped with a disbelieving snort.

"He can't pick up after himself?"

"He doesn't have to! He's paying someone to do it for him! Besides, he's very busy. He works long hours every day to afford all this. Why should he-"

"It humbles a person to be able to cook and clean for themselves," your mother said firmly. "It builds character."

"Mom," you whined, "it's different out here and you know it. This isn't Tennessee. Most homes have some hired help, it's just how it is."

"Well, I was just envisioning a different life for my only child, don't come for my head about it," she huffed while straightening her skirt.

"No one's coming for your head, I'm just trying to explain how people live out here. It's different but I really like it. And most of all, I'm happy. I love Joel, Mom, more than anything. And he loves me, too. He treats me well, he cares for me... he's a good man," you finished softly. Your parents never liked the idea of you moving to the west coast with your best friend, Celine, for college. It unknowingly deepened the rift between you and them that you had been trying to mend for years.

"Well, I suppose he does seem rather charming. He has nice manners, at least," she sighed. You thought back to the lunch the four of you had shared not an hour earlier, finding it surprising that your mother found something nice to say about Joel at all given the uncomfortable atmosphere. To his credit, Joel really tried. He asked your parents about their jobs and their church. He even shared some stories about himself, trying to find some common ground, but your parents hardly offered anything in return and it irked you.

"Then why were you and Dad so stand-offish during lunch?" you asked pointedly.

"We were not-"

"Yes, you were," you argued back before she could lie. "I was sitting right there. Why don't you like Joel, Mom?"

She sighed and looked around the ornate bathroom again before floating her hands in the air.

"We just aren't used to all this, sweetie. It's a lot for us. Your father feels uncomfortable around all of this... grandeur."

"Well, do you think you can try a little harder? For me?" you asked, sounding exasperated. "All of this stuff shouldn't matter as long as I'm happy, right?"

After a beat, she slowly nodded.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I'll talk to your father."

"Thank you," you breathed with a small smile. "Now, can you please help me with the last of these boxes?"

She grinned and pulled the last one over to open it up. "Of course," she said, then made a face at the way everything inside was tossed about. "You're lucky none of these things are broken. You pack like a maniac, honey."

You laughed and pushed yourself onto your knees to get a better look inside the box.

"Well, guess it's a good thing you and Dad helped out with the important stuff."

"That reminds me, the boxes for your office are still in the foyer. Dad packed all of that for you," she said while taking out a few bottles of shampoo. "You know him, properly organizing everything. He's retired but he's still labeling and sorting everything in the house like he's working a case." Your father, a recently retired police detective, always had an attention to detail. "He said your important looking work documents were all in one box he marked fragile."

"Oh, great, thank you. I think Joel's still having one of the bedrooms converted into an office space for me so I'll have to ask him where to store it for now," you said, pausing when your mother gave you a look.

"One of the bedrooms?" she repeated. "How many does he need?"

"Mom! You said you'd try!"

"You're right, you're right, I'm sorry," she said with a light laugh. Then she stood with an armful of items. "Where should I put all this?"

"That door right there is a walk-in linen closet."

You noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at the spacious linen closet, but you let it go. Your relationship with them was still a little rocky and you didn't want to press the matter. She said she and your father would try to get used to Joel's lifestyle, so you had to give her time to follow through on her promise.

Your parents left for the airport in the late afternoon. After your tense conversation with your mother, you were ashamed to admit you were a little relieved that their visit had come to an end. But when you saw both your mom and dad give Joel a hug before they left, you softened up a bit, even if their hugs were a little stiff. They promised they would try and that was all you could ask for, even though Joel didn't deserve to be treated unfairly in the slightest. As their car disappeared down the winding driveway, you had visions of all the ways you could make it up to him, but then he surprised you with some unexpected plans.

"You chartered a yacht?" you exclaimed. "Why? To mark the occasion?"

Joel thought about it for half a second.

"Yeah. I wanted to celebrate," he said smoothly while sliding his hands around your waist. "We got it overnight so pack a small bag."

You squealed with delight and grabbed his face to pull him down for a quick kiss. When you turned to hurry back inside, he swatted you lightly on the ass, making you yelp and then giggle your way up the stairs towards your shared bedroom.

The marina was absolutely beautiful at sunset. The last golden rays from the sun reflected off the water as you approached, spreading flashes of deep purples, pinks and greens across the horizon. Joel had insisted on driving you both himself, something that surprised you but you shrugged off, assuming he wanted to allow his driver, Richie, to enjoy the weekend.

"We have this entire yacht?" you asked, mouth agape as you approached a huge two story charter.

"Yep," he had replied, pleased with your reaction. Two crew members had met you at the car and grabbed your bags, leaving your hands free to walk carefully across the bridge to board the yacht. You smiled bashfully when the crew of eight introduced themselves, then tucked yourself into Joel's side as the captain gave you a quick tour. When he paused in the doorway of the master suite to point out all the amenities, you shot Joel a playful look and waggled your eyebrows. He stifled a laugh and rolled his eyes before kissing the top of your head and following the captain through the lounge and to the deck, where there had to have been what looked like a hundred candles lit on every available surface. The sight took your breath away, it was so stunning. Flickering candlelight reflected off the polished wood and glassware that sat atop the table, already prepped and ready for you to be served once you got out onto the open water.

"Pink roses?" you said when you spotted the centerpiece as well as the decorative adornments that were peppered throughout the deck. You leaned in to sniff them and closed your eyes.

"I know you like the pink ones the best," Joel replied as he watched you look around in wonder. Then your eyes found his again and you smiled.

"When did you become such a romantic, Joel Miller?"

His heart skipped a beat in his chest when he replied, "When I met you."

While the yacht made its way a few miles off shore, the two of you found the bar inside the lounge and shared some drinks in front of the small fireplace while soft, classical music filtered through the speakers hidden strategically throughout the room. In the left corner of the room sat a white baby grand piano, sparkling but untouched. To the right was the bar, tended by a discreet looking gentleman with greying hair.

"You know what this reminds me of?" Your leg was draped across his lap and he was drawing slow circles over your calf, but his movements paused when you asked your question.

Joel grinned and nodded, pulling his eyes away from the flames to look at you.

"Glenn's yacht?"

You smiled and leaned in closer.

"Yep," you said, lowering your voice so the bartender couldn't overhear. "Remember the last night we were there?"

Joel bit back a groan at the memory of you on top of him, practically begging him to fuck you, but he had refused. That didn't stop you from finding another way to drive him completely insane. Instead, you had gotten yourself off by riding his thigh. It was the first time the two of you had blurred that line from a business relationship to something more.

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember," he murmured. Your eyes looked heavy as you gazed up at him and it took every ounce of strength he had not to toss you over his shoulder and take you back to the master suite right then and there. Instead, he pulled you in for a deep kiss, tasting the sweetness of champagne on your tongue.

His hand drifted back to get lost in your hair when you both heard someone nearby softly clearing their throat. You pulled away and let your gaze sheepishly fall while Joel handled the crew member who had come to let you know that dinner was about to be served.

"Oops," you whispered once the they were out of sight. A low rumble of laughter bubbled up from his chest and once you stood, he tugged you against him and cupped your face.

"Don't worry. Place'll be all ours after dinner," Joel told you. He gave you a quick kiss before curving his arm around your shoulders so he could lead you out towards the deck.

"Wha - Joel! We - we can't drive this thing!"

He chuckled at the panic in your voice. "Just for the evening. They'll drop anchor and be back in the morning. I ain't gonna get us killed, baby."

"Oh," you breathed a sigh in relief. He pulled your chair out and you sat down primly, glancing down at the complicated looking appetizer that waited for you. A small smile played at your lips when you asked, "And why are they leaving overnight, Joel?"

He sat down across from you and flicked out his cloth napkin with a wink.

"You'll see."

Dinner was elaborate and rich, but you had grown used to that with Joel. You had lost count of how many courses they brought out but when a cheese plate was placed between you after the main dish, you gave him a pained look.

"Joel?"

"Hmm?" he hummed while taking a sip of red wine. Your fingers inched across the white linen tablecloth, seeking out his hand. When his own fingers linked with yours and curled around your knuckles, you smiled at him tiredly.

"This is lovely," you began, "but I'm wondering when I'll get my dessert."

"Dessert's after the limoncello," he assured you. He shifted a little nervously in his chair and adjusted his tie. His mind was elsewhere but you had no idea.

"That's not the kind of dessert I meant," you whispered. You saw the realization dawn on him and you stifled a giggle. He leaned forward, hands still intertwined, and picked up a piece of cheese. He held it out between his thumb and forefinger and as seductively as you could, slowly stretched your neck forward to wrap your lips around his fingers and the small cube, all while maintaining eye contact with Joel.

"Good?"

You nodded and swallowed. "But I know something that tastes better."

"Christ," he groaned, eyes darkening as heat began to spread under his collar. Subconsciously, his finger began to slide your ring back and forth, fiddling with it. He wanted to just ask you right then and there. Just take the thing off and put it on your other hand and say the fucking words. But he had to wait. He had a plan.

Mercifully, dessert finally arrived. Actual dessert. Tiramisu, to be exact. But you were growing restless. He could tell by the way you sighed and tugged at the straps of your dress or flicked your hair over your shoulder to rub your neck with a soft moan. You were trying to get him to break and it was working magnificently. It had him checking his watch and mentally doing the math, trying to figure out if he had enough time to fuck you before his plan was set into motion.

The crew was packing up somewhere in the depths of the yacht. The captain had just left your table after confirming with Joel whether or not he needed anything else, and the anticipation of having the boat all to yourselves was killing you. But when he stood and extended a hand, asking you to join him on the deck instead of dragging you back to the bedroom, you hesitated. He grinned and wiggled his fingers.

"C'mon. Trust me."

You did. Of course, you did. So you stood and let him take your hand, leading you out onto the deck which was alight with flameleas candles and string lights wrapped around all the railings. A small seating area sprinkled with rose petals awaited you, the sight causing your suspicions to stir.

"All this to celebrate moving in together?" you asked. Joel didn't respond. He just smiled and sat down on the plush couch, which was facing the vast, empty ocean, and patted the seat next to him. Slowly, you sat down and leaned into his side before scanning the water. The moon was full that night and blazed a bright beam of light across the sea. It was quiet and serene and had you melting into his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

"It's peaceful," you murmured. In the distance, you could hear the soft hum of a motor from the boat taking the crew back to shore. Joel glanced nervously at his watch and you frowned. Tilting your chin up a bit, you caught his eye.

"What's going on?"

"Nothin'," he said immediately in response, only furthering your suspicions. You shifted so you could get a better look at his face.

"Why are you checking the time? What's-"

"You want somethin' to drink? I can get it for you," he interrupted. Okay, now you knew something was up. His fingers were tapping rhythmically against his leg, which was bouncing so fast the deck was creaking.

"No," you said, "Joel, why are you acting-"

A loud boom muffled the rest of your sentence, which ended up being a scream, anyway. Then a flash of color appeared in the sky above your heads and you looked up in surprise. Fireworks. There were fireworks going on above you, being set off from a barge somewhere you couldn't see on the water.

"Joel," you breathed in between booms. You looked at him and he grinned. "You did this?"

He nodded and said, "Wanted to do somethin' special."

"This is too much!" But you laughed and jumped when another firework popped in the sky, undermining any scolding on your part.

Your curiosity vanished, successfully distracted by the fireworks display. Joel curled an arm around your shoulders and you sunk against him once again with your back pressed against his front. You tipped your head back to rest on his shoulder so you could watch the fireworks, completely missing the way his heart began to beat faster against your back when he reached for your hands, which were resting in your lap.

Thinking he was just holding your hand, you shot him a quick smile before refocusing your attention on the sky. Maybe it was the drinks you had with dinner, but you hadn't even realized he slid your ring off your right hand until he held it up. Your gaze dropped down to look at it pinched between his fingers and your eyebrows knit together. The huge diamond sparkled with the reflection from the fireworks, all the reds, blues, and yellows shining within every flawless carat.

"Joel?" you said quietly. So quietly that it was impossible to hear over the loud booms.

Then you saw the tremble in his hand that held your ring and your eyes widened with a slow realization: the private yacht, the fancy dinner, the fireworks... this wasn't an evening designed to celebrate moving in together. This was something else.

Joel lifted your left hand from your lap and adrenaline began to course through your whole body. Your ability to blink and breathe just... vanished. Time might have even stood still as you stared down at your hands, watching in disbelief as he carefully slid your ring onto your left finger. Then you felt his beard brush against the shell of your ear from behind.

"Looks better on this hand. What do you think?"

Tears welled up in your eyes almost immediately. You splayed your fingers out in front of you both to look at the ring on your hand, but your vision blurred and your hand shook worse than his. Then two fingers found your chin, tilting your face to the side so he could look you in the eye.

"I wanna spend my life with you," he murmured softly. Your lower lip began to tremble and your heart stuttered in your chest, but you did your best to focus on his words. "You changed everythin', sweetheart. Changed my entire life. Brought me back together with my brother, with my daughter... reminded me what it's like to enjoy life again." His own eyes grew misty when he gave you a small smile and added, "Made me believe in love."

You laughed a little and two fat tears trickled down your cheeks.

"I've never known a peace like the one I have when I'm with you," he whispered. He was talking softly but even with the fireworks still going off above your heads, you could hear every word, almost as if the entire world melted away in that moment and all that remained was just the two of you.

His eyes looked so warm as he stared at you. They were so adoring and vulnerable. It made you want to crawl into his lap, wrap your arms around him, and never let him go. But you wanted to hear the words. You were desperate to hear the question you longed to hear, so you bit harshly into your bottom lip and fought back the desire.

Finally, he dragged in a ragged breath and asked, "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you sobbed, and it was like the floodgates opened. You flipped around and tossed one leg over his lap to straddle him, missing the way his face beamed with excitement when you grabbed his cheeks with both hands and kissed him. Your tongue slid easily between his parted lips, catching his groan between your teeth. When your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, you felt dampness there. Tears. Shortly after, your own streaked down your face, but you couldn't stop smiling.

The fireworks were probably coming to an end, you couldn't really be sure. You were too lost in your little bubble, perched on Joel's lap with his hands fiercely gripping your waist. You couldn't remember if it was you who started to grind your hips into him or if his hands had urged you to move. Regardless, within just a few short minutes, you found yourself dragging your pussy up and down his thigh while your kisses grew more and more urgent.

"C'mon, let's go inside," he panted while you sprinkled kisses down his jaw. When he tried to pull you off him, you shook your head and pushed your knees deeper into the cushion, keeping you both planted in place.

"No - here," you murmured before hiking up the skirt of your dress so it pooled loosely around your waist, freeing your legs to spread even wider. Joel groaned when his chin dropped to his chest, watching as you pulled your panties to the side with two fingers. You bit your lip and swiped your fingers through your folds while he nearly ripped his belt open with shaky hands. He had just unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, already hard and leaking, when you pressed your glistening fingers against his lips. His blood was pumping so fast, he was growing lightheaded, and when he parted his lips to taste your arousal on your fingertips, his eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped to the back of the couch in a daze.

"Dirty girl," he rasped after he licked your fingers clean. You smirked and reached down between your bodies to wrap your hand around his aching cock. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and opened his eyes so he could watch you stroke him up and down.

His hands squeezed your hips and encouraged you forward, unable to wait any longer. Fortunately, you couldn't, either. You lined him up against your entrance and removed your hand, the only sounds that filled the air now that the fireworks were over was your shared heavy breaths and the water lightly lapping at the side of the yacht.

"It's why you sent the crew away, right?" you breathed as you slowly sunk down on his cock. "So you could fuck me wherever you wanted?"

A strangled groan slipped past his lips when you began to shift ever so slightly, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapped around him taking his breath away.

"Didn't want them to hear," he replied through clenched teeth. "Didn't think you'd - fuck - didn't think you'd be so fuckin' needy so fast."

The fact he really thought you wouldn't want to jump him as fast as possible after he proposed was laughable, and you told him so as you began to bounce quicker in his lap, gasping when the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

Joel just chuckled breathlessly and clutched your hips harder, helping you glide up and down his shaft.

"Ain't got nothin' to do with it. You wanted me to fuck you halfway through dinner."

"Is that such a bad thing?" you moaned, arching your back when his hips began to buck up into you. You grappled frantically at his shoulders and tipped your head back with a sharp gasp, leaving you with a beautiful view of twinkling stars above you.

With your throat exposed, Joel lunged forward to suck a red mark just below your jaw. You smelled so good and your skin was so soft that it had him sitting up straighter so he could gain better access.

"God, Joel!" you cried out into the night sky. His hands grabbed at your ass, fingers digging roughly into each cheek, forcing your body up and down on his cock while he slammed into you, knocking all the oxygen from your lungs and every thought from your brain.

"Gonna make the perfect little wife, baby," he growled, teeth scraping lightly down your jaw. Wife. The word sent a thrill through you.

"Yeah?" you gasped, eyelids fluttering as you felt yourself nearing your peak. "You think so?"

"Mhm," Joel murmured into your neck. "Love you so much, love you so fuckin' much, y'make me so happy. Just wanna spend my life takin' care of you, give you everythin' you need."

He was rambling now and a lazy smile stretched across your face.

"I love you, too," you whispered before tilting your head down to capture his lips in a searing, messy kiss.

Your hips stuttered and your moans grew more high pitched each time you dropped yourself back down on his cock. And because he knew you so well, he grinned against your mouth and murmured, "You gonna come for me?"

"Yeah," you whined in between heated kisses. Your hands clawed at his face and hair and you gasped shakily every time your clit rubbed against the curls at the base of his shaft. "Yeah, yeah I'm - I'm gonna come," you breathed, too lost in your own pleasure to say much else except repeat him, so fucking close that all it took was one or two more deep thrusts and it sent you reeling into your climax.

You tightened around him with a silent scream. Your brows were furrowed and your mouth hung open against his as your orgasm rocked through your entire body. Boneless, you drooped against him, nuzzling into his neck. He pulled you in tight against his chest while fucking up into you recklessly until he let out a deep groan and his body stilled.

"Look." Joel tapped your shoulder, stirring you back to life. You forced your eyes open and followed his gaze down where you were connected. A second later you watched as a small amount of his thick, milky white release dribbled out of you, pooling at the base of his cock.

Unable to put into words how hot it was to watch yourself overflow with him, your mouth greedily found his, tongue probing past his lips with a moan.

You sat there for as long as he would allow, limp and spent while sharing wet, lazy kisses until his cock softened and he slipped out of you with a grunt. The palm of his hand was soothingly rubbing your back and you had never felt more content in your life, but when a sharp breeze drifted over the ocean and made you shiver, Joel broke the kiss and cupped your face.

"Let's go to bed."

You nodded sleepily and allowed him to lead you back into the yacht, through the abandoned lounge that still played classical music faintly through the hidden speakers, down the well lit hallway, and finally to the master suite. The bed had been turned down by one of the crew members before they left. A bottle of champagne with two glasses with a note that read congratulations! was left next to the bed, but you were too exhausted. It was a miracle you were able to wash up and change out of your clothes before slipping into the plush bedding, but you stayed awake until Joel had turned out all the lights and joined you. With a sigh, you curled up next to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder and slotting your leg between his, then finally drifted off to sleep.

The clock read a little after three in the morning when you awoke. You were in the same position you found yourself before falling asleep hours earlier: fitted snugly into Joel's side with your palm placed gently over his heart. You used the bathroom and drank some much needed water but you had trouble falling back asleep, so you perched on the bench by the window and watched the way your ring shone in the moonlight.

It took you back in time when you saw the ring on your left hand again. Memories of confusing feelings, devastating rejection, fake love stories and intense pain flickered through your mind when you thought back to the whirlwind month you spent with Joel in Fiji, masquerading as his fiancée.

But now, it was real.

Now, that lie, that story, was going to become reality.

You couldn't have been happier. After everything you had been through, all the ups and downs your relationship faced from the very beginning, you were finally going to get your much deserved happy ending.

You just wished your parents and their opinions would stop plaguing your mind.

"What're you doin'?" Joel's groggy voice called from the bed. You snapped your head up in surprise, just to find him sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing his eyes.

"Nothing. Sorry. I couldn't sleep. Too excited," you grinned when holding up your left hand. His eyes hadn't yet adjusted to the darkness, so he reached over to flick on one small lamp next to the bed. The room was cast in a dim, yellow glow, but he saw you holding up your hand and he smiled.

Joel stood and took two steps forward when he froze. Something passed over his face that had you frowning with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I - shit!" he exclaimed before turning on his heel and rummaging through his suit coat, which he abandoned across a chair on the other side of the room when you came to bed. You cocked your head to the side and allowed yourself a moment to appreciate how fucking handsome your fiancé was, bending over in just a tight pair of black boxer briefs. Your gaze flickered back up when he swiveled around, holding a small, black box in his hand.

"I got you a new ring," he said as he crossed the room, "I'm so sorry. Forgot to give it to you earlier 'cause, well -" he shrugged and shot you a playful grin. "Y'know."

"A new ring?" you repeated as you stood. "W-why? I have this one!"

He opened the box and you gasped when you saw the flawless cushion cut, crystal clear diamond engagement ring, which was bracketed by two smaller diamonds.

"Joel," you breathed, eyes flitting back and forth between the one in the box and the one already on your hand. "I-I can't! I can't have two!"

Joel chuckled and plucked it from the box.

"Why not? You got ten fingers."

You scoffed and shook your head, but he continued.

"I wanted you to have the option and I wanted to get you somethin' new," he explained while holding it out towards you. You stared at it, still in shock, but stopped yourself from reaching for it.

"You know..." you began slyly. Joel arched an eyebrow at your tone. "You never actually did get on one knee."

His hand dropped to his side and he narrowed his eyes.

"You want me on my knees?"

You bit your lip and nodded vigorously, and when he held your gaze and began to sink down to the ground, still clad in just his underwear, your heart began to do flips in your chest.

On one knee, he murmured your name lowly and reached for your hand. You gave him your right one and grinned when he slipped it onto your finger and asked, "Will you marry me?" for the second time.

"Yes," you whispered. You took a step forward and carded your fingers through his hair. Joel leaned into your touch and briefly closed his eyes, enjoying the way your nails scraped gently over his scalp.

"I see the appeal, now," you said softly, "having a man fall to his knee like this."

"Yeah?" he rasped, opening his eyes to give you a heated look. Then his fingers drifted up your legs to push up the satin nightgown you had slipped on earlier and your breath caught in your throat.

"Get used to it, baby, 'cause I'm ready to spend the rest of my life right fuckin' here." He leaned forward, pressing his face right between your legs and taking a deep breath before mouthing hungrily at your waiting cunt through your panties. You gasped, skin tingling, and fell forward almost instantly, hands sliding helplessly over his bare back while he held you up with his hands wrapped around your thighs.

With one swift turn to the left, he pushed you up against the wall and tugged your underwear down your legs. Tossing them somewhere behind him, he lifted one of your legs to drape over his shoulder, spreading your pussy underneath your hiked up nightie.

His fingers dug into your skin when his mouth came in contact with your center, groaning in delight to find you already so wet and eager for him.

Joel's jaw dropped open wide, sealing his lips over your slit and running the tip of his tongue up the middle. Your vision immediately blurred and you threw your head back against the wall in ecstasy. The scrape of his beard against your sensitive skin, the feel of his fingertips dimpling your thighs, the way his hot tongue laved over your cunt all had you reduced to a trembling mess in a matter of minutes.

You wailed out his name into the room, your voice echoing off the walls and suddenly Joel's plan to send away the crew was making a lot of sense.

"More," you whined while rolling your hips as much as you could without losing your balance. The one foot that remained on the ground was stretched, perching on your tiptoes, while the other was curled tightly over his shoulder, holding him in place.

His mouth released you with a gasp and you whimpered pathetically at the loss while your fingers clawed uselessly at his hair.

"C'mon, let's move to the bed. Want you to sit on my face."

His voice was deep and gravelly and it send a shudder through your limbs.

"No, please, Joel, I-I... I'm so close," you begged, looking down at him with watery eyes. He looked like a mess: disheveled hair, wet mouth, flushed neck. He scanned your face and relented, giving you want you wanted and diving back in between your thighs.

You immediately resumed rolling your hips against his face, chasing your high while his tongue slid messily between your lips over and over, collecting the arousal leaking from your hole and flicking over your clit teasingly each time he dragged his tongue back up.

"I'm- I'm gonna come," you gasped, unable to look away from how enthusiastically he ate at you. It was such a turn on to see such a wealthy and powerful man on his knees for you, a man people not only in his office but throughout the country cowered before. But not you. No, you had him wrapped tightly around your finger.

Well, two fingers now that he had gifted you a second ring.

It was the way Joel's lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue over it with a deep groan that had you tumbling over the edge. Your body bent forward with the force of your release, curving over his back with your hands buried in his hair for leverage.

"Fuck, that's it," he whispered into your pussy before swiping his tongue through your slit again. Tears stung the backs of your eyes from the stimulation but you let him continue, trusting him implicitly.

There was no doubt in your mind you would find little circular bruises on your thighs later from the way he clutched at you. The thought of seeing those marks, of seeing the way he claimed you, had your stomach muscles tightening unexpectedly once again. You cried out weakly as another gush of fluid flooded his tongue, then shivered when you heard his surprised groan vibrate throughout your entire body.

"Jesus," you rasped, chest heaving, when he finally pulled away. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes look nearly black in the dim lighting as he gazed up at you from his spot on the floor.

"So beautiful," he murmured breathlessly, dragging his wet lips over your thighs, kissing your bare skin and working his way up your stomach. His mouth brushed along the silky fabric of your pajamas until he reached the tops of your breasts. Once he found your warm skin again, he peppered kisses all across your chest and neck until he was finally standing upright and plunging his tongue greedily into your mouth.

His cock pressed hard and pulsating against your stomach while his tongue leisurely mapped your mouth, and your legs trembled from the idea of taking him inside your cunt again. You knew yourself. It would be way too much. You were exhausted and your muscles felt so weak, but you would be damned if you went to bed without taking care of him. So you broke the kiss, gave him a playful wink, then sunk to your knees between his body and the wall.

If he had any qualms about the change of plans, he didn't show it. He braced one hand against the wall and the other got lost in your hair when you peeled down the band of his boxer briefs and wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft. You dragged your fist up and down a few times, humming softly under your breath at how hard he was for you.

You locked eyes with him. He looked absolutely wrecked, leaning against the wall and looking down at you, jaw slack and eyes glazed over.

While still maintaining eye contact, you opened your mouth wide and slid your lips carefully around his girth, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before taking him deeper. His hips shifted forward, gently pushing more of himself inside your mouth until he kissed the back of your throat. You gagged a little and pulled back, earning a chuckle from up above.

"Too much?"

All you were able to do was shake your head. Your mouth was full of him, sucking him deeper once again while taking steady breaths through your nose. Joel's fingers tightened in your hair when you began to bob up and down, hollowing your cheeks with one hand still fisting his base and the other gripping his thigh for support.

"Fuck yeah, that - that's good," he moaned. Your chest swelled from the praise so you kept going, keeping a steady rhythm, sliding your tongue up and down the length of him until your lips felt numb and your jaw ached, and even then, you kept going.

"Oh shit, baby, don't stop," he growled. His fist tugged at your hair a little harder than you expected and you gasped around him. Somewhere above you, his other arm collapsed against the wall, now relying on his forearm to keep him upright while you sucked his cock with the kind of enthusiasm that had his knees going weak and his stomach pulling tight.

His hips rocked forward, meeting you thrust for thrust, groaning your name as he watched himself disappear inside your mouth over and over. Your tongue was flat along the underside of his cock when you felt it pulse and a moment later he spilled down your throat, swallowing every drop of his hot, sticky release.

He was cursing breathlessly above you while you cleaned him up with your tongue, and it wasn't until his hips stuttered and he yanked you off him by the hair that you stopped.

"Christ," Joel whispered, sagging tiredly against the wall with his forehead pressing against his wrist after you kindly fixed his boxers for him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were parted, sucking in air fast as he tried to catch his breath.

"Oughta propose to you more often," he panted with his eyes still closed. You giggled and stood, taking his hand. His eyelids fluttered open, allowing you to lead him back to bed.

"Please don't tell me you have a third ring somewhere," you said tiredly after you burrowed under the covers and he curled himself around you from behind. He chuckled and kissed the back of your neck.

"Nah, just two."

You smiled when he nuzzled your ear, his deep breathing already lulling you back to sleep.

"Where do you think we should get married?" you yawned, yearning to just hear his voice. His fingers searched for your hand resting across your stomach and he gave it a squeeze.

"Thought we already decided a year ago," he mumbled. His lips grazed the shell of your ear when he said:

"Fiji, baby."

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[takes1]

your needy Kenma smut was SOOO good omfg I was biting my fist reading it!! can i request a needy suna smut?

needy!suna rintarou x reader

hi!! so glad you liked it!! wow this took me so long i'm so sorry! i just could not find a way to write it without it being exactly the same as kenma's!

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / forbidden, established relationship / manager!reader / vocal!suna / whiny!suna / needy!suna / bratty!suna / liiiight mommy kink nobody freak tf out!! / suna has a cute laugh / creampie / raw cuddly sex / 1.9k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3. my imagines. my request box

"Don't look at me like that, Rin'."

Your fingers were smushing the lower half of his face, angling his head away from you. His head stayed obediently forward at the center court, but those eyes were still piercing through you.

Through his fishy-lips, his words became jumbled together, "'can' helb i'--,"

It wasn't his fault he looked so mean, so critical when he focused in on something.

"I can't help it," He spat, rubbing his jaw.

Suna wasn't careful about his hand placement. The members of Inarizaki knew you had been dating for a time, but Coach Kurosu did not need a reason to question your managerial position.

When you pushed his hand away from your waist, his face scrunched; that mean and bitter look returned, tenfold.

A frustrated, hushed, but not quiet, "I want you."

Though it wasn't an appropriate time, place, or circumstance, it would be lie to say that it wasn't hot. The unique mixture of his assertive, court-like focus and lesser-known bedroom-only begging forced you to cross your arms.

"You-," You glanced around, thankful nobody heard that, "Have a game to focus on."

The attitude he gave was not only unwarranted, but it succeeded in making you less receptive. To you, it was obvious that he was only looking for an out. He was tired and halfway through a challenging match. You couldn't spare to be his partner right now, and he did not like that.

He sucked his teeth, tapped his foot, crossed his arms, worked his jaw, and gave you a sharp sigh, all within five minutes of angry silence.

What a whiny bastard.

You found his struggle almost amusing. At the moment, it was more important to maintain your focus, for the both of you.

Still, it kept you wondering throughout the remainder of the match: What had you possibly done to warrant such a strong response?

Every instance that he had to be around the bench, drinking water, a temporary switch-out, he would send you a deeply dissatisfied glance. You didn't justify it with a reaction. He was being bratty.

Though you were a prude, anti-PDA personality in public, especially around the team-- you were the one to push him back onto the mattress and throw his shirt across the room, once you were back at his place.

"Fuck--mnh!"

That pretty sigh was all he could get out before you were on top of him.

"Start talking," You muttered. Your shirt was off in seconds.

His breathing grew heavy, eyes black with lust at the sight of your pretty skin, his favorite bra he clocked earlier under your shirt- the whole reason his mind got to spinning.

Suna was kept this irritating, calculating, slithery persona up around his friends, and especially during matches, because he learned that it kept him safe. He didn't always like being so on edge. He wanted to trust somebody enough to tell them everything that passed through his mind, to be skin-to-skin and a little weird, because you were comfortable and safe.

Here, under you, after enough love and time, he knew he didn't need to waste energy on appearances.

"I- ah-h, I just wanted you so bad," Was his honest attempt at an explanation.

He sat up to touch you, kiss you, but you kept him to the sheets with a forearm.

"Are you trying to get me kicked out?"

Suna huffed, eyes bouncing from your face, to your confined tits, then back, "What?""

Your legs slid a bit further apart, weight settling better onto his warm lap, "If Coach finds out we're dating, you know I'm gone."

You snapped, just for emphasis, but he flinched, "Like that. In an instant."

He was painfully hard. You could feel him throbbing, even through his combo of athletic shorts and thick sweatpants. Despite the circumstances, you knew he was keen enough to understand that you were a little pissed off about his lack of restraint.

He was in that spot you liked seeing him work through. Struggling, deciding whether to be nice, or snarky.

"You're smarter than that, baby," Was much kinder of a statement in tone, but it tipped him off to be rude, instead.

Those narrowed eyes dripped down to your chest slow, sweet, like honey.

"Why'd you wear that, then?" He felt you stiffen. He placed a hot palm onto your hip to help his well-intentioned venom settle.

You couldn't believe that was his entire problem, summed up in five words.

"Are you really so dirty-minded that you could tell what bra I was wearing? Under my shirt?"

The call-out was meant to return his energy, but he responded in a more secure way than you.

"When it's you, yeah--," He sat up with ease, against your pushing, just to remind you that he could outclass your force if he wanted to. He caught your small frown and he corrected himself, "Yes, ma'am."

You gave a small hum, a low-lidded stare right back at him. He was so hot when he deferred to you.

It warranted a strong, messy kiss- all charged with hours of denial, suggestive glances, and too many minutes of clothed rubbing.

All your clothes came off in a range of easy to difficult, distracted efforts.

Suna lay under you, all flushed and twitchy with anticipation. Your hands flitted down his sensitive, strong sides, his cock crammed between your legs, getting spoiled and slick. Not inside, not just yet.

You loved tickling him just to hear his laugh.

And he'd tolerate anything with you gliding over his dick, like that. Giving him such a good view.

"Shhh-haha-h-ahh!" He bit his lip to keep from giggling, moaning, too much or too loudly.

That look he gave you was enough. All twisted, pleading, intelligent. Like he knew exactly what he said and how he said it, would get you turned on.

His sound was adorable, rare.

It was unrestrained, and light, cute, enough to understand why he kept it behind his hand around his friends. Sounded exactly like something a bunch of guys might make fun of him for.

"Hmm.. Let's cuddle fuck," You pressed a tingly kiss just under his ear.

You knew he was feeling lazy. Your job today wasn't easy, either. You wanted to feel close at the end of a busy day, more than anything.

Suna was warm, and tired, and tacky to the touch but it all added to how badly you wanted each other. It was a demanding match, and getting all upset with each other made it feel that much longer.

Slick, and hot, and easy was the adjustment to him. Nothing to do with his real size- you were just ready, after having to put up an act, as if you were too above all of it.

The panting you had to listen to on the sidelines, watching him miss his mouth with the squeezy bottle, all the sweat and water dripping onto his jersey, it ate at you, corroded the brick walls you put up. Even his frustrated glare was sexy. He couldn't stop looking at you, even with an important task at hand, or when his teammates needed him to focus.

Now he fucked you like your mean -still, justified- rejection was never a problem, like he was savoring you slowly.

"Yes-yes, yesyes," Suna swallowed up your moans in a greedy kiss.

"Mmh- how's that feel--?" You purred.

"So good," A satisfied groan, "Fuck- Got such a perfect pussy."

His hand kept your thigh up, your knee close to your shoulder. He inspired a gasp at how quickly he bottomed out to your teasing.

He stretched you so good, so easily, and kept your trembling steady in his grasp-- but every sound he made was shaky, barely held together, and never masked.

After three months, Suna decided at some point on his own that he could trust you enough to completely let go in the bedroom. Though he naturally gravitated to a more submissive role, he usually said some downright sleazy, vulgar shit to get his kicks.

"A-ha, h-fuc-k, aughh, you feel so good, you--," His breath clipped into a high, closed-mouth whine as he pulled you harder onto the base of his cock, just flexing hard, as deep as he could get.

Your teeth sunk into his pillowcase, fingers filled with plush.

The knowledge that he loved it, but couldn't ever get as deep as he wanted, had your strength waning. Squeezing, bracing, at all the butterflies tired you out.

Although, if it were a competition, Suna had you beat by a mile. The drooling, whiny mess behind you may have had enough to strength to use his body weight to keep you smushed, but you could tell he was sloppier, clumsier, with exhaustion.

He buried his face in your neck.

"I-I'h- needed you so bad," His moan was so light and breathy- like he was swimming on Cloud 9-, "So-h, so... fucking...bad."

Your uncontrollable squirm to get away from the sensation was met with instant crushing. Even if you wanted your thigh back, it would never happen.

"Mh-h-! Rin-," You tried to speak, but he was hitting all your angles just right, so you stopped.

His words were twisting up that knot in your tummy, the trap of his arms a steady, innocent backdrop to how filthy he decided to fuck you.

Slurred mutters, consisting of mostly nonsense syllables and phrases, sometimes bred real messages like, "So hot," "Mommy," "So much," and, "'Can't take it."

His yapping, you thought, may have been a way of making up for how little he spoke, usually. You were generally much quieter than him here, but outside of the bedroom, the opposite remained true. It was cute.

"M'so- close-mh," His groans were short, choked on pleasure, his squeezing desperate and uneven.

The idea of him finishing close, hugging you, just like this, was too hot to let not happen.

You gathered yourself to tell him, "C-um-- Mh, inside, pretty boy."

"F-uck!" That tone completely tipped him over the edge.

Your grin was to yourself, twitchy and genuine, before the feeling of fullness set in.

He was left to fuck out his load as deep inside of you as he could get, "Fuckfu-ck- Ahh-hh-!"

Your nails dragged across his skin- the white hot, pulsing enough to spur a sudden orgasm. Dark lines remained in their wake as your muffled whines filled his ears.

And Suna was nothing if not dedicated. He fucked you as well as he could through your own, whinier, less violent experience. His breath, laden in the resolution of his own, was hot and tingly across your sensitive ear.

You squeezed his arm to stop and he finally let your leg down.

"Hm...sorry," He mumbled into a peck against your cheek, "You okay?"

Sore, and achy, you shared a giggly kiss. He softened naturally and you readjusted to hold each other, warm and soft, with chemical infatuation.

"Mhmm," You stole a longer, slower kiss.

Those pretty eyes watched you, worshipped you, as you rubbed your hand across his jaw.

"Perfect."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu my request box

[solxamber]

Leona, romantic, and “September” by James Arthur. Idk, I just always strongly associated this song with him.

"I'm gonna love you for the rest of my life" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: September by James Arthur

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 580

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Fluff, Established Relationship

Leona remembers seeing you around back when you were both young. At first, he didn't think much of you—just another face in the sea of students, another voice in the endless chatter that he had no interest in.

But the more he saw you, the more you lingered in his mind, the more he felt like he had to talk to you.

Not that he'd ever admit it out loud.

So he does what any self-respecting, prideful man would do—he bribes Ruggie to drag you to the botanical gardens under some flimsy excuse, and just so happens to be there himself.

"What a coincidence," he drawls, feigning disinterest, stretching out on the grass like he owns the place. But when you plop down next to him, start talking about something mundane yet completely captivating, he knows.

It’s instant. The way he falls. The way you slip into his life so effortlessly, laughing at his sarcasm, stealing his fries, treating him like he’s just Leona and not the second prince of some far-off kingdom.

Even when he scoffs, even when he refuses to admit it at first, you are his friend. You are his.

And then, one day, you’re both sprawled across his bed in a way that feels so natural, as if you belong there. He’s half on top of you, lazy and heavy with the weight of an afternoon nap, and you’re giggling at something on your phone. The sound is warm, golden, wrapping around his heart like the sun after a storm. It’s infuriating.

He can’t let this go on. He can’t let another day pass without making you his.

So he grumbles out a question, as if he’s annoyed by his own need for you. “Go out with me.” His cheeks are flushed, his tail stiff and betraying him, and for a second, he almost takes it back—almost—but then you look at him like he hung the damn stars, and you say yes.

And when he kisses you for the first time, slow and deep and possessive, he thinks—maybe—he can finally look in the mirror and like who he is.

Every weekend, he waits for you. Waits for you to finish your errands, your work, your whatever so you can spend the whole day with him. Because he’s stronger with you, and weaker without you. You’re his soulmate, his lover, his home.

And when the weight of his title presses down on him, when the whispers of "never good enough" creep in, you’re there. Always. Holding him in the dark, chasing away his demons with nothing but a smile and the unshakable belief that he is yours.

Sometimes, he gets mad. He can’t help it. Sometimes, he snaps even at you. Sometimes, he’s too jaded, too bitter, too tired of the expectations forced onto him since birth.

But then you have the audacity to smile at him, that infuriatingly sweet smile, and he wants to drag you back to bed and keep you there until the world forgets both of you exist.

Until he can hear nothing but your laughter and the soft, whispered confessions you think he doesn’t catch when you think he’s asleep.

He’s going to love you for the rest of his life.

And as he lays beside you now, watching your peaceful expression as you sleep, his fingers ghost over the ring he keeps hidden in his bedside drawer.

He can’t wait to make you his family. And for you to make him yours.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ first time - teach me how to love

chapter summary: After he dropped hints for weeks, you finally give in to Logan.

word count: 11k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is a bonus chapter! i consider this taking place before make you mine

this is the request that inspired this chapter

(you do NOT have to read the series to understand this oneshot. it's mostly smut)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, shy!reader, mention of twirling hair, fluff, smut, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, not proofread

series masterlist

You turned the page of your book, the hum of some old movie playing on the TV in the bedroom. You were lying between Logan’s legs, your head resting below his chin while his hand absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair. His other hand was draped over your stomach, fingers occasionally tapping against the fabric of your shirt like he had a thought he wasn’t quite ready to share.

“You actually readin’ that thing, or just pretendin’ to so I don’t distract you?” Logan’s voice was low, lazy, the kind of tone he only used when he was completely comfortable.

You didn’t look up from your book. “I was reading.”

“Was,” he echoed, amused. His fingers gave your hair a light tug before smoothing it down again. “So that means I am distractin’ you.”

You sighed, more dramatic than necessary, but the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. “Logan.”

“Darlin’.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you get all smug just ‘cause I like being around you.”

Logan smirked, his fingers trailing absently along your side now. “That a bad thing?”

You sighed again, but this time, you leaned into him a little more, letting your book rest against your chest. “No.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling against your back. “Didn’t think so.”

The movie flickered in the background, some old Western that Logan had flipped to out of habit. You doubted he was actually paying attention to it. His fingers skimmed over the hem of your shirt now, his touch slow, deliberate. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t even making a real move—just there, lingering, testing.

“Y’know,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles along the sliver of skin just above your waistband, “I don’t mind you usin’ me as a pillow, but I gotta say, sweetheart… there are other ways to get comfortable.”

You didn’t take the bait, though your cheeks warmed at his tone. “I am comfortable.”

Logan let out a quiet hum, his fingers tracing the same path over your stomach. “Could be more comfortable.”

You swallowed, shifting slightly in his hold. “Logan.”

He leaned down, his lips ghosting over the side of your neck. “Just sayin’.”

You exhaled, turning the page of your book even though you hadn’t actually processed a single word. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah,” he murmured against your skin. “Just persistent.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, determined not to let him rattle you—at least, not too much. He wasn’t wrong, though. Over the past couple of weeks, Logan had been dropping hints, pushing just enough to see how you’d react. It wasn’t anything overt—no pressure, no expectation. Just a lingering touch here, a teasing remark there, the occasional kiss that lasted a second longer than it needed to.

He was patient, but he wasn’t subtle.

“You’re thinkin’ real hard about somethin’,” Logan murmured, his breath warm against your jaw.

You cleared your throat, keeping your eyes trained on your book. “Just… taking in the plot.”

“Uh-huh.” He didn’t sound convinced. His hand slid just a little higher, resting against your ribs now. “That book’s been on the same page for the last ten minutes.”

You sighed. “Maybe I just like this page.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, his lips brushing against your temple. “Yeah? What’s it about?”

You hesitated, then groaned, dropping the book onto your lap. “Fine. Maybe I haven’t been paying attention.”

He smirked, clearly pleased with himself. “That so?”

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze. “You love being a distraction, don’t you?”

Logan shrugged, unbothered. “If it gets you lookin’ at me instead of that book? Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back with something witty, Logan’s hand slipped beneath your sweater, resting warm and steady against your skin. The touch wasn’t rushed or demanding—just there, grounding, like he was waiting to see if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

Logan took that as an invitation to tilt your chin up, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against your lips. He wasn’t pushing for more, but he wasn’t holding back, either. His fingers splayed against your stomach, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin.

By the time he pulled back, his smirk had softened into something quieter, something more certain. “See? Much better than readin’.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re incorrigible.”

Logan grinned. “Yeah, but you’re still sittin’ here, ain’tcha?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came to mind. Because he was right.

And, more than that, you didn’t want to be anywhere else.

---

The sound of chalk against the board was somewhat soothing—it usually meant just you and equations. But it wasn’t as soothing today since Logan was leaning against your desk watching you as you wrote across the board preparing for class.

He’d been there for the past ten minutes, saying nothing, just watching, arms crossed, that infuriating smirk lingering on his face. You’d done your best to ignore him, focusing on writing out the equation, but every time you glanced over, he was still there. Still watching.

Finally, you sighed, setting the chalk down with a small clink. “Are you just gonna stand there, or are you actually here for something?”

Logan’s smirk deepened. “Dunno. Kinda enjoyin’ the view.”

You rolled your eyes, but your face warmed at the way his voice dipped just slightly, lazy and deliberate. You turned back to the board, trying to ignore the way his presence was making it difficult to focus. “Well, unless you suddenly got real interested in quantum mechanics, you’re gonna get bored pretty quick.”

“Nah,” he said, the sound of his boots scuffing against the floor as he shifted. “You’re way more interestin’ than whatever the hell’s on that board.”

You hesitated just briefly before picking the chalk back up, your grip tightening slightly. “Logan.”

“Y/N.” He mimicked your tone perfectly, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You turned to glare at him, but it was a mistake—because the second you looked at him, you were trapped. His eyes weren’t just amused; they were sharp, knowing, like he could see right through you. And he could, you realized with an exasperated huff.

“You’re distracting me,” you muttered, looking back at the board.

“Yeah?” Logan pushed off your desk, moving closer until he was standing right behind you. “Guess that makes us even, darlin’.”

Your breath hitched as his voice dropped, the warmth of him settling against your back even though he wasn’t touching you. It would be so easy for him to close the distance, to brush his hand against your waist, to tease you just a little further. But he didn’t. He just stood there, letting the silence stretch, making sure you felt him there.

Your grip on the chalk faltered, a small break appearing in the line of your equation.

Logan chuckled. “You sure you ain’t gettin’ distracted, sweetheart?”

You turned sharply, ready to snap at him, but the second you did, his hand lifted, fingers brushing a stray piece of chalk dust off your cheek. The touch was barely there, but it was enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lingered for just a second longer than necessary before he let it drop.

“That’s better,” he murmured.

You swallowed, blinking up at him. His smirk had softened, something quieter settling in the way he looked at you. That look always got you—it was dangerous. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him. And maybe, in some ways, you were.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, pushing past him to grab your notes.

Logan didn’t stop you, but as you moved, he caught your wrist, his grip gentle but firm. “Hey.”

You hesitated, looking up at him again.

“Dinner later?” His thumb brushed against your wrist, barely there.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Logan’s smirk returned, but it wasn’t cocky—it was satisfied. “Good.”

And then he leaned down, his fingers holding your chin gently as he kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose, and then finally your lips.

His lips pressed against yours, slow and deliberate, and you felt the familiar warmth pool low in your stomach. Logan wasn’t in a rush—he never was when he kissed you. He liked to take his time, to savor, to leave you breathless in a way that made your head spin long after he pulled away. His fingers curled under your chin, keeping you close, his thumb tracing a slow line along your jaw.

His tongue flicked over your bottom lip, a slow, deliberate swipe before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His smirk was lazy, self-satisfied, and entirely too smug.

“Cherry,” he muttered, his voice low, rough.

“You’re obsessed,” you said, trying to sound unimpressed even as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

Logan huffed out a quiet laugh, his hands slipping lower, resting heavy on your hips. “Ain’t my fault you keep wearin’ it.” His thumbs brushed against your sides, slow, absent-minded. “Like you want me to notice.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “It’s just lip gloss, Logan.”

“Sure,” he drawled, clearly unconvinced. “Just lip gloss.” His grip on your hips tightened just a fraction. “You always wear this flavor, or is it just ‘round me?”

You opened your mouth, ready to argue, but the way he was looking at you made your brain short-circuit. His expression wasn’t just teasing anymore—there was something deeper behind his eyes, something unreadable but intense. It sent a shiver down your spine.

He leaned in again, not quite kissing you, just letting his lips hover near yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath. “Go on,” he murmured, voice dropping even lower. “Tell me it ain’t for me.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse hammering in your throat. You weren’t sure what was more frustrating—the way he always managed to fluster you so easily, or the fact that he knew exactly what he was doing.

“I—” You hesitated, and Logan caught it immediately. His smirk widened, and you wanted to wipe it off his face, but your brain was too fogged up with the scent of him, the way his hands were resting so firmly on your hips, like he had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

“Thought so,” he muttered, finally pressing his lips to yours again.

This kiss was slower, more deliberate, his mouth moving against yours like he had all the time in the world. His fingers curled slightly, gripping the fabric of your sweater as he pulled you in closer. You felt the scrape of his stubble against your skin, the way he tilted his head just right, deepening it just enough to make you forget that you were still standing in the middle of your classroom.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, gripping onto his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright. Logan, of course, looked perfectly fine, his smirk still in place, though his breathing was a little heavier than before.

“Now, what were you sayin’ about this bein’ ‘just lip gloss’?”

You groaned, shoving lightly at his chest. “Logan.”

He caught your wrist before you could push him away completely, pressing a quick kiss to the inside of it before finally letting you go. “Alright, alright,” he said, still grinning. “I’ll stop—” He paused, then added, “—for now.”

You exhaled sharply, stepping back to put some space between you. “You’re impossible.”

Logan just chuckled, watching you with that same damn amused expression, like he was enjoying every second of this. And the worst part? He absolutely was.

You turned away quickly, trying to regain your composure, but you could still feel the heat of his hands on your skin, the ghost of his lips on yours.

“You still good for dinner later?” he asked, casually like he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes making you forget how to think.

You cleared your throat, adjusting your glasses as you grabbed your notes. “Yeah,” you muttered. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.” His voice was warm, satisfied. “See you then, sweetheart.”

And with that, he strolled out of the room like nothing had happened, leaving you standing there, lips tingling, heart racing, and entirely too aware of the fact that you were already counting down the hours until you saw him again.

---

The mansion was abnormally quiet. Most of the students were out for the weekend—some of the older students were looking after the younger ones—and the team was out doing a simple recon mission.

“One and a half cups of flour,” you muttered, leveling off the measuring cup before dumping it into the mixing bowl. The kitchen was unusually quiet, save for the occasional hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clink of your spoon against the bowl as you stirred.

“You talk to yourself when you bake?” Logan’s voice came from the doorway, rough with amusement.

You glanced up, pushing your glasses higher up your nose. “It helps me focus,” you said, reaching for the sugar. “And keeps me from messing up the measurements.”

Logan stepped inside, hands tucked into his jeans as he leaned against the counter, watching you. “Didn’t think you ever messed up.”

You huffed a small laugh. “Everyone messes up.”

“Not you,” he said, smirking. “Not when it comes to stuff like this.”

You shook your head, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck as you added sugar to the bowl. “Flattery isn’t going to get you cookies any faster.”

Logan just grinned. “Worth a shot.”

He stayed where he was, not offering to help, not interfering, just watching. He always did this—hovering without making it obvious, keeping you in his line of sight like it was second nature. You’d gotten used to it over the past few months, the way he lingered when you were focused on something, content just being there.

His presence was steady, familiar, something you had unconsciously grown comfortable with.

You reached for the blueberries, tossing a handful into the batter before mixing again. “You’re staring.”

Logan shrugged, smirk never fading. “You’re nice to look at.”

Your grip tightened on the spoon. “Logan.”

“What?” He tilted his head, completely unbothered. “I’m just statin’ facts, sweetheart. ‘Specially when you’re wearin’ this.” Logan tugged on the open placket of his flannel, the fabric loose over your frame.

You huffed, turning back to the mixing bowl. “It was just sitting on the chair. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Logan’s fingers skimmed the hem, playing with the edge. “Didn’t say I minded.” His voice dipped lower, rougher. “Just sayin’ it looks real good on you.”

Your hands faltered slightly as you stirred the batter, but you kept your focus on the task at hand. “You’re just trying to distract me so I mess up these cookies.”

“Me?” He smirked, shifting closer, one hip against the counter now. “I’d never do such a thing.”

You shot him a pointed look. “You do it all the time.”

Logan let out a low chuckle, reaching over to steal a blueberry from the container beside you. “Alright, maybe I do. But it ain’t my fault you’re easy to rile up.”

You swatted at his hand before he could grab another berry. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah?” He popped the blueberry into his mouth, chewing slowly. “And yet, here you are, wearin’ my shirt, makin’ me cookies.”

“I’m not making you cookies,” you said, stirring the batter. “These are the blueberries from Ororo’s garden. She wanted me to make cookies with them.”

Logan made a low sound in the back of his throat, arms still folded as he leaned against the counter. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You scooped another handful of blueberries into the bowl, mixing them in. “So, if you want cookies, you’ll have to take it up with her.”

He smirked. “Think she’d let me have one?”

“Maybe.” You flicked your gaze toward him, pretending to consider it. “If you ask nicely.”

Logan snorted, pushing off the counter to move closer. “You ever known me to ask nicely for anything?”

You gave him a look, reaching for the baking sheet. “Exactly.”

His smirk widened. “So that means I gotta find another way to get one.”

“You could just wait like everyone else,” you pointed out, dropping spoonfuls of batter onto the tray.

“Could.” Logan took another step forward, his fingers brushing against the hem of the flannel you were still wearing. “Or I could keep distractin’ you till you cave.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart picked up just from him being this close. “You’re not as persuasive as you think.”

He hummed, standing directly behind you now, his chest barely a breath away from your back. “That so?”

You swallowed, focusing intently on the cookies. “Yes.”

Logan leaned in just a little, his breath warm against your ear. “Don’t seem so sure, sweetheart.”

Your hands froze for half a second before you forced yourself to keep scooping batter. “I don’t give in that easily.”

“Mm.” His hands skimmed along the counter on either side of you, not touching, just there. “Good thing I like a challenge.”

You exhaled, willing yourself to focus. “The cookies go in the oven in five minutes. Think you can survive that long?”

Logan chuckled, low and deep. “Guess we’ll see.”

His hands finally lifted from the counter, and he stepped back, giving you space again—but not before trailing a slow fingertip down your arm on the way. It was barely anything, just a whisper of a touch, but it left a warm, lingering imprint on your skin.

You shook your head, ignoring the way your cheeks felt hot. “You’re the worst.”

He smirked. “You keep sayin’ that, and yet—” He tugged lightly on the sleeve of the flannel you were still wearing. “Still wearin’ my shirt. Still makin’ cookies.”

You sighed, finally turning to face him fully. “They’re Ororo’s cookies.”

Logan crossed his arms, amused. “Uh-huh.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “You really think everything I do is for you, don’t you?”

He grinned. “No. But I like knowin’ when it is.”

You groaned, turning back to the tray before he could see how much that stupid smirk was affecting you. “You are impossible.”

Logan just chuckled, watching as you slid the tray into the oven. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes, Logan, you can have a cookie when they’re done.’”

You shut the oven and sighed. “Fine. One.”

His smirk deepened. “Thought you didn’t give in that easily?”

You turned, poking a finger at his chest. “You’re pushing it.”

Logan caught your hand before you could pull it back, his fingers warm as they curled lightly around yours. He didn’t say anything at first, just held your hand, his thumb grazing over your knuckles in slow, easy circles.

Your breath caught, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The playful air between you had shifted, just slightly, into something quieter, something that made your heart beat a little harder.

“Y’know,” Logan murmured, his voice lower now, “I don’t just stick around for the cookies.”

You swallowed, your fingers twitching against his. “I know.”

Logan studied you for a long moment, then, with a small smirk, lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles. The warmth of it sent a shiver up your spine.

Your breath wavered, and Logan didn’t miss it. His smirk softened, his eyes flicking up to yours. “I’ll be patient, sweetheart,” he murmured, squeezing your hand once before letting go.

Your stomach flipped, but before you could even think of a response, he turned and strolled toward the door. “I’ll be back when the cookies are done.”

And then he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your hand still tingling from where his lips had been.

You took a slow, steadying breath, staring at the closed door for a long moment.

You were in trouble.

---

The night was like any other night. The TV was playing in the room, another old movie Logan had put on, while you read a book—1st to Die by James Patterson.

Your head was resting against his shoulder, while one of his hands absentmindedly stroked your thigh. His touch was steady, casual, like it had been for months now, but you could feel something else beneath it tonight. A quiet kind of intent.

Logan wasn’t subtle. Not really. He liked to pretend he was, but you had known him long enough to pick up on his patterns. The way his fingers traced absent shapes against your skin, his thumb brushing along the inside of your knee before trailing back down. Slow. Measured. Like he was waiting for you to notice.

You turned the page in your book, trying to ignore the way your heart had started to beat just a little faster.

“Y’like that one?” Logan’s voice was quiet, rough in the way it always was. His thumb dragged up again, stopping just beneath the hem of your shorts.

You nodded. “Yeah. It’s good.”

Logan hummed, shifting slightly so he could glance down at you. “Ain’t my usual, but I might give it a shot.”

Your lips twitched. “You barely read anything that isn’t a newspaper.”

Logan smirked. “Fair.” His fingers brushed higher this time, not quite pushing but not retreating either. “But if you like it, I figure it’s worth a look.”

You swallowed, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but they were blurring now, replaced by the warmth of his palm against your thigh, the way his hand lingered, waiting.

After a long moment, you set the book down on your lap and turned slightly, looking up at him. Logan watched you, something unreadable flickering behind his gaze.

His other hand lifted, fingers ghosting along your jaw before his thumb traced over your bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Your breath caught. He didn’t move closer, didn’t push. He just waited.

It had always been this way with him. The teasing, the lingering touches, the quiet intensity that made your pulse stutter. He never rushed. He was never impatient with you.

But he wanted you to be the one to move first.

You hesitated only for a moment before tilting your chin up, closing the space between you.

The second your lips met his, Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening on your thigh. He kissed you slow at first, steady, like he had all the time in the world. But when he started to pull back, you chased him, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to keep him close.

That was all it took.

Logan made a quiet sound in the back of his throat before he kissed you deeper, his hand sliding to the small of your back as he shifted, guiding you gently until you were beneath him, your back pressed against the mattress.

He hovered there for a moment, his weight braced on his forearms as he studied you, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“You sure?” Logan’s voice was quieter now, rougher.

You nodded, your fingers sliding up into his hair. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled slowly, something easing in his expression before he dipped his head again, kissing you softer this time.

He grabbed your book and placed it on the bedside table without looking, without even breaking the kiss. His lips were slow, deliberate, savoring the way you yielded beneath him, the way your fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.

His hand slid lower, over the soft fabric of his flannel that still draped over your frame, fingertips tracing the hem where it met your thigh. He pulled back just enough to look at you, smirking at the dazed look in your eyes. “Y’know,” he murmured, his fingers slipping under the fabric, brushing against your bare skin, “I like seein’ you in my clothes.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing. “You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Yeah?” Logan tilted his head, his smirk deepening as his fingers trailed higher. “Think I might’ve understated it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the effect was ruined when he leaned in again, his mouth brushing along your jaw, then lower, dragging slow kisses down the column of your throat. His hands moved with him, one slipping around to the small of your back, the other pushing the flannel further up your thighs.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging lightly. Logan hummed against your skin, then leaned back just enough to grab the collar of his tee, yanking it over his head in one smooth motion. The sight of him—bare-chested, golden skin catching the low light—made your breath hitch.

Logan chuckled, catching the way your gaze drifted over him. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

You huffed, feigning exasperation, but your fingers betrayed you as they splayed over his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle. “You’re cocky.”

His smirk widened. “Damn right.” He ducked down again, capturing your lips in another slow kiss, his body settling closer against yours. The warmth of him seeped into your skin, his weight grounding you as his hands continued their exploration, one drifting beneath the fabric of your—his—flannel, the other cupping the back of your neck.

His lips left yours only to find the sensitive skin beneath your ear, teeth scraping lightly before he soothed it with his tongue. “M’gonna take my time with you,” he murmured, his voice rough, his fingers skimming beneath the hem of your sleep shorts. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

Your breath hitched at that, and despite the heat pooling in your stomach, you still managed to murmur, “so cocky.”

Logan let out a quiet chuckle, nipping at your jaw before pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “That a complaint?”

You held his gaze for a long moment, then shook your head. “No.”

His smirk softened slightly, something warmer flickering in his eyes. He kissed you again, slower this time, more measured, before his hands resumed their path downward. The flannel slid off your shoulders, and Logan eased it down your arms, letting it pool around you before shifting his focus to your shorts.

His fingers traced the waistband, giving you the opportunity to stop him, to hesitate—but you didn’t. Instead, you lifted your hips just enough for him to slip them down, the fabric dragging along your legs before being tossed aside.

His hands traced back up, following the path they’d just taken, but this time there was nothing between you. His palms splayed over your thighs, fingers pressing in just enough to make you squirm before they trailed inward, brushing against the heat of you.

Logan exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against yours for a brief moment before he kissed you again, deeper this time. One hand stayed anchored against your hip while the other moved between your thighs, fingers teasing, exploring, until they found the slick warmth waiting for him.

His lips curved against yours. “So fuckin’ soft,” he murmured, tracing slow circles that made you gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “And already so wet for me.”

Your breath stuttered, nails digging into his skin as his fingers worked you open, slow and careful, coaxing soft sounds from your lips that only made his own breath turn heavier.

“You always this sweet for me, darlin’?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “Or is this just ‘cause you’ve been waitin’ on me?”

Logan’s fingers curled just right inside you, pressing against that spot that made your breath stutter, your thighs twitching where they pressed against his hips. His smirk was small but unmistakable, lips brushing against your cheek as his fingers worked you open, slow and deliberate.

“You’re real sensitive, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice rough with something darker, something restrained. His thumb dragged lazy circles over your clit, and you whimpered, your grip on his shoulders tightening. He chuckled, breath warm against your skin. “Damn shame I didn’t do this sooner.”

You couldn’t answer—not with the way he was touching you, not with the heat pooling in your stomach, threatening to snap. Your head tipped back against the pillows, glasses askew, lips parted around soft, breathy sounds that you couldn’t hold back. Logan didn’t stop them. If anything, he worked for them, coaxing every little gasp from your lips like he had all the time in the world.

“That’s it,” he muttered, pressing slow kisses down your jaw, along the line of your throat. His fingers pumped into you steadily, stretching, teasing, dragging that pleasure higher. “Y’been waitin’ on this, haven’t you?”

“Logan—”

His thumb pressed a little firmer against your clit, and your words broke into a moan, your back arching into him. Logan groaned, deep and low, his mouth finding the hollow of your throat as he kept his rhythm.

“Christ, you sound good,” he muttered. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building, sharp and electric, curling tight in your stomach. Logan felt it too—the way your thighs trembled, the way your breath hitched between each desperate sound.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, fingers relentless. “Let me feel it.”

And you did—your body tensed, your breath breaking into a soft, gasping cry as you came apart beneath him. Logan cursed softly, watching you unravel, his fingers slowing just enough to help you ride it out.

You were still trembling when he pulled his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips. He met your gaze as he licked them clean, eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “You taste good.”

Your stomach flipped, heat rising to your cheeks, but Logan was already shifting, already pressing slow, deep kisses against your lips. He took his time, letting you catch your breath, hands steady as they stroked over your hips, your thighs, your waist.

“Still doin’ alright?” he murmured.

You nodded, breathless, fingers curling against his chest. “Yeah.”

Logan smirked, but there was something softer in it, something warmer. “Good.”

His hand skimmed down your side, slow and deliberate, rough fingertips brushing over the curve of your hip. He was watching you too closely, the way he always did when he wanted to be sure you were with him, when he needed to see it in your eyes.

You curled your fingers into his hair and pulled him back down to you, mouth meeting his in a kiss that was less careful this time. You weren’t thinking about shyness, about hesitation—just the heat of his skin, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, the way his hands knew exactly where to touch.

Logan groaned low against your lips, his body settling fully against yours now, bare skin to bare skin, except for the one piece of clothing left between you. His jeans were rough where they brushed against your thighs, the contrast making you shiver as his hands moved—one sliding beneath you to brace your back, the other gripping your hip, his fingers flexing like he was grounding himself in the feel of you.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, the taste of you, like he wasn’t sure if this was real or if you’d slip through his fingers again.

You felt it in the way he touched you, in the way he lingered, his lips dragging from your mouth down to your jaw, the column of your throat. His breath was hot against your skin, each exhale rougher than the last.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” Logan murmured against your pulse, his voice low, rasping.

You swallowed hard, nodding before remembering he’d want more than that. “Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m with you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers tightened against your hip like he was restraining himself, like he had to be careful, because this was you, and even though he’d wanted this for so fucking long, he wouldn’t rush it.

Wouldn’t rush you.

His nose brushed against your cheek as he exhaled, long and slow, before kissing you again—slower this time, deliberate.

His hands started moving again, dragging over the softness of your waist, down to your thighs, his touch firm but steady, mapping you out, savoring. When he reached the inside of your knee, he eased it up, guiding your leg around his waist. The shift pressed you flush against him, and Logan let out a sharp breath through his nose, his forehead resting against yours for a moment like he needed to gather himself.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice nearly a growl. His hands flexed against you, one sliding down to your ass, gripping, shifting you just enough that the hard press of him against your core made you whimper.

Logan groaned at the sound, his head dipping, lips grazing your collarbone. “You don’t even know what that does to me,” he murmured, his mouth trailing lower.

You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against his shoulders. “I might have an idea.”

That pulled a rough chuckle from him, but it faded when you moved—when you shifted against him, pressing just enough to draw a hiss from his lips.

His restraint was slipping.

He was already worked up, and you could feel it, the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his breathing had gone ragged. He’d been patient, slow, but the way he was gripping you now, the way his hands were starting to tremble against your skin—he was close to losing that patience.

And you wanted him to.

You reached between you, fingers brushing along his stomach, the waistband of his jeans. Logan’s breath hitched, his hips twitching forward before he caught himself, gripping your wrist before you could go further.

“Darlin’.” His voice was tight, strained. “You don’t gotta—”

“I know,” you murmured, looking up at him. Your free hand brushed against his jaw, grounding him. “I want to.”

Logan’s grip on your wrist loosened at that, his lips parting, something flickering behind his eyes that looked a hell of a lot like reverence.

Then he let go.

You made quick work of his belt, the button, the zipper—your hands were steady, but your heart was racing. Logan watched you, his breath shallow, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as you shoved the last barrier down over his hips.

His skin was hot against yours, his body solid, strong, and when he settled against you again, when there was nothing between you anymore, you let out a sharp, shaking breath at the feeling of him, the sheer heat and weight of him pressing against you.

Logan groaned, his forehead pressing against yours. “Christ.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, legs tightening around his waist. “Logan—”

“I got you,” he murmured. His voice was softer now, and the hand on your hip slid lower. You made a soft, pleading sound, shifting beneath him, your fingers flexing against his skin. Logan exhaled sharply, his hand leaving you to brace himself above you again. His eyes met yours. “You sure?”

You nodded, but Logan didn’t move. He needed to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you murmured, your voice quiet but sure. “I’m sure.”

Something in his expression eased, and then—

He pushed in, slow, steady, careful.

Your breath caught. Logan groaned, low and rough, his head tipping forward, his body shuddering as he fought to keep himself controlled.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he muttered, his voice thick, strained. His hands flexed against you, his breath ragged against your skin as he pushed in deeper, filling you completely.

You gasped, gripping his arms, your body stretching to take him, adjusting around him. Logan cursed softly, his forehead pressing to your shoulder, his hands shaking against you.

“Tell me if—” His voice was almost wrecked. “If I need to slow down, I will.”

You shook your head, breathless. “You’re perfect.”

Logan let out a quiet, shuddering exhale. “Fuck.”

His hips pulled back, then pressed forward again, slow, measured. His restraint was there, barely, his muscles taut beneath your hands, his movements careful but not hesitant.

You moaned softly, your body arching into him, and Logan swore under his breath, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Goddamn,” he muttered. “You feel like you were made for me.”

You trembled beneath him, overwhelmed by the heat, the weight, the way he filled every part of you so completely. Logan was holding himself together by a thread, his hands flexing against your hips like he was steadying himself, grounding himself in the feel of you. His breath was heavy against your skin, rough and uneven, his forehead pressing against yours as he stilled inside you, letting you adjust.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice wrecked. “You—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Fuck.”

Your fingers curled against the broad planes of his back, nails digging into firm muscle as you took a shaky breath. He was big—not just in size, but in presence, in weight, in the sheer way he surrounded you, body and soul. You weren’t sure you’d ever felt this full before. It was almost too much. Almost.

But Logan wasn’t rushing.

He didn’t move, didn’t push. He just stayed there, his body taut with restraint, his jaw tight. His thumb traced absentminded circles on your hip, a small, grounding motion against the intensity of everything else.

“You okay?” His voice was rough, thick with the effort of holding himself back.

You swallowed, nodding, but when you saw the way he was watching you—his eyes dark, searching—you knew that wasn’t enough. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m okay.”

Logan’s throat bobbed as he exhaled slowly, like he needed to hear it, needed the confirmation.

Still, he didn’t move right away. He stayed just like that, warm and solid above you, one hand slipping up to cradle the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

It was gentler than you’d expected. You weren’t sure why—you knew Logan was careful with you, always. He was rough around the edges, sure, but with you, he never let himself be careless. Even now, even with his body wound tight as a wire, he held himself back, waiting for you to let him know it was okay.

You exhaled softly, tilting your head just enough to brush your lips against his in a slow, lingering kiss. Logan groaned low in his throat, the hand on your hip tightening fractionally, but he didn’t deepen it—he let you set the pace.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his mouth. “You can move.”

Logan’s whole body tensed at that, his breath hitching. “Fuck,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours again like he was collecting himself. Then, after a long moment—

He pulled back, just a little, before pushing forward again, slow and steady.

The stretch had you gasping, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. Logan gritted his teeth, cursing under his breath as he did it again, his pace careful, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you.

“You’re so goddamn tight,” he muttered, voice rough as gravel. His lips brushed your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

Heat curled in your stomach at the way he said it—like he couldn’t believe this was real, like he couldn’t believe he had you beneath him, wrapped around him like this.

Your thighs squeezed around his waist instinctively, and Logan groaned, his hands gripping you tighter.

“Darlin’,” he rasped, his voice strained. “You keep doin’ that, I ain’t gonna last.”

You swallowed hard, your head tipping back against the pillow. “Sorry,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Logan let out a rough chuckle, his lips brushing the side of your neck. “Ain’t complainin’.”

He thrust again, just a little harder this time, and you let out a soft, broken sound, your back arching. Logan groaned, his teeth scraping along your jaw before he kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, drugging rhythm that matched the roll of his hips.

Your hands slid up his back, over the warm expanse of skin, tracing the dips and ridges of old scars. Logan shuddered beneath your touch, his muscles flexing under your fingers.

His mouth left yours only to drag lower, down the line of your throat, over the curve of your shoulder. “Goddamn,” he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with want. “I’ve wanted this—” He cut himself off with a groan, his fingers flexing against your waist. “You don’t even know how long.”

You whimpered softly, tightening your legs around him. “Then don’t hold back.”

Logan’s head snapped up at that, his breath catching. His eyes locked onto yours, something dark and wanting flashing behind them.

For a second, you thought he might tease you, draw it out longer—but something in your voice must have struck him, because Logan let out a rough breath and gave you exactly what you asked for.

He started moving in earnest now, his rhythm still measured but deeper, more insistent, dragging pleasure from you with every roll of his hips. Your breath hitched, your nails pressing into his shoulders as heat coiled in your stomach, sharp and electric.

You gasped as he thrust again, your body tightening around him. “Logan—”

He groaned at the way you said his name, his fingers digging into your hips. His pace faltered for a second, like he was struggling to keep himself controlled, like he was on the edge of losing himself completely.

And maybe you wanted him to.

Your hands slid up to cup his face, guiding him back down into another kiss, one that was messier now, more desperate. Logan growled against your lips, his movements turning just a little rougher, just a little faster, and you moaned into his mouth, your body arching up to meet him.

You could feel yourself getting close, the pleasure building, tightening, making your breath come faster. Logan felt it too—the way your body trembled, the way your breath caught.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice wrecked, his hips rolling into yours just right. “Let me feel you.”

The coil snapped.

You cried out, your body shuddering as you came around him, the pleasure cresting over you in sharp, dizzying waves. Logan cursed, his hands gripping you tight as he followed, his rhythm stuttering before he buried himself deep, groaning low against your throat as he let go.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, the quiet hum of the TV still playing in the background. Logan stayed there, his forehead against yours, his hands still steady on your hips, like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

Then, slowly, he shifted, pulling you into his chest as he rolled onto his side, keeping you close, keeping you warm. His breath was still heavy, but his hands were gentle as they traced over your back, his lips pressing softly against your temple.

“You alright?” he murmured, voice still rough around the edges.

You nodded against his chest, your fingers curling into his skin. “Yeah.”

Logan exhaled slowly, something easing in his expression. “You stayin’ here tonight?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I think that’s a given.”

Logan smirked against your hair. “Good.”

---

Bonus Scene

He couldn’t help himself—you looked cute today. To others, it was just a regular outfit, slacks and a sweater, but the difference was those damn heels.

Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching as you walked down the hall, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. The soft click of your heels against the floor was downright distracting, and the way they made you stand just a little taller—closer to him—wasn’t helping, either.

You adjusted your glasses, scanning over the notes in your hand as you made your way toward the classroom. Logan smirked to himself, shaking his head. Of course, you were completely oblivious.

He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside you. “Fancy shoes, sweetheart.”

You glanced up at him, brow furrowing slightly before realization dawned. “Oh. Yeah.” You adjusted your grip on the papers, glancing down at them. “I don’t wear them often, but I figured I should—”

“Keep ‘em.” Logan cut you off before you could finish whatever practical reason you were about to give.

You blinked up at him. “What?”

His smirk deepened, eyes dropping briefly to your heels before dragging back up. “I like ‘em.”

Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but instead, you quickly looked back at your papers, clearing your throat. “They’re just shoes, Logan.”

“Uh-huh.” Logan’s voice was amused, his smirk never fading.

He could see it—the way you fidgeted slightly, the way your grip tightened just a little on the papers. You were flustered, and it was adorable.

You reached your classroom, your free hand on the doorknob, but before you could step inside, Logan’s hand landed on your hip, pulling you back just enough that you felt the warmth of him behind you. He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“They make your legs look real nice, too,” he murmured.

You inhaled sharply, your back straightening. “Logan—”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You turned your head just slightly, your cheek barely grazing his. You opened your mouth to say something—probably a scolding, judging by the look in your eyes—but Logan just grinned, giving your hip a final squeeze before stepping back.

“See you later, darlin’.”

And with that, he walked off, leaving you standing there, flustered and gripping the doorknob like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Yeah. He was definitely keeping those heels around.

---

You didn’t wear them again for a while—you usually would only consider wearing them on days when you didn’t have to be in the lab.

So, a few weeks later they were on again. The day went on normally, no interruptions from Logan, at least not any more than usual, and by the end of the workday you were glad to finally take them off.

You had already taken off your cardigan, leaving you in a simple t-shirt, and now you were unstrapping your heels.

The second heel slid off your foot with a relieved sigh. You flexed your toes against the carpet, rolling your ankles slightly. You hadn't even heard Logan come in—not until his voice rumbled from the doorway.

“Lemme help, sweetheart.”

Your head snapped up, caught halfway through massaging the arch of your foot. Logan was already moving toward you, dark eyes locked onto yours with that unreadable expression, something steady and sure. The kind that made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to—”

He crouched down in front of you before you could finish, already reaching for your legs. Large hands wrapped around your calves, rough fingers kneading into muscle as he lifted one foot, pressing his thumb into the soft ache just beneath your toes.

A quiet breath left you, head tipping slightly back at the relief of it. He chuckled, low and knowing.

“Yeah, figured they’d be sore. Been watchin’ you walk around in ‘em all day.” His fingers trailed down, slow and deliberate, past your ankle and along your shin, stopping just above your knee. He looked up then, and something about the way he did it—half-lidded, knowing—made heat bloom low in your stomach.

His hands didn’t move away. Not when he squeezed gently, dragging his palms down the length of your legs again, not even when his fingers hooked into the waistband of your slacks.

Your breath caught. “Logan…”

He hummed, a wordless sound of acknowledgment, but he didn’t stop. He unbuttoned them slowly, eyes flicking up to yours. “Just helpin’ you get comfortable, darlin’.”

You should’ve expected it—Logan wasn’t the type to stop at just your shoes. But still, the sensation of your slacks being eased down, the brush of cool air against your thighs as he worked them off, sent a shiver up your spine.

And then, just as you were about to stand, assuming this was about changing into something else, Logan’s hands were on your hips, pushing you back down.

Your brows furrowed. “I thought—”

But Logan was already reaching for the heels again. He slid them back onto your feet, slow, deliberate. His fingers lingered as he adjusted the straps, the rough scrape of his calloused skin against your ankle making your pulse stutter.

Your lips parted, about to ask what he was doing—but before you could, he pressed a firm hand to your thigh, spreading you open just enough, and then he was moving lower, kneeling between your legs.

The realization hit all at once.

“Logan—”

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling you just that much closer to the edge of the bed. He exhaled sharply, and you could feel it—hot, teasing, right against the thin cotton of your underwear. His nose brushed against the fabric, and the sound that left him was almost a growl.

“Been thinkin’ about this all damn day,” he muttered. One of his hands slid up, fingers pressing into the meat of your hip, while the other smoothed down to hook around the back of your knee.

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets. “You—” Your voice hitched when his mouth brushed against you again, this time with intent. “You could’ve just said so.”

He chuckled against you, lips dragging over the fabric, teasing. “Nah,” he murmured. “Better like this.”

His tongue traced along the dampening fabric, slow and unhurried, dragging just enough to make you squirm. The first real sound of pleasure slipped from your lips before you could swallow it down. He made a noise of approval, pressing his mouth more firmly against you.

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, breath coming faster. “Logan…”

Logan’s breath was hot against you, teasing, his mouth hovering right where you needed him but refusing to give in just yet. His hands stayed firm on your thighs, thumbs pressing circles into your skin, like he had all the time in the world.

Your fingers curled tighter into the sheets, your breath coming in uneven, shallow little bursts. "Logan—"

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His voice was deep, roughened by amusement, like he already knew what you wanted but wanted to hear you say it anyway.

Your nails dug into the fabric beneath you, and Logan chuckled—low, pleased. He pressed a kiss over your underwear, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger before dragging his tongue over the fabric. The heat of his mouth seared through, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

He groaned, hands flexing against your thighs. "Knew you'd be sensitive."

A flush burned hot up your neck, your head tipping back as his fingers traced slow, teasing lines up and down your legs, just enough pressure to keep you on edge but not enough to satisfy. He slid his hands up, past your knees, before hooking his arms beneath your thighs, pulling them up, over his shoulders.

Your breath caught as your calves rested against his broad back, the heels he had insisted you keep on grazing against his muscles. His grip tightened, locking you into place, and something about the sheer strength of him—the way he held you like this, open, vulnerable, completely at his mercy—made your stomach clench.

He pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss against your thigh, then another, working his way back toward the soaked fabric between your legs. His tongue flicked out again, just enough pressure to make you squirm, before he pulled back with a smirk.

"Logan," you breathed, frustration seeping into your tone.

His eyes flicked up, dark and hungry. "What, darlin'?"

"You—" Your fingers curled into the sheets again, your voice catching as he flattened his tongue against you, pressing hard enough that you felt every inch of him through the fabric. Your back arched instinctively, a soft, broken sound slipping from your lips.

That noise seemed to snap something in him.

Logan growled, deep and guttural, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your underwear. In one slow, deliberate motion, he dragged them down, letting them catch around your knees before finally tugging them free. His hands didn’t waste any time, gripping the backs of your thighs again, pulling you even closer.

"That's better," he muttered, almost to himself.

And then his mouth was on you, hot and relentless.

A gasp tore from you, your thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut, but his grip held you open. His tongue worked slow at first, dragging long, torturous strokes through your folds, before circling right where you needed him most.

Your breath stuttered. "Oh—"

Logan groaned, the sound vibrating through you. "That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured against you. "Let me hear you."

You bit your lip, trying to keep some of the sounds at bay, but he didn’t like that. His hands squeezed your thighs in warning before his mouth sealed around your clit, sucking just enough to make your entire body jolt.

A cry ripped from your throat.

"Atta girl," he praised, the words sending a fresh wave of heat down your spine. His grip adjusted, hands sliding lower, past your hips, thumbs pressing into the crease where your thighs met your body. Holding you still. Keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

His tongue was merciless, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes and firm, insistent pressure that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. Every flick, every graze of his teeth, sent electricity sparking up your spine.

You didn’t even realize you were babbling his name until he groaned in response, pressing his mouth harder against you. The pressure built fast, white-hot and overwhelming, your whole body tightening as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap.

"Logan, I—" Your voice cracked, desperate, hands flying to grip his hair, tugging without thinking.

That was all it took.

Logan growled against you, and then his tongue was working you over with ruthless intent, flicking and sucking in a way that sent you crashing over the edge. Your body tensed, your back arching, his name spilling from your lips in broken, breathless gasps as pleasure wracked through you.

He didn’t stop.

Your thighs trembled against him, your whole body oversensitive, but Logan didn’t let up. His grip stayed firm, his tongue still dragging through your folds, teasing, relentless.

A whimper slipped from you, half-plea, half-helpless moan.

“Mmm, Logan?”

Your voice trembled—soft, breathless, still caught in the aftershocks of your first climax, and Logan felt it. The way your thighs quivered against his shoulders, your calves resting against his back, those damn heels grazing along the muscles of his spine. He exhaled sharply through his nose, lips still pressed to the slick heat between your legs.

“What, sweetheart?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating against you.

Your breath hitched. The heat of Logan’s mouth lingered against you, his tongue flicking one last, teasing time before he dragged his lips back up to press against the soft skin of your inner thigh. You twitched beneath him, a small tremor still rippling through your muscles, breath unsteady, fingers weakly curled into the sheets.

“I thought you were—”

Your voice caught as his teeth scraped lightly over your thigh, right where it was still damp from his mouth. He hummed, low and thoughtful, and didn’t move away. If anything, he settled in deeper, his broad hands tightening around your thighs, thumbs smoothing up toward the curve of your hips.

“Done?” His voice was all rough amusement, muffled against your skin.

A shaky exhale left you.

His lips curved. “Oh, sweetheart.” A kiss, slow and open-mouthed, right at the crease of your thigh. “You really think I’m done with you?”

Your breath stuttered. He hadn’t moved back—hadn’t given you any space to recover. He was still right there, his mouth still hovering over sensitive skin, his breath warm, teasing, pressing against you like a promise.

You swallowed, fingers flexing against the sheets. “I—”

He turned his head slightly, his nose brushing right where you were still slick, still sensitive. Your whole body jerked at the touch, an involuntary sound breaking in your throat.

Logan groaned. “That’s what I thought.”

And then his hands were on your hips again, sliding up your sides, holding you steady as he buried his mouth back between your thighs.

A gasp ripped from you, your body jolting at the sheer intensity of it. You’d barely come down from the first wave of pleasure, your skin still too sensitive, too raw—but Logan didn’t care. He was relentless, tongue pressing deep, slow, deliberate, dragging up before circling back around your clit.

You whimpered, your hands flying back to his hair, twisting in the thick strands.

He groaned again at the pull, the vibration of it sending another sharp, overwhelming pulse through you.

“Fuck, you taste good,” he muttered against you, voice thick, wrecked. “Could do this all night.”

Your legs trembled. You didn’t doubt him.

He worked you open with his tongue, slow and indulgent, taking his time, like he had nowhere else to be, no other priority but this—this, and the way you came apart in his hands. He pulled you closer, dragging your thighs up higher over his shoulders, making sure you couldn’t squirm away.

The position shifted something, the heels on your feet sliding slightly against his back, the small sharp drag of them making him grunt.

His tongue flicked over you again, lazy, slow, savoring. He had you completely at his mercy, held tight in his grip, and he knew it.

“Logan,” you gasped, voice breaking.

He smirked against you. “That’s it, darlin’.” His tongue circled once, twice, before he sealed his lips around you again, sucking just right.

The pleasure built fast, unbearable, twisting in your stomach like a live wire sparking beneath your skin. Your breath hitched, your thighs shaking against him, the grip you had in his hair tightening as you tried to ground yourself.

Logan groaned, deep and approving, and then he doubled down. His mouth was insatiable, his tongue working you open, pushing you right to the edge without hesitation.

You felt it hit—sharp and sudden, your whole body tensing as your second orgasm crashed through you.

A sob caught in your throat. Logan didn’t stop.

He rode you through it, drinking in every sound, every twitch of your hips, every broken whimper that left you as you shattered against his mouth. He held you steady, his tongue still teasing, slow, languid, like he was tasting you, savoring the way you trembled for him.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he moved up, dragging his lips along your stomach, pressing slow, hot kisses as he went.

“Think you can give me one more, sweetheart?” he murmured against your skin.

Your breath was still coming fast, your body still tingling with aftershocks. “I—”

"Yeah, darlin’," Logan rasped against your thigh, the vibration of his voice sending another tremor through your oversensitive body. He wasn’t asking—just waiting. Waiting for you to tell him no, to push at his shoulders, to make some attempt at stopping him.

You didn’t.

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled through his chest, his stubble dragging against the tender skin of your inner thigh as he pressed another open-mouthed kiss there. His hands stayed firm at your hips, thumbs smoothing slow, absent circles against your flushed skin.

"You got one more in you," he muttered. Not a question. A promise.

Your fingers curled weakly into the sheets, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. "Logan, I—I don’t think—"

"You can." His voice was thick, low, possessive. His hands flexed against you, grounding, holding you still like he could feel the way your legs wanted to clamp shut, your body already overwhelmed. "I got you."

And then his mouth was on you again.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back arching as the wet heat of his tongue pressed against your still-sensitive clit. It was too much—the pleasure too sharp, too immediate, your nerves already frayed and exposed from the last two times.

Your hand flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the thick strands, pulling without thinking. Logan groaned against you, the sound vibrating through every inch of your body, his grip tightening in response.

"Fuck," he breathed, pulling back just enough to murmur against your skin. "You’re still so fuckin’ sensitive, huh?" He didn’t wait for an answer. Just grinned against you before dragging his tongue through your folds again, slow, deliberate, like he was savoring every reaction, every helpless little sound that slipped from your lips.

Your breath hitched, thighs trembling against his broad shoulders. "I—Logan, I don’t—"

"Shhh, sweetheart." His voice was rough, but his touch was steady, unwavering. His hands slid up your sides, fingers splaying over your ribs, grounding you. "Just let me take care of you."

Your stomach clenched, your body torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. You were too sensitive, too overwhelmed—but Logan wasn’t relenting. He was dragging you over the edge whether you were ready or not.

His tongue pressed deeper, slow and indulgent, before curling up just right, and your body jolted, a sharp cry breaking from your throat. Logan growled at the reaction, his hands gripping your hips tighter as he kept you pinned beneath him.

"You feel that?" he muttered against you, the heat of his breath making you shudder. "How fuckin’ good you taste?" His tongue flicked against you again, making your whole body jerk. "Bet you don’t even know what you do to me."

You moaned, the sound half-frustrated, half-helpless. Your thighs clenched around his head, but Logan only groaned, pressing himself deeper against you, like he wanted to drown in the feeling of you coming apart beneath him.

Your grip in his hair tightened, pulling hard enough to sting. "L-Logan—"

"That’s it," he growled. "Say my name, sweetheart."

You did. Over and over, broken and breathless, as his mouth worked you open, relentless and unforgiving. His tongue was precise, knowing, dragging slow and then fast, flicking before sucking, giving you just enough to send another sharp pulse of pleasure tearing through you.

The coil in your stomach wound tight—too tight, too fast.

You felt it coming, and so did he.

"Give it to me," Logan muttered against you, his voice almost desperate. "Come on, darlin’."

And then he sucked—hard.

White-hot pleasure ripped through you.

Your whole body tensed, your back arching, your breath catching in a sharp, broken cry. The orgasm slammed into you with dizzying force, a wave so intense it nearly knocked the air from your lungs. Your thighs clamped around his head, your fingers fisting in his hair, your entire body trembling against him.

Logan groaned, dragging his tongue through the mess he’d made, working you through every last tremor, every aftershock, until you were nothing but a shivering, spent mess beneath him.

Only then did he slow, his movements easing from hungry and desperate to slow and indulgent, like he was committing the taste of you to memory.

Your breath came in short, uneven gasps, your body completely limp against the mattress. Logan finally pulled back, pressing one last open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh before lifting his head.

His lips were slick, his pupils blown wide, his expression dark with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Told you," he murmured.

You could barely manage to lift your head, still dazed, your limbs uncooperative. "Told me what?" you managed, voice hoarse.

His smirk deepened, and he reached up, gripping your ankle. His thumb brushed over the strap of your heel, gaze flicking to where it still sat, perfectly in place on your foot.

"Told you I liked these."

Your cheeks burned, the heat rushing back to your face all at once.

Logan chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. He pushed himself up, his body unfolding as he moved over you, one arm bracing beside your head, his other hand gripping your hip. He was still fully dressed, still perfectly in control, while you lay there completely undone beneath him.

You swallowed hard, your pulse still racing. "You’re—"

A smirk tugged at his lips. "Yeah?"

You huffed, turning your face away, but he caught your chin, gently tilting your gaze back to him.

"You okay?" His voice softened, rough edges smoothing just enough to make your heart squeeze.

You nodded, still catching your breath. Logan’s thumb traced along your jaw, his gaze lingering on your face for a long moment before he finally leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin.

You felt the heat of his breath, the scrape of his stubble, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The weight of him was solid, grounding, his presence steady and familiar.

Finally, Logan exhaled through his nose, shifting slightly, his hands settling around your waist. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder, then muttered, “Should get you cleaned up, huh?”

You made a small noise in response, still too boneless to move.

Logan smirked. "Yeah, figured."

With an ease that shouldn’t have been possible, he lifted you up, settling you against his chest. His hands skimmed down your legs, his fingers lingering at the straps of your heels before slowly undoing them, slipping them off one at a time.

You let out a quiet sigh as the last one slid from your foot, the ache in your calves finally easing. Logan chuckled, pressing a kiss against your temple.

"Don't get too comfortable, sweetheart," he murmured. "Ain't done takin' care of you yet."

And with that, he stood, carrying you effortlessly toward the bathroom.

yeah... i might've gotten a bit carried away

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Catch me when I fall (2)

THIS IS DIVIDED INTO 2 PARTS CAUSE TUMBLR HATES ME🫠🫠

~ PART 1

pairing: hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: fluff, angst, smut

wc: 9.4k (30.6 both parts)

synopsis: An artist finds inspiration in a dancer, and the dancer finds hope inside the artist's paintings.

warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, oral(f and m) light bondage & restraints, fingering, spanking, face fucking, creampies

a/n: once again a hyunjin fic that i made too long hskdlc so this is the second part! enjoy🩷 (i still suck at french, and also idk shit about bowling so i skipped through it a little lmao)

~ masterlist

~ divider by @strangergraphics

As promised, you woke up to Hyunjin smiling down at you, propped up on his elbow while he caressed your face.

"Good morning, ma chérie. Did you sleep well?" he asked as you nuzzled into his palm like a kitten.

"Mhm. Did you?"

"Next to you, of course I did." he leaned down to kiss your forehead and your face flushed.

"You know, I think we should go out somewhere today, do something fun. You've been cooped up in your house and you need some fresh air in your lungs." he added.

"You're right. Though I wouldn't mind spending the entire day in bed with you." you nuzzled into his neck and Hyunjin snickered.

"Doing what?" he teased, his fingertips ghosting on your waist.

"You know..." you muttered, hiding your face in embarrassment.

"No, I don't. You have to tell me." Hyunjin smirked and you huffed and looked up at him.

"I'm not saying anything." you pouted and he laughed, kissing your pout away.

"Maybe you could show me later." he wiggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe I could." you smirked, carding your fingers through his hair.

"Besides those fun activities, is there something you want to do outside?" Hyunjin asked as he closed his eyes and sighed, basking in your touch.

"Ice skating." you said and he looked at you, chuckling nervously.

"Ice skating? I've never been." he admitted, his cheeks red.

"Really? You seem like a 'try everything at least once person', and ice skating is like a mild normal activity unlike bungee jumping and other stuff you told me you did." you chuckled.

"I guess it is. I just always avoided it for some reason. But it'll be fun to try something new with you." he smiled.

Hyunjin didn't want to leave you alone at all and you still felt a little weak, needing to have him next to you so you could lean on him. So, you spent the day together until it was evening, and you got ready, happy to finally be out and about.

Hyunjin waited for you and when you came out of your room in a cute sweater, looking bundled up and ready for the cold weather, his heart melted. He stood up from the couch, taking large strides towards you as you looked at him with eyes wide. He smirked as he stood closer, hand reaching out towards you as he hooked his finger in the belt loop on your jeans and pulled you into him.

"Precious." he whispered as he started kissing you. You wrapped your arms around him, your heart beating fast as he kissed you so sweetly, making your insides burst in little fireworks. "Let's go."

The two of you first stopped at Hyunjin's house so he could get changed before you made your way to the ice skating rink, both giddy with excitement.

"So, I am going to hold onto the railing." Hyunjin said when the two of you finally stepped, or rather slipped onto the ice. You chuckled at his cute, panicked face as he gripped at the glass railing, looking absolutely lost, his eyes becoming big while he scanned the rink.

"Those people are moving really fast." Hyunjin gulped and you laughed harder.

"Go ahead, laugh at my misery." he pouted dramatically.

"Hyunjin, you will ace this as soon as you let go of your fear. Come on, give me your hand." you reached out towards him and he eyed your hand suspiciously.

"Do you trust me?" you asked softly and he looked into your eyes, his face softening immediately.

"I trust you." he said and took your hand in his.

"We'll go slowly at first." you said, leading him away from the railing.

"Oh god." he slipped a little, grabbing onto your arm with both hands.

"Relax." you tried to calm him down. "Have you ever been on rollerblades?"

"Maybe twice." he grimaced.

"Fine, channel that into your legs. Just glide slowly." you said and he huffed cutely, trying to hold his balance even though he almost slipped a few times.

He looked so adorable, holding your hand in a deathly grip as he sucked his bottom lip in, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He almost seemed like a cute child, angry at the ice for making him slip on it. Slowly, but surely Hyunjin was gliding through the ice rink with you.

"You're doing it!" you giggled.

"I'm doing it!" he giggled too, before it became a full on laugh which proved to be a mistake as Hyunjin shrieked suddenly, losing balance. You reached out for him but it was too late, he had already collided with the icy ground.

"Ouch." he wailed, grabbing at his lower back.

"Oh my god, are you okay?!" you gasped.

"My butt hurts." he pouted at you.

"It'll be fine." you chuckled, helping him up. "Skate it off." you added as he grabbed onto the railing.

"This is not as fun as I thought it would be." he kept pouting as he looked at you.

"If I kiss you, will it be more fun?" you pressed closer to him and he smiled instantly.

"Mhm." he nodded fervently, his little curls bouncing around his face. You giggled as you grabbed the back of his neck and crashed your lips into his.

"Better?" you asked against his lips.

"Hmm. One more?" Hyunjin smirked.

"Sure." you chuckled, kissing him again.

It wasn't only one more but after you had finally parted, Hyunjin was more energized to try again. Pretty soon, the fall was forgotten as he got the hang of it, the two of you skating easily on the ice, the music urging you on. You couldn't stop laughing in joy, your heart swelling at the sight of Hyunjin being so truly happy.

When you finished, Hyunjin was buzzing.

"Oh my god, that was so fun! And my ass is not even hurting that much anymore." he noted and you started laughing.

"I'm glad you had fun. I knew you were going to like it." you said as the two of you started walking.

"Did you have fun?" he asked.

"Of course I did."

"That's the most important thing then. I wanted to see you smile, ma chérie, it's the prettiest thing." he smirked as your hands brushed.

You blushed immediately and he grabbed your hand, gently entwining your fingers.

"Thank you." you said, looking away from him.

"Don't hide from me." Hyunjin said, pulling you into a sweet hug. You looked up at him and the world disappeared like it always did once you got lost in his warm eyes.

"Wanna come to my place?" he whispered.

"Yes."

The two of you got some street food to eat on the way so you don't have to cook or wait for food to be ordered since you had other plans in mind.

As soon as you stepped into Hyunjin's apartment, you were pinned to the wall. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt a wave wash through your heated body.

"I missed you, mon cœur." he brushed his lips against yours. "Missed being close to you."

"H-Hyunjin." you whimpered quietly as his hands gripped at your hips, slowly sliding to your waist.

"I missed you too." you added, playing with his curls before entwining your fingers in them and pulling a little.

"Sweetheart." Hyunjin moaned when you pulled his head back and attached your lips to his neck. His legs trembled while you sucked love bites into his skin and he pressed up against you, making you feel his erection brushing against your thigh.

"Y/n." Hyunjin was losing himself, slowly grinding against you. "Mm." he moaned as you licked at the sore spots you had created.

The way he looked at you when you parted from his neck made your pussy clench. His eyes were full of hunger, darkened with lust.

"I want to try something with you." he grabbed your face gently. "Will you let me?"

"I-I don't know what it is." you stuttered, gripping at his waist.

"Let me show you, darling. You can say no if you're not into it." he smiled, taking your hand in his and leading you to his guest room. "Don't be scared." he added softly as he noticed the nervous look on your face.

You had no idea what to expect as he opened the door but it was definitely not the confusing contraption hanging from his ceiling.

"What..." you chuckled nervously. "Is that...?"

"A sex swing." Hyunjin finished your sentence with a smirk. "Thought it would be appropriate for you." he added and you smacked his arm as he laughed, your cheeks heating up.

"When did you even get it?" you asked.

"After the first night you spent here."

"Wow, you planned ahead." you giggled.

"So, you wanna try it? We don't have to." Hyunjin smiled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest. He nuzzled into your neck and exhaled, you could feel his warmth radiating onto your body and even though he seemed calm you felt his erection pressing into your ass. He wanted you so much in that moment, in any way you'd let him have you.

"I wanna try it." you whispered, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

"Really?" Hyunjin asked excitedly. "Now?"

"Yes, now." you chuckled at his eagerness. His expression changed from an excited puppy to a hungry wolf in a milisecond, making your gut swarm with excitement.

"You do know you'll be completely at my mercy, my darling?" he smirked, brushing his lips against your jaw.

"I know." you said, biting on your lip as you looked up at him with eyes full of lust.

Hyunjin turned you around, kissing you fervently as his hands grabbed at your body, asking you to take your clothes off. Your hands were busy on his body too, sliding under his shirt and touching his abs and chest. His legs buckled each time you touched him, you had such power over him as he had over you, both of you completely infatuated with one another.

When your clothes were finally off, Hyunjin's eyes traveled all over your body hungrily.

"Let's get you swingin'." he said and you chuckled, how he managed to be sexy yet silly at the same time was beyond you. He led you to the swing, assuring you it was safe as he took all the precautions, installing it and checking it beforehand.

You felt excited and a bit nervous but you knew Hyunjin would stop if you asked him to and he'd never hurt you. He helped you sit up as he strapped your hands in first, restricting your movements. Arousal grew inside you as your pussy throbbed, wet with your slick.

"Tell me if something is too tight or uncomfortable." Hyunjin said as he started strapping your legs in.

"It's fine for now." you said.

Your mind didn't process how spread open you were actually going to be until after Hyunjin had secured both your legs in, your pussy lips opening up as you were positioned in almost a complete split. You shut your eyes tight in embarrassment at being like this in front of Hyunjin.

"You're so beautiful, ma chérie." Hyunjin's voice sounded husky as his fingertips traveled on your inner thighs to your tummy and waist, teasing you as you twitched under each and every touch of his, making you open your eyes and look at him.

"Une œuvre d'art." he whispered as he slid his fingers through your welcoming folds.

You moaned at his words and touch as Hyunjin observed you, moving his fingers so slowly, barely touching you and you whimpered, struggling against your restraints, your legs trying to close to get some friction but you were stuck.

"Patience, my darling. Je tiens à toi." he whispered as he kneeled in front of your pussy, his hot breath hitting you and making you clench around nothing. Hyunjin leaned in and kissed your pussy, teasing you and making your legs shake as you whined for him to give you more. He ignored your whimpers and kept leaving small kisses on your lower lips before he put his lips around your clit, sucking on it lightly.

"Hyunjin!" you whimpered as arousal gushed from you. "M-more." you begged, your hands grabbing at the restraints holding them. Your legs were already trembling and he didn't even do anything, you were turned on like never before, the way he had you posed for him made you want to burst.

Hyunjin licked at your entrance, his tongue playful and skilled, making you moan loudly again as your body trembled, shaking the entire swing just a little. You threw your head back as Hyunjin started making out with your pussy, your breasts trembling as you kept shivering. Hyunjin gripped at your thighs and ass, massaging it and enjoying your taste and the view.

He had always admired the way your body could contort and he didn't even dare to dream of laying a hand on you, the ethereal being flying in the sky. But here you were, suspended in air and spread beatifully just for him to enjoy you. Hyunjin's eyes rolled back as your entire body shook against his lips and he moaned into you, his brows furrowing as he slurped up your essence. Your orgasm hit you like a wave that crashed into Hyunjin's tongue as he savored the sweet taste of you, lapping up every drop.

"You taste so sweet, my muse." Hyunjin licked around his lips before kissing your pussy again.

"Hyunjin." you whimpered, tears of pleasure already gathered in your eyes.

"Shh, I got you." his fingertips slid between your folds before he slowly pushed two fingers in, your pussy taking him easily. You moaned at the feeling of being filled up as Hyunjin leaned over you while slowly fucking you open, his other hand grabbing a fistful of your hair. He lifted your head up a little and kissed you passionately, pushing his tongue in deep and making you taste yourself as he took your breath away. He fucked you faster as he kept kissing you, swallowing every moan you were letting out. Your legs were shaking again, trying to close around his arm from all the stimulation but you couldn't move.

"Ah!" you parted from his lips only to moan against them as you squirted on Hyunjin's hand.

"Good girl." he smirked and you whimpered as he leaned down to kiss your face, helping you come down a little.

"Mon cœur, I need you to prep me a little." he smirked, walking around the swing to stand behind you. You gasped quietly when you realized what he wanted to do so you let your head fall backwards. Hyunjin smirked, standing closer to your face as he pressed the tip of his cock on your lips. You opened them and he slowly pushed in as much as he could, fucking your face gently as he held the back of your neck, his other hand cupping your breasts and playing with your sensitive nipples. Your eyes were shut tightly as you relaxed your throat and Hyunjin groaned, the feeling of your warm and wet mouth around him and the sight of you surrendering completely to him drove him insane. He pushed in and out a few more times, hands gripping your breasts harder.

"Fuck." he gasped, pulling out. "I almost came." he added, looking surprised. You coughed a little, lifting your head up.

"Are you okay, darling?" he asked.

"Yes, please, I need you." you looked up at him with glassy eyes and how was he supposed to deny you? Hyunjin positioned himself between your legs, pushing his cock in slowly so you could feel him stretching you inch by inch and you whimpered at how easily he slid in, with you being so opened.

"Hyunjin." you moaned his name as he buried himself to the hilt within your warmth.

"My angel. You feel perfect. Made for me." he looked at you like you were everything as his large hands gripped at you, his hips starting to move.

"Made for you." you repeated in trance as Hyunjin started fucking you harder, losing himself in the feeling of you taking him so well. Your body was burning up, shaking and sweating as you moaned loudly, no one had ever been this deep inside you, hit all the places that Hyunjin has. The swing was moving slightly in tandem with the two of you, aiding to the feeling of Hyunjin splitting you apart.

Your head fell back as you moaned loudly at him hitting your sweet spot and Hyunjin shook, gripping at you. You let out a loud whimper as you came, exploding around his length and squirting on him again.

"Y/n." Hyunjin groaned as he pulled out, grabbing at the swing and breathing hard.

"Why'd you stop?" you asked breathlessly.

"Want you in another position before I cum." he smirked.

"Okay." you nodded, your heart beating out of your chest. Hyunjin then carefully removed the restraints from your legs, letting them fall down and relax a little before he did the same for your arms.

"Feeling good?" he asked and you nodded with a smile. His cock was red and throbbing, you knew he was close yet he didn't chase his high instantly, he still took a moment to take care of you. Your heart swelled and all you wanted was to give him pleasure like he gave to you.

"How do you want me?" you asked.

Instead of answering, Hyunjin turned you around, spreading your legs and securing them in the restraints. You let out a breath as he tied your hands next. Your feet were just barely touching the floor, your legs spread again as you shivered, looking back at Hyunjin to see him stroking his cock slowly.

"Ready to take me, mon cœur?" he asked.

"Yes."

Hyunjin slowly pushed in again, giving all of his length to you as you took him in greedily. He gripped at your hips, fucking into your harder and faster than before. Your loud whimpers together with the loud sound of skin slapping skin brought Hyunjin close to the edge immediately. He grabbed at your hair, pulling your head back as you arched your back for him while he pounded into you.

"So good, so perfect, ma chérie. You're so perfect." he kept mumbling and groaning while he fucked you, his free hand slapping your ass a few times. You exploded around him again and Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you, grabbing your breasts as he came, pushing his warm cum deep inside your core.

"H-Hyunjin." you moaned.

"Y/n." he whispered, kissing your neck as he slid out of you, his cum dripping down your inner thigh. He held onto you for a moment before carefully getting you out of the swing and scooping you up in his arms.

Hyunjin took you straight to the shower, running warm soothing water over the two of you.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he smiled at you as he held your face in his palms.

"More than okay." you nodded with a smile, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"Thank you for trusting me." Hyunjin kissed your cheeks gently.

"Of course." you kissed his pouty lips, completely forgetting about the pain living inside you.

As the snow outside started melting away, the ice around your heart melted too, turning into an avalanche that struck at the wall around Hyunjin's heart, making it crumble and leaving him unprotected, both of you now vulnerable and open to each other.

There was hope for the future, for your future.

The days got longer as the sun traveled higher in the sky, everything was waking up, all the birds, insects and flowers were finally coming to life, thriving in the warmth of the spring.

You had taken a little walk after getting some groceries you needed for tonight, as you'd be cooking for Hyunjin at his apartment. You had originally planned for him to come to your place but he had insisted on helping you with dinner even when you were adamant on doing it alone.

Along your walk you picked up some flowers for Hyunjin, seeing how he loved painting them all the time, almost as much as he loved painting you.

"Hyunnie, I'm here." you announced as you walked into his apartment but there was no answer.

"Hyunjin?" you repeated his name as you walked into the living room. You heard some faint music coming from his room behind the closed doors and you recognized the music as his 'painting music'. With a smile spreading on your face, you made your way to his room, carrying the flowers.

When you opened the door, you were met with the cutest sight ever. Hyunjin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, right in front of a big canvas, various brushes and paints thrown around him, his hair in a half up-do as he concentrated.

"Oh, y/n." Hyunjin jumped a little when he felt your presence. You giggled at him endearingly, noticing a streak of yellow paint on his cheek.

"You have paint on your left cheek." you said and Hyunjin reached up to wipe at his right cheek.

"Left cheek." you snickered.

"Oh." Hyunjin chuckled in embarrassment, wiping at his face.

"You're just spreading it everywhere now." you laughed, shaking your head.

"Stop laughing and come help me." he pouted cutely and you couldn't resist him. You grabbed some wet wipes and came closer to him and he pulled you into his lap immediately.

"Nice." he smirked.

"Oh, this was your plan all along, to get me into your lap?" you smirked back.

"Mhm." Hyunjin nuzzled into you, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

"What are you working on?" you asked as you started to turn around.

"No, don't look! It's not done yet." he quickly grabbed your face, making you look at him and squishing your cheeks as you whined. "It's for my new exhibition and it's a gift for you and you can't look at it until it's finished."

"Okay, okay, I won't look." you chuckled, grabbing his hands and kissing his fingertips softly.

"Did someone give you flowers?" Hyunjin's eyes widened a little as he nodded at the bouquet you had left on his table when you grabbed the wet wipes.

"No silly, I got those for you." you pressed your lips on his forehead.

"You got me flowers?" he blinked at you cutely.

"Yeah, I just thought they were pretty and you like to paint them so..." you trailed off, your cheeks becoming rosy.

"That's so sweet, mon cœur. Thank you." Hyunjin smiled, his dimples showing.

"You're welcome, mon chéri." you smirked and he laughed, throwing his head back.

"Someone has been studying their French." he joked, brushing his lips against yours.

"Maybe, just a little bit." you giggled before Hyunjin closed the small gap between you, kissing you sweetly. The kiss got heated quickly as always between the two of you and you broke it off as Hyunjin's hands started to wander.

"We have plans, remember?" you narrowed your eyes at him and he smiled cheekily.

"Ugh, just a quick one." he teased you, his hands sliding under your shirt.

"Quick does not exist with you, it's always hours." you laughed and Hyunjin chuckled with you.

"Can you blame me? It's your fault." he stuck his tongue out and you giggled.

"Right." you rolled your eyes. "Let's get ready, we have all night later."

"Okay." Hyunjin wiggled his eyebrows at you but still didn't let you get up, not after he got a few more kisses from you.

You managed to get ready after some time and Hyunjin drove to your destination. You always wanted to try bowling and Hyunjin was always excited for active dates, enjoying the thrill and the competition that would lead from teasing to something more.

"Oh, this is really heavy." you struggled as you tried to pick up the ball.

"The beginners one is lighter, let's get you started with that one." Hyunjin said and you nodded, excited to learn something new.

Hyunjin was a good teacher, he was patient and sweet but he also teased you the entire time. Every little touch was purposeful, he made sure to press his body against yours any moment he could, making you shiver as you were always weak for him. Even with all that you had managed to come close to a strike a few times.

Hyunjin was skilled, hitting all the pins perfectly almost every single time. All the work out made you both hungry and you were ready to go home and start on the dinner you had planned. When you got closer to the exit, you noticed it was raining hard outside and neither of you remembered to bring an umbrella, not when Hyunjin drove you there. But, the car was at the end of the parking lot, meaning you'd have to gun it to get there and you'd still get soaked.

You smirked in mischief as Hyunjin turned to look at you.

"What?" he asked.

"Catch me if you can." you chuckled as you pulled open the door and bolted outside.

"Y/n!" Hyunjin squealed in shock, his eyes wide and lips falling open. You laughed at his expression as you started running towards his car.

He shook his head as a smile spread on his face before he ran outside too, the parking lot filled with squeals and laughter. Hyunjin was quickly coming closer and you screamed as he reached out to grab you but before he could, he slipped and fell down right into a puddle of water.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" you gasped, running back to him immediately.

"I keep falling for you." he said, shaking the water off like a dog as he slowly stood up.

"Cheesy." you laughed at the state of him and Hyunjin couldn't resist you, grabbing your face as the two of you stood in the rain, completely soaked.

"I'm so in love with you, y/n." Hyunjin said when you wrapped your arms around his waist. Your eyes widened as you stared up at him, your heart leaping out of your chest.

"I'm so in love with you too." you confessed and Hyunjin smiled happily, crashing his lips on yours. You didn't care about the cold rain drenching the both of you because it had washed away any fear you had in your heart.

"I'm in love with you, y/n!" Hyunjin yelled to no one in particular as you parted.

"Shut up, oh my god." you laughed, trying to cover his lips but he kept moving his head away and laughing as he yelled about being in love.

"Hyunnie, we're gonna get sick, let's go." you warned him, pulling him towards the car.

He hurried up then, turning the heating on in the car even though it didn't help much. When you got to his apartment, both of you shed the cold wet clothes and stepped into the shower.

His hands were on your waist instantly as he started kissing your shoulders and upper back. You shivered as you still felt the cold from the rain and Hyunjin pulled you into his body. You closed your eyes, feeling like you were floating away with him. Nothing could hurt you when he held you like this.

"Let me help you with dinner." Hyunjin pouted later, as you got ready to cook.

"No, I want to make this for you. Go paint or something." you chuckled, trying to pry his hands off of you.

"Can't I at least watch?" he kept pouting at you, his arms not budging at your attempts of moving them away.

"No." you smirked, finally slipping away from his grasp as he sighed dramatically.

"Fine, I'll wait in the living room." he said and walked away, sulking. You giggled at him as you started making dinner, humming to yourself. You leaned over a few times to check on Hyunjin and he was sitting on the sofa, watching something on the tv. He looked so cute so you turned the stove off for a moment and skipped to him.

He was about to turn around before you grabbed him and gave him a big smooch right on the top of his head, inhaling the shampoo he used earlier.

"Ma chérie." he leaned his head back to look at you, his cheeks rosy. "Do you need help?"

"No, it's almost done. Just wanted to kiss you." you smiled.

"Kiss me then." he smirked and you leaned in, giving him a sensual upside down kiss.

"I hope this is a teaser for dessert." Hyunjin whispered when you parted.

"Mhm." you chuckled before going back to the kitchen to finish up.

"Something smells nice." Hyunjin strolled into the kitchen a few minutes later, his stomach growling as he clutched onto it. "Is it done?" he tilted his head at you.

"It is." you smiled.

"What did you make?" he asked excitedly as the two of you sat down.

"It's cappelletti filled pasta with homemade meat sauce. I prepared the sauce beforehand, otherwise we'd be sitting here for hours, waiting for it to cook."

"Oh, it sounds delicious." Hyunjin smiled cutely as you took some out on his plate.

You waited for his reaction in anticipation as he brought the pasta to his lips, furrowing his brows and tasting it before his eyes widened and he let out a little hum of approval.

"This is delicious, mon cœur." he smiled.

"Thank you, lover." Hyunjin blushed at the nickname and you matched his rosy cheeks as both of you looked back at your plates.

After the wonderful meal, Hyunjin thanked you again and made you sit down so he could clean up. You wanted to help but he insisted that since you cooked, he should show his appreciation and clean it up. You sat, drinking your wine and observing him. There was something so simple and easy to being with him, you had no problem imagining a future where Hyunjin would be a part of it forever. You needed to hold him so you stood up, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing him a little as you leaned your cheek on his back.

"Angel." he smiled.

"Hyunnie." you rubbed your cheek against him.

"I'm done. We can have dessert now." he turned around to face you, a smirk dancing on his lips.

"Mhm. Can't wait." you giggled and he led you to his room.

"I have something for you." Hyunjin said, opening the drawer of his nightstand. You chuckled, he was always so imaginative and experimental when it came to anything, even in the bedroom.

"What is it now?" you asked with a knowing smile.

Hyunjin took out a rope and a blindfold and you lifted your brow at him.

"You're tying me up?" you chuckled, your face heating up.

"No, you're tying me up." he smirked at you.

"Oh. I am?" your heart skipped a beat.

"Mhm. I want to be at your mercy, mon cœur." Hyunjin's eyes became hazy.

"Okay." you nodded, coming closer to him. "You want me to have my way with you, use you?" you asked, teasingly touching his abs and chest.

"Yes, please chérie. Use me." he whimpered quietly as you squeezed at his body.

Hyunjin leaned in, kissing you slowly as his tongue circled yours and played with it and you were already getting so wet, wanting to be as close as you could to him. The two of you slowly stripped and Hyunjin laid on the bed, looking up at you lustfully, his eyes fluttering.

He was giving himself to you completely, putting his hands above his head so you could tie him up.

"How long will you manage to take not being able to see me or touch me?" you snickered.

"Not very long." he chuckled at you as you started tying his hands up.

"This should be fun. Close your eyes." you said and he did so, letting you put the blinfold over his eyes. You leaned back and looked at him, your sweet Hyunjin laid out before you, his lean body on display only for you to worship. He was so beautiful everywhere that you had no idea where to start. His plump lips so pouty and pink, invited you to kiss them first so you leaned in and pressed your lips into his. He whimpered quietly when you moved away, his heart beating faster in anticipation of where you were going to touch him.

Your put your hands on his hips and slowly slid them up on his v-line, your thumbs caressing his defined abs. Hyunjin shivered under you, his fingertips digging into the soft ropes instantly. You leaned in closer, letting your breath hit the skin right under his collarbone. Hyunjin took in a sharp inhale as you started kissing him, your lips slowly traveling down towards his happy trail, your tongue darting out occasionally to lick at his skin. Your hair tickled him as you kept going lower. Hyunjin anticipated your lips closer to his dick that was becoming hard for you, but you leaned away, teasing him.

He whined quietly and you giggled, your hands running up his dainty waist to his perky nipples. He groaned louder as you touched them, flicking them with your thumbs before pinching them a few times as you leaned in and kissed his neck. Hyunjin's head fell back as he moaned quietly while you kissed and licked at his skin, sucking on his adam's apple.

"Y/n." he moaned your name, getting more worked up as you teased him with your lips and hands. His hips started lifting up on their own accord, looking for some kind of friction. You kissed his shoulder and his arm, lips traveling to his chest and down again. This time your tongue darted out to play with the happy trail leading to his hard cock.

"Ah!" he moaned, gripping at the rope harder. Your hands squeezed at his hips as you kissed around his cock and bit at the flesh of his inner thighs.

"Ma chérie. Mon petit ange." he moaned out and you giggled breathlessly, hovering over his leaky cock.

"Hyunnie." you whispered before you licked up the pre-cum oozing out of his tip.

"Mm." he moaned, his head falling to the side as you teased at his slit with your tongue. He kept letting out shaky breaths as you played with him before you took him into your mouth, sucking on the tip, your hand squeezing his sensitive balls gently.

"D-darling." Hyunjin stuttered, his hips lifting up into you. You moaned around him, sliding down more as you took him in.

Hyunjin was losing himself quickly, the blindfold seemed to triple his senses, making him even more sensitive to your touches. His hands strained against the ropes as he slowly fucked up into your mouth, making you gag a little.

"Mm, my darling." Hyunjin moaned as you sucked on him faster, your hand wrapping around his length to give him more stimulation. He couldn't control his hips as they snapped up and you felt him twitch inside your mouth but you weren't done with him yet. You leaned back and he whimpered loudly, his body shuddering.

"I'm taking the blindfold off." you whispered as you hovered over him.

"Okay." he was breathless as you leaned over him and pulled the cloth off. He blinked a few times before looking up at you and you didn't even give him any time to adjust as you grabbed his cock and pressed it against your folds. Both of you moaned as you slowly slid down on him until you were filled up completely, his cock buried within you.

"Mm, you feel so good Hyunjin." you moaned, throwing your head back, closing your eyes as your pussy clenched around him.

"You feel perfect, ma chérie. Please, fuck me." he begged, making you whimper as you dripped around his length. You started moving slowly, adjusting to the position and having him buried deep inside you as Hyunjin laid there, letting you use him. He filled you up so perfectly and you lost yourself on top of him, bouncing faster and harder, your hips slapping against his as you threw your head back.

Hyunjin moaned loudly as he watched you fuck on him, your tits bouncing, your beautiful body on top of his, your sweet pussy stuffed full of his cock.

"My goddess. My muse." he whined and your eyes snapped open as you looked at him hungrily. You needed his hands on you and you leaned over him to untie them, bringing his wrists to your lips as you kissed them, slowly circling your hips on him. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky before he wrapped his arms around you as you started bouncing up and down again.

"My lover." you tangled your hands in his hair and Hyunjin moaned loudly, flipping you over and making you squeal in surprise.

"Need you." he mumbled into your neck as he started snapping his hips into yours. You grabbed at his upper back, your nails digging into his skin as you moaned his name loudly. His hand came between you to rub at your clit as his other tangled in your hair, pulling lightly. You unraveld around him and he followed, his hips stuttering as he moaned desperately, rutting into you and riding his high.

"Hyun." you whispered when he leaned his forehead on yours, breathing hard.

"Best dessert ever." he breathed out, making you laugh. You stayed connected for a few more moments as you came down from your high.

"I'll be right back." Hyunjin said before he disappeared to the bathroom and you laid waiting for him, your heart still beating fast. He came back quickly, cleaning you up.

"I'm thirsty." you sat up a little, looking for your panties.

"I'll bring you some water, just sit tight." Hyunjin said while he clumsily put his boxers on, almost falling over as he started jumping on one leg. You giggled from the bed, stealing his shirt and putting it on as he looked at you with playful annoyance. When he came back he stood and looked at you for a moment and you looked up from your phone with an eyebrow raised.

"What?" you asked.

"You look so cute, I could eat you up." Hyunjin smirked as he stalked closer to the bed. Suddenly he started making weird growling noises as he crawled towards you and you squealed, laughing and moving away.

"Stop that!" you laughed as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you to him, making you scream.

"Got ya!" Hyunjin hovered over you, trapping you with his legs as he started tickling your sides.

"Sto-op!" you begged through breathless laughter, trying to push him away as he kept attacking you with his fingertips on your sides and tummy.

You kept laughing as he grinned at you, torturing you until your face became red.

"Ugghhh whyyyy?" you whined when Hyunjin finally calmed down.

"You're just too cute." he smirked, burying his face in your neck, his lips brushing against your skin.

"So I get attacked?" you whined again and he laughed.

"With tickles and kisses." Hyunjin grabbed your face gently, kissing you lovingly.

"I'm still thirsty." you said and he chuckled.

"Oh, right." he grabbed the forgotten water bottle, giving it to you. "My shirts look so good on you, better than when I wear them." he added.

"I doubt that but thank you." you smirked.

"Are you tired, mon cœur?" Hyunjin asked.

"Mhm." you nuzzled into his pillow and Hyunjin laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms immediately.

"Sweet dreams, darling." he whispered, kissing your forehead.

Your dreams, however were not sweet and you woke up in sweat and panicked as you grabbed at Hyunjin.

"Hyunjin." you whimpered and he hummed a little, his brows furrowed confusedly.

"Hyunjin, wake up." you whispered, hot tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Chérie? What's wrong?" he opened one eye as he looked at you all disheveled and still sleepy, before realizing you were crying, it making his eyes widen as he awakened completely and sat up.

"I- I had a nightmare." you hiccuped, grabbing at his arm.

"What nightmare dares torture my baby?" Hyunjin said as he pulled you closer.

"You were gone. I lost you." you said with pain in your voice as you buried your face in his chest, wanting to just disappear inside his arms, melt into him and become one, be with him always, be safe.

"No, my darling, you'll never lose me. I'm right here. It's okay, shh." he caressed your head as you cried.

"You're not allowed to leave me." you whimpered.

"I won't, y/n. You're stuck with me." Hyunjin said and you looked up at him. He started wiping your tears away with his thumbs as he looked at you with a gentle smile and sparkly eyes.

"Good, I want to be stuck with you." you admitted and his smile widened.

"I think after all the shit life threw at us, we shouldn't waste a chance if we have a good thing. You know I'm in this for the long run, you're not just some random girl or a rebound." he held your face in his hands delicately.

"I agree with you. You're definitely not just some random guy to me either." you said and Hyunjin chuckled, kissing your lips.

"Let's get some sleep. I promise I'll be here."

And Hyunjin was there. Every single performance you had, he'd watch religiously like he did from the moment he found you, cheering for you from the gallery. Only now, you knew he was sitting there so you'd always throw a little wink at him between poses. Hyunjin's heart fluttered every time you did that. He was there when it got tough, when you'd wake up sad and nostalgic, he'd come to you and hold you without any words, sometimes letting you just cry it out if you needed it.

You didn't want to completely throw away the memory of your late husband and Hyunjin never asked you to do that, he only asked you to be there for him like he's been there for you. There was nothing more you wanted than to support him equally, as you came to all his exhibitions like always, and this time they were inspired by you, all the paintings of you dancing were displayed on the wall. 'Up in the air' was the name of the exhibition he worked so hard on, focusing only on you and the art you produced with your body.

Summer had passed blissfully, simmering down into a warm beginning of the next season. The leaves started changing color, nature painting its own canvas as Hyunjin and you painted yours. He felt it in his bones, how much he came to love you so naturally, so easily. Hyunjin couldn't imagine his life without your wonderful presence. You felt the same, like your heart would burst from the love you had for him, something you thought you'd never feel again.

It was a sunny morning after you spent another night at Hyunjin's apartment, the evidence of your presence everywhere. The two wine glasses that you never bothered to wash left on the table as you got busy kissing each other. Your clothes strewn all over the floor of Hyunjin's bedroom. His bed messy, his pillow smelled like your shampoo, his sheets smelled of your perfume and you skin, such a sweet and comforting scent. You sat on the balcony when Hyunjin opened his eyes, looking for your body instantly. You woke up way too early, admiring his sleeping form for a while, wondering how a man this beautiful was lying next to you. You got up then, made some coffee and wanted to stand on the balcony, breathing in the fresh morning air, your heart full as you felt like you were reborn again.

Hyunjin sat up, rubbing at his eyes before he noticed you standing outside. He was pulled in immediately, following your footsteps to his balcony. You turned around when he opened the glass door, both of you smiling at each other.

"Good morning." you said.

"Good morning." Hyunjin's voice was raspy from sleeping.

"There's some coffee in the pot." you said but he came closer to you, lifting your hand with the coffee cup to his lips as he took a sip, making you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully.

His arms wrapped around you in a familiar, comforting embrace. Something inside you swelled, gnawing its way up from your stomach to your throat to the tip of your tongue. You burst at the seams as you turned to look at Hyunjin.

"I love you." you said with a breath of relief, with a flutter of your heart, with everything you had within you. Hyunjin's eyes went wide as he teared up slightly, his lips trembling.

"I love you." he said, smiling brighter than the sun, his confession carrying a promise of forever.

You giggled, eliciting a giggle from him too before the two of you started laughing in relief, in happiness, in excitement.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" you smiled as you looked back at the view of the city and Hyunjin's arms tightened around you.

"Move to Paris with me." Hyunjin said suddenly and you almost choked on air as you turned to look at him.

"W-what?" you chuckled in disbelief, putting your cup aside as your hand trembled.

"Let's buy a little house in Paris, somewhere in the countryside, have a garden. We could have a studio there where you can dance and I can paint. We can live on bread and wine for all I care. I'll teach you French, we'll be happy there. Let's leave this fucking city filled with too many memories and make our own in the city of love."

"Hyunjin, that's - isn't that sudden?" your stomach started doing flips as he looked at you excitedly.

"Life is short, you know that. Let's not waste any second and do whatever we want. What do you say?" he grabbed your face, smiling at you sweetly.

"Fuck it, let's move to Paris." you said and he laughed happily, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you up, spinning you around until you were both dizzy.

"Je t'aime, mon cœur." Hyunjin held onto you tightly.

"I love you too."

Your feet may have touched the ground physically when Hyunjin put you down, but your soul was still floating, wrapped up in his love.

The fireplace was crackling, casting a warm hue over Hyunjin's smiling face. He poked at the fire absentmindedly as he sat on the soft carpet while you watched him, leaning on the door frame. You still had to get used to the complete change of the scenery; seeing endless fields of green grass out of your window was something completely different than the bustling city view you used to find comfort in.

As if sensing your presence, Hyunjin turned to look at you, his smile deepening, the sweet lovesick look on his face ever-present.

"Had a nice bath?" he asked, putting the fire poker aside.

"Mhm." you slowly made your way to him, and Hyunjin's heart jumped in his throat when his eyes caught site of you bare legs under the silky robe you were wearing.

"I finished washing the dishes." he said, staring at your plushy thighs as you came closer to him.

He looked up at you in awe, his eyes big and pleading as his lips parted. You smirked a little, untying the knot on the robe before you opened it up slowly to reveal a red lacy set you had put on after your bath.

"Oh. Wow." he gulped while you let the robe slowly slide down to the floor. "Y/n." Hyunjin turned to you, kneeling on the rug, his hands coming up to touch your smooth skin and grip at your flesh. His eyes became hazy instantly as he circled his arms around you, gripping at your backside while his lips pressed on your skin. Hyunjin kissed your thighs gently as he kept massaging your ass, his face coming closer to your dripping core. You tangled your hand in his hair, caressing him and patting him as your breathing got deeper.

"My goddess." Hyunjin whispered, lips ghosting on the skin right above your panties.

"Hyunjin." you whispered back, tightening the hold in his hair as he kissed the lace, tracing his lips to your clit. You spread your legs just a little, enough for him to lick at you with his tongue, making you tremble against him while he kissed and licked at your clit, tasting your arousal on his tongue.

A whimper of his name left your lips as he gripped at your hips and pressed his tongue harder against you, hungry to have more of you. Your legs buckled and Hyunjin gently pulled you down into his lap and you sat with your legs wrapped around him, your core pressing into his, making you moan.

"Let me have you, my muse." his hands slid up and down on your thighs. "Give yourself to me." he laid you down on the carpet as the fireplace kept crackling next to you.

"Take me." you whispered and he kissed you hungrily, his hands on your breasts, squeezing and worshipping, desperate and loving, driving you completely insane. He pressed his body against yours, kissing you harder, taking all your breath away from your lungs.

You grabbed at him like he was the only thing keeping you afloat, keeping your head above the deep water.

"Ah, my angel. Mon amour." Hyunjin whined against your skin as he kissed and nipped at your breasts.

"Lover." you breathed out, pulling on his hair a little as he gently played with your clit, the lace getting soaked with your slick as your pussy clenched around nothing.

"Mm." Hyunjin wrapped his lips around your nipple, still covered by the lace as he swiped his tongue over it repeatedly, making you shake against him.

You dug your nails into his arm, your other hand still tangled in your hair as he continued moving his fingers faster and sucking harder, bringing you to the edge as you came in your panties with his name on your lips.

"Oh." you gasped and Hyunjin giggled.

"That was fast." he smirked.

"Shut up." your face became red in embarrassment and Hyunjin looked proud.

"Relax mon cœur, I'm just as desperate for you." he whispered, grabbing your hand and leaving gentle kisses. He kissed your neck, marking you as his as his pretty fingers dipped teasingly between your folds, your wetness seeping through the lace. Hyunjin kept touching you like he was in a trance, lips traveling down to your breasts again and then your stomach until his breath hit your core. He brought his fingers to his lips and licked at them, moaning quietly.

"The sweetest fruit." he smirked before putting his lips on your lower ones, licking at you like he was thirsty for your juice. You jolted as your eyes rolled back, your legs falling open completely and hands by your sides as you dug your fingers into the carpet underneath you.

"H-Hyunjin!" you kept shaking and trembling against him as he licked at you, the lace now completely wet so he pushed it aside, sticking his tongue inside you and making you whimper loudly as you grabbed at his hair. Hyunjin moaned into your pussy, his body shaking too as you drove him crazy with your moans and reactions. He pushed his pants and underwear down, grabbing his throbbing cock and stroking himself as he ate you out while you pushed his head harder into you.

"Ah fuck!" you groaned as you exploded, cumming on his tongue and lips hard and Hyunjin moaned, gripping his cock to stop himself from finishing too early as he lapped up your juices.

"Mm, my love." he leaned back to get rid of his clothes. "I need to feel you around me."

"Please." you whimpered.

"You never have to beg, I'll give you anything you want, ma chérie." Hyunjin pressed his tip against you and you pulled him in closer with your legs. He smirked and grabbed them both, pushing them together and leaning them on his shoulder. You whimpered when his tip breached you, the position making you more tight for him.

"So tight." his eyes rolled back as he pushed in deeper. "You take me so well every time."

"Mm." your arched into him as he filled you up completely, his cock throbbing inside your pussy.

"Fuck me, Hyunjin." you moaned and he gripped at your legs, fucking into you hard. You couldn't help the loud whimpers escaping your lips as his hips pounded into you. His hands left imprints in your thighs as he fucked you and kissed your calf and foot, sucking on your toes shortly and moaning around them. You couldn't hold it in much longer, squirting around his length as he looked at you, his hips stuttering too.

He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath in as he spread your legs and laid down on top of you.

"I don't wanna cum yet." Hyunjin caressed your waist, your hands holding the back of his neck as you brought him closer, leaving soft kisses everywhere on his face, his jaw, his lips and his neck. He gasped and moaned quietly, straining his neck as you licked and suckes on his skin, marking him.

"Let's take it slow." he whispered, kissing the spot under your ear.

"Yes, I want to feel you." you moaned and Hyunjin started moving his hips slowly as he looked at you with eyes full of love.

"How glad I am that I walked into the theater that one evening." he smiled, gently massaging your breasts.

"Probably as much as I'm glad I walked into your gallery randomly." you smiled back at him as you played with his hair and touched his cheeks.

"La vie sans toi est inimaginable." he whispered.

"I can't imagine my life without you either." you whispered back and Hyunjin smiled lovingly at you. You don't know how long you indulged in each other, whispering sweet nothings and giving each other soft kisses. The fire died down just a little as you reached your high, both of you moaning "I love you's" in each other's ears.

Getting lost in one another's embrace in the quiet and intimate atmosphere, lying in the precious, blissful happiness was rewarding every time.

"The fire has almost died." you chuckled quietly.

"I'll make sure it always keeps burning." Hyunjin smiled at you and you giggled kissing him silly.

The first snowflakes fell down gently on your cheeks as you and Hyunjin stood shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the sparkly christmas lights of the busy Parisian street. People were walking and laughing around you, the world was turning round and round, it was all a blur as the two of you only saw each other, completely infatuated with the moment.

"It's been exactly a year since we drank Alsatian wine in my studio together." Hyunjin said as he turned his body towards yours.

"Really?" you chuckled, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment of not knowing the exact date but Hyunjin counted every beautiful second spent with you.

"Yes. We should celebrate that." he smiled cutely at you, his eyes turning into slits and his dimples showing.

"I agree." you smiled. "We should visit Alsace too."

"Of course. We can go wherever we want, ma chérie." Hyunjin gently touched your cheek and leaned in to kiss you.

"I love you." you whispered against his lips.

"I love you." Hyunjin giggled, his cheeks becoming rosy. "I know this is like a spur of a moment thing, but it feels right." he added and you looked at him questioningly.

"Spend the rest of your life with me." he smiled, pressing his forehead against yours.

"Hwang Hyunjin, are you asking me to marry you?" you giggled, your heart speeding up.

"I am. Will you?" his eyes widened into an innocent puppy look he always gave you when he wanted something and you laughed in delight.

"Of course I will. There's no other way I'd rather live than to grow old with you." you clutched at him and he pulled you into a loving kiss, both of you giggling in happiness as the bright lights of the Eiffel Tower sparkled behind your bodies.

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