#i'm not tagging all of these people. i'm not sorry

[theobromine42]

This is about Arthur Lester and John Doe Malevolent in my mind

don't really care if the otp is romantic or platonic or erotic or whatnot. i care simply about the essentials (they are toxically codependent)

[mrgoldmc26]

Wonyoung's Wild Night

Tags: Gangbang, blowbang, interracial sex, airtight, anal sex, dirty talk, lots of facials, honestly just Wonyoung getting passed around like a slut by 5 BBC's

Word Count: 10.1k

A/N: This was the first chapter of my K-Pop Sluts series that I have on AO3. I wrote it months ago, and as you are about to see, it has lots of pictures. I really like including pictures in my stories because I just think it gives a nice visualizer...plus, who doesn't like to look at Wonyoung? 

With that being said, I do realize that it's a little bit too many pictures...Like I said at the start, I wrote it months ago, and I have been including less and fewer pictures in my chapters (you can notice this on my Lisa chapter), but I didn't feel like removing any from this one because it's how I wrote it months ago. But yes, you will see fewer pictures in my chapters going forward. For crying out loud, I found out that the pic limit is 30 per post...I had 31 in my AO3 chapter, lmao.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

The following is a Fan Fiction and should be treated as such.

It was a dark, chilly night under the sky of San Francisco, California, with the moon dipping in and out of the clouds. Wonyoung, fresh off her concert with IVE in Oakland, was hoping to have a nice time at a party, alongside her friend, Steven. He was this friend, that she has been seeing for a while now, and has been inviting him for her shows, but she has really never done anything intimate with him, mainly because he was too shy, and always seemed to cut off any advances Wonyoung attempted on him.

She was hoping that it would all change tonight by getting him loose. They arrived at the compound, where the party was already in full swing. Loud music everywhere, people dancing and drinking, and having a good time.

"Gosh, these songs suck. They should be playing our songs. They are much better."

"I'm not sure your songs are appropriate for a party like this, Wony."

"Really? You are not taking my side, Steven?"

"I'm sorry. You're right. They should definitely be putting your songs."

"Good. Go fetch me a drink. And grab one for yourself too."

"Wony, I don't really like to drink alcohol. And I also don't think you should be drinking alcohol too. Something could happen. It's bad for your health."

"Are you actually fucking serious???"

"I'm sorry, but yes, Wony. An idol like you shouldn't be drinking alcohol."

"Listen to what I fucking told you, and go bring me a fucking drink. NOW!"

"And don't forget yours too, Steven...Ughhh. I'm going to sit down by the pool. Don't take too long. I'm thirsty."

"Yes, Wony. Is there anything you want, in particular?"

"Surprise me...for once in your life..."

Wonyoung walked towards the pool, and sat on a couch nearby. She looked in front and saw millions of city lights and the dark, cloudy sky just above them. She decided to step up her game, in order to finally bag Steven, and so she removed her jacket, exposing her skinny arms.

After a few minutes of waiting, Steven finally came back with the drinks.

"Ughhh, what took you so long?"

"I'm sorry, Wony. I couldn't really decide once I got there."

"Goshhhh, why do you apologize after everything I say."

"I'm so..." Steven was about to say, but a sharp look from Wonyoung stopped him midway. She took the drink from his hand and started sipping it away.

"You know, Wony...you shouldn't really be without your jacket on a cold night like this. You might get sick."

"Reallyyy??? Goshhh, stop being concerned for me all of the fucking time."

"I'm sorry, Wony. I can't help it." Steven said, making Wonyoung angry in the process.

"Also, people could look at you and take photos of you. You shouldn't let people see you like this...drinking and showing off your skin."

"What if I want them to see me like this? What if I want you to see me like this?"

"I...I don't really know what to say, Wony."

"That's your problem...you never know what to say."

"I think we should leave this place. I don't like it in here. It's also getting late."

"You can't actually be serious. We literally just arrived..."

"Yeah, but I'm kinda getting sleepy."

"That's it. I've had enough. You want to go? Go!"

"Wony...I...I'm sor.."

"Don't you fucking dare say you're sorry."

"Just leave alone, Steven. I don't really care anymore."

"But I'm your ride."

"I'll call an Uber. Stop fucking worrying about me all of the time."

"You should really stop swearing, Wony. People could catch you, and it would be all over the internet."

"Steven...honestly...go fuck yourself. Leave me alone."

"But..."

"GO AWAY!!!" Wonyoung loudly told him, making him slowly turn away, as he walked out of the compound and went into his car.

"Fucking dumbass...why do I have such a shitty taste in guys." She thought to herself.

Wonyoung put her hands around the side of her head and just stayed like that for minutes, looking down at the pool and the reflex of the moon on the water. She was almost ready to get up and leave when she was suddenly approached by a group of 5 black guys.

"Oh, great....just what I needed...let me guess...you are all fans and want my autograph. Did I get it right?"

"Oh, wait...maybe you all want a photo with me, so you can show it to all your friends. Is that it?"

"Damn Wonyoung...never would've guessed you were this bitchy. I thought you were more sweet and kind, but I guess we were all wrong. We are indeed all fans of you, but we didn't come here to ask you for anything."

"I...ughhhh...I've just had a rough couple of minutes."

"We saw what happened from a distance, and it looked like you were arguing with a guy. We just wanted to ask you if you are doing alright."

"Not really, to be honest." Wonyoung responded.

"Who was that guy anyway?"

"Steven. He's...was....was a friend. A lame friend that was simply a little bitch that never made a move on me."

"Really? I don't believe that. I bet you get hit everywhere you go."

"I do...but not by him...not once."

"Am I not attractive enough?"

"Of course you are, girl. You are the most beautiful woman on the planet."

"It was a rhetorical question, guys...of course I'm hot...I mean...look at me!!!"

"Steven is probably gay, or something like that." A dude said.

"Yeah...maybe. Fuckkkk. What a shity night." Wony said.

"Do you guys have any idea how hard it is to be an idol?"

"I barely get any chances to have fun, and the one time I finally can have some fun and maybe a little action, he acts like a fucking overprotecting wimp."

"I mean...the night is still young...you can still have some fun..." One of the guys said, with a smirk on his face. It was only at that point that Wonyoung started connecting the dots, and understood what they really wanted, and the real reason they were talking to her in the first place.

"Fun...you say?" Wonyoung asked, slightly tilting her head up with curiosity.

"Yes. You can have a great time with us."

"Yeah? What would you guys do to make sure I have some fun?" Wonyoung asked, as she put her hands on the thighs of the guys' sitting right next to her and slowly started caressing them.

"Well, we would definitely hit on you, unlike that other loser."

"I would love that. I love when guys hit on me. When they drool all over me, because they can't handle how hot I am."

"What else? What else would you do to me?" She asked, as she looked at them and their strong arms coming out of their shirts. They were all so hot, and they acted completely differently towards Wonyoung, than Steven did.

"We would make you feel so good. Like, no one has ever made you feel before."

"Oh...really? Do tell." Wonyoung said, as she kept massaging the guys' thighs and moving her hands closer and closer to their crotches.

"We would start by kissing you and touching your body, and then we would slowly remove your clothes." One of them said, as the two guys sitting next to her started touching her thighs.

"Hmmmm....and then?" Wonyound asked, biting her lips.

"Then we would put you on your knees, and feed you all of our cocks, until you choked on every single one of them." Another guy said, as Wonyoung felt his hands going up her dress, and touching her pussy over her panties.

"Oh, fuckkkk...continue please." She said, moaning at every word they said.

"After taking our cocks down your throat, we would take turns fucking every single one of your precious tight little holes, over and over again."

"I need that!...I need it so much! Keep going, daddy!" Wonyoung begged, as the words that they were saying were almost as pleasurable as the fingers that were now inside her.

"And finally we would cum all over that pretty face of yours."

"Oh my god, I want it so badly. I want all of your cum on my faceeeeee."

"Please fuck me. Right now!!!"

"Is that what you want, Wony?"

"Yes...I want all of you guys to be my daddy."

"We can be your daddy for the night, if you promise to be our little cumslut."

"I promise! I will be your little cumslut!!!"

"I'll be your personal cumdumpster."

"I just really want all of your cocks and all of your cum on my face."

"I can't believe an idol like you is this desperate for cocks."

"I'll gladly show you just how desperate I am, daddy. Show me the way to the bedroom."

The guy in front of her smiled, before picking her up from the couch and putting her on his shoulder, as he proceeded to walk inside the house, walking past several large crowds of people with Wonyoung on his shoulders, and the other 4 guys walking just behind them. Anyone could've so easily recognized Wonyoung, and everyone they walked past easily understood what was about to happen to Wonyoung.

As soon as they got upstairs and into a room, the guy carrying her threw Wonyoung onto the bed, and she quickly got on her knees and started taking off her clothes, until all she had left was her bra and her panties. The guys also started taking off their clothes, including their shirts and their pants.

"Take those pants off, daddies. I'm waiting for your cocks. Show me what you have in there." Wonyoung told them, as they removed the belts holding their pants, and then took them off. She was now facing their massive bulges in their underwear, and she was already licking her lips.

"Mmmm, I bet you guys have the biggest cocks I've ever seen."

"I don't think you're ready to see our sizes, Wony..."

"Probably not, but I really need it. I want it."

"I'm so fucking horny for your cocks."

She could see the five black guys staring at her, and their crotches were getting bigger and bigger, the more Wonyoung used her mouth and words to tease them.

The guys dropped their boxers, revealing their hard, big, veiny, throbbing, long black cocks, that made Wonyoung drool, as she stared at them with her mouth agape.

"You like what you see?"

"Uh huh." Wony said, unable to not only come up with something to say, but also unable to take her eyes away from their big black cocks.

"Do you want our cocks, baby?"

"Yes daddy! I want them all in my mouth."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! C'mon...give it to me!"

"Ok. But only if you beg for it."

"Please give me your cocks, daddy. I'll do anything for them." Wonyoung begged, as they hopped on the bed, and surrounded Wonyoung. Their massive, throbbing, veiny cocks just a few inches away from her face.

"Show us how desperate you are."

"Put them all on my face, and I'll show you how desperate I am for your black cocks."

"I want these massive black cocks all over my face."

The guys did what she asked for, and started rubbing their cocks all over Wonyoung's face. Rubbing their precum all over her cheeks, and their cocks over her lips. Wonyoung couldn't help but giggle, as the tips of their cocks touched her skin.

"Fuck yes...this is soooo hot. More...keep doing this." Wonyoung demanded, opening her mouth and sticking out her tongue.

They did as she said, and continued smacking her face with their hard cocks. Slapping her with their cockheads and rubbing them over her lips.

"More, please! Rub your big dicks all over my face."

"Rub them harder. Make them leak precum all over my pretty face." Wony said, as she felt one guy rub his balls all over her lips and her nose.

"Yes, daddy...that's it. Use me like a slut. Like a worthless cumslut."

"That's exactly what you are. Nobody likes you for your singing or your dancing. They all like you because you look like a perfect doll."

"People only like you because you are hot. That's why all those fans scream for you."

"That's true. Everything you guys are saying is true. I would be nowhere if I didn't look like this."

"They wish they could be here, using your naked body for their pleasure, but instead we are the ones who get to do that."

"I bet none of them have bigger cocks than you guys, so I'm happy that you are the ones that will use my body tonight." Wony said, as she started kissing the tips of their black cocks, one by one, as she also used her hands to massage their balls.

"You want that, don't you, Wony?"

"Yessssss...I want to be used like a fuckdoll by your big black cocks."

"I'm the hottest female idol in the world, and I need to be treated like the hot slut I am."

"Tell us how much you want our big black cocks, and we will treat you like the naughty little slut you are."

"Yesssss, I want your cocks. I want them all. I want them in my mouth. In my pussy. In my ass. All over my face."

"Tell us, what a slut you are!!!" One guy, said, slapping her ass with immense strength, leaving a big red mark.

"OH MY GOD, FUCKKK...I'm a little slutty idol, daddy."

"I'm a dirty, desperate little slut for black cocks."

"My mouth is open. Please put your cocks inside my mouth, daddy." Wony said, opening her mouth as wide as she could, waiting for any black guy to slide his cock inside her mouth and down her throat.

One guy grabbed her by her hair, and started ramming his cock down her throat. Wonyoung could not believe the size of the cock that was in her mouth. Wony tried her best to fit all of his huge cock in her small mouth, whilst she reached behind her back and took off her bra.

"Damn, Wony. Those are some nice titties you have."

"I thought they would be smaller."

They weren't big or anything remotely close to that, but they were a pretty decent size, considering her body type.

Wony smiled with her lips still wrapped around a huge black cock, as she finally started using her hands to pleasure more guys at the same time. She put her hands around two cocks and started stroking them.

"Your hands are so tiny compared to my cock."

"Mmmm hmmm." Wony nodded, as she started deepthroating the first guy's dick.

"Oh fuckkkk. Damn. Your mouth feels so good." The guy groaned, as he kept shoving his dick down her throat.

"Fuck, daddy...your cock is so good." Wony said, when the guy eventually pulled his dick out of her mouth.

One guy put his hand on her chin and made her look up at him, before slapping her in the face with his dick, making her moan.

"Damn...you are such a naughty little slut, aren't you?"

"You want this dick, Wony? You wanna taste my cock?"

"I want your black cock inside my mouth, daddy. Let me taste it." Wony begged, and the guy slid his cock between her lips, until he was fully inside her mouth. He didn't stop until his entire black cock was deep down her throat, making her gag and cough.

"That's right, Wony. Deepthroat my cock, you fucking slut." He said, as he started furiously ramming his cock down her throat, making her spit saliva everywhere, even with her lips sealed tight around his dick.

"You want another one, Wony?" Another guy asked.

"Hmmm, hmmm" Wonyoung replied with her lips still around a thick, throbbing, black cock. He let her go after a couple more thrusts to the back of her mouth, and Wony got in a quick breather.

"Give me your cock, daddy. Let me taste it." She begged, before another cock was shoved down her throat.

"Fucckkk, I can't believe I'm having my cock sucked by Wonyoung."

"She's a really good cocksucking slut."

"You are, aren't you?"

"Hmmmm, hmmm." Wonyoung moaned in response.

"I'll bet a slutty bitch like you loves tasting black cock, don't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I love it."

"Good. Keep sucking it then, slut." He said, and Wony did just that, as she kept sucking every guy for a lengthy amount of time, before moving to the next big black cock that was put right in front of her pretty little face.

After every guy got their long turn with Wonyoung, the guys started taking quick turns with her mouth, sliding their big black cocks past Wonyoung's luscious lips, and fucking her tight, warm throat over and over again, for a couple of seconds, before swapping between themselves.

"You like that, Wony? You like being passed around like a slut?"

"Mmmm, hmmm. I love it. This is what I wanted. I love sucking your black cocks." Wonyoung said, looking at the guy who just had his dick in her mouth, as she gave his shaft a nice lick, before moving her lips on the side of his dick, and leaving a trail of saliva.

"Good. Now keep sucking them like the naughty little cumslut you are."

"Yes, daddy." Wonyoung said, as she proceeded to grab one of the cocks in front of her and started sucking it, bobbing her head up and down, while also moving her tongue around it.

"You look so hot with a cock in your mouth."

"Mmmm...it tastes so good." Wony said, as she started licking the tip, before going back down again.

"This is so hot. I love sucking big dicks." She said, in between sucks.

"You are doing a great job. Keep going, Wony."

"You guys have no idea how long it's been since I had cocks down my throat." She said, as stopped sucking his cock, and instead started stroking two dicks at the same time for a couple seconds, before moving on to the other guys' cocks, always trying to give the same amount of time to each one.

"A woman like me should be getting dicked on a daily basis, and not a single day should go by without having a cock in my mouth."

"Yeah? And what about the rest of your body?"

"It should be used as a toy for cocks. For the pleasure of the lucky guys I deem worthy of fucking me and my tight holes."

"And what about cum, Wony?"

"Oh my god, cum is like, my favourite thing in the whole world. I love feeling it inside me, and all over me."

"I need it. I crave it."

"If I could survive on cum, I would be the happiest girl in the world."

"My life would be so much better if I used cum as a replacement for my mascara."

"My face would look even prettier. Trust me, guys. I look amazing with cum on my face."

"Well, we'll see it later, won't we, Wony?"

"Of course, daddy. I can't wait to have all of your loads all over my face."

"Gosh, just thinking about it...it's making me so fucking wet. I need a cock inside me, right now!" Wonyoung said, as she stopped stroking their cocks for a moment, and quickly removed her panties and spread her legs, showing her perfect shaved pussy. She put two of her fingers on her slit and started rubbing it.

"That's right. Rub that tight little pussy for us."

Wonyoung put on an absolute show for the guys, as she moved her fingers around her pussy, spreading her lips open and letting the guys see the inside of her cunt, before she went back to playing with her clit, while also licking her lips as she couldn't stop staring at the 5 big black cocks in front of her, just hanging in the air. They looked so perfect and big, and Wonyoung tried to guess which one would be inside her first, which one would cause her to moan the loudest, and which one would give her the biggest load.

"Taste yourself, Wony."

"Mmmm...yes, daddy." She said, as she quickly removed the hand she was using to play with herself, and placed it in front of her mouth, as she started licking and sucking her own juices off her fingers.

"You really are a nasty little slut." One guy said.

"And sluts deserve to get fucked." Another one added.

"That's exactly what I want."

"I want to get fucked like the little slut I am."

"Yeah, Wony? How do you want it?"

"I want to get fucked on the bed, daddy. I want to get spitroasted."

"I want you guys to take turns and use me like your personal fuckdoll."

"And then I want you guys to fuck my pussy and ass at the same time, whilst someone is fucking my mouth."

"Anything else, princess?"

"Just daddy's cum, all over my face at the end." Wonyoung said, with a huge smile on her face.

"Alright, then. Let's get to it." One guy said, as he placed himself behind Wonyoung and immediately put his left hand on the back of her neck, pushing it down onto the mattress, alongside her head, as the other guys climbed off the bed and formed a line right in front of the edge of the bed, where her head was, and waited for their turn.

Wonyoung was on her knees, with her tits not only pressed against her knees, but also squished against the mattress, as both guys pressed their cocks against her holes.

"You ready, Wony?"

"Yes, daddy. Just feed me your cocks and pound me already." She said, before opening her mouth wide, as the guys didn't even waste one second, and pushed their cocks inside her mouth and her pussy, and started fucking her, not holding back at all.

"Oh fuckkkk...Wony..."

"Oh my fucking god...you guys need to try this pussy. She's so fucking tight." He moaned, as he kept pounding away at her.

"Really bro?" The guy fucking Wonyoung's mouth asked.

"Yes. It's incredible. She has the tightest pussy I have ever fucked." He said, before he started to fuck her much faster than before, as he felt his cock get squeezed by her pussy, which was dripping with juices.

Wonyoung kept moaning, even with a cock buried deep down her throat, as she felt her tight pussy get stretched by the girth and length of the dick, and her throat being filled by another huge dick.

"I bet this is what your fans want, isn't it? To fuck you however they want, and for you to be their perfect little slut."

"That's why they pay hundreds of dollars for a single concert ticket, just in the hope that somehow, someway, they get a chance to fuck you."

"Actually...no. All of your fans are shy, weak and pathetic, just like Steven. Your fans would probably rather see us destroy you and your tight holes with our big black cocks than them with their tiny dicks."

All Wonyoung could do, was stay there, in an uncomfortable, yet pleasurable position, taking their big black cocks over and over again, feeling her holes being used by the biggest cocks she had ever seen in her life.

"Fuck, I need to swap right now, or else I'm going to cum inside her pussy. This shit is way too fucking tight for my dick." He said, massively slowing down his thrusts so that he didn't blow his load so soon, but he still kept his cock inside, slowly pushing it back and forth, as he still wanted to feel her tight pussy, and the warmth that surrounded his cock.

"Damn, dude. Then I think I'll take her pussy next. Just let me fuck her mouth a little bit longer." One guy said, as he grabbed a fistful of her hair, and started furiously facefucking Wonyoung, not giving a single care in the world.

"Fuck, your mouth feels amazing, but I think it's time I stretch that sweet pussy of yours." He groaned, before slowly pulling his dick out and making his way around her, and towards her pussy. As soon as he got there, the guy that was fucking her pussy pulled out, but not before slapping her ass harshly, leaving yet another red mark on her cute little butt.

"Have fun. This pussy is fucking great." He said, as he joined the 3 other guys that were in front of Wony's face, going to the back of the line as he awaited his time to fuck her throat.

"Ahhhhh fuck. That was amazing, you guys."

"I loved having both your cocks sliding in and out of my mouth and my pussy."

"Can't wait for the rest of you guys." She said, licking her lips in anticipation, whilst looking at the massive black cock right in front of her face.

"C'mon. Put your dicks inside me already. I get cold when I don't have cocks inside me. I need them to warm me up." Wonyoung said, as the guy in front of her pressed his cocks against her lips, and she gladly opened her mouth and let him slip his dick inside her, and start fucking her mouth, while the guy behind her slammed his dick into her cunt, and started thrusting away, making Wonyoung moan around the dick in her mouth.

"I can't believe this is happening."

"Wonyoung is getting spitroasted by us and our big black cocks."

"FUCKING HELL...you were not kidding when you said her pussy was the tightest you had ever fucked." The guy behind her said, as he tried his best to keep thrusting his cock in and out, as his dick was being squeezed by her pussy.

"Fuck her harder. I want her to moan around my cock."

The guy behind her complied and started thrusting as hard and as fast as he could, feeling her tight pussy getting stretched and fucked, whilst also hearing her muffled moans around his friend's cock, as he fucked her mouth, going faster and deeper, with each passing second.

"Oh, fuckkkk...that's it, Wony. You look so fucking sexy, moaning with my cock in your mouth."

"I wanna hear how she moans when I fuck her as deep as I can go."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just stop for a sec."

"Alright bro." He said, as he removed his cock from Wonyoung's mouth, and started stroking it in front of her face, whilst the guy behind her started ramming his cock as deep and as hard as he could, causing Wonyoung's moans to fill the room.

"Fuck...daddy...your cock is so fucking good inside me."

"Good girl. Take it. Take this fucking cock, you nasty little slut." He groaned, as he kept pounding her, his hips crashing into her ass, making it jiggle every time.

"Mmmm, that's right, daddy. I'm a nasty little slut for your cock."

"I'm a cumslut for all of your black cocks."

"Just keep fucking my tight little pussy, daddy."

"And you...I want you to slide that cock back inside my mouth. I want to slurp on it, until it's ready to go inside my pussy." Wonyoung said, before opening her mouth once again.

The guy in front of her slapped his cock on her tongue a couple of times, before pushing his dick past her lips, as Wony went right to work on his meaty cock, whilst his friend kept pounding her pussy with his cock.

"Ahhhhh fuckkk. So good."

"Your lips were made to be wrapped around my cock, Wony."

"Yes, they were. Your cock tastes so fucking good, daddy." Wonyoung said, whilst she stroked him for a couple of seconds, before she put his dick back in her mouth."

The guy put his hands on both sides of her face, and started facefucking her, his cock going in and out of her throat, as her mouth was basically a hole for him to fuck.

He then pinched her nose with his left hand, and used his right hand to hold her head, so that her head couldn't move, as he just started slamming his cock deep down her throat, going balls deep, and not stopping at all. Wony started struggling for air, but couldn't really move, and all she could feel was a cock lodged down her throat, and another one rapidly going in and out of her pussy.

After a couple of seconds Wonyoung started gagging, and the guy released his grip and let her go, as she took a couple of deep breaths.

"Ahhhh...ahhhh...do it...do it again, please. I want your cock deep down my throat again."

"I'm afraid if I do that again, I will cum down your throat, and if I remember correctly, you want my cum on your face, isn't that right?"

"Yes, daddy. I would love to swallow your load, but I do really want your cum on my face."

"That's what I thought. Well, I guess it's time for me to find out just how tight your pussy is."

"So tight. I want you to stretch it, daddy. Can you do that for me?" Wony asked, whilst biting her lip.

The guy didn't bother to respond, grinning instead as he made his way behind her, and waited for the guy that was fucking her pussy to stop and hop off the bed, giving him the "keys" to her tight little precious pussy.

"Beg for it, slut. Beg for my fucking cock, Wonyoung."

"Please, daddy. Please give me your cock."

"Give me your big black cock. I need it inside me."

"Stretch my tight little pussy, daddy."

He grinned once again, before he pushed his dick deep inside her, and started pounding away, fucking her tight pussy, making her scream in pleasure, as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, while her hands gripped the sheets as hard as she could, and the guys in front of her watched, and awaited their turn to not only fuck her mouth, but also her pussy.

"Daddy...ohhhh, yes...daddy...keep fucking me...your cock feels so good..." Wony moaned, whilst her breasts were being squished against the mattress, due to the force of the guy behind her, who kept ramming his cock deep and fast into her cunt.

"Ahhhhh...fuck...daddy...keep going. I'm so close."

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, you filthy little slut?"

"Yessss, daddy. Keep fucking me, just like that. Make me cum all over your big black cock."

"Then cum, Wony. Cum on this big fucking cock."

"Ahhhhhh...oh fuuuckkk."

"Oh my fucking god...you're making me cum. I'm cumming, daddy..." Wony screamed, as she started shaking and squirming, whilst the guy kept pounding her, making her cum on his cock.

"Such a good girl, cumming on daddy's cock."

Wonyoung didn't even have time to recover or respond to him, because the guy in front of the line grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her forward, before pressing his dick against her lips and sliding it into her mouth.

"You like that, Wony? Being passed around all 5 of us?" He asked, as Wonyoung used her tongue to massage the underside of his shaft, whilst he kept slowly sliding it in and out of her throat.

"Yes, daddy. I love being a slut for all of your big black cocks." Wonyoung said in between sucks, as she felt the guy who had just given Wony her first orgasm of the night start slamming his cock once again into her wet, warm and tight pussy, making her moan even more, sending vibrations onto the cock in her mouth.

"You are so fucking pretty, Wony."

"So beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

"I know I look pretty with a dick in my mouth, but I also know I look even better when it's a long, hard black cock." Wonyoung said, before taking his dick deep in her mouth once again.

"Fuck...I love that dirty mouth of yours, Wony."

"Talk dirty to us, Wony."

"Tell us what a filthy little slut you are."

"Tell us how much you love getting fucked by our black cocks." He said, as Wonyoung let go of the dick, and gave him the nastiest, sexiest smile, ever.

"I love your black cocks. I'm addicted to them." Wonyoung said, as she started stroking his dick.

"I wish I could bring all of you to our tour, so that you guys could pass me around after each concert."

"I would love for you guys to fuck every single one of my holes after each concert and then dump your warm cum all over my body, my face and my tits." She said, squeezing her boobs with her arms.

"I would love if you guys fucked me just before a concert and for me to go out there and perform in front of thousands of fans with your cum dripping out of my pussy and my asshole."

"Yeah, I bet you would love that, wouldn't you?" He asked.

"Such a naughty little slut, you are." He added.

"I'm daddy's perfect slut."

"Gosh, keep stroking that cock, Wony, fuckkk...I can't wait to cum all over your face."

"It makes me so wet, just knowing that I'm about to be a cumdumpster for 5 huge black cocks. It turns me on so much."

"Fuckkk, Wony. You're the one who is turning me on, girl. I need to smash that pussy of yours right now."

"Hmmm...since you haven't been inside me yet, how about I let you fuck my ass instead?"

"Is it tighter?"

"Well, considering I have had 3 big black cocks stretching my pussy already, and 0 inside my ass, I would say so."

"I've never taken one so big in there, but I really want to try it, daddy. So please...put your cock in my ass, and fuck me as hard as you can."

"Alright girl. I'm going to destroy this little cute ass of yours." He said, reaching forward and smacking her ass, leaving another red mark on it.

"HEY? WHAT ABOUT ME, MAN? I HAVEN'T FUCKED YOU EITHER!" The guy right behind him yelled, as he joined him by his side, and now had Wonyoung right in front of him as well.

"That is right, you haven't." Wony said, as she reached out for both of their cocks and started stroking them.

"Like I said earlier, I want to get my ass and my pussy fucked at the same time, so how about I ride that cock of yours whilst he fucks my tiny little asshole?" She added, as she took his cock into her mouth, awaiting his answer.

"Oh fuck, girl...you don't have to ask me twice..." He moaned, letting Wonyoung suck his dick, whilst her hand was stroking the other, until she decided to switch and started sucking the other one.

"Hmmm, yummy. You two taste so good." Wonyoung said, licking her lips, before putting his cock in her mouth, and the other guy's cock in her hand, stroking him as fast as she could, whilst she bobbed her head up and down the cock in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, tasting every inch of him.

"Ahhhh, fuckkkk...shit, Wony...you're too good at this."

"Mhmmm, I know." Wonyoung hummed, before deepthroating him and gagging around his cock for a couple of seconds, before releasing his dick, and stroking him, whilst she began deepthroating the other guy.

"Ohhhh shit, Wony. Just like that, girl. Just like that."

"Ohhhh fuckkk. I love going back and forth between your cocks."

"It feels...so...fucking...good. I love taking turns sucking both of them." She said, as she kept going back and forth, sucking and slurping on their cocks, and making the 2 guys moan in pleasure.

"I think they are ready to go inside my holes." Wony added, kissing both of their tips, before moving slightly backwards, so that one of the guys in front of her could lay down where she was previously.

He laid down, and Wonyoung got on top of him. She reached behind her and grabbed his dick, before guiding it towards her pussy. She then lowered her body, and his dick slid into her pussy, making her moan, whilst she slowly went down, and took all of his size into her cunt.

Wonyoung didn't even give a chance for the guy behind her to stick it in her ass, because she immediately started bouncing up and down on the dick inside her pussy, feeling it going deeper and deeper, and also brushing past her g spot, making her scream and moan like crazy.

"OH MY GOD, THAT FEELS SO GOOD. KEEP FUCKING ME, DADDY."

"I fucking love bouncing on your big black cock."

No words came out of his mouth, and instead he just reached his hands forward, and started playing with her tits, pinching her nipple and squeezing her soft breasts whilst she bounced up and down his shaft, the tip of his cock hitting the back of her wet pussy every time, stretching it even further, and causing her to scream and moan loudly, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

"Ayo...Wony...just stop for a sec. I want to put it in your ass." The other guy said.

"I'm sorry, daddy. I just got too excited. His cock is filling me so well, I just couldn't resist bouncing on it for a bit."

"It's alright...you're just a cumslut addicted to our cocks. I get it." He said, putting a hand on her face before kissing her luscious lips."

"I am, daddy. I'm so addicted to all of your cocks. I want them all."

"Beg for it, Wonyoung."

"Please, stick it in. Shove that big dick up my ass, daddy."

"I want you to destroy my ass, daddy. Please."

"Huuuuuh, boys...what do you say? I can't say no to our little slut, can't I?

"Fuck her ass, man."

"Fuck her as hard as you can."

"Make her our fucking anal slut."

He smiled, hearing the answers coming from his friends, before lining his cock with Wonyoung's tight little asshole, and slowly shoving his dick inside her.

"Ahhhh fuck. That feels soooo goooood." Wonyoung moaned, feeling both her holes being stuffed by their big dicks, whilst they were both inside her, as the one underneath her was also balls deep inside her pussy.

"You were not lying, Wony. This really is a tight little asshole."

"I need you to stretch it, please. I want it to be stretched as wide as possible."

"I can't wait for you to start fucking it."

"I want to be your anal slut, daddy."

"Fuck me hard, daddy. Pound my tight little asshole, please."

"Fuck, man. I don't know how tight that asshole is, but let me tell you something...this pussy is TIGHT! Didn't the three of them stretch it?" He said, trying his best to look backwards with Wony on top of him.

Wonyoung was so lost in the pleasure of having both of her holes stuffed at the same time, that she almost completely forgot about the three other guys that had already gotten their turns with not only her mouth, but also her pussy. She saw them slowly stroking their cocks, as they kept watching Wonyoung get pounded by their friends.

"C'mon guys...don't be shy. I know you're not shy...come here."

"I was starting to wonder if our little slut had forgotten about us, guys."

"Me? Never...I couldn't ever possibly forget about these big black cocks." She said, with a smile on her face, as she put her hands around two of their cocks and started stroking them.

"You guys like that? Like having your cocks stroked by me whilst watching your friends fuck me?"

"Yessss, baby. Fuck, your hands are so soft."

"Yeah, and the way you stroke them, it's fucking amazing."

"Keep talking dirty to us, Wony. Keep telling us what a slut you are."

"Ohhhh fuck. I am a slut. I'm a filthy fucking slut."

"I'm daddy's filthy little slut."

"Mmmmmm yeah, and this is exactly what filthy little sluts like me do. We take their daddy's big black cocks, and let them stretch our tight little holes, just like they are doing right now."

"And we like to get spitroasted, and double penetrated, and have their cum all over our faces, just like you guys will do with me, later." Wonyoung said, already fantasizing about having the guys' cum on her face.

"And you..." Wonyoung said, looking up to the right in front of her.

"I don't think I need to tell you what to do." She added, as she opened her mouth.

"No, you don't, girl." He said, as he slowly put his cock past her lips and gave full control to Wonyoung, letting her suck his dick at the pace she wanted.

The room was filled with moans and grunts from all the guys, as Wonyoung was pleasuring all 5 of them at the same time. The sounds of her cheeks getting clapped every time the guy behind her thrust his dick inside her ass, mixed with the sound of his friend's dick slamming in and out of her pussy, were not only echoing across the room, but that feeling, of their cocks going in and out of her holes was making Wonyoung moan loudly, which was obviously muffled, thanks to the cock in her mouth. All whilst she had her hands wrapped around the 2 last remaining cocks.

Wonyoung was impressed with herself. Not only from the way she was handling all 5 cocks at once, which was something completely new to her, but also how quickly she managed to turn around her horrible start to the night. She was almost laughing around the cock inside her throat, just thinking that had the night gone a different way, she would probably have her lips wrapped around Steven's tiny gay cock. But thankfully for her, it didn't. She was quite easily having the best night of her life, being passed around these 5 strong and hot black guys who were making her their personal cumslut.

"Fucking hell...will this pussy ever get a little bit more loose? Been fucking it for like 10 minutes now...I can't believe how tight you still are."

"Sorry, daddy. That's just how I was built..."

"I was made to take cocks, and I guess that, if you want your cock to feel less suffocated by my pussy, you're just gonna have to stretch me out."

"Fuck me harder, daddy. Make me take your big black cock."

The guy complied and started thrusting faster and harder into her, making her bounce on his cock, his pelvis smacking against her butt, her moans filling the room. Not wanting to be left behind, the guy fucking her ass also began going harder and deeper inside her, his hands tightly gripping her waist, as he was drilling her with his long hard dick.

"OH MY GOD...fuck me, daddies. Use me. Please, pound my holes harder." Wonyoung begged, as she started moving her hips, making sure to slam them backwards whenever a cock was going forward, thus meeting each other half-way and creating a much stronger impact.

"Just keep fucking me. I don't care how hard, just give it to me, daddy."

"You guys are so good. My holes are yours. Use them however you want."

"Do whatever you want with me. Just please make me cum again."

"Is that what our cumslut princess wants?"

"Yes, daddy. Make me cum on your big black cocks, ple..." Wony said, before being interrupted by a cock entering her mouth and her throat, making her gag around his length.

"Sorry, Wony...but your mouth is just too fucking sexy. I can't take it anymore."

Wonyoung just rolled her eyes back and smiled, before wrapping her tongue around his dick and bobbing her head up and down.

"You like that, baby? You like sucking daddy's big black dick, whilst your pussy and ass get destroyed?"

"Mhmm, hmmmm..." She hummed, nodding her head and sending vibrations throughout his body, making him groan and grip her hair tightly.

"I bet you can't go anywhere without dropping to your knees and sucking dicks. It's why you always have bruises on your knees, isn't it?"

"Hmmmm, hmmm..." Wony moaned around his dick, which was lodged in her throat.

"Whose dicks are you sucking, huh? Producers? Directors? Dancers? Sponsors? Fans? Which one is it, you fucking slut?" He asked, giving one final hard thrust to the back of her throat before releasing the grip on her head, letting her talk.

"All of the above, daddy. I suck any and every cock I come across."

"That's what I thought, you nasty fucking slut. How many of them have you sucked?"

"Too many to count, daddy. All you need to know is that your cocks are all way bigger than any of them." Wonyoung said, as she was still getting pounded as hard and fast as the 2 guys could, their cocks slamming in and out of her tight pussy and tight asshole, which were now stretched and loosened, allowing their dicks to slide in and out easily, but not any less pleasurable.

"You're such a good little whore for us, Wony. So good."

"Such a tight little body. So fuckable."

"Oh, yes...fuck yes...right there, guys. Don't stop. Give it to me harder."

Wony's eyes rolled up as she was being drilled from behind, her ass getting pounded by a massive cock, and her pussy getting fucked by a thick black cock.

"You guys are gonna make me cum again, soon."

"So fucking tight. Fuck, girl. You're squeezing my dick so hard, it's gonna be difficult for me not to cum inside you." The guy fucking her pussy said.

"I don't care. Fuck me however you want, but that load is ending on my face."

"Alright, Wony. Damn...such a spoiled little brat, aren't you?"

"Yes. I always get what I want, and right now, what I want is for you to keep fucking me until I cum, and then for you to cum on my face. Are we understood?" Wony asked, looking right into his eyes, with a very threatening look on her face. At least, the best one her cute, perfect face could make.

"Loud and clear, Wony. Now shut up and start bouncing on this cock." He replied, with a smirk on his face, as Wonyoung did exactly that, and started riding the guy, with the other still fucking her tight little ass. As her hands were free, she reached for the two cocks on either side of her and started jerking them off. She kept going at a fast pace, making sure their cocks were nice and ready for when their turn came to shoot their loads on her face.

Suddenly, the guy fucking her pussy started pinching her nipples, and before she could even react to it, she felt a hard cock slapping her across the face.

"Mmmmmm, oh my god, yes. Slap me, daddy. Hit me with your big fat black cock." She said, as he did just that, hitting her over and over again with his hard dick.

"You're not slapping me hard enough, daddy. Give it to me hard. Show me what a filthy fucking slut I am."

"Hit me like the naughty whore I am." Wony begged, before opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out, just as the guy's cock hit her in the face once more.

"Oh, shit...that's it. Right there, daddy. That's how you slap a bitch. Give it to me again. Hit me harder."

Wony's cheek stung after being hit, but that only made her hornier. The guy in front of her slapped her with his cock another couple of times, before he grabbed her chin and shoved his dick past her lips. Wonyoung was still being drilled from behind, whilst she was now choking on the guy's cock, as he was fucking her throat at a fast pace.

She had never done anything remotely close to what she was currently doing. It was the most intense and crazy thing she had ever done. The fact that she was letting herself be used and dominated by 5 big black guys, and letting them use her body as their personal sex doll, was not only turning her on, but making her feel more confident than ever. The way they were calling her names and degrading her was driving her wild, and she could feel herself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, with their huge dicks going in and out of her body.

It was too much pleasure to handle all at the same time for Wonyoung, and so she closed her eyes, and let herself go, cumming on the guys' dicks for the second time that night.

"Ah, she's cumming on my dick. I can feel her pussy clenching around my cock."

"That's it, Wony...keep cumming for us, baby."

"She's not the only one. Fuck, I'm close." The guy with fucking her mouth said, as he released the grip he had on her head, and started furiously stroking his cock right in front of her face.

"Oh fuck...daddy, yessss. Give me your cum."

"Paint my face, please!!!"

"Cum all over my face, daddy."

"Fuckkk, take it, Wony. Take all my fucking cum." He said, as Wonyoung stuck her tongue out, and felt multiple ropes of cum land across her face.

"Ahhhhh, yessss. Keep cumming on my face." Wony said, he shot the last droplets of cum towards her face, with the majority landing on her tongue.

"So fucking good...I love it. I want more of your delicious cum on my face, though."

"We will all give it to you, slut. You don't have to worry about it." The guy who had just cum all over her face said, before grabbing both of her hands, and pulling her off the dicks that were inside her holes.

"Damn, look at that gape. Come take a look at this." One guy said, appreciating the work he had done on Wony's ass.

"Now that's a nice little asshole. So wide open. Good job, man. I also did a great number on her pussy."

The guy put Wonyoung on her knees in front of him and the 2 guys that were already jerking off, and they were shortly joined by the 2 guys that had just fucked Wony's tight holes, as these 2 began stroking their shafts.

"Hmmm, keep stroking those big black cocks, boys." Wony said, looking towards the 5 of them, with a huge smile on her face, and her eyes rolling back, thanks to the feeling of having cum dripping down her gorgeous face.

"1 down, 4 to go, Wony. Whose cum do you want next?"

"Does it matter? I'm gonna end up taking all 5 loads on my face either way, so just come here and shoot your cum on my face, and make my pretty little face even prettier."

"Oh fuck, Wony...you're such a fucking cumslut for us, aren't you?" One of them said, stepping closer to Wonyoung, as he kept stroking his cock.

"Hmmmmm, yes. A cumslut for big black cocks and loads."

"Stroke that cock faster, daddy. Stroke it until you cum all over my face."

"Beg for it, Wonyoung. Beg for my fucking cum."

"Please, daddy. Give me your cum. Please cum on my pretty little face, daddy."

"Shoot your cum all over my face. I need it so badly!"

"I want to be drenched in all of daddy's cum."

"Fuck, Wony. Stop talking, and open your mouth." He said, as he grabbed Wony's head, and pulled her in, before pushing his cock down her throat and fucking her mouth for a good amount of time.

Wonyoung gagged on his cock, before he pulled it out, only to start jerking himself off once more, right in front of her face.

"You like being a good little whore for us, huh? You liked having us pass you around and use you as a fucktoy, didn't you?"

"Yes, daddy. I loved being used like a cumslut by you. By all of you."

"Wony....fuck, I'm gonna cum...I'm gonna fucking cum...oh, fuck, I'm cumming!!!" He said, just before he started shooting his cum all over Wonyoung's face, covering her skin with white streaks of his thick load.

"Thank you, daddy. Mmmm, that feels so good. I love being covered in your warm cum."

"So fucking sexy." The guy said, as he was now slowly stroking his cock, with the tip barely touching Wonyoung's face, the excess amount of cum slowly falling out of his dick, and on Wonyoung's lips and chin.

"C'mon...who's next? Who's painting my face with their delicious cum next?"

"Me, bitch. I'm so fucking close, slut." One guy said, as he stepped closer and started jerking off his hard cock right in front of her, as the other 2 were doing the same.

"C'mon...cum on my face, daddy. Let me have your cum, please."

"I need the cum that comes out of that big black cock all over my pretty little face, daddy."

"I want to be covered in cum!!!" Wony begged, before she quickly opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, after she saw the first ropes of cum flying towards her face, catching her by surprise.

"Take my fucking cum, you cumslut."

"Yes, daddy. Keep cumming all over my face." Wony said, closing her eyes as the cum kept flying towards her, landing on her lips and mouth, some even hitting her eyelids, nose and forehead.

Wonyoung was almost completely covered in cum at this point, with only several small spots left to be filled. She grabbed the last 2 remaining cocks and started stroking them off as fast as she could.

"I'm so close, baby. Fuckkkk, keep going, Wony."

"Stroke those cocks for us, Wony."

"I'm gonna stroke them so well, until they explode all over me."

"You're doing such a great job, Wony."

"Thank you, daddy. I'm gonna milk these cocks dry, and make them cum all over me."

"Do it, baby. Please."

"I wanna see your cute face covered in my cum, baby."

"Yes, please. Cum all over my face, daddy."

"Fuck me, I can't hold it anymore. Close your eyes, Wonyoung. I'm gonna cum."

"Yesssssssssss, shower me with your warm cum!!!" She said, feeling the first few droplets of cum falling on her face, as the guy kept shooting his load all over her face, giving her multiple layers of cum. Wonyoung had so much cum on her face, that it was mostly dripping down her chin and falling on her tits and stomach.

"Oh, fuck me. That feels so good, daddy. I love it."

"Thank you, daddy. Your cum is so warm and sticky. It feels so good on my skin."

"Your welcome, slut." He said, slapping his cock on her tongue, before walking backwards a bit, leaving Wonyoung alone with the last guy.

"Well, well, well...looks like it's just the two of us..."

"You look so pretty with our cum all over you."

"Thanks, daddy. Now I think I deserve another taste of this thick black cock." She said, wrapping her lips around the tip of his dick and sucking on it, while both her hands were working the rest of his long shaft.

"Mmmmmm, you guys are all so big. And you taste so good. I bet I could suck you guys for hours, without getting bored."

"Yeah? I'm sure you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Hmmmmm, yeah...I would even let you cum inside me."

"You're so fucking sexy, Wony. Such a fucking slut."

"Yes, I'm a slut. Your personal little cumdumpster." Wony replied, as she started rubbing her clit with her left hand.

"You like watching me finger my pussy whilst I jerk your big black cock, daddy?"

"Yes, Wony. I love it."

"Then give me your warm, delicious cum."

"Give it to me, daddy. Spray that thick white cum all over me."

"I've been such a good slut for you guys...I deserve one final big load of cum all over my face."

"Fuckkk me, Wony...I'm gonna cum soon. Keep going, girl." He said, as he took his cock of her hand and aimed his cock directly in front of her face, just before he started stroking his shaft, his hand moving incredibly fast, trying to reach his orgasm as quickly as possible.

"Yes, daddy. Keep jerking your big cock and cum for me. I want it, please."

"Stroke it faster, daddy."

"I love watching you stroke your big cock back and forth for me."

"Paint my face, daddy."

"I want to be covered in your cum."

"Don't you want to cum all over my face? I know you want to..."

"Keep stroking that hard cock for me, daddy."

"C'mon daddy. Cum for me. Give me your cum. Make me your cumslut." Wonyoung said, as she saw the guy's legs twitching and his knees weakening.

"Fuuuuckkk, Wony...here it comes...I'm cumming!!!" He said, just as Wonyoung opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out, hoping she would be able to catch at least a few drops of cum, before he began shooting multiple ropes of cum all over her, giving Wonyoung the thickest load she had received so far, making sure to cover any spots on her face that hadn't already been covered.

"Oh god...fuck...thank you, daddy. Mmmmm, so yummy. I love having all of your delicious cum on my face."

Wonyoung's face was a complete mess. She had, easily, two or three layers of cum, coating her entire face, and she absolutely loved it. Her hair was all messed up, and the room reeked of sex.

Wonyoung licked her cum covered lips and tasted the cum that guys' had shot on her mouth, before she brought her hands towards her face and wiped off the cum that was on her eyelids and nose, licking her fingers and moaning at the taste of the thick cum, before she got back on her feet.

"Well...thank you guys. This was so much fun."

"Yeah? Did you enjoy it?" One of them asked, knowing full well what her answer was going to be.

"Are you kidding me? Of course, I enjoyed it. You have no idea how badly I needed this tonight."

"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, because we enjoyed it too. It's not often that you get the chance to fuck one of the hottest girls in the K-pop industry."

"The...THE hottest girl in the K-pop industry." Wonyoung corrected him, before scooping some more cum off her face and swallowing it.

"Well...we have to go now. The shower is right down the hallway, to the left."

"Is there anything else you need before we go?"

"Yes. Could you guys give me your contacts? I really want to do this again next time I'm in town."

"Sure. Of course, you can." One of them said, writing his number on a piece of paper and handing it to her.

"Thank you."

"We will leave you to it. See you soon, hopefully."

"Bye, guys."

"See ya, Wony."

They all walked out the door and left the room, leaving Wonyoung alone. She sat down, with her back against the bed, reflecting on everything that had happened tonight, from being annoyed by Steven's wimpy behaviour, to being passed around 5 black guys, and getting her holes destroyed by their big black cocks.

It was the first time Wonyoung had ever done something as crazy as this, and she couldn't wait for the next time she would be able to do it. Eventually, she made her way towards the shower, making sure nobody saw her through the hallway.

After cleaning herself, and washing off all the cum that was left on her skin, she got dressed and made her way outside, calling an Uber. Once she was back at the hotel room where she was staying, she was met by all 5 of her bandmates.

"Wonyoung.....where were you, girl??? We were all worried about you. We tried calling you time and time again, but you just didn't pick up the phone. What happened?" Yujin asked.

"Oh, nothing...I was just exploring the city with Steven, and lost track of the time."

"Gosh, girl...you could've said something, though." Gaeul said.

"I'm sorry. You're right."

"So...did you and Steven finally get laid?" Leeseo asked, and Wonyoung was unable to hide her smile.

"Oh, if only they knew..." She thought to herself.

"Look girls...I appreciate your concern over me, but I'm here now, and I'm way too tired to talk right now, so goodnight." Wonyoung said, as she made her way towards her bed and laid down, falling asleep almost immediately.

[mcrdvcks]

7 minutes

chapter summary: You own a small bakery in Westchester. One day, Logan comes in for an order for the X-Mansion. After that he becomes a regular—something he persistently denies.

word count: 9.5k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm a sucker for baker!reader and logan. though this version of reader is a little bit more extroverted and less 'innocent' than the other baker!reader's i've seen. anyways, this is my entry for @yxtkiwiyxt and @lubdubology's valentine's writing challenge!

i'm not a valentine's girly, maybe because i just find it to be a commercial holiday with no meaning (or maybe because i'm 20 and my only valentine has been my dogs) but i hate chocolate and the holiday so...

warnings/tags: baker!reader, fluff, wrote this with x2 logan in mind, but you can imagine any logan, not proofread

Anytime the X-Mansion had a special occasion, they got baked goods from your bakery—a small shop in Westchester.

The first time Logan met you was by accident, or rather an order given to him by Jean. “It’s Rogue’s birthday. You don’t want her to miss out on havin’ a cake, do ya?”

Logan grumbled under his breath but didn’t argue. He wasn’t in the mood for errands, but Jean had a way of making things sound like a guilt trip, and he wasn’t about to deal with that all day. So, here he was, pushing open the door to some small bakery he’d never been to before. The smell of sugar and vanilla hit him immediately, warm and inviting, but he didn’t care about that—he just wanted to get the cake and get out.

The place wasn’t busy, just a couple of customers sitting at tables, sipping coffee. He stepped up to the counter, glancing at the display case full of pastries, then tapped the little bell once. A moment later, you stepped out from the back, wiping your hands on your apron.

“Hey, sorry about that—oh.” Your eyes flicked up, and you did a quick once-over, taking in the broad-shouldered, grumpy-looking man standing at your counter. “You’re definitely not Jean.”

“Yeah, no kiddin’.” Logan exhaled, already regretting this. “She sent me to pick up a cake for Rogue.”

“Right. The X-Mansion order.” You nodded, disappearing into the back. “Give me a sec.”

Logan drummed his fingers against the counter, glancing around. The place was small but homey, shelves lined with small bags of cookies, muffins, and whatever else people liked to buy on impulse. It smelled good—annoyingly good.

You came back out a few moments later, balancing a cake box in your hands. “Here it is. Vanilla with chocolate frosting, right?”

“Beats me. Jean just said ‘get the damn cake.’”

You huffed a short laugh, setting it down and ringing it up. “Well, let’s hope she ordered what Rogue actually likes.” You gave him a once-over again, tilting your head slightly. “You new around here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Logan pulled out his wallet, shaking his head. “Been stayin’ at the mansion a while now. Just don’t do bakery runs.”

“Shame. You seem like the type to appreciate a good cinnamon roll.”

He gave you a flat look. “Dunno what that means.”

“It means you’re a grumpy bastard, and grumpy bastards usually like cinnamon rolls.” You smirked, sliding the cake box toward him. “I have a self-proclaimed ability to guess what people like. You’re either cinnamon roll or an apple pie.”

Logan huffed, eyeing you like he couldn’t decide if you were messing with him or just plain strange. “That so?”

“Mm-hmm.” You leaned on the counter, clearly entertained by his skepticism. “And my guesses are usually spot-on.”

Logan crossed his arms. “What if I don’t like either?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then you’re just lying to yourself.”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “This what you do? Size people up based on pastries?”

“Works better than you’d think.” You tapped the counter lightly. “So, which one is it? Cinnamon roll or apple pie?”

Logan gave you a flat look, then sighed. “Pie.”

You grinned like you’d just won a bet. “Knew it.”

“Tch. Lucky guess.” He grabbed the cake box and turned toward the door, already done with this conversation.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You leaned on the counter, watching him. “Come back when you’re not on a mission, and I’ll prove it.”

He paused, just for a second, then shook his head and walked out. The bell over the door chimed behind him.

“See you later, sugar,” you called after him.

He didn’t look back, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of amusement before the door swung shut.

---

It had been a few months since the last time Logan had been over to your bakery. Then Scott and Ororo cornered him, telling him that “it was the least he could do for Jubilee.”

“I’m not goin’ to the damn bakery again.” Logan said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Scott sighed, unimpressed. “Logan, come on. It’s just a cake.”

“You say that like it’s a quick in-and-out job,” Logan grumbled. “Last time I went, I got roped into some damn conversation about cinnamon rolls.”

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “And that was… a problem?”

“Yes.”

Scott and Ororo exchanged a look.

“Look, Jean’s busy, and we’re in the middle of planning the party,” Scott said, folding his arms. “All you have to do is pick up the order. That’s it. No small talk, no distractions.”

Logan exhaled sharply. “Fine.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Scott smirked.

Logan ignored him, grabbed his jacket, and headed out.

---

The bakery smelled just as annoyingly good as last time. Logan stepped inside, tapping the bell on the counter once, hoping you wouldn’t be as chatty this time.

You appeared from the back, wiping your hands on your apron before looking up. The second you saw him, a slow grin spread across your face.

“Well, well. Thought I scared you off for good.”

Logan sighed. “M’just here for the cake.”

“Uh-huh.” You grabbed the order slip from the counter. “Jubilee’s birthday, right?”

He gave a short nod.

You disappeared into the back, and Logan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. The place wasn’t too busy, just a few customers sitting at the tables, chatting over coffee. It was cozy, warm, the kind of place people probably lingered in for hours. Not his thing.

You came back a moment later with a cake box, setting it down in front of him. “Vanilla with strawberry filling. I think she mentioned something about pink being mandatory.”

Logan pulled out his wallet. “You keep track of all your customers’ favorite cakes?”

You shrugged, ringing him up. “Just the regulars.”

He scoffed. “I ain’t a regular.”

“Not yet.” You smirked, handing him his change. “Though, I gotta admit, I’m a little disappointed.”

Logan frowned. “What now?”

“You never came back for me to prove I was right about the pie.”

He rolled his eyes. “Didn’t see a reason to.”

“Oh, there was a reason.” You leaned on the counter, tilting your head slightly. “You just didn’t wanna admit I was right. Which is why you can’t get the cake until you try a slice of pie.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “You serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You crossed your arms, matching his stare with a smirk. “One bite. That’s all I’m asking.”

Logan exhaled sharply, glancing at the cake box like it might disappear if he didn’t grab it fast enough. “I don’t got time for this.”

“Oh, but you do.” You were already turning, heading for the back. “Sit tight.”

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, but he stayed put.

A minute later, you came back with a small plate, a fork, and a slice of apple pie. You set it down in front of him like you were presenting something sacred. “Here. Try it.”

Logan glanced around, already regretting this. A couple of customers had noticed, though no one was paying too much attention. Still, he felt like he was being set up. “This ain’t poisoned, is it?”

You snorted. “Please. If I wanted to take you out, I’d do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Comfortin’.” He picked up the fork, giving you one last look before taking a bite.

Warm, just the right amount of cinnamon, flaky crust—damn it. He hated when people were right.

You leaned on the counter, waiting expectantly. “Well?”

Logan chewed, swallowed, and grunted. “S’fine.”

Your grin widened. “Fine?”

“Yeah.” He took another bite, mostly out of spite. “Nothin’ special.”

“Oh, now you’re just lying.” You tapped the counter. “Admit it. I was right.”

Logan shoved another piece into his mouth, refusing to say anything.

You laughed, shaking your head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

He pushed the plate back slightly and reached for the cake. “That enough of a taste test for ya?”

“For now.” You slid the cake toward him, clearly enjoying this way too much. “But next time? You’re trying the cinnamon roll.”

Logan grabbed the box and turned for the door. “Ain’t gonna be a next time.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

The bell chimed as he stepped outside, but he caught your voice just before the door swung shut.

“See ya, sugar.”

---

The bell over the bakery door chimed as Logan stepped inside, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was here. No one sent him this time—no guilt trips from Jean, no nagging from Scott. Just… a damn craving, apparently.

You looked up from behind the counter, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a slow smirk tugged at your lips. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”

Logan grunted, eyes flicking to the display case. “M’just here to pick somethin’ up.”

“Oh, sure. Totally believe that.” You leaned on the counter, chin resting in your palm. “Let me guess—apple pie?”

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re way too smug about this.”

“Because I was right.” You straightened up and grabbed a slice of pie from the case, sliding it onto a small plate. “But, you know, since you’re here, might as well test another theory.”

Logan eyed you warily. “What theory?”

Without answering, you turned and grabbed something else, placing it next to the pie—a cinnamon roll, warm and fresh from the oven.

You tapped the counter. “Go on.”

Logan huffed. “I didn’t ask for that.”

“Consider it a challenge.” You smirked. “If you don’t like it, I’ll let you walk out of here without any ‘I told you so’s.’”

He eyed you, then the cinnamon roll, then back at you. “…And if I do?”

“Then I get to gloat forever.”

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath, but grabbed the plate anyway. Pulling out a few bills, he slid them across the counter.

You rang him up, watching as he hesitated before finally tearing off a piece of the cinnamon roll and popping it into his mouth.

His chewing slowed. You caught the slightest flicker of something—not quite annoyance, not quite satisfaction—before he swallowed.

“Well?” You leaned forward, grinning.

Logan picked up his plate. “M’leavin’.”

You laughed. “That good, huh? You know, you could just say ‘thank you’ like a normal person.”

Logan scoffed, tearing off another piece of the cinnamon roll. “Ain’t my style.”

You smirked, resting your elbows on the counter. “Yeah, no kidding. You’re more of the grumble and disappear type.”

He didn’t argue, just kept eating like acknowledging you would give you more reason to gloat. The place wasn’t too busy, which meant you had all the time in the world to mess with him—not exactly the outcome he was hoping for when he walked in.

“So, what’s the verdict?” You tapped your fingers against the counter. “Cinnamon roll or apple pie?”

Logan chewed, swallowed, and exhaled through his nose. “Pie.”

You gasped dramatically. “Wow. Just like that? No hesitation?”

“Nope.” He took another bite.

You shook your head, grinning. “That’s crazy. ’Cause it sure looks like you’re enjoying that cinnamon roll.”

Logan grunted, not meeting your eyes. “S’fine.”

“You said that about the pie, and look where we are now.” You rested your chin in your hand, watching him. “Face it, Logan. You’ve got a sweet tooth.”

“Tch.” He picked up the plate and turned toward the door, clearly done with this conversation.

“Don’t be a stranger, sugar,” you called after him.

He didn’t look back, but you caught the way his shoulders tensed—like he was fighting the urge to respond. The bell chimed as he stepped outside.

You smirked, already looking forward to the next time he walked through that door.

---

Usually, you did just fine lugging the large bag of flour from the crate to the kitchen, but after spending all day on your feet testing new recipes you weren’t exactly at your best.

You faintly heard the bell ring above the front door, and you called out “we’re closed!” before tugging the bag of flour again.

“You’re closed, huh?” A familiar gruff voice cut through the quiet.

You groaned, still struggling with the damn bag of flour. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

Heavy footsteps approached, and before you could protest, the bag was lifted right out of your grip. You turned to see Logan holding it effortlessly like it weighed nothing.

You huffed. “You know, some people ask before just stepping in and taking over.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You were losin’ that fight.”

“I had it handled.”

“Sure you did.” He carried the bag through the doorway leading to the kitchen.

You followed, arms crossed. “What are you even doing here? You already got your sugar fix for the week.”

Logan set the bag down near the counter and dusted his hands off. “Needed somethin’ to do.”

You blinked. “So, out of all the places, you came here?”

He grunted, looking vaguely annoyed with himself. “Yeah, guess I did.”

You smirked, leaning against the counter. “Startin’ to think you like it here.”

Logan exhaled sharply. “Don’t push it.”

You tapped the counter lightly, still amused. “Well, since you’re here, you want something? Or are you just here to rescue me from my tragic battle with flour?”

Logan glanced around like he was debating whether he’d regret staying longer. Then his eyes landed on a tray of freshly baked cookies on the cooling rack.

You caught his look. “Ah. Now, let me use my special talent here—” You tapped your chin in mock thought. “You seem like a peanut butter guy.”

Logan scoffed. “Now you’re just makin’ stuff up.”

“Oh, am I?” You picked up a peanut butter cookie and held it out. “Go on. Prove me wrong.”

He stared at you, then at the cookie, then back at you. “This a new thing? You testin’ psychic powers on baked goods?”

“Just take the damn cookie, Logan.”

He rolled his eyes but took it, biting off a piece. His chewing slowed just slightly, the way it always did when he didn’t want to admit something was good.

You grinned. “Called it.”

Logan muttered something under his breath but didn’t stop eating.

You leaned on the counter, watching him. “So, what’s the excuse gonna be next time?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

“Mhm. You keep coming back, whether it’s for cake, pie, or playing the hero with fifty-pound bags of flour.”

Logan finished the cookie and dusted off his hands. “You assumin’ a lot.”

“Oh, I don’t assume.” You smirked. “I just have a talent for predicting things.”

He shook his head and turned toward the door. “Don’t wait up.”

You grinned. “Bye bye, sugar bear.”

---

The next time Logan showed up, he didn’t say anything at first. Just walked in, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, and stood at the counter like he was already regretting the decision.

You looked up from the register, eyebrows raising. “Back again already?”

“Don’t start.”

You smirked. “Didn’t say anything.”

Logan gave you a look that said he didn’t believe that for a second. His eyes flicked to the display case, scanning over the usual selection. You leaned on the counter, waiting.

“So, what’ll it be?” You tapped your fingers against the counter. “Pie? Cinnamon roll? Maybe a cookie? I know a guy who’s a big fan of peanut butter.”

Logan exhaled, shaking his head. “Just coffee.”

You blinked. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. You got a problem with that?”

You tilted your head slightly. “I just figured if you were gonna show up unprompted, you’d at least pretend you weren’t here just for the free samples.”

He gave you a flat look. “M’not here for free samples.”

“Uh-huh.” You turned, grabbing a mug. “Black?”

“Yeah.”

You poured the coffee and slid it across the counter. Logan took it without a word, lifting it to his lips.

You watched him take a sip, arms crossed. “So, what’s the excuse this time?”

He lowered the mug slightly. “What?”

“You always have an excuse for coming in. First it was Jean, then Scott, then some tragic flour-related emergency.” You smirked. “What is it today? Did someone put you on coffee duty?”

Logan didn’t answer right away, just took another sip. “No excuse.”

Your smirk faltered slightly. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shrugged, resting your elbows on the counter. “Just didn’t take you for the type to stop by for no reason.”

He grunted. “Maybe I just wanted coffee.”

“Maybe.” You studied him for a moment. “Or maybe you just wanted to see me.”

Logan huffed. “You’re pushin’ it.”

You grinned. “That wasn’t a no.”

He shook his head, setting the coffee down. “This place always this damn chatty?”

“Only when you’re here.”

Logan exhaled through his nose, but he didn’t argue. You took that as a win.

“Oh, I know somethin’ you can do for me.” You quickly ran into the backroom and grabbed a cooling scone—raspberry lime.

Logan eyed it with mild suspicion as you set it down in front of him. “What’s this?”

“A scone.”

He gave you a flat look. “I can see that.”

You smirked. “Then why’d you ask?”

Logan exhaled sharply, picking it up like it might bite him. “And I’m supposed to do what, exactly?”

“You’re supposed to eat it,” you said, leaning on the counter. “It’s a new recipe. Gotta make sure it’s good before I start selling them.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “And you don’t got anyone else to taste-test this?”

“Not anyone who’ll give me an honest answer.” You tapped the counter lightly. “Customers are too polite, and the old ladies who come in every Sunday think everything I make is ‘just delightful.’ I need actual feedback.”

Logan looked at the scone like it was some kind of trap. “…It got any weird crap in it?”

“Weird crap?” You blinked. “It’s raspberry and lime. How is that weird?”

He grunted, still skeptical, but took a bite. His chewing slowed slightly, which you’d come to recognize as the telltale sign that he actually liked something but wasn’t about to admit it outright.

You grinned. “Well?”

Logan swallowed, then shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Wow. High praise.”

He took another bite, shaking his head. “You want feedback or not?”

“Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”

He chewed thoughtfully, eyes flicking toward the ceiling like he was actually considering his words. “Not too sweet. Tart enough to keep it from bein’ boring. Texture’s good.” He paused, taking another bite. “Could use a little more lime.”

You tilted your head. “More lime?”

“Yeah.” He gestured vaguely with the scone. “You got the raspberry down, but the lime’s kinda fightin’ to be noticed.”

You pursed your lips, considering it. “Huh. Okay, I can work with that.”

Logan took another bite, looking vaguely annoyed with himself. “Didn’t expect you to actually listen.”

“I asked for feedback. What kind of baker would I be if I ignored it?” You smirked. “Besides, I already knew it was good—I just wanted to see if you’d admit it.”

He scoffed, setting the half-eaten scone down. “You’re a pain in the ass.”

“And yet, here you are. Again.”

Logan grunted, picking up his coffee. “Don’t make a big deal outta it.”

You grinned, tapping the counter. “No promises, sugar.”

---

The bell above the bakery door chimed, and you barely glanced up from where you were wiping down the counter. “We’re closed,” you called automatically.

“You keep sayin’ that, and yet, here I am,” came a familiar gruff voice.

You looked up, smirking as Logan stood at the counter, hands shoved into his jacket pockets like he was already regretting coming in. “Back again already? Thought you were done giving me a hard time.”

He grunted, eyes flicking toward the display case. “Just get me a coffee.”

You arched an eyebrow but didn’t question it, grabbing a mug and pouring it fresh. As you slid it across the counter, you tapped your fingers against the wood. “You know, most people would just admit they like a place instead of making up excuses to show up.”

Logan wrapped his hands around the mug, not looking at you. “Ain’t an excuse. Just needed coffee.”

“Sure.” You leaned on the counter, watching him. “So, what was it this time? Jean send you? Scott? Or did another bag of flour need rescuing?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “No reason.”

That gave you pause. You tilted your head slightly. “Huh.”

Logan frowned. “What?”

“Nothing.” You smirked, clearly amused. “Just didn’t take you for the type to stop by for no reason.”

He gave you a flat look. “You got somethin’ against repeat customers?”

“Oh, no. I love my regulars.” You grinned. “Especially the grumpy ones.”

Logan shook his head, lifting the mug to his lips. He didn’t argue, which only made you more smug.

---

The next time Logan came in, it wasn’t for coffee.

The place was quiet—late enough in the evening that most customers were long gone. You were behind the counter, finishing up some inventory, when the bell chimed.

You looked up, brows lifting. “You know, I could just give you a key at this point.”

Logan ignored that, stepping up to the counter. “What’s good today?”

You gave him an exaggerated gasp. “You’re finally asking for a recommendation? I’m honored.”

He sighed. “Just tell me what’s good.”

You smirked, grabbing a plate and sliding a freshly baked hand pie onto it. “Figured I’d experiment today—blackberry and bourbon.”

Logan picked up the hand pie, giving it a brief once-over before taking a bite. He chewed, swallowed, then gave a short nod. “Not bad.”

You put a hand over your heart. “Wow. Practically a glowing review.”

Logan rolled his eyes, but something about the interaction had softened. He stayed leaning against the counter, glancing at the cooling trays behind you. “So, you always wanted to do this?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Do what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely. “The whole bakery thing.”

You shrugged. “Pretty much. Always liked baking, figured I might as well get paid for it.”

Logan hummed in acknowledgment, taking another bite. He didn’t say anything for a while, but he didn’t leave either.

After a few beats of silence, you decided to return the question. “What about you?”

He glanced up. “What about me?”

You leaned on the counter. “You always wanted to be a broody loner who shows up at small businesses unannounced?”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

You grinned. “Yeah, but I grow on people.”

“We’ll see about that.”

But he didn’t leave.

---

You had a habit of observing people. It came with the job—regulars had patterns, little quirks that gave away more than they realized.

Logan was no different.

The third or fourth time he came in, you started noticing them. The way his eyes scanned the room the second he stepped inside, like he was cataloging everything. How he never sat with his back to the door. How his shoulders only slightly relaxed after a few minutes, like he was still debating if he should be here at all.

“You’re always on guard.”

Logan, who had just taken a sip of coffee, lowered the mug slightly. “What?”

“You’re always watching everything,” you said, casually wiping down the counter. “Like you’re waiting for something to go wrong.”

Logan’s expression flickered—just for a second. “Force of habit.”

You nodded. “Figured.”

That was it. No prodding, no pushing. Just an acknowledgment.

Logan’s fingers tapped against the side of his mug. “That a problem?”

“Nope.” You smirked. “Just an observation.”

Logan held your gaze for a second longer, then shook his head. “You notice too much.”

“Perks of the job.” You leaned forward slightly. “You know what else I noticed?”

He sighed. “What now?”

“You linger.”

Logan frowned. “The hell does that mean?”

“You stick around longer each time.” You grinned. “Almost like you enjoy being here.”

Logan grunted, grabbing his coffee. “You’re annoyin’.”

“And yet, here you are.”

He didn’t argue.

---

The bell above the bakery door chimed, right on schedule. You smirked to yourself as you wiped your hands on your apron. Logan had been showing up like clockwork now—never admitting it, of course, but his routine spoke for itself.

When you turned around, you were already holding out a plate.

Logan narrowed his eyes. “What’s this?”

You set it on the counter with a flourish. “Leftover peanut butter cookies. Tragic, really. If only someone around here liked them.”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You plannin’ on feedin’ me every time I come in?”

“Would you complain if I was?” You leaned on the counter, raising an eyebrow.

He grumbled something under his breath but grabbed a cookie anyway, biting into it like he was proving a point.

You smirked. “Thought so.”

Logan chewed, swallowed, then gestured toward the plate. “These actually extra?”

You tilted your head. “Does it matter?”

His jaw flexed slightly, like he didn’t know how to respond. Instead of answering, he just grabbed another cookie.

You grinned.

---

It had been a long day. A really long day.

One of the ovens had decided to throw a tantrum, a supplier had screwed up an order, and to top it off, you still had to prep for a catering job in the morning.

You didn’t even look up when the bell chimed. “We’re closed,” you called tiredly, shoving a crate of flour toward the back.

“Yeah, yeah.”

You blinked, glancing up to see Logan standing near the counter, arms crossed.

You huffed. “Starting to think you don’t understand what closed means.”

Logan ignored that, glancing around at the half-prepped trays, the mess of ingredients still covering the counter. “You runnin’ this place by yourself?”

“Yep.” You exhaled, pushing hair out of your face. “Well, mostly. Sometimes I hire help for big orders.”

Logan grunted, then—without a word—walked past the counter, grabbed the flour bag you had been struggling with, and lifted it like it weighed nothing.

You blinked. “Uh—what are you—”

“Where’s it goin’?”

You stared at him. “You do realize you don’t work here, right?”

Logan gave you a flat look. “You askin’ me to leave?”

You hesitated, then sighed. “Corner shelf, second row.”

He carried it over like it was nothing, then turned back expectantly.

You crossed your arms. “What, you lookin’ for a job now?”

Logan snorted. “You couldn’t afford me.”

“Oh, please.” You smirked. “I’d pay you in coffee and pie. You’d be set for life.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced around the kitchen again. “What else?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you helping?”

“Tch.” He grabbed another crate before you could protest. “You’re losin’ this fight, just let it happen.”

You watched him work for a moment, a little stunned. You weren’t used to people sticking around just to help. It wasn’t a grand gesture, wasn’t something he was making a big deal out of—it was just Logan, stepping in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You turned back to your work, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But you’re not getting paid.”

Logan grunted. “Figures.”

---

It was late—too late. You should’ve locked up an hour ago, but you were dragging your feet, finishing up inventory while Logan sat at one of the tables with his usual coffee.

You glanced over at him. He had been coming around more, sticking around longer. He never said why, and you never asked. It was just… the way things had settled.

“You always this restless?” you asked, breaking the quiet.

Logan glanced up. “What?”

“You always show up late.” You leaned against the counter. “Ever sleep?”

He scoffed. “Not much.”

You tilted your head slightly. “Because you can’t, or because you don’t want to?”

Something flickered in his expression. He looked down at his coffee, fingers tapping against the side of the mug. “Both.”

You studied him for a moment. “Bad dreams?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly—so quiet you almost missed it—he muttered, “Somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t push. You could’ve asked more, pried for details, but that wasn’t how this worked. Instead, you just nodded.

“I get it,” you said simply.

Logan looked at you, something unreadable in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You shrugged. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… understanding.

Logan took another sip of his coffee, then exhaled. “You should lock up.”

You smirked. “You gonna tell me what to do now?”

He stood, grabbing his jacket. “Don’t need to. You’re already dead on your feet.”

You huffed. “You know, for a guy who claims he doesn’t care, you sure do act like you do.”

Logan pulled his jacket on, not looking at you. “Get some sleep, Y/N.”

You watched as he headed for the door, shaking your head with a small smile.

“Night, sugar bear,” you called after him.

He didn’t look back, but you saw the way his shoulders tensed—like he was fighting the urge to respond.

The bell chimed as the door swung shut.

---

By now, Logan had stopped making excuses for why he kept coming back. He still didn’t admit anything, but you noticed the pattern—how he always came in around closing time, how he lingered longer each visit.

Tonight was no different.

The bell chimed, and you barely looked up from wiping down the espresso machine. “Y’know, if you’re gonna keep doing this, I really should just give you a key.”

Logan grunted, stepping inside. “Don’t need one.”

You smirked. “Because you’d just break in?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

You rolled your eyes, finishing up before leaning on the counter. “So, what’ll it be? Coffee? Something sweet? Or are you just here to loiter?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. He walked over to his usual seat—the one near the window, back to the wall—and sat down with a sigh.

“No coffee,” he muttered.

That was new.

You eyed him. “Rough night?”

He exhaled sharply but didn’t answer. That was answer enough.

Without another word, you grabbed a mug, poured something fresh, and set it on the table in front of him.

“I thought I said no coffee.”

You sat across from him, propping your chin on your hand. “It’s tea.”

Logan frowned at it. “The hell do I look like, some kinda tea-drinkin’—”

“—Just drink it, Logan.”

He huffed but didn’t argue. Took a sip. Grunted.

You smirked. “Good, right?”

“...It’s fine.”

You leaned back, watching him. “You don’t have to talk, you know.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

You shrugged. “Just saying. If you wanna sit here in broody silence for an hour, I won’t stop you.”

He stared at you for a long moment, something unreadable passing behind his expression. Then, slowly, he leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea.

Neither of you said anything else for a while.

But he stayed.

---

You had dealt with rude customers before. It came with the job—some people were just assholes. But most of the time, they were harmless.

Most of the time.

Tonight, some guy had been giving you a hard time—complaining about his order, getting a little too close, sneering in that way that immediately put you on edge.

“You got a problem with your ears, sweetheart? I said extra caramel—”

“I heard you,” you said, forcing yourself to stay calm. “But that’s not what you ordered.”

The guy scoffed, leaning over the counter. “So now you’re callin’ me a liar?”

Before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“She ain’t callin’ you anythin’.”

Logan was right there—sudden and solid, standing just slightly in front of you.

The guy turned, sizing Logan up. “And who the hell are you supposed to be?”

Logan didn’t answer. Just held his gaze, silent, still.

You had seen Logan fight before—you knew what he was capable of—but sometimes, it didn’t take claws or violence. Sometimes, it was just him, standing there, making someone realize they’d made a mistake.

The guy swallowed.

“Forget it,” he muttered, grabbing his coffee and leaving without another word.

The door shut behind him, and for a moment, the bakery was silent.

You exhaled. “Well. That was fun.”

Logan turned, looking you over like he was checking for something. “You alright?”

You smirked. “Aww, you care.”

Logan grunted. “Don’t start.”

You crossed your arms. “What, no dramatic one-liner? No ‘stay away from her’ speech?”

“Didn’t need one.”

You shook your head, still smirking. “You’re ridiculous.”

Logan didn’t answer. Just grumbled under his breath and went back to his seat, like nothing had happened.

But you noticed the way he didn’t touch his drink for a while—like he was still too on edge to relax.

---

“You’re actually serious about this.”

Logan stood at the entrance of the farmers’ market, arms crossed, looking very unamused by the whole thing.

You grinned. “Yep.”

“You dragged me here.”

“Oh, please. No one drags you anywhere. You came willingly.”

He grunted but didn’t argue.

You had invited him on a whim, half-expecting him to say no. But to your surprise, he had shown up—grumbling the whole way, sure, but still.

The market was lively—small tents, fresh produce, the smell of roasted coffee and warm pastries in the air. It was a nice change from the usual bakery setting.

Logan, however, looked wildly out of place.

“You look miserable,” you teased, nudging him.

“’Cause I am miserable.”

“You sure? ’Cause I saw you eyeing those smoked meats at the last booth.”

Logan huffed. “That don’t mean I wanna be here.”

You smirked. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Still, he stuck close to you as you weaved through the booths. He didn’t complain when you stopped to look at pastries, didn’t roll his eyes too hard when you bought something ridiculous just because it “looked cute.”

At one point, you handed him a fresh apple cider donut.

Logan frowned. “What’s this for?”

“Because you look like you wanna kill someone, and I need you to chill.”

He gave you a look but took a bite anyway.

You grinned. “See? Was that so hard?”

Logan just grumbled around his donut.

You took that as a win.

---

Logan, for the first time in a while, came to your bakery for an order. It was for the Valentine’s Day party at the mansion and Jean and Ororo put him on pickup duty.

It was close to 3 pm when he arrived and the sign on the door was already turned to CLOSED.

He opened the door and walked in, the bell ringing above.

You were behind the counter, carefully arranging a tray of macarons into a pastry box. You glanced up at the sound, then smirked when you saw who it was.

“Ah, my favorite grump. Here for the party order?”

Logan grunted, stepping closer. “Jean and Ro made me do it.”

“Of course they did.” You shut the box and slid it across the counter. “Bunch of heart-shaped macarons, just as requested—raspberry, chocolate, vanilla bean, and peanut butter.”

Logan eyed the box, then flicked his gaze back to you. You looked… different. Dressed up. Not overly fancy, but enough to make him pause. His brows pulled together slightly.

“You got plans or somethin’?”

You tilted your head. “What?”

He gestured vaguely. “You’re dressed up.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Why, you jealous?”

Logan scoffed. “Ain’t jealous. Just askin’.”

You hummed, clearly entertained. “No date, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Logan crossed his arms. “Didn’t say nothin’ about a date.”

You grinned. “Mhm. Well, in case you were wondering, Jean invited me to the party.”

His expression flickered—something unreadable for half a second—before he exhaled sharply. “That right?”

“Yep.” You grabbed another small box from behind the counter and handed it to him. “These are yours, by the way.”

Logan frowned slightly, opening the box. Inside were four macarons, but unlike the ones in the party order, these were regular round ones.

“Didn’t think you’d want heart-shaped ones,” you said, watching his reaction.

He stared at them for a moment. “These the same flavors?”

“Yep. One of each.” You leaned on the counter, smirking. “Figured you’d appreciate the peanut butter one the most.”

Logan huffed. “You really don’t let up, huh?”

“Nope.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue. Just shut the box and grabbed the party order. “C’mon. I’ll give you a ride.”

You blinked. “What?”

Logan gestured toward the door. “Party’s at the mansion, ain’t it? You’re goin’, I’m goin’. Might as well save you the trip.”

You smirked, grabbing your coat. “And how exactly are these macarons supposed to survive on a motorcycle?”

Logan gave you a flat look. “I got it handled.”

You chuckled, stepping around the counter. “Alright, sugar bear. Let’s see what you got.”

He grumbled something under his breath but held the door open for you anyway.

You stepped outside, pulling your coat tighter as the cool air hit. Logan followed, already heading toward his bike.

You stopped short, staring at it. “Okay, I gotta ask—where exactly are these macarons supposed to go? You got some hidden pastry compartment I don’t know about?”

Logan shot you a look. “I said I got it handled.”

You crossed your arms. “That’s not an answer.”

He exhaled sharply, then crouched slightly, reaching for the saddlebag attached to the side of his bike. With practiced ease, he unlatched it, revealing a snug, padded compartment inside.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s… oddly convenient.”

Logan shrugged. “Picked it up a while back. Good for keepin’ shit from gettin’ smashed.”

You smirked. “So, what you’re saying is, this is a dessert-safe motorcycle?”

He grunted, carefully placing the boxes inside. “Sure.”

You shook your head, amused. “You are full of surprises, sugar bear.”

Logan ignored that, straightening up before turning to you. “You ever been on a bike before?”

You hesitated. “…Define ‘been on a bike.’”

His expression flattened. “That a no?”

“Not a no. More like a… not exactly.”

Logan exhaled through his nose. “Great.” He swung a leg over and sat, steadying the bike before nodding toward you. “C’mon.”

You gave him a look. “You’re just assuming I’m gonna get on?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You got another ride?”

You huffed, stepping forward. “Fine, but if we crash, I’m haunting you.”

Logan scoffed. “Yeah, yeah. Foot on the peg, swing your leg over, and don’t make a damn production out of it.”

You did as he said, slightly awkward but managing without embarrassing yourself. Once seated, you hesitated, hands hovering near his back.

“…Where am I supposed to hold?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. Then, without looking back, he reached for your wrists and pulled your arms around his waist. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard, but didn’t argue. His body was solid under your hands, radiating warmth even through his jacket.

“This gonna be a problem?” he asked, clearly amused.

You huffed. “Not unless you do something stupid.”

Logan smirked, kicking the bike to life. “Hang on, doll.”

You rolled your eyes but tightened your grip around his waist. The engine rumbled beneath you, the vibration humming through your chest as Logan eased the bike forward. The cool night air bit at your skin, but the warmth of him under your hands made up for it.

As he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t help but squeeze your arms a little tighter. Not out of fear—just instinct. Logan didn’t say anything about it, but you could feel the shift in his posture, the slightest adjustment like he was making sure you were steady.

The ride was smooth, surprisingly so. Logan handled the bike with an ease that made you wonder just how many times he’d done this before. The streets of Westchester blurred past, streetlights casting a golden glow over the pavement.

After a few minutes, you leaned forward slightly. “So, be honest. How often do you use the whole ‘wanna ride?’ line to impress women?”

Logan snorted. “You think I need a line?”

You scoffed. “Wow. That cocky, huh?”

He smirked, though you couldn’t see it. “Ain’t about bein’ cocky, darlin’. Just statin’ facts.”

You shook your head, amused. “Uh-huh. Well, just so you know, I’m only impressed if we get there in one piece.”

Logan huffed. “You doubtin’ my drivin’?”

“I mean, I don’t want to, but I’ve also seen how you drive a car, and—”

“That was one time,” he grumbled.

“And yet, Scott still won’t let you near the X-Jet.”

“One crash, and suddenly nobody trusts ya.”

You laughed, resting your chin lightly against his back. “You’re ridiculous.”

Logan didn’t respond, but you felt his chest rise and fall with a short, quiet chuckle.

The rest of the ride was mostly silent, save for the occasional gust of wind and the steady roar of the engine. It wasn’t bad, you realized. The night air, the open road, the way Logan rode like he belonged there—it was… nice.

After a while, the looming gates of the Xavier Institute came into view. Logan slowed the bike, coasting up the long driveway before finally coming to a stop near the entrance.

As the engine cut off, you let out a breath and loosened your grip. Logan tilted his head slightly. “Not bad for your first time?”

You huffed. “I mean, I survived, so I’d call it a win.”

He smirked. “Told ya I had it handled.”

You slid off the bike, stretching your legs. “Alright, sugar bear. Let’s get these macarons inside before Jean hunts us down.”

Logan grunted but grabbed the boxes from the saddlebag, handing you yours before leading the way inside. The moment you stepped through the doors, the distant sound of music and chatter spilled into the hallway.

You smirked. “Sounds like the party’s in full swing.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Great.”

You nudged him playfully. “Oh, come on. It won’t kill you to be social for one night.”

He gave you a look. “Wanna bet?”

Before you could respond, a familiar voice cut in.

“There you guys are!”

Jean appeared from around the corner, arms crossed but a knowing smirk on her lips. “Was starting to think you got lost.”

Logan grunted, holding up the pastry box. “Got your damn macarons, didn’t we?”

Jean took them, amused. “And you made it in one piece. I’ll call that a success.” She glanced at you, smirk widening. “Enjoy the ride?”

You crossed your arms, smirking right back. “I mean, I was mildly impressed. Didn’t even have to cling to him for dear life.”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I hate both of ya.”

Jean just laughed. “Come on, you two. Let’s get to the party.”

You followed her down the hall, Logan trailing behind you like he was already regretting every life decision that led him to this moment. The music grew louder as you got closer, and when Jean pushed open the doors to the common room, the full chaos of the Valentine’s party hit you.

Streamers, heart-shaped balloons, and way too much red and pink covered every inch of the space. A long table near the wall was packed with snacks, desserts—including your macarons—and an absolutely massive punch bowl that looked suspiciously spiked.

“Oh, this is festive,” you mused, glancing around.

“Festive’s one word for it,” Logan muttered.

Jean handed off the box of macarons to Ororo, who grinned when she saw you. “Glad you made it!”

“Of course,” you said, smirking. “Wouldn’t miss an excuse to see Logan suffer through social interaction.”

Ororo chuckled. “Well, you’re in luck, because he can’t sneak out this time. Scott already said if he disappears before midnight, he’s getting put on dish duty for the next month.”

You turned to Logan. “I like this rule.”

Logan just grunted. “’S bullshit.”

Jean smirked. “Then you better stick around.”

Ororo pulled you away toward the dessert table before Logan could complain more. “Come on, you have to try some of the punch before Bobby finishes it off.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just straight-up vodka at this point,” you said, eyeing the bowl.

“Exactly.”

You laughed but let her pour you a cup. The party was already in full swing—students dancing, music blasting, people laughing over whatever nonsense was happening near the pool table. It was easy, fun, not a bad way to spend a night.

Logan, however, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He had posted up near the bar, arms crossed, sipping a beer while occasionally glaring at anyone who got too close.

You made your way over, drink in hand. “Having fun?”

He gave you a flat look.

You grinned. “That bad, huh?”

He sighed. “Too loud.”

“Aw, poor thing,” you teased, nudging him. “Bet you’d rather be back at the bakery eating peanut butter cookies in broody silence.”

Logan took a sip of his beer. “Damn right.”

You smirked, leaning against the bar. “Well, if you survive the night, maybe I’ll consider rewarding you with some.”

His eyes flicked toward you, something unreadable in his expression. “That so?”

“Maybe.” You took a sip of your drink. “Depends on how grumpy you get.”

Logan scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he watched you over the rim of his bottle, like he was figuring something out.

Before either of you could say anything else, Rogue appeared, grinning. “Oh, good, you’re both here.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.”

“I need you two for somethin’.”

Logan immediately shook his head. “No.”

Rogue rolled her eyes. “You don’t even know what it is.”

“Don’t need to.”

She ignored him and turned to you. “We’re playin’ Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

You nearly choked on your drink. “You’re what?”

Rogue smirked. “C’mon, it’s tradition. Just pick a name outta the hat.”

Logan was already turning to leave. “Hell no.”

You grabbed his arm before he could make an escape. “Oh, come on, sugar. Don’t be a coward.”

He shot you a look. “I ain’t playin’ some dumbass game.”

Rogue crossed her arms. “Then you gotta do dish duty for a month.”

Logan clenched his jaw.

You grinned. “I like this rule.”

Logan exhaled sharply, then snatched a name from the hat. He glanced at it, scowled, then crumpled the paper in his fist. “This is stupid.”

Rogue smirked, looking at you. “Your turn.”

You sighed, reaching into the hat. When you unfolded the paper, your eyes widened slightly.

Logan.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. His expression was unreadable, but you caught the slight twitch of his jaw.

Rogue clapped her hands together. “Welp, you know the rules. Closet’s that way.”

You turned to Logan, smirking. “Guess we’re doin’ this.”

He huffed. “Guess so.”

Rogue practically shoved you both toward the closet, grinning. “Have fun, lovebirds.”

The door shut behind you with a click.

You turned to Logan, arms crossed. “So. This is happening.”

He exhaled sharply. “Tch.”

The space wasn’t exactly roomy. You were standing close, close enough to catch the scent of cigar smoke and something warm, familiar.

You smirked. “You look like you’d rather fight Sabretooth again than be in here right now.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Ain’t far off.”

You chuckled, then leaned back slightly. “Relax, sugar. It’s just a game.”

He studied you for a moment, then shook his head. “You really don’t let up, do ya?”

“Nope.”

Silence stretched between you. There was something… different about being this close, no bar or counter between you, nothing but the dim glow of light filtering under the door.

Your gaze flicked to his lips, just for a second, before you looked back up at his eyes. His expression was unreadable, but there was something else there—something you couldn’t quite place.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’re you thinking?”

Logan exhaled slowly, then smirked. “You really wanna know?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to make your breath catch.

“…Thinkin’ this is a real stupid game,” he muttered.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. “Terrible answer.”

Logan grunted, crossing his arms. “Yeah, well. Ain’t much of a game to begin with.”

You smirked, leaning back against the closet wall. “You know, for someone who acts like he doesn’t give a damn about party games, you sure are committed to standing here in silence.”

Logan shot you a look. “Ain’t like I got a choice.”

“You always got a choice, sugar,” you mused, tilting your head. “Could’ve taken dish duty.”

“Rather be in here than deal with Scott’s bitchin’.”

You chuckled. “That’s fair.”

Silence stretched between you again. The closet wasn’t big, barely enough space for both of you without standing close. Logan stayed where he was, arms crossed, shoulders tense.

You tapped your fingers against the wall, glancing at him. “You ever actually played this before?”

He exhaled sharply. “What, you think I spent my younger years crammed in closets with gigglin’ teenagers?”

You grinned. “I dunno, Logan. You’ve been around a while. Gotta imagine at least one girl managed to talk you into it.”

He huffed. “Ain’t my thing.”

“Yeah, I figured.” You shifted, crossing one leg over the other. “You don’t really seem like the party type. More of a ‘drink alone in a dive bar and pretend you don’t wanna talk to anyone’ kinda guy.”

Logan shot you a dry look. “You got me all figured out, huh?”

You tapped your temple. “I’m observant.”

He didn’t answer, but you caught the slight twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

You let the silence linger for a beat before speaking again. “You know, seven minutes is a long time. You might as well entertain me.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Entertain you?”

“Yeah. Tell me something.”

He scoffed. “Ain’t got nothin’ to say.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” you mused. “You just don’t like talking.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You do enough of that for both of us.”

You pressed a hand to your chest. “You wound me, sugar bear.”

He exhaled sharply. “Don’t call me that.”

“You never complain when I say it outside of a closet.”

“’Cause outside of a closet, I can walk away.”

You smirked. “You sure about that? ’Cause last time I checked, you keep coming back.”

Logan grunted, looking away. “This is the longest seven minutes of my goddamn life.”

“Oh, come on. You’re having fun.”

“The hell I am.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. If you’re not gonna talk, I’ll just have to fill the silence myself.”

Logan sighed. “Fantastic.”

You ignored his sarcasm and leaned your head back against the wall. “Alright, let’s see… Did I ever tell you about the time a guy tried to rob me with a butter knife?”

That actually got Logan’s attention. His brows pulled together slightly. “The hell?”

You grinned. “Yeah. Came in one night, all twitchy, pulls a damn butter knife from his sleeve like it was supposed to be intimidating. Told me to empty the register.”

Logan tilted his head. “What’d you do?”

You smirked. “Took the knife out of his hand and gave him a scone.”

Logan stared at you, then shook his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I prefer resourceful,” you said, grinning. “Besides, guy was clearly desperate. Didn’t have the heart to kick his ass.”

Logan grunted. “Lucky for him.”

“Lucky for me, too. He actually came back a week later with a real apology. Bought a dozen muffins.”

Logan huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Only you.”

You shrugged, clearly pleased with yourself. “Hey, you’re the one who said I talk too much. This is what you get. I could also talk about the time my cousin carpooled with—”

Logan cut you off mid-sentence. Not with a glare, not with a grumble—no, this time, he shut you up the only way that was guaranteed to work.

By kissing you.

It was sudden, barely enough time to react before he stepped forward, backing you up until your shoulders hit the wall. His hand came up, palm pressing flat beside your head, caging you in without a single word.

Your breath caught, brain short-circuiting for half a second before instinct kicked in. You kissed him back, fingers curling slightly at your sides like you were debating grabbing onto him.

Logan didn’t rush it—didn’t press too hard, didn’t let it turn into something it wasn’t meant to be. But it was firm, deliberate, enough to make your knees feel just a little weak.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, he pulled back.

The closet felt even smaller than before.

For a few long, charged moments, neither of you said anything. You were still pressed against the wall, Logan still close, his hand still braced by your head. His eyes flicked over your face, scanning for something, though you weren’t sure what.

Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t about to be the one to break first.

So, instead, you smirked, tilting your head slightly. “So… does this mean you’re my valentine now?”

Logan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You never let up, do ya?”

“Nope.” Your grin widened. “Not even after being dramatically kissed in a broom closet.”

Logan huffed, but he didn’t move away. He stayed right there, close enough that you could still feel his warmth, still smell the faint trace of whiskey and cigar smoke clinging to his jacket.

You tapped a finger against his chest. “I mean, you did just make a pretty big statement. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually like me.”

Logan grunted. “Don’t push it.”

You grinned. “That wasn’t a no.” You reached up, tapping his bottom lip with your finger, “c’mon sugar bear. Would I really be that bad of a valentine?”

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes flicking between yours. "You’re real pushy, you know that?"

You smirked. "And yet, here you are. In a closet. With me." Your finger was still resting against his lip, and you tapped it lightly, just to mess with him. "So, sugar bear, what’s the verdict?"

Logan caught your wrist before you could do it again, his grip firm but not rough. "That name’s gonna be the death of me."

"You’ll survive." You grinned. "So? Valentine or not?"

Logan didn’t answer right away. He still hadn’t let go of your wrist, his thumb brushing absently against your skin like he hadn’t noticed he was doing it. His gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up, his jaw tightening slightly like he was debating something.

Then, without a word, he let go, stepping back just enough to put space between you.

You arched an eyebrow. "That’s it?"

Logan crossed his arms. "What else you want, a damn serenade?"

"Well, now that you mention it—"

"Not happenin’."

You chuckled, tilting your head. "Alright, fine. No singing. But I’ll take that kiss as a yes."

Logan scoffed. "You assume too much."

"Mm. Do I?" You tapped your chin in mock thought. "You kissed me. Didn’t push me away. Didn’t tell me to shut up. And now you’re looking at me like you’re still considerin’ round two."

Logan’s jaw ticked. "You’re real smug."

"You like it," you shot back easily.

He didn’t confirm or deny it. Just exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair.

"Alright," you said, watching him. "Since you clearly can’t admit it, I’ll do it for you. Logan Howlett, the grumpiest man in Westchester, is officially my Valentine."

Logan rolled his eyes. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, here you are," you teased, throwing his own words back at him.

Logan shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched—just barely, but you caught it. "You done yet?"

"Not even close." You smirked, reaching for the doorknob. "But I’ll give you a break… for now."

Before you could turn it, Logan caught your wrist again, stopping you.

You raised an eyebrow. "Changed your mind?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just held your gaze for a second longer than necessary before he muttered, low and gruff, "you talk too much."

Then he kissed you again.

This time, there was no hesitation. No half-measures. Just Logan pressing you back against the closet wall, one hand curling around your waist, the other braced beside your head. The kiss was slower this time, deliberate, like he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t talk your way out of it.

Not that you were planning to.

You grinned against his lips, fisting the front of his jacket and pulling him closer. "See?" you murmured. "Told you you liked me."

Logan grunted but didn’t stop kissing you. Didn’t pull away.

Didn’t even argue.

i hope this was valentine-y enough! <3

[pedgito]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader x Eddie Munson

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summary | Joel and you go on patrol and woah—Eddie's coming with?

author's note | uh...hahaha. okay. i had a brief moment the other night, a lapse in judgement if you will and was like...joel would so be annoyed of eddie if they were stuck on patrol together and then we got horny and that's how this came about. this is my early valentines gift to WHOEVER is reading and enjoying this, it was a blast to write. a special thanks to @gracieheartspedro @amanitacowboy &. @chaotic-mystery for supporting my insane and always stupid ideas.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, is this crossfic or crackfic the jury is still out, jackson!joel, eddie munson survives but the cost = apocalypse, threesomes (m/m/f), eddie is an absolute munch, voyeurism, unprotected piv, spitting, ass slaps, slight dom/sub undertones across the board, this is ALL about reader and getting both her men, double creampies, cum feeding, choking, freak nasty at an unhinged level i'm sorry

word count — 5.5k

You were the one who found him.

Eddie.

Alone, hungry, terrified.

Hiding inside an abandoned boathouse for days in a patrol spot that had been neglected for most of the winter. It was only chance that you came alone, usually stuck with Joel who would have scared him off in a matter of seconds.

He’s like a puppy, shrinking impossibly smaller despite his height and lanky figure, hair filthy with a mix of dirt and leaves, weeks spent living savagely in search of his next meal and resting place.

Luckily, Tommy Miller was a soft soul.

One look at Eddie and Tommy didn’t even question it.

Eddie had made his rounds, too. He tried to find a place where he fit - kitchen duty wasn’t great, nor was butchering or helping run the stable.

It isn’t until he throws out the idea of patrolling that Tommy even considers it—it wasn’t something he liked to offer up unless people showed interest.

And even then, it was an adjustment.

A mix of both trust and skill—constant awareness, a willingness to communicate, and the ability to brave whatever challenge or elements you’d face outside the fortified walls of Jackson.

So, that’s where you were.

Eddie has tagged along for your patrol with Joel.

It was two days and one night in the small cabin out west. It wasn’t far from Jackson, either. In fact, it was one of the easier patrols and Joel could easily doze off at his post while you kept yourself busy.

It was easy, calm.

“Is this all you do?” Eddie asks curiously, tearing into his bag of jerky like a rabid dog, the dried meat cracking under the pressure of his teeth, “Just sit?”

It wasn’t the first question he’s asked, nor the last. 

It started with him asking if Joel and Tommy were real brothers before divulging into several questions about life before the infection spread—all mundane and simple, but you have learned so much about Joel in the few years you’ve lived in Jackson.

When he was tired or irritated, happy, when he needed you without the courage to ask, but more importantly—

You could tell when he was annoyed.

You glance over your shoulder and catch the shifty gaze he gives you, biting his tongue for a moment before he nods you over, sitting at the kitchen table whittling away on a chunk of wood to keep himself busy.

Both physically and mentally.

“Shit is a killer,” Eddie adds, “—might have to bring my guitar with me from now on, play some tunes or—“

His voice is drowned out by Joel as he speaks without looking at you, playing your actions off as you were searching through your pack.

“Shut him up,” Joel demands, “now,”

“He’s excited,” You shrug, watching as Eddie stood to explore the cabin, tapping on some old, withering blinds that fell to the floor in an instant, his gaze shooting up at you both and looking immediately sheepish.

“He’s interrupting,” Joel corrects, his head tilting up slightly to look at you as you smirk, biting down on your lip to stifle the laugh in your throat.

Joel was greedy and never shy about it, not with you.

Eddie brings the broken set of blinds over and places it on the table with a smile before pulling the chair back with a loud, ear grating screech against the hardwood and taking a seat with a loud thump.

“Oh, shit—that’s cool,” Eddie notes, pointing lazily at Joel and the soon-to-be figurine tucked away in his meaty palm, met with an eyebrow raise and a quiet noise of acknowledgement before both of their eyes shift to you.

It was similar in intensity, both with entirely different meanings. Joel had you, for months now. One small incident of a shared bed had helped something blossom between each other, though largely unaddressed.

He liked having you around, you liked being around, even if that only meant patrols and the occasional nights Joel would drag you up to his room and have his way.

You don’t question it and neither does he, but Joel was mostly undisturbed until Eddie came along, that all too familiar twinkle in his eye that he caught from many of the younger men around Jackson.

You were like a new toy; fresh and ready to be played with. Although Eddie seemed harmless, he posed a challenge for Joel. Not only because of his growing obsession with you, but because he was a nuisance.

“So, princess,” His feet slam against the table as his boots shake the surface, “what’d you do to keep busy?”

Joel chuckles quietly, a subtle noise that Eddie doesn’t seem to catch, unfortunately you do.

Him. Joel.

Joel keeps you busy. Whether with your mouth or his own.

“Uh, sleep,” You answer lamely, “or nothin’—s’kinda nice to sit with your own thoughts sometimes with how busy Jackson is lately. It’s quiet out here.”

“Dunno ‘bout that,” Joel retorts.

Eddie chuckles unknowingly, “What’s that mean?”

His eyes shift toward you as you shove your hands into the back pockets of your jeans and walk around the table and near him, his fingers dragging along the leather of the jacket he had claimed while sifting through the newest delivery of clothes that had been found during a search.

It was almost identical to his own, save a few tears in the fabric.

“Looks amazing,” Eddie comments, a smile spreading across your face almost instinctively, your heart fluttering with the way his fingers trail against the inside of your palm as he loosely holds your hand, “knew it would.”

Joel watches the exchange with a newfound curiosity.

He’s never been possessive, but seeing you interact with Eddie ignites a strange feeling within him, shifting slightly in his chair to break the moment apart.

“Go on, kid—it’s your turn,” He nods toward Eddie who seems eager to get his first chance at rounding the area, grabbing the shotgun off the table and trampling out the door without question.

As the door shuts, Joel places the items in his hands on the table and scoots back, standing from his chair as quietly walks the expanse of the table before he reaches you, rubbing a finger along the tacky leather of your jacket.

“Princess,” He begins mockingly, “a real charmer, ain’t he?”

You scoff at his tone and push his hand away, quickly met with resistance as his hands cup your face and maneuvers you back against the dining table, clumsily landing against the surface as Joel’s tongue spears between your lips and into your mouth, swallowing up the gasp of surprise that slips out. 

“Are - are you jealous?” You ask through the smothering, wet exchanges of tongue and teeth, spreading your hands out over his broad shoulders before they’re pushing him back, begging for a break. 

“Kid follows you around like a stray,” He tells you, “he’s waiting for a treat—but I think you know that.”

“And if—“ A gentle kiss to the neck, slowly pushing the jacket off your shoulder, “if I do?”

“Careful,” Joel warns, his fingers pushing your shirt off your shoulders before your hands wrap around his thick fingers, pushing him away gently.

“Last I checked, I don’t belong to anyone,” You retorted.

And you’re right—Joel would never force that on you.

You were allowed to have whatever you wanted. Even if it extended beyond him, but for Joel, you were it for him.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever have the courage to admit it, but internally, he’s known it for a while.

“I know a way to keep him quiet,” You begin, tugging weakly at Joel’s belt, still fastened in place and mostly to tease him, his hands spreading out flat against the table to steady himself, “but you aren’t gonna like it.”

Joel could stake his claim now, forbid it.

But, he doesn’t.

There’s a brief glimpse of intrigue that crosses Joel’s features and you catch it, a smile growing on your face.

“Don’t worry, I won’t sneak off,” You assure him, “I know you like to watch.”

Joel’s skin flushes hot at your words, cock swelling behind the layers of fabric that kept him confined.

He’s watched you countless times, under his instructions as you play with yourself, fingers sliding through a slick mess of your own doing, occasionally a mix of his own.

“The kid can barely look at me,” Joel counters, “ya think he’s really gonna do anything with me in the room?”

“I think you severely underestimate me,” You challenge him, “and I really don’t appreciate that,”

“Go on then,” Joel taunts, “that shithead ain’t better than me, we’ll see how well it goes for ya before I have to step in.”

Challenge accepted.

—

When Eddie returns, Joel takes his place.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” Eddie asks randomly as he strips off his own jacket and unties the plaid button down from his waist, leaving him in a thin shirt and ripped jeans, toeing off his boots before he collapses into the couch, spreading his legs as one hikes over the back and his hands fall against his stomach.

“Joel is hard to get along with,” You admit.

“You seem to be doing fine,”

“It takes time,” Among other things.

Stripped down to a similar few layers, you fit between his legs as you sit on your knees, elbow propped against the back of the couch as your fist meets your chin.

“I do like the jacket,” You assure him, watching him fiddle absentmindedly with one of his rings as he smiles at you, the lines near his cheek deepening. 

“Yeah?” Eddie perks up with a surge of confidence.

“Don’t let him get to you,” You nod vaguely toward the front door, “he’s just jealous.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows at that, silently begging you to elaborate.

Quietly, you scoot closer and trade his fidgeting hands for your own, playing with his rings.

“He hates the way you look at me,” You admit, spotting the brief recognition across his features before his eyes slowly darken, rising on his elbows as your hand slowly reaches for his shirt, hand sliding out flat against his stomach, “or how I let you touch me.”

“But, we’ve never…”

“I know,” You nod in agreement, “doesn’t mean I don’t want to—I do, I was just…waiting for you to ask.”

The air shifts with your words, watching him slowly raise to his palms as you lean forward, bodies only a few inches away as you climb into his lap, lips brushing against each other briefly.

“M’not—I’ve never—“

“Kissed anyone?”

It was endearing, in a way.

“No, no—‘course I have. Just, never really done much else. I’ve gone down a few times, sucked a couple cocks, but…”

Oh. 

Oh.

”I really shouldn’t be corrupting you on your first patrol,”

Eddie chuckles against your lips, feeling the subtle brush as your hips shift against him, his neck straining as he chases your mouth.

“Fuck it,” Eddie answers flippantly, “Joel’s got it.”

You nod in agreement with a mirrored shrug before Eddie’s kissing you with a sudden eagerness, surprisingly more rough than you’re expecting as his teeth dig into your bottom lip.

He’s smothering in the best way, hands splayed at your hips before they get curious, squeezing at your thighs, legs, finding their way underneath the material of your shirt as his fingers squeeze against the base of your spine. Exploring your mouth curiously until you’re both panting against each other more than kissing, his face squished against your cheek as you rut into him.

“We should move right?” Eddie suggests, “He’s coming back soon.”

“Who cares,” You shrug, leaning back just enough to strip your shirt off and pop the button of your jeans, “besides—maybe he’ll take up my shift for me, you know, if he sees us.”

He wouldn’t, but you still provide reassurance.

And Eddie looks somehow even more adoring as he slips the makeshift hair tie from your wrist and pulls back his own hair, unruly curls and overgrown length, desperately due for a trim.

“Just in case we get messy,” He tells you, watching as you pushed back to strip your jeans off, laying back on the couch before he’s moving between your legs and pulling your pants off the rest of the way, his right hand reaching down the center of his back to yank at his own shirt, discarding it along with the growing pile of clothes.

“I’m counting on it,” You retort, fingers pushing through the front of his hair just before the hastily tied bun as you bring him down slowly, his fingers twisting around the band at your hips, his nose nuzzling into your cunt as he breathes you in, eyelashes fanning over his rosy cheeks.

It’s fresh soap and lavender oils, homegrown and made within the walls of Jackson—he’s become used to the smell. It was like home now, making do with what he had.

He smells of it too with a faint musk of sweat from the spring humidity, silently maneuvering your panties down and off your ankle, tossing them to the floor.

“May I, my lady?” Eddie asks with a smirk, his hot breath fanning over you cunt as you nod frantically, feeling your pussy clench at how close he was, begging for his mouth.

“Oh, please,” You feign distress, a short-lived giggle transforming into a surprised gasp as his tongue spreads through your folds, wide and spearing into you with little hesitation or fumbling hands, surprisingly sure of himself.

Your fingers tighten in Eddie's hair as his tongue explores the divine split between your legs, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body. He laps at your clit with focused intensity, a strange sight as his eyes are closed and his hands tighten around your thighs, alternating between broad strokes and pinpoint flicks of his tongue that make your legs shake.

“Eddie,” You sigh, feeling two fingers breach your hole, pushing inside of you with ease as the dual sensation of his fingers and tongue blind you to everything, back arching from the couch slightly as he hums against your pussy, acknowledging your call, “fuck—oh, god—I’m gonna—”

His eagerness grows with your words, shaking his face slightly into your cunt as his nose grazes your clit, the already sensitive nub soaking up the attention as your walls squeeze around his fingers, dexterous and rubbing deep inside of you, curling at just the right angle.

“I gotcha, princess,” He assures you, moving away for a brief moment to kiss at the spot where your thigh meets your cunt, grunting at how tight you’re gripping the chuck of his hair twisted in your fist, “if you could see her—” His fingers pulling out as he collects the sweet slick, fingers slowly sliding down your pussy and up before he’s bringing the fingers to his mouth, three fit between his lips, “shoulda known you’d make a mess.”

You can only laugh, a broken sigh as he continues his relentless rubbing of your clit, watching as your hole fluttered around absolutely nothing now, missing his tongue and his fingers, both of you so caught up in the moment that you don’t hear the front door creak open until Joel’s boots are stomping past and Eddie’s first reaction is to pull back, your eyes peeking open to stare down a suppressing satisfaction on Joel’s face as your orgasm whisked away from you. 

Joel's eyes darken as he takes in the scene before him - you splayed out on the couch, legs spread wide, and Eddie between them with slick coating his lips and chin. For a moment, tension crackles in the air as Joel's gaze flicks between you and Eddie, before decidedly landing on you.

Then a slow smirk spreads across Joel's face. "Don't stop on my account," he drawls, leaning casually against the back of the couch with his palms curling over the edge, just within reach. "Looks like you two were havin' quite a time without me."

Eddie hesitates, his hands still gripping your thighs. 

"Go on, boy," Joel encourages, his voice low and rough. "Finish what you started."

With a grunt, Eddie dives back in, redoubling his efforts. His tongue swirls around your clit as two fingers plunge inside you once more. You cry out, hips bucking against his face.

Joel moves closer, almost taunting. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Let us hear those pretty sounds."

You gasp at the intensity of Eddie’s tongue, his fingers slipping out to flatten against your chest, stilling your insistent squirming as you grab his hand out of desperation, a need for an anchor.

Your eyes flutter closed, pressure building as the heat in your belly swirled, feeling a hand fist into your scalp similarly to how you had Eddie, but it was Joel, forcing your eyes open with the tinge of pain it brought as he glances down at Eddie who’s also got his eyes on you, obediently silent despite his current course of action.

Your own eyes are pleading, speaking to Joel silently.

Look, I did what you asked. Praise me.

Eddie doesn’t question it, the dutiful boy he was. 

But, he’s also…sensed things for a while.

Pining away at a person who would never truly be his own, already claimed.

Though, maybe he was wrong.

Joel’s eyes on him, Eddie’s on you—Joel was always watching, careful to keep the young pup in line, but he can’t help admiring your face, a mix of anguish and pleasure as you stared up at Joel.

“Come for us, darlin’,” Joel demands, Eddie’s lips sucking at your clit with his pointed words.

You come with a broken sob, an intense wave of ecstasy washing over as Eddie works you masterfully through your orgasm. Joel's approving growl mingles with your cries of pleasure, working silently at his belt as you work through your frantic breathing, patting Eddie’s head gently at his squeezes comfortingly at your thighs.

He’s working up the courage to say something, anything, but you rise to meet him where he is at his knees, “It’s okay,” You assure him, “Joel’s all show, anyways.”

Not true, but you both share a short laugh.

“He likes to watch,” You admit to Eddie, “don’t you, Joel?”

“S’long as my girl is satisfied,” Joel shrugs, a creeping smirk on his face that always meant he was up to no good, “you satisfied, sweetheart?”

To an extent, sure. But, as Joel strips the leather from the loops in his jeans, he’s almost taunting the idea at you and Eddie who isn’t shy about his strange attraction to the energy you both emit, rubbing his palm over the front of his tight jeans, swallowing audibly. 

“Depends,” You counter, reaching forward while your eyes are locked on Joel, matching Eddie’s hand as you squeeze over the sizable bulge in his jeans, “Eddie, you need Joel to show you the ropes?”

You turn to Eddie then, eyes bright and excited but tentative to his response.

“Uh, ya—yeah,” He agrees, “fuck yeah.”

–

Joel has never been shy, but is quiet about his confidence.

The difference between he and Eddie was stark and obvious, but he could see the kid was genuine. Young, unjaded, still full of life—he knows you’re better suited for Eddie.

But, Joel is also selfish when it comes to you; he could share, within reason.

If you wanted it.

He’s lucky these faded, old couches sit so low otherwise his knees would be punishing him for it.

Eddie’s waiting in the wings, oddly attentive despite the strange dynamic as Joel removes his cock from the confines of his jeans and underwear, lengthy but dominating Eddie in girth without a challenge and he can’t help but look at you, eyes half-lidded and simmering with the remnants of your last orgasm as Joel swiped the head of his cock through your folds, a content hum slipping past your lips.

Joel instinctively spits on your pussy, a sensual action that feels wholly intimate.

It makes Eddie’s mouth water with how pretty you sound, how eager he is to have you make those sounds for him too.

“He wants more,” You note, talking to Joel but your hand reaches for Eddie and spreads out over his thigh, “should I let him fuck me instead?”

“He can’t do it like I do,” Joel smirks and presses the head of his cock inside of you to prove a point, savoring the delicious stretch of him as he pushes his hips forward, nails scratching against the denim of Eddie’s jeans with the motion, your walls squeezing around Joel’s shaft, “she always remembers me, don’ she?”

You gasp with a nod, arching your back as Joel fills you completely. Your hand tightens on Eddie's thigh, and you turn to look at him and instantly see the hunger in his eyes. Joel's hands grip your hips and he starts to move, slow and deliberate at first. Each thrust sends finite sparks of pleasure through your body, helpless to the small moans that escape your lips.

Eddie leans in slightly, mesmerized by your twisted expression of obvious pleasure but also at how Joel’s cock sinks into your cunt with the powerful thrusts as he kneels over your, sinking into the old cushion as your knees hang lazily at his hips, feeling the distant touch of Eddie’s fingers around your ankle, a constant reminder of his presence.

His own erection strains against his jeans, and he shifts uncomfortably, desperate for some relief. Joel isn’t ignoring him either, his hand coming up behind your neck to arch your chin up, exposing your chest to both of the men.

“You want a turn, kid?” Joel grunts, menacingly teasing. He never breaks his rhythm, crows feet deepening around his eyes as his face scrunches up in pleasure, before Eddie can answer Joel speaks again, “gotta earn it—show ‘er some attention.”

Eddie doesn't hesitate. His hands are on you in an instant, cupping your breasts and squeezing. The added stimulation makes you cry out, your body trembling between the two men.

“There ya go,” Joel encourages, “feels good, don’t it?”

You only realize a second too late that he’s talking to you and not Eddie, a sharp slap to your ass as you nod weakly, “Mhm, so good,” You answer softly, earning a chuckle from Joel.

“Forget how cock drunk she gets,” Joel speaks to Eddie who’s as equally mesmerized as Joel.

Joel quickly picks up his pace, thrusting into you harder and faster, the deafening sound of skin slapping against skin drowning out your moans and Joel’s grunts.

“Tell ‘em, darlin’,” Joel demands, “tell Eddie how good I fuck you.”

Your fingers travel higher, curling around his belt as you pull him forward until his knee is pressing into your rib cage, “It’s per—perfect,” You sigh brokenly, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes that deep spot inside of you that makes your toes curl, 

“C’mere and pay attention, ” Joel orders with a growl, nodding his head in a matching motion, “She likes it slow at first, real deep. She’s greedy. You gotta build her up - nice, slow, until she’s beggin’ for it. And trust me, she will.”

Eddie nods dumbly, fingers rising to scratch at his chest as Joel’s thrusts falter, his groans growing longer and deeper, legs shaking with his own impending orgasm.

“Touch me,” You beg up at Eddie, who’s still dumbfounded with his hand on your breast but his eyebrows quirks in question before you’re shaking your head subtly, guiding his hand down to the point where you and Joel are joined, brushing his fingertips over your clit as you nod.

Eddie's fingers circle your sensitive bud hesitant at first, then with more confidence as your breathy moans encourage him. The dual sensations of Joel's thick cock pounding into you and Eddie's skilled fingers on your clit quickly push you to the edge again, gushing over Joel’s cock as his hips falter to a stop and the surge of his orgasm forces a groan from deep within his chest, filling you to the brim with his warm seed. 

“That’s it,” Joel coos, “show Eddie how pretty you look when you come apart on my cock.”

Your orgasm crests as Eddie watches in awe, his fingers continuing their motion over your clit until your hips shake with overstimulation, sobbing weakly as you reach over your head to grip at the couch with the hand that isn’t pinching Eddie’s skin at his waist.

For a moment, there’s silence. Only a mix of your and Joel’s heavy breathing and Eddie’s occasional pant, eyes blown wide with pleasure as Joel stands with a grunt and pulls his jeans and underwear back on, hastily buttoning them before he’s nodding at you.

“Go on,” He says gruffly, “your turn.”

The ache in your cunt is devastating but Joel watches with admiration as the opaque liquid pushes out of your hole as you cunt spasms and you can sense a brief moment of hesitation from Eddie before you finally look at him, a silent moment of understanding.

“Do you want to?” You ask curiously, head rolling to the side as you glance up at him.

“Do I—huh, you’re kidding, right?” Eddie asks with a tone of incredulous disbelief. “Uh, yeah—fuckin’ yeah. I want to.”

You giggle softly, “I’m just checking,” You assure, “I don’t want to pressure you too much.”

Eddie’s eyes darken with desire but still, somehow, maintain his softness.

“There’s no pressure,” He assured, “but if—if you don’t mind I’ve got a couple ideas of my own.”

Oh?

You squeal softly at how Eddie manhandles you into his position of choice, ass held up by his steel grip as your head sinks into the lap of Joel who’s decidedly taken a seat as your head lulls to the side, peering up at him with a playful expression.

He smells like sex and outdoors, a hint of cleanliness from his washed clothes but it was intoxicating, mesmerizing, feeling the ringed hand of Eddie slide up your spine once he’s stripped himself of his remaining clothes without hesitation.

You reach down between your legs to guide him, gasping softly as the head of his cock nudges against your sensitive, swollen folds. Eddie groans at the sensation, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

“Easy,” Joel says instinctively, his eyes stuck on you as he brushes your mused hair away from your face, “remember—slow, she’ll let you know what she wants.”

Eddie nods as he eases inside of you, aided by the prior stretch of Joel, but his length is astounding, nudging deep against your walls before he’s even fully sheathed. His thrusts are fumbling at first, hearing the deep breaths he takes as he adjusts to the intense feeling around his cock, astounded that it has taken him this long to achieve such a thing.

He really shouldn’t beat himself up over, given the end of the world and all, but he can’t believe he’s been missing out on this for so long. 

Eventually he finds a steady rhythm that has you gasping with every thrust, fingers crawling up Joel’s bare chest until you reach his face, fingers curling around the back of his neck as you moan into the denim, drooling over the fabric.

“That’s it,” Joel encourages and Eddie’s eyes are stuck on you, forcing himself to commit the moment to memory, watching how greedily your cunt sucks his cock in, squeezing at the flesh of your ass as he moans pathetically, the sound making your pussy flutter.

And Joel knows he’s still being as equally selfish as earlier, your attention locked on him despite Eddie’s affect on you and there’s tinge of jealousy that strikes Eddie as he watches the exchange, your moans building in intensity before he’s less than carefully maneuvering you upright, towering over you like this with how you sunk into the cushion, his hand traveling up the front of your chest until his fingers squeeze around your neck and tilt your head back until you’re looking directly up at him, pupils blown wide.

You were his in this moment, not Joel’s.

“Open your mouth,” Eddie tells you, lips parting without argument as his thumb drags over your lips, pulling your bottom lip down as your tongue peeks out to lick at his finger with a soft giggle he matches with a toothy grin before he’s accumulating the saliva in his mouth and puckering his lips to spit into your waiting mouth, a long string stretching as it hits your tongue, moaning audibly as you swallow, sealed with a devastating wink from Eddie.

He was giving Joel a run for his money, that much was obvious.

Joel's eyes narrow at the display, a mix of arousal and possessiveness flaring in his chest. 

He won't be outdone that easily. 

With a low growl, he moves to his knees, sandwiching you between the two men as his fingers drift over your clit similar to how Eddie’s had earlier, “Speak up, sweetheart,” He bites, “is he treating you right?”

You nod eagerly, “Faster,” You beg to Eddie, a hand creeping around the back of his neck to fist into his hair that was wild and falling from the tie on his head, an attentive listener as his pace picks up instantly, “fuck—yes, like that!”

Eddie smirks at Joel over your shoulder, clearly enjoying the competition now.

Eddie tightens his grip on your throat slightly as he pounds into you relentlessly. Your body is on fire, caught between the two men and helpless to their greed, seconds away from devouring you whole if you allow it.

Joel’s fingers work your clit in tight circles as he leans into you, nearly chest to chest as his hot breath brushes your ear, “Still ain’t better than me,” He teases, “but he’s got the spirit.”

The gentle brush of his beard and his lips sucking at your neck could make you pass out if you let it and your body trembles, caught between the two men vying for your attention.

Eddie's thrusts grow more erratic as he watches Joel mark your neck beside his fingers, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make your head swim.

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess," Eddie groans, his free hand snaking around your stomach, wrapped up in both the men and helpless, "Gonna make you come on my cock while he watches, alright?"

“Uh huh,” You respond airily, a stuttering gasp escaping your lips as Joel’s pace quickens against your clit and matches Eddie’s enthusiastic thrusts, his own moans growing in intensity as his head dips, breathing against the base of your neck as your hand in his hair twists and the other grasps desperately for Joel’s naked shoulder.

“That’s it, darlin’,” Joel purrs decidedly, “Let go for us.”

“I can feel it, princess—s’right there,” Eddie encourages.

Your third orgasm hits you quick, vision whiting out as you clench around Eddie's length. He follows soon after with a strangled moan, hips stuttering as he spills inside you.

The room fills with heavy breathing as you and Eddie come down from your shared high, his grip on your throat loosens, hand sliding down to rest on your collarbone. Joel's fingers slow their movements, drawing out the last tremors of your waning orgasm.

The thought dawns on you as the room stills.

You’re fucking exhausted.

A laugh bubbles from your throat unexpectedly.

“There’s our girl,” Joel chuckles, “ya still with us?”

You nod slowly as Eddie gently maneuvers away from you, the air catching in his throat as he watches this mix of his and Joel’s cum dripping from your cunt, clearing his throat as he hides the smirk on his face. There was a brief look he shares with Joel before Joel’s hand is smoothing over your back, his other hand explorative as he touches between your legs.

“What a goddamn mess,” He notes fondly, swiping up the slick on his fingers before he brings it to your mouth, wordlessly you take the fingers in your mouth and suck, “tell you what—you go on and shower, clean up—the kid and I’ll cover your turn.”

You do have other ideas, but you can sense Joel’s hesitance.

Eddie is a good distance away now, face still flushed as he digs through his bag.

“I thought you couldn’t stand to be alone with him?”

“I’ll put up with it,” Joel admits, “seein’ how much you like him and all.”

“You sure I can’t get you both to join me in the shower?”

Joel hums in disapproval, shaking his head.

“Careful, darlin’—don’t push it,” He warns.

“Do you need any help?” Eddie perks up eventually, a relaxed smile on his face as he grips the fabric of his shirt in his hands.

You shake your head and smile at the subtle rejected puppy dog eyes that flash your way.

“I think you and Joel have a lot to talk about, fortunately.”

And boy, did they ever.

[dubioushonour]

Drafted this up after this post broke containment. Good heavens. For funsies, here is a retrospective of things I learned from this poll and other humorous highlights now that the vote is over:

You can't edit the wheel once it's gone live because it changes the URL. Sorry aroace community, I forgot to put No Sex on there and by the time I remembered it was too late and this had like 30k notes 😔

For everyone mad they got something extremely terrible- my three test spins were Drowning, Suicide, and Major Character Death. The Wheel is not only impartial, it is merciless!

I would say like maybe half everyone reblogging understood the assignment so I'm maybe half proud of you, Tumblr.

Several instances of "I don't like what I got but considering what I do to MY blorbos, I get it and I can't even be mad" which I thought was very amusing.

Inevitably, with 300 tags, there were going to be ones people were unfamiliar with (especially older fandom ones or the really niche kink tags). Some people looked them up! Many did not. (Many people regretted looking them up and others learned something new about themselves! Yay!)

In a similar vein, there was a notable population of individuals spinning this wheel who don't read a lot or ANY fanfiction, or have a familiarity with AO3 at all, and they consistently had a VERY bad time with this.

Some people were very, very upset to get #Teeth. Others were VERY enthusiastic about it.

Fewer people were happy to get #Slime (but some were!)

Many people were confused about #Robot Sex. I don't know how I could have been clearer tbh.

A nonzero number of adults were unfamiliar the word "cunnilingus".

I'm not sure what the odds were, but I think it was VERY funny how often the sex repulsed aroace crowd kept getting porn/romance tags VS how often the kinky allosexual crowd kept getting the No Romance Queerplatonic Non-Sexual Unrequited Crush Gen tags. Sorry for the character assassinations/sorry you didn't get laid!

Anyways I don't think I actually learned anything lol. If I did this again I would keep better track of my tags and make it 400 or 500 because I want to see how awful the wheel would look.

Spin this wheel of ~300 AO3 tags three times.

[messenger-of-babel]

Hello, I was hoping you take requests. If you do, can I please request one with Nightwing where the reader is his best friend and she gets kidnapped by the Joker and is badly hurt and how he deals with it? Thank you very much!

I Told You So

Summary: Dick remembers the risks of befriending civilians when you disappear one day.

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: Dear anon, I hope that you still hang around my blog, and I'm so sorry this took so long to get to you after angstober. I had so many other ways to take the themes, but I opted for a more subtle approach. I hope it is close to what you were looking for. 💙

I'm working through my requests! I love getting these in my inbox so for everyone that has sent one, please know that I LOVE seeing these prompts and I plan to do all of them. Warnings for graphic descriptions of injuries and violence and a slightly shaky fic. Getting back into the swing of things! (Also want to say I went back through my blog and re-read every comment and reblog tags that people have left and I love that people love my work so much.)

Reblogging will summon Nightwing to be your Valentines this year! 💙💙💙

Love RiRi <3

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Dick had told himself not to be friends with civilians way back when he had started being a vigilante. It had been a quiet sentence that he had uttered to himself in the depths of his mind, and one that was overshadowed by his personality at every moment from then. It was almost like a defunct rule that just sat there for the sake of playing on his conscious.

 By nature, he was too outgoing, too eager to involve himself in the community and connect with the people that he fought for. He wanted to help the kids at the orphanage when he made trips with Bruce, he wanted to talk to those gathered around food trucks getting cheap meals because their apartments had been destroyed in last week’s bad clash with Scarecrow. He wanted that connection, which let him keep Dick Grayson away from the suit. The suit that called to him like a siren. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up just like Bruce, a shattered reflection unable to distinguish who was looking back at him at the end of the day. Another martyr who had sacrificed his soul and let the kevlar devour him wholly.

So, when he hung out with you, he was Dick. You reminded him that he was Dick Grayson, and the pressure that sat in his chest always eased. You had met when he took Haley in for her shots, a dimly lit vet clinic with underpaid staff and underfunded equipment.

"Sorry about that." you chuckle, head dipping down to nod at your own dog, who was pulling at the lead to get to Haley. Dick waved it off, laughing as he relaxed the lead in his hand. Haley ran circles around your golden labrador, tail wagging in excitement. Your hands brushed and fumbled with each other as you tried to awkwardly untangle the leads, pulling your dog’s apart when you could.

"Don't worry, Haley gets excited too." he smiles, crouching down to pet your own pup. He stares at Dick with black glossy eyes, tail waving back and forth as he tries to lick Dick's face, making him laugh. "What's the name?"

"Darty." you smile back, your companion turning his head back to look at you as he hears his name. "He's a good boy." you coo, rubbing his head. Dick scratches behind his ears before Haley gets jealous, nipping at the sleeves of his navy jacket with a whine.

"Ah, ah, gentle. I love you too." he laughs, a hand on each dog to keep them happy.

From then on you two had bonded over walks int he dog park and afternoon coffee while your canine friends played tug of war in front of your bench. It was hard to find people he considered friends, much less his best one. He was best friends with Wally still, and he was the person Dick went to when he was having troubles in his vigilante life. When he couldn’t take the stress of watching Bruce have another episode, something that was beginning to frequent more and more. He went to Wally when he needed favours called in, and he was stuck in bed with bruising so bad he looked like he’d picked a fight with a semi-truck (although Bane really felt like that at times).  But with you, he could talk about things that annoyed him. He could complain about little things, like how the coffee shop on the corner near his apartment didn't taste the same now that they changed management, or the fact that the rain had brought even more potholes to the Gotham streets, making driving a nightmare. Sometimes Dick fell so deep into those conversations with you, wrapped up in the way that you laughed or nodded along, that some days he thought he himself was an ordinary civilian.

But there were times like these that the little sentence came back from the corner of his mind that he pushed it into.

Where it came taunting him in that sing song voice, saying 'I told you so'.

Where he was reminded why he had tried to make the rule against befriending citizens.

He had noticed when you didn't make the puppy play date on Thursday like usual, Haley sitting sadly like her owner as they both waited for their friends. He had sent a quick text, 'Are you ok??' but wrote it off that there was just a good chance that you were sick, considering the flu that had swept your workplace the week before.

So, the civilian in Dick gave it the benefit of the doubt.

The next day you still hadn't responded, despite Dick knowing that you didn't work the Fridays. He rolled over, checking his phone with blurry eyes to see no new messages on his notification centre. He had had a rough patrol the night before and his muscles ached from misjudging a rooftop and landing harshly, so he let himself sleep in. You would surely respond later when you had time, and if you really were sick then he knew you wouldn't be awake till past noon.

So, the civilian in Dick rolled back over and caught up on sleep from the night shift.

However, when Saturday hit, he got the notice from Bruce that he was needed. Dick had spent the day in increased worry, knocking at your door around lunchtime only to receive no answer. The road was bumpy as he drove the bike back to the manor, wheels hitting potholes too wide to avoid properly. His frown deepened when he finally made it back to the manor, spotting Jason's bike out the front too. He dismounted, shaking the light rain from his hair. The dusk was being quickly swallowed by Gotham's signature rain clouds, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried inside, greeting Alfred on his way down to the cave.

The sentence popped up in the forefront of his mind as he took sight of everyone in the cave.

 Bruce turned from the Bat computer, already in suit and cowl. Stephanie sat to his left; hip propped up against a table. Tim was suited up, still focused on the strings of numbers and texts flashing across the bat computer screen.

"Glad to see you could make it." Jason says gruffly, brushing past him. He was still in his riding gear, hair tousled from the helmet. Dick nods back, a flash of understanding passing through the two brothers.

"What's the situation?" he asks, coming to stand behind Tim's chair, next to Bruce.

"Mass kidnapping." Bruce says, eyes hard and trained on the computer screen.

"Culprit?"

"Joker." Jason fills in, voice distant as he changes on the other side of the room.

"It's pretty bad. Batman and I were investigating a disappearance, but it turns out there was a whole string prior. and now…" he says, tapping the space bar and the screen fills with faces.

"Now we've got twenty gone." Steph fills in, glancing sadly at the screen. "He's been playing a game, and we're losing."

Red crosses begin to flicker across some of the portraits floating in front of him, making him cringe. There were students, professors, and blue-collar workers. Some who seemed to work in an office, some who clearly worked outside. He scanned each face with an X, feeling the pain behind the implications. That's when he froze, and that's when that sentence came back stronger than ever.

I told you so.

He felt a slight tremor in his hand before he clenched it into a fist. His mouth was dry, guilt coursing through him. Maybe it was a rage, maybe it was a sadness. Dick honestly didn’t know how to untangle his emotions in this moment. He just knew that one of those faces up there was you, thankfully free from an X but there, nonetheless.

And the vigilante in Dick died a little inside.

"It’s not his MO." he says tensely. "Doesn't he want the attention of the Batman? It's not like him to do things in the background without announcing himself." he has to croak out, making Tim give him a curious side glance. His younger brother was always smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for.

"I think he's learnt how to self-entertain." Jason hums, appearing at his side with a sour expression. "He's gearing up for something big. Something to lord over the Bat."

"And we aren't going to let that happen." Bruce spoke up, voice stern. "Everyone here is to locate missing civilians while Red Robin and I track down Joker. We need to clear the field of potential casualties. Understood?"

Everyone nodded, but no one understood as painfully as Dick.

When the group broke up to get started, he called you again. It hurt twice as much knowing that the reason you weren't picking up is because that sick bastard had you somewhere. Because he had gotten too comfortable as a civilian that he failed you as a vigilante. If he hadn't given the benefit of the doubt, maybe you'd be here and safe. Maybe if he hadn't rolled over and gone back to sleep, he could have used that time trying to find you instead. If he had done his job, then none of this would have happened.

And maybe that would have been worth being consumed by the suit.

When he does find your signal, his heart nearly leaps from his chest. Everyone else had already entered the field, scouring buildings and known hideouts to just find anyone from the GPD missing persons list. Not Dick. Dick needed to get you back specifically. If there was any benefit to having a vigilante as a best friend, is that he would tear the city apart trying to find you. The downsides being that because of him you were lost in the first place. He sent the location to his phone and races from the manor, adrenaline making his head spin. He takes a car, not trusting himself to slow down on the corners enough to take the bike.

The GPS takes him to a building by the docks, normally active during the day but abandoned in the night. He parks a half block away as to not draw attention and slings his escrima sticks on his back, tugging them once to make sure that they were secure. He scales the shipping containers nearby and slinks out of sight of the security cameras, each muscle in his body primed to flex and twist on command. He balances on a high beam inside the main warehouse, pulling up his wrist where the red flashing dot of your phone blinked at him. He would probably have to buy you a new phone, considering the backdoor program he ran through your signal to track it made it virtually unusable.

He scanned the area, hairs on the back of his neck tingling at the lack of goons or suspiciously scarred individuals. With light feet he padded across the roofs of rusted shipping containers, feet as swift as his parents had taught and in the shadows like he had been trained. When he stood atop the rusted blue container in the left wing of the warehouse, his blue dot overlapped with the red.

He spun down, still glancing over his shoulder in case he was walking into a trap. The lock was newly purchased, indicating that you were indeed here. It popped open easily enough with the lock picks in his sleeve, the make and model a standard in many hardware stores. This could be easy, he could grab you, get you out of here and back into the apartment on the corner of fifth where you belonged-

it was you.

That's what he had to tell himself when the container door creaked open, and his flashlight sent a beam into the dark pit. He had seen bodies in the past, dead or dismembered or otherwise. Yet that didn't compare to the way that his stomach turned to stone in his abdomen just seeing you unconscious. HisHIHis feet thudded loudly as he raced towards you, gloved hands sliding down your bound arms to press against your wrist, his breathing as shallow as your pulse. He takes a deep breath and calms himself, cutting you from the chair you were tied to so he could cradle you in his arms and get a better look.

"I've got one at the docks, Wareson's shipping containers in Lower Gotham. They’re unconscious but alive." He speaks into his wrist, marking his channel as 'open' once more. It crackled to life soon after, Bruce's voice filtered through his earpiece.

"We've got a trace on a few others. Check for a calling card, Spoiler and Red Hood have found other hostages with codes attached, we might be able to get ahead of this." spoke the Bat, and Dick lowered you down gently to take a look.

His hands ghosted across your skin gently, so he didn't disturb any injuries, flashlight gripped in his teeth as he skimmed your clothes. Pulling a small square of cardboard from your blouse, he flipped the playing card over to reveal a bloodied joker and a string of numbers printed underneath.

"Sending an image now." He relayed, using his watch to take a photo and send it back to the cave. He shut his comm line off after that, his head reeling too much to focus in on the chatter from the rest of the team.

An injury to the right side of your head, against your temple. blunt force, left a cut on your hairline.

Your hair was normally a shade lighter than what it was right now.

Bruising around the throat, dark smears and indents in your skin. Evidence of friction marks.

Your necklaces never hurt you that way.

As he looked at you, your breath shallow, he felt that stone in his stomach grow hot. The way your eyelids were sealed shut with red crust, hair plastered to your head with the viscous liquid. Swelling around the lips that curved at him to smile or tell a joke. An arm that was folded the wrong way, the same arm that would tug his arm to hurry him up or reach out to his during sad parts in movies.

Right now, the vigilante Nightwing had failed you, but the one wearing the pain was the bent over form of civilian Dick Grayson.

His eyes tingled and burned, chest heaving before he knew it with scattered sobs. He calmed them down soon enough, the Bruce that lived in the back of his voice yelling at him to get it together, all while chanting over that same old sentence in tandem. 'I told you so. I told you so. I told you so.' The sadness didn't last long however, quickly being replaced with an anger that flushed the skin of his neck bright red. He lifted you up in his arms, beginning the slow walk back to the car so he didn't irritate your injuries. His steps echoed out in the silent warehouse, competing with the racing sound of his heartbeat. As he walked, he was so focused on counting the unsteady breaths you took that he didn’t notice the suit melding to his skin, consuming him with invisible teeth until the civilian part of Dick dissolved completely.

'I told you so.'

'I told you so.'

'I told you so.'

Dick wasn't made to be a civilian, despite how he wore their clothes and played the part of a happy townsperson. He concluded that you were bright enough to live the life of a civilian for both of you, revelling in the little moments of peace that his nighttime job had fought to preserve.

Dick was made to be a vigilante, Bruce turning his rage and anger at the world into a weapon, a tool to shape Gotham and carve out the parts that threatened the lives of innocent people.

Dick was about to show them just how well he had learned to wield that weapon.

[bunny-jpeg]

quenching a thirst

daniel ricciardo

request: is there any possibility to have 2 and 10 with daniel for the valentines ask? 2. “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” + 10. “we’re in public, you know.”

tags: smut/pwp, semi-public sex (in a closet), assistant!reader, secret relationship, oral sex (reader receives), quick & messy, hair pulling

eros (the valentine's collection)

"danny." you said as you placed your hands on his chest. it only encouraged him to lean in closer to you. you said a little more sternly, "danny."

"no one is watching, just one kiss. i want to taste that lip gloss of yours when i talk to the reporters." he licked his lips. you hated that there was something about him that made you flustered. flirting came natural to him and it made you feel warm all over.

you held onto your clipboard in your free hand and said, "and they could come bargaining in at any second. you want to be on the news for being at this charity event, not for kissing your assistant." but daniel still captured your lips in his.

when he pulled away, he licked his lips and said, "mmm, apple pie."

but you knew one kiss wouldn't calm down daniel's need for you. one kiss turned into two and two often turned into three rounds of sex in the closest bad you could find. you knew you had every chance to say no, but the charm of daniel ricciardo was undeniable.

even when he got on your nerves at times. you gave him several small kisses and one long make-out session with his tongue in your mouth before he was able to do his interviews. you tried to deny the heat between your legs while you watched him from the sidelines. you could see the slight shine on his lips, obvious from your kisses.

you had been secretly seeing daniel for about six months. you had been his assistant for over a year and a half, all that time together let something bloom between you two. nights spent between races, the home-cooked meals you made him try, that one time you held his hand while he got his newest tattoo.

you two were close and daniel loved you. which was why he yearned for your kisses. and why he whined when you refused to give him more. he was insatiable at times, but yet it made you flustered. like when he kissed you and ran his tongue across your bottom lip.

"we're in public you know." you said as you ended up pressed against the wall of a hallway. you moaned into another kiss when he pinched you behind.

you knew it didn't actually matter. you could publicly date him with little to no fuss. but you didn't want people to think you got your job because you were sleeping with your boss. daniel understood, he respected that you wanted to be seen with integrity. but that didn't lessen his need for your kisses and your love.

"sorry, babe." he said sweetly, "i like when you make sure i'm well taken care of. i feel like i should do the same considering how needy you get."

you chuckled, warmed by his words, "what do you me to say? i've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly? get on my knees for you." you held onto his strong shoulders. you were totally smitten.

the allure he had over you, you were both alone in the hallway with his lips on yours. he said lowly, "i want you. i want to taste you. i don't think i can wait till we get back home." his large hands were on your hips. he held you close and licked his top lip.

"you're insatiable, ricciardo."

he leaned in further, "i know, but you love me. just like how i love you." you quickly ended up in a supply closet with your back up against a few shelves.

"fuck." you whispered as daniel quickly and quietly closed the door and turned on the low light. even in the dim light he looked good, you eyes him as he got to his knees and hiked up your short skirt. you covered your mouth as he pulled your panties down and exposed your pussy to him.

"look at you." he mused quietly, "you look so good. i et you taste so sweet. when i was talking to the press i thought about you. how i'd rather be back home with my head between your thighs." and chuckled before he heard you quietly moan.

"danny." you said and tensed up as he kissed your pussy. he held onto your soft thighs with your skirt pushed up to your waist and your panties to your ankles. you leaned further against the shelves.

his tongue was talented, and with a pussy as perfect as yours he only wanted to make you feel good. he groaned against your cunt and licked at it. he could feel heat in his body, the air in the cramped space got warmer. his cock throbbed in his jeans. he held on a little tighter and pressed his nose further into your sex.

your wetness stained his lips more than your lip gloss did earlier. while daniel liked the apple pie flavour, your pussy tasted better. you moaned and tried to keep yourself composed. you couldn't be too loud or else people would start to get curious. you covered your mouth once more with one hand and held onto his short dark hair with the other.

daniel groaned against your pussy when you gave his hair a short tug. he licked your stiff clit and felt an electric feeling move through him. you tasted divine. he pressed further, he couldn't get enough. your pussy was the most divine of tastes and it made daniel eager to have more.

his attention on your clit made your body tense up as pleasure raced through you. "danny." you said in a hushed tone, "right there, fuck. i love when you tease my clit." you shakily exhaled and held onto his hand with both hands now. it all felt overwhelming in the best way possible, but you couldn't cause a scene right now.

you didn't want to be public with your relationship at that time, you knew what a hard launch was. but you didn't want to launch your relationship because someone cause daniel's head between your legs!

he looked up at you and dragged his tongue messily across your cunt. your wetness drooled down his chin. he was a messy eater. it was endearing, almost cute. you felt a wobble in your knees as he admired you for a moment before he went back to orally pleasuring you.

you felt the lingering heat in your body and swore under your breath. his large hands held onto your thighs and he licked your sopping wet sex. you whimpered as his movements and you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

daniel felt the strain in his jeans as he continued to pleasure your pussy with a talented eagerness. he could feel the pre-cum stain the front of his briefs. he couldn't care less. not when he had a mission. your eager noises only pulled him in closer and he loved how you tasted. it was like a taste of heaven and your noises were angel choirs, it made his heart sing. it felt good as he applied more pressure to his movements and then felt you quiver around him.

in a cramped storage room, daniel feasted on your beautifully slick cunt and your hushed pleasured noises. you felt blissed out as he only worked himself harder against you.

daniel loved you, that was certain. he knew it from the bottom of his heart. he ached for you, needed to be close to you. even when you tried to do your job. you held on a little tighter and pushed your pussy up against him. he could feel your love through your pussy up against his face.

"please. fuck, yes." you near squeaked as the pleasure reached its pack. you shakily exhaled in an attempt to hold back a moan. silence was key. it was heated in the closet, the sweat dampened your back as your breathed heavily.

daniel's moan was muffled by your pussy and felt the tension in your thighs. he gave you one last lick and felt your orgasm cross through you. he looked up and watched you have to cover your mouth as you came. your knees shook as the intense feeling washed over you. a small noise spilled from his lips. you cursed under your breath as you relaxed a little.

daniel pulled away and wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand. he chuckled lightly and let himself remain excited. he grinned at you, "pretty girl." then helped you back into your panties before he pushed your skirt down over your thighs.

"i'm not making this a habit." you said pointedly. daniel got back to his feel, he kissed you on the cheek before he wiped his wet mouth.

"of course." he wrapped his arms around you, "next time we'll just leave easily and i can see how loud you can get." then winked.

you playfully pushed his chest, "you're insatiable, danny."

"i know, but only for you." <3

[bucketbueckers]

TEAM BUECKERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, kinda silly, kinda rushed

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: For you and Paige, the line between “friends” and “something more” wasn’t always this blurry. You weren’t quite sure how you got here, and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to ever cross that line fully. It’s not until Paige ropes you into a Valentine’s Day couples contest you realize, with the two of you, that line never really existed at all.

notes: happy (late) valentines day 😋 yes i'm posting this after midnight on february 15 and yes i tried my best to get this out on the 14th when it was, you know, actually valentines day, but i fumbled majorly and im like 50% sorry. not proofread bc im sleepy. i lowkey don't know how to feel about this but i think the end makes up for it but i had an idea for this and it honestly derailed. i still don't know how taglists work (if you've asked and you're not on here, i'm sorry i will just throw up and die if i tag someone who doesn't actually want to be tagged in all of my works i hope u understand, pls be super specific my brain doesn't function like it used to) uhhh so yeah lmk what we think & happy vday 🫶

tags: @jnkbueckers

You and Paige weren’t always like this. There used to be a clear boundary in your friendship, a strictly platonic one where her embrace didn’t make your heart race and where her mischievous smile didn’t fill you with an exasperation that bordered on endearment. You didn’t always wear her jersey at games, didn’t always keep her favorite ice cream stocked in your apartment for nights she came over to binge watch the same show the both of you have probably seen a combined thousand times, didn’t always confuse where you begin or where she ends. There used to be a time where the two of you weren’t so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives. 

If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to identify when everything shifted – when your feelings transformed into what they are now. It just happened. The realization was as easy as waking up next to her on the couch, your legs tangled under a blanket far too small for the both of you, her arm tight around your waist to prevent you from falling off of the cushions entirely. It was as easy as the spare toothbrush you keep in your bathroom because she sleeps over so often, as easy as the drawer you have in her room because sometimes her dorm is just closer than your apartment.

So maybe it was kind of inevitable that ‘you and Paige’ turned into a ‘You & Paige.’ The two of you have a simple understanding. You keep her grounded, she encourages you to dream a little bigger. You talk, she listens. You round each other out in so many ways that you’re not the least bit surprised by how many people think that you and Paige are dating. If anything, they’re more surprised when you correct them, saying, “She’s just my best friend.”

You’re content to take your feelings for her to the grave. Maybe you would get over her eventually. She’s Paige Bueckers. She has a national championship and the upcoming draft to focus on and you have your senior thesis due at the end of the semester. The both of you have a lot on your plates – you care for her too much to complicate things for her, even if that means putting your own feelings on the back-burner.

You’re sitting on your couch, twelve pages into your paper, sifting through the twenty-eight (yes, twenty-eight) tabs you have open for your research when you hear your door knob jiggle. You don’t think too much of it, trying to stay focused on the task in front of you before you give up and start scrolling through social media again. However, your discipline doesn’t last for too long because the familiar rhythm of footsteps could only belong to one person. You look up to find Paige making her way into your living room like she owns the place (which she may as well, considering how often she’s around), depositing her duffle bag on the armchair. You greet her, returning to your work, but you feel the couch dip under her weight as she takes a seat next to you.

And then she sighs. Loudly. Dramatically, like she’s begging for your attention. Like you’re not busy. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, finding her staring straight at you, but she says nothing. A few beats pass. You add a new sentence to your paper, pausing to go back and find the reference page. She sighs again, more purpose and intent behind it this time, and your lips quirk slightly. Still, she says nothing, and the silence stretches on for so long that you’re sure she’s given up on trying to annoy you.

You write one more sentence before she leans over, sprawling out across your body, chin pressing into your keyboard. Your eye twitches as a long string of ‘M’s takes over your Word document. Paige sighs again, sounding forlorn, like a kicked puppy, and you know you’re not going to get anything done unless you entertain her.

“Okay,” you say, pulling your computer out from under her head, making sure to save your paper before you close the lid. “What’s wrong?”

Her face brightens almost immediately. “I am so glad you asked,” she states. “So, I’m walkin’ through campus today, right?”

“As one does.”

She hums. “And there’s a shit ton of tabling outside the student union. Frats, clubs, some vegan guy giving out pamphlets –”

“Paige,” you interrupt, raising a brow. “The point?”

“Oh.” She nods, collecting her thoughts. “So there was this club – forgot who they were, lowkey, there was a lot of letters – but on Friday, they’re hostin’ a Valentine’s Day contest and the first place prize is insane. I’m talking gift cards, cookie decorating kits, I think there was even a coupon in there for a fucking spa trip, or some shit, but you get the point, yeah? I wanted to sign us up for it.”

You had to admit – you were a little intrigued by it. Between your class work and Paige and her teammates giving you an aneurysm every week, you were in dire need of a spa trip and a little bit of relaxation. But more than anything else in the world, you knew Paige. You recognized that gleam in her expression – it was a feigned nonchalance, like she was being slick and trying to hide it. “What’s the catch?” you ask bluntly.

She laughs, the sound more surprised than amused, and her head shifts in your lap to gaze up at you. You try to ignore the way it sets off a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” she asks.

“You’re Paige Bueckers,” you state. “There’s always a catch. Like I knew there was a catch when you asked me if I would hide fourteen blonde wigs in my apartment.”

“They were for CD!” she argues. You narrow your eyes at her and she huffs a little, amused, her lips quirking into a radiant smile. “A’ight. I guess you got a point.” You hum, because of course you do. Her expression turns serious as she sighs, for real this time. “It’s a couple’s contest,” she admits. “But hear me out, okay?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” you grumble, but your mind is racing.

“There’s a couple rounds,” she explains. “Like, the first round is trivia. How well do you know your partner, type shit. They score you, then they eliminate the people who don’t know shit about their partners. Second round is teamwork. They’ll give you a couple of puzzles and the most points will go to the teams who work well together and solve the puzzle quickly. More eliminations, then the partners are separated and they’re asked questions about each other – about what, I’on know. That should be the final round of eliminations and then the remaining couples are ranked based on points and prizes are given. Light work.”

“Light work?” you echo, a little self-deprecating. “Paige, we aren’t a couple.”

“Well, not exactly,” she concedes. “But we know each other pretty well. And can you really say no to the spa coupon?”

You bite your lip, sighing as you truly contemplate it. She’s got you there. The prize itself is worth the heartache that will come with pretending like you and Paige are actually dating. “You sure we can handle it?” you ask.

She pats your side, almost ignorant of the way it sends electricity coursing down your spine. “Duh,” she says like it’s obvious, her lips growing into a confident, assured smile. “We’re a dream team, baby. We got this.”

You could only hope so.

You nervously adjust your dress as you and Paige stand outside of the large room that the Valentine’s Day contest was taking place in. You spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day an anxious wreck – part of you was worried that you would slip up and say something that you would come to regret, maybe say something a little too real. You had to keep reminding yourself that you and Paige were playing a part and once that gift basket was in your hands, then things could go back to normal. 

The two of you dedicated the better part of the week to perfecting your cover story. How you met, where you met, how long you’ve been together, all of the cheesy romance milestone moments that you were certain you’d be asked about. You mutually decided to not get too creative as maintaining the lie would become even more difficult, but you were confident in your ability to sell a story.

“You ready?” Paige asks you, drawing you from your racing thoughts as she squeezes your hand gently. You didn’t even realize her hand had slipped into yours. Now that you’re aware of it, it’s all you can think of. Her hand is strong, enveloping yours completely, and it brings you a calming peace you weren’t even aware that you’d been seeking out. Feeling yourself relax, you meet her eyes and nod, trying not to smile too hard when she beams at you.

As she leads the two of you inside the auditorium, you do your best to not stare too much at her. She’s dressed simply yet elegantly; donning a fitting suit that’s a light pink in color in honor of the occasion, the fluorescent lights overhead reflecting off of her stunning chains and the rings adorning her fingers. Her hair is tied back in her formal slick-back, the diamonds in her ears sparkling, and you really have to drag your eyes off of her. You’d already spent so much of the drive over staring at her and you’re sure she’d caught you a few times but was too nice to say anything to you.

The event had a decent turn out. You count fourteen couples at most, fifteen including you and Paige, although you couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad. Beating fourteen other real, actual, dedicated, in-love couples was totally manageable. So what if you and Paige weren’t actually together, but you were the most convincing pair of best friends the world had ever seen? She said you could do it, and damn it if you weren’t going to get that spa treatment.

The auditorium, however, was decorated to the nines. Lights and streamers were strewn about, various complementing shades of pinks and lilacs matching the Valentine’s Day themes. The tables were covered in pink tablecloths with gorgeous centerpieces. Honestly, you had to give props where they were due – this club has gone all out for this Valentine’s Day event, although you’re sure they probably splurged their semesterly budget on all of the amenities.

Before you or Paige have the chance to say anything to each other, you’re approached by a young woman wearing a pink polo shirt with the club's name and logo emblazoned on the chest. UConn, UMatter. You glance quickly at Paige, trying not to let the amusement show on your face as you remember her words – ‘There was a lot of letters.’ She was so full of shit. “Hi guys!” the young woman greets enthusiastically. “Thanks so much for signing up. What’s the last name?”

“Bueckers.”

The girl nods, scanning her clipboard before finding Paige’s name. “Okay, perfect. Let me show you guys to your table.” She leads you diligently through the room, craning her head over her shoulder to explain. “Madelyn’s gonna be around soon to walk you guys through the trivia section once we start, alright? She’ll let you guys know everything you need.”

You and Paige thank the club member and she offers you two one last smile as the two of you sit down next to each other. Paige’s hand finds your knee, almost subconsciously, and you try to find your dignity. It’s then that you notice the placecard in front of you – elegant script reading TEAM BUECKERS. With a quiet laugh, you nudge Paige’s elbow, drawing her attention to the paper. “‘Team Bueckers,’ huh?” you ask her teasingly. “You forget about me?”

“Never,” she swears. “I think they assign the names based on who registered. Trust me, I had a name lined up and everything. We were gonna be PB & Slay.”

You snort. “I’m Slay?”

“No,” she deadpans. “You’re PB. Keep up, please.”

“Of course,” you say obviously, like it’s definitely your fault. “I’ll do better next time.” She squeezes your knee under the table, smiling wryly at you.

Once everyone filters in, the girl who’d greeted you at the door makes her way to the front of the room, adjusting the microphone. She introduces herself as the president of the UConn, UMatter club, explaining some of their objectives and goals for the spring semester – you tune out a lot of it, which you’ll probably feel bad for later, but you weren’t here for the club recruitment. You were here for the pedicure that was calling your name this weekend. She makes it through the rest of her opening remarks, officially announcing the beginning of the first challenge: trivia. Several club members make their way to designated tables and a short, brunette girl takes a seat in front of you and Paige.

“Hey, guys,” she says, grinning widely and handing the both of you dry erase boards and a marker each. “I’m Madelyn. I’m gonna walk the two of you through today’s challenges. We’ll go back and forth – you answer one, then the other, so on and so forth. If your answers are the same, then you’ll get a point. Ready?” You and Paige hum affirmatively. “Alright. Question for Paige – when is your partner’s birthday?”

Paige huffs, her lips quirking into a smile as she uncaps her marker. “Light work,” she murmurs as she writes her answer down. “It’s a national holiday.” You roll your eyes as Madelyn laughs. Paige flips the dry erase board around, showcasing it to you and Madelyn, and you nod as Madelyn awards you both one point.

“Same question for you,” Madelyn says to you. “When is Paige’s birthday?”

You uncap your marker and write down your answer. October 20, 2001. “The world hasn’t known peace since,” you murmur under your breath, drawing laughter from Paige. You flip your board around and Paige nods smugly.

“Two for two,” Madelyn states. “Next question for Paige. What trait of yours is your partner’s favorite?”

You and Paige exchange a glance, her brow raising teasingly. She writes down her answer and you do the same, eventually flipping your boards over for the reveal. The two of you hadn’t exactly prepared well to answer this one, so you were hoping that you and Paige were on the same wavelength. You lean forward, glancing at her whiteboard, and smiling with relief when you see her answer: she likes my energy. Paige’s smile is smug, but there’s an underlying softness in her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” you huff, trying to explain. “You just — you have this way about you, like you’re kind, warm, you make people smile, and you always support them. You’re just genuinely good and, I don’t know, I really like that about you.”

Paige’s smile isn’t any less confident, although she seems a little bashful now, her cheeks tinging pink. “Three for three.” she says.

Madelyn tries to stifle her grin, but it’s clearly not working. “Next question is for you. When Paige is having a rough time, how do you help her relax?”

“With great difficulty,” you gripe, making Paige and Madelyn snort as you write your actual answer. By forcing her to chill the fuck out. You and Paige flip your boards, hers reading a much politer She makes me do nothing all day. Madelyn nods, awarding you the point, but you hardly pay her any mind as you meet Paige’s eyes. “You do too much,” you say, which makes her groan. “You overwork yourself and you microdose a burnout and I have to make you sit down and remember that you’re human.”

“You’re worse than me!” she points out.

You sniff. “This is about you,” you declare, “not me.” Paige rolls her eyes fondly, but she can’t help her laughter. 

“Next question,” Madelyn says, grinning. “Paige, what did you guys do on your first date?”

This was a question that the two of you had prepared for. You both decided that a little bit of the truth went a long way and the truth was that you and Paige had no shortage of quasi-dates that you could easily draw from. You tried not to think too hard about that as the two of you write down your answers. You turn your boards, revealing similar responses of ‘we went to her dorm and made dinner together after one of her games.’

You glance at Paige and she sighs. “Don’t start,” she pleads. 

“I’m actually a little invested now,” Madelyn chirps, which makes you grin and makes Paige bury her head in her hands. 

“All I’ll say is that Paige shouldn’t be in the kitchen without supervision but I really admire her, um, willingness to get creative,” you say kindly. Your best friend pinches your thigh under the table and you jerk back, laughing. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of a stranger, you leave it at that, although you smile at Paige like you’re the only two at the table. “I had a good time, though. She made it memorable.” She smiles back at you, something tender that has your heart constricting. 

The both of you knew the truth, though. Paige was not a good cook. She doesn’t make terrible food — dinner was delicious, but Paige is chaotic and an actual hazard. Watching her chop an onion hurt something deep inside you although she’d seemed so proud of herself. You didn’t have the heart to make fun of her. 

“Five for five,” Madelyn says, drawing your attention back to her. “Next question for you. Who confessed to who?”

You and Paige lock eyes again, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and you write down her name. You turn your boards, Paige’s name written on the both of them and you smile to yourself. “She was pretty oblivious,” Paige says, referring to you, and your smile falls as your jaw hits the ground. “I dropped so many hints and she just didn’t pick up on them. I eventually got tired—”

“Desperate,” you cut in. 

“Tired,” she emphasizes, smirking at you, “so I planned out this huge romantic thing and at the end, she still didn’t understand so I told her straight up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe you’re just not as slick as you think,” you tell her. 

“Nah,” Paige says. “I’m super romantical.”

“Sure,” you concede. 

Madelyn stifles her smile. “Alright. Two more questions for both of you. Paige, what is your partner’s pet peeve?”

“If you get this wrong,” you grumble, hearing Paige snicker as the two of you write down your answers. After you flip your boards, she grins proudly when your answers line up. 

“She hates not being taken seriously,” Paige recites. “She’s an English major. People always think it’s just easy or unimportant shit, like reading and writing papers, but she actually does a lot of interesting analysis and stuff that I never even considered. I’ll admit I was a little ignorant but she set me straight.”

“Wait, I didn’t know you thought that,” you say, honestly confused. 

She shrugs, a little bashful. “I talk a lot but I listen. Sometimes when you leave the room, I’ll read your paper just so I can ask better questions. You get all… glowy. And… I’on know. I like seeing you happy.”

You blink once at her, genuinely touched, and if you weren’t head over heels for Paige before then you definitely are now. She squeezes your knee again, her smile crooked yet tender. Damn it. You are hopeless. 

“That’s so sweet.” You’re a little shocked by Madelyn’s voice, but you clear your throat, refocusing. “Next one for you. What’s Paige’s least favorite season?”

“That’s easy,” you say, writing your answer down. Paige does the same. When you flip your boards, you glance at Paige’s, smiling wryly. “Paige hates spring. She has really bad allergies and all of the pollen is honestly a death sentence, so she’ll get all congested and sneezy and will spend a good two weeks bitching about it and how it makes her Jeep dirty.”

You glance at Paige, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs with a smug expression. “Last question for Paige,” Madelyn says. “What is something your partner does to show her love for you?”

Neither of you say anything, but Paige stares at you thoughtfully, another silent conversation passing between you. You don’t need to think about your answer as you write it down. On cue, you both flip your boards, Paige’s reading simply, She takes care of me. You can’t help the way your heart swells, a fond smile overtaking your face. “Before you, I wasn’t really the… you know, the receiver, I guess. Always in control, always expected to lead. You make me feel like I can just be me, which is really hard sometimes.” Paige laughs off the vulnerability, but you see right through it – the painful honesty.

“We’re equals,” you remind her, nudging her leg with your knee. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice soft as she gazes at you. “I’m glad that we do.”

You spot Madelyn out of the corner of your eye, which sobers you up quickly. She smiles. “You guys are so cute,” she gushes. “Final question for you and we’re done with this round. What is Paige’s love language?”

You feel Paige’s stare on you as you write, but you don’t glance back at her. You can hear the scribble of her marker, her capping it. When you’re finished, you finally look at her, taking in the soft expression on her face, and despite yourself, a smile grows on your face too. Together, you turn your boards, your answers being the exact same once more — quality time and physical touch. “Ten for ten, baby,” you croon, raising your hand for her to smack her palm against.

“Great job!” Madelyn says. “Let me just go submit these scores and I’ll be back to walk you guys through the puzzle round after eliminations. Sit tight.” She offers the two of you a quick grin before she’s walking off.

“Ten for ten,” Paige repeats, nudging you a little. “We’re like that?”

“I guess we’re actually kinda good at this friends thing,” you retort, although part of you wishes you were anything but.

Paige’s subsequent grin is far too knowing, like she has a trick up her sleeve. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh a little under your breath, adjusting your dress and leaning back in your chair to get comfortable. Before you know it, the scores are officially in. You and Paige had a perfect one, so you weren’t all too worried about getting eliminated in the first round, but five unlucky couples ended up leaving. The two of you watched from afar, trying not to stare too hard at the retreating couples, although they made it hard. One girl walked out crying, gesturing wildly as her partner trailed behind her, a desperate expression on her face. Another one was pure anger, slamming the door behind her. You didn’t think that this club contest would get people so riled up, but you considered that it was probably the realization that your partner truly didn’t know anything about you. You just lucked out with Paige – she understood you.

Madelyn returns quickly and cuts straight to the point. She instructs you and Paige to stand up, handing the both of you a towel, and adjusts your arms until you’re holding the towels perpendicular to each other, almost intertwined. “The goal here is to separate from each other, but it can be tricky because the towels will tangle you up. We’re looking to see how fast you can solve this puzzle and how well the two of you work together. Are you guys ready?” You and Paige nod and Madelyn grins again. “Alright. You can start.”

Instantly, the room around you two is sheer pandemonium. The couples around you are moving quickly, trying to untangle themselves, but it’s clear that the panic is settling in. You and Paige exchange a glance, laughing to each other softly. “Game plan?” she asks you.

“We need to get these like…not perpendicular,” you offer helpfully, and Paige nods, adjusting her arms. The angle change makes your towels bunch up and twist at their centers.

“Spin around,” she instructs. You do as so, the towels untwisting around the middle. You pause to analyze your situation, trying to plan out the moves in your head as Paige does the same.

“Okay, bring your towel over my head and let me step through it.” After that move, the both of you glance down, taking in your situation.

Paige hums. “The rest is easy,” she says. You nod in agreement, a silent understanding passing between the two of you and you move in tandem, twisting and shifting and stepping up until you’re both finally separating from each other in record time, having completed the puzzle. “We’re like that?” she asks you again, her expression smug and satisfied in a way that’s only comparable to when she’s on the court and her lips are curling after sinking a contested three point shot.

“Dream team,” you remind her, letting the victory wash over you, clapping your hand against hers, although she doesn’t immediately release you, squeezing your hand with a proud smile.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen anyone solve it that quickly,” Madelyn admits. “Or that calmly.” As soon as she says it, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention. There’s one couple that are twisted so unnaturally that it looks like they’re playing Twister, but it seems that the girl gets tired of the shenanigans because she drops her towel and storms out with a frustrated yell. “Case in point.”

You laugh and Madelyn walks away again to tally the points and make their final eliminations. Once everything is set, five couples remain out of the initial fifteen. After the last challenge, two couples will be eliminated once more and the remaining three will be given prizes in order of points. You and Paige were determined to finish strong – if the first two challenges were any indicator, you two had this in the bag. True to Paige’s word, the couples were being split up for the last challenge, and she offers you a competitive smile as Madelyn whisks her away.

You pass the time on your phone although Paige isn’t gone for long. However, what does shock you is the sudden bashfulness that’s clear as day on her features, like the last challenge had made her confess something important or she had to be vulnerable. You can’t help the sudden worry that seizes your body, but Paige rests a hand on your hip, squeezing you once with a confident smile. It couldn’t be that bad.

Madelyn leads you into an adjacent room where the president of the club is sitting at a table waiting for you. She smiles when you enter, motioning to the seat across from her, and it feels strangely like entering the principal’s office in elementary school, like you’re in trouble for something. The club president doesn’t spare any time for pleasantries and instead cuts right to the chase, something that you’re grateful for.

“I’m not gonna take up anymore of your time, but after seeing you and your partner perform so well in this contest, I only have two questions for you,” she explains. “This is our second year running this contest and no one has scored as high as you two have, which is kind of insane because the third round scores haven’t been added yet.” You smile politely, honestly unsure of what to say, but the club president continues. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Going on three months,” you respond, thinking back to the timeline you and Paige had agreed on, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. You are a little surprised by how real your next words feel. “We were best friends for a really long time before then – we still are. Paige is just…that kind of person that makes you feel like you’ve spent forever with her, you know?”

The club president hums, agreeing. She pauses before glancing up at you, studying your features. “What’s something that you haven’t told your girlfriend, but you would want her to know?”

You hardly need the time to think about your answer, responding, “That I love her.” The club president’s expression softens, a smile growing on her face. “We haven’t, um, gotten there yet, but I mean it. I wanna make it perfect for her. She’s given so much to me in the short time we’ve been together and in the time we were friends. And she just…she means everything to me.”

She smiles. “I think you guys are perfect for each other.”

Despite yourself, you smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I think so, too.”

After your solo questioning wraps up, you meet Paige at your table and you offer her a bashful grin, similar to the one she’d offered you when she returned. You don’t have the chance to say anything else to her as the final round of eliminations are being announced. You and Paige are spared, which doesn’t surprise you, and the two eliminated couples take their loss with dignity as they exit. Paige links her hand with yours – final three. In third place, Team Parker. In second…Team Hayes, which means that first place can only be –

“Team Bueckers.”

You and Paige relax immediately, high fiving each other in celebration. What you’re not fully expecting is the tight hug that Paige pulls you into, whispering a fond good job into your ear, although you can’t help the way you soften, sinking into her embrace. She leads you to the center of the room to collect your goodie basket. The various club members send you off with their congratulations, too, and you pretend to not notice the slick wink that Madelyn shoots you as you and Paige walk out.

The night air is cool, making you shiver slightly, and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s sliding off her blazer and settling it over your shoulders. You smile gently at her. “You won’t be cold?” you murmur.

“Nah,” she promises, nudging you. “I can handle it. You, though? I’on know.”

“That’s no way to treat someone who just won you these spa coupons,” you say, reaching into the gift basket to wave said coupons in the air. “C’mon, I clutched up, you can’t lie. And to think you wouldn’t have even had a partner for this if you didn’t rope me into it. I think we played our parts pretty well.”

Paige laughs gently, a tinkling sound that carries over the drag of the wind. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, but there’s no true offense behind her words.

You stare at her in confusion. “Get what?” you respond.

“Do you remember that question Madelyn asked you earlier?” Paige says, her steps slowing, tilting her head down to look at you. The street lights reflect off of her face so beautifully, the blue of her eyes illuminated by the soft light. You can’t help the way your heart constricts at the sight. “‘Who confessed to who?’” You hum, urging her to go on. “You remember what I said? That you were oblivious and I dropped a lot of hints you didn’t pick up on?”

The gears in your brain spin for a few revolutions before everything clicks into place. “Oh my God,” you breathe out. “Are you–”

“Confessing?” she says, her lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah.”

“You dropped hints before?”

“So many,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” you say again. You stop in your tracks, prompting her to do the same. The expression on her face is endlessly amused. “You planned a huge romantic thing – this?”

She shrugs. “The contest was the club’s shit, but yeah. I planned on asking you to come with me to this. I didn’t actually care about the prize, but the coupons are pretty sweet, right?”

You shake your head, ignoring her rambling. “You planned a huge romantic thing, but I still didn’t get it at the end, so you told me straight up,” you finish, partly in disbelief. “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” you accuse, which just makes her break out into laughter. “You literally sat next to me and told me exactly how you were going to ask me out and I didn’t know? And not only did you do that, but you were right about it?”

“I know you,” Paige says a little smugly. “And I told you that I could be romantical.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” you whisper, but her arm is slinking around your waist, pulling you into her body as she grins insufferably, and you let yourself be pulled, your hands resting on her chest. “You are literally so annoying.”

Her nose brushes yours as she inches a little closer. “You know what they asked me in the final round?” she says, her voice loud enough for only you to hear. You nod. “They said, ‘What’s something you haven’t told your partner, but you’d like to?’”

“Funny,” you say. “They asked me the same thing.”

She smiles at you. “I told them I’d tell you that I love you,” she confesses.

Your cheeks burn as you register her words. “Funny,” you say again. “I told them the same thing.”

Her expression shifts, something like relief flashing in her eyes, something tender in her gaze. “Did you?”

“Well, I told them that’s what I would tell my girlfriend,” you trail off intentionally. “Seeing as I don’t currently have one of those…”

“Don’t play,” Paige murmurs, squeezing your hip gently, drawing a laugh from you. “Be mine?”

“You gonna share those coupons?”

Her eyes are bright when she responds. “I’on even care about them. Just want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

That promise is all she needs. She smiles at you, happiness in her features, and she doesn’t waste any time before she’s leaning in fully, her lips finding yours. You’re eagerly responding, melting into her as her arm tightens around your waist. You loop yours around her neck, standing on the tips of the toes for better leverage. Before you know it, her grin grows too wide and the two of you are laughing against each other’s lips, the sound of your love and giddiness the perfect way to end a perfect night. If you had Paige Bueckers and her annoyingly charming antics to look forward to, then one thing is for certain – you couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for Valentine’s Day next year.

[kuniidealz]

gah fine

1. birds w broken wings - ben caplan

2. family line - conan grey

3. blood in the wine - aurora

4. arabella - arctic monkeys

5. the calling - the amazing devil

6. inkpot gods - the amazing devil

7. R U Mine? - arctic monkeys

8. rabbit heart (raise it up) - florence & the machine

9. snap out of it - arctic monkeys

10. girl w one eye - florence & the machine

tags (I don't have 10 friends I'm mostly tagging people I follow sorry guys) : @akariasleptin @marvinsmeadow @panicatthethomas @microwavablemadoka @dishwasher09 (that's all I have)

thanks to elaine (@loverlestat) for tagging me!! 💕

music shuffle game rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first 10 songs, then tag 10 friends to do the same

1. one of your girls — troye sivan

2. rush — troye sivan

3. northern attitude — noah kahan, hozier

4. bye bye bye — *nsync

5. smoking section — st vincent

6. francesca — hozier

7. talk talk — charli xcx, troye sivan

8. denial is a river — doechii

9. dial drunk — noah kahan, post malone

10. nobody’s soldier — hozier

no pressure tags: @harlequinlestat @zaegreus @catastrophically--aware @roseeblue @itwasanangryinch @eugene-is-tired @thehollywoodnecromancer @sheherlestat @thegr8faery @monsterfucker-molloy

[akawifeyy]

LOVESTRUCK | smau pt.3 (AKA12)

description: a month after the hate messages sent to you by an anonymous account, you've begun the process of repairing the damage. the first step? reconnecting with kimi antonelli.

tropes: best friend's little sister, childhood friends, one-sided love, ob87 sister!reader

face claim: daniela avanzini

trigger warnings: suggestive content, hate speech (misogyny & covert death threats), swearing

| note: awee i love em 🥰 also this is part 3 / 3 fics!

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3

comments (10357):

@ user1: tbh, it's a toss up. after all the scrutiny and hate, i wouldn't be surprised if y/n never showed her face again in public for fear of backlash. which is wild, bc she didn't even do anything wrong

-> @ user2: It just goes to show you how insane some F1 "fans" are.

@ user3: Even before all of this, Y/N was private. She's not coming out of her shell, and if she does, it's going to be months down the road.

@ user4: the belgian GP might be a good time for her to return, but i doubt that she will

-> @ user5: She usually posts GP pics, I'd be surprised if she broke that pattern (even though she technically already did)

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

@ f1spotted: Haas driver Ollie Bearman and Mercedes driver Kimi Antonelli took photos with a fan last night in Belgium before the Grand Prix!

tagged: @ f1, @ f1gossip

comments (94):

@ user6: Where's Y/N 😕 We miss her

-> @ user7: she's like a ghost

@ user8: starting to think I imagined Y/N's existence because what do you mean she hasn't been seen or talked to by anyone for the past month?

-> @ user8: like yeah she was private before but at least she posted relatively steadily, her fans knew she was alive. and now we're in the dark

-> @ user9: The parasocial relationships between people and their favorite celebrities never fail to astound me

@ user10: BEARNELLI FOREVER 🐻🐉

@ kimiantonelli: P3 at Spa! All the hard work from the Mercedes team has made this year incredible 🖤

tagged: @ f1, @ mercedes

comments (8622):

@ user11: So proud of you Kimi🎉

@ user12: IS THAT Y/N

-> @ user13: the scream i scrumpt i think it is her

@ olliebearman: Slide 3... 🤨

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: i'm sorry, the old y/n can't come to the phone right now 🤭 this account will be managed by my boyfriend, kimi antonelli. mess with me and you'll be messing with him. and lastly, any and all hate comments can be returned to the address: "IDGAF". thanks 💋

tagged: @ kimiantonelli, @ olliebearman, @ f1

comments (314):

@ user5: THE QUEEN HAS ARISEN

-> @ user14: the taylor swift rep reference in her post omg 😏

@ user15: This is not a drill - Y/N's back!

@ user16: The strength and bravery you're displaying is awe inspiring

@ kimiantonelli: I love you, tesoruccia

-> @ yourusername: love you too, kimi

@ olliebearman: Here for you, always 💞

@ bearman.nation: Siblings Ollie and Y/N are finally both back on social media platforms, and they're both slaying as always 🤗

tagged: @ olliebearman, @ yourusername

comments (72):

@ user2: Y/N is flawless, I wish I could be more like her. 😓

-> @ user17: literally, her backbone is insane because I fear I'd absolutely need a padded room after these handful of months

@ user18: Y/N is GLOWING

-> @ user19: it's the hiatus + kimi antonelli combo

@ user8: gahhh they're both so pretty

@ kimiantonelli: I don't usually post many things outside of work, but I just wanted to say that it's me, my girl, and my F1 car against the world. The haters can be cruel, but I know the truth. Happy three months, tesoruccia 😘

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (5438):

@ yourusername: can't believe i've been stuck with you for 3 months already

-> @ kimiantonelli: 3 months and the rest of eternity

@ user20: CUTEST COUPLE AWARD

@ user11: Need me a love like Kimi and Y/N's

Statement released by Y/N (2025):

Text messages between Kimi and Y/N (2025):

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[eintausendschoen]

POV: It is Valentines Day. You followed an invitation to a bar on Mount Helicon, for an event called "The Blue Hearts Club". A mysterious invite extended by a total stranger... with the promise of a relaxing night out. Some well deserved Me-Time.

At the door, the owner of the place greets you like she knows you. She says her name is Kalliope, one of the Muses, but you do not know her.

When she points you at a crowded table at the back of the room you follow.

There, of course, you realize what the invite meant by...

... "Me-Time. Uh-huh.... riiiiight..."

The Muse winks at you as she pases, distributing another round of drinks. "Welcome to Valentine's!", she laughs, and from across the table laughter joins: "Yeah, with yourself!!"

For @dxwart — sorry to spring this on you but ... ah... that WAISTCOAT just had to be shown around. 💜 (link to the artwork)

🤩Shoutouts to all the beautiful beautiful people who lend me their designs to play with to make this date happen. You are all AMAZING artists and THANK YOU for all the good vibes here and making Poseidonverse happen!!🤩

From left to right, top to bottom and then right to left again (in terms of order 🤌) because life in the sea is a circle: In purple and gold, Poseidon by @rin-sith - he is so much fun to draw it is riddiculous.

Next to him, the cheeky lil' king (who really isn't little at all, believe me, everyone else is just so enormous, there is a sizechart but it blew the scale) with the luscious hair and the prettiest scales: Poseidon in a more mortal-ish form by @ruthlessness69

Okay, you all know him and he's half across the table already. This king is having LA FIESTA tonight, because he got a list, and now he got more names. @messymoonmad - he did that all on his own, I swear by Styx. (I love him so much.)

Yeah, canon Poseidon. He was there first, and now he's having a hard time holding onto his drink. 😘

Seacreature at the back is the lower half of @tagzpite glorious Poseidon. He might have just lost a bet, but he is a good sport. Also, checking out that blue-haired devil across the table already. (I just borrowed him last minute, he got dragged along - hope it's alright. He'll be returned intact.) Next three... most chaotic throuple (if you can call it that) in the history of saltwater. Poseidon of @pink-noah tried to snatch the hand of @kamuch-kommandos hot dark menace. Got snatched in turn and poor him, Tall Dark and Handsome got a death grip. All just because Poseidon by @bigidiotenergytm went to win a dare and smooch the Big Gun at risk of ear-injury.

Guess @melodyartists Poseidon owe's him a drink now. (He squeezed in last minute when I stumbled upon your post where he introduced himself to the popular girls, and of course I had to bring him into this mess. Hope it's alright? :)) ) Poseidon by @anniflamma, but her awesome new design. He wanted a word with @neal-illustrator's (neals not active here afaik but tagging anyway), so they made an appearance. Mostly because...

...you know them, you love them, you windbaarrrghl. Is it Cloudysseus shlepping Cloudseidon in to steal grapes together? Is it Zeus spying on his brother's Valentines date? Nobody knows. @kdpartworks thank you so much for lending them - I'll return them safe and sound when Poseidon gets back home.

To his left... @wukyma - he did the vase-face again. Why is he so cute when he does that? I'm such a big fan this wet grumpy cat, especially with Polites. (And how do you draw his curls??? That was so hard!) Of course he'd sit next to Gorgeous by @arraunean and trade war stories. No armour for the bar, but these two are classic guys and this is Helicon, so the comfy draperies to go with the wine.

And last - your host's 'not-quite-boss': he's mine, :))

Happy Valentine's everyone <3

[crimsonender]

Hi, CD-Call/Lily. I hope this gets to you somehow. Please read this. Nothing I say here will be a criticism of you but I don't know how to reach out and this is important for your physical safety, life, and long term health.

As an experienced hiker, I'm begging you not to go on a winter hike in Nova Scotia. Winter hiking is a whole other experience above and beyond hiking in good weather, and it is, in general, inadvisable to go alone even if you are experienced. Nova Scotia is very wet, very cold, and very, very unsafe in the winter. The signs of exhaustion and dehydration are harder to recognize when you're hiking in winter. Not to mention there's a whole host of other issues like hypothermia, ice, and falling snow and ice from trees. If your foot gets wet, you won't feel it after the initial soak but it'll still be causing problems, that will get worse and worse the longer you are out. If something happens to you out there, the risks are so much higher in winter. A coat isn't enough. You need gear. You need resources you don't have. You need experience as a hiker that, I'm sorry, as evidenced from how you spoke of your previous hike in the late summer of 2024, you don't have. This is not me trying to be cruel or snotty. Hiking, wilderness training, and outdoor recreation have been part of my job for the past four years now and I've been hiking since I was 13.

I know I've criticized and been angry at you a lot, I know I've been hurtful to you. I know you don't like me and I don't like you. I know we have our issues, but I don't want you to get frostbite that permanently damages your body, you could experience long term neurological issues related to brain damage, or worse, you die, alone in the cold. This happened to a dear friend of mine several years ago. He had other health complications, as you do, and he died of exposure in the Nova Scotian wilderness, in weather warmer than what we've been experiencing. It took only a few hours for him to experience brain death.

Please listen to this and reconsider your trip. Please don't go anyway just to spite me. For all the tar and poison between you and I, there have been too many trans women that died young.

a fan, a friend, Mikaila, whoever is checking her tag that is close to her, please get her to read this and see reason. So many inexperienced hikers die or get hurt during the winter because they just don't know what it's going to be like. This isn't a slight against her it is deep concern.

And for my followers and people that aren't her fans in general, don't be dicks in the notes please. I'm putting aside criticism because I don't want to see a fellow human being get seriously hurt or lose their life.

[khywren]

❛ pairing: Astarion/f!Tav; Astarion/f!OC (Ysera) ❛ word count: 8.5k ┊ ❛ rating: 18+ MDNI ❛ tags/cw: piv sex, fingering, blowjobs, semi-public sex

‣ preview: “Who's impatient now?” she laughs, smirking at him before he kisses her, all tongue and teeth. His hands clamp down on her hips, fingers embedding little crescent moons into her sun-kissed skin. A low groan – or is it a growl? – rumbles in his throat in warning.

“Must you torture me so, darling? By the gods, let me have you.” AO3 ┊ series masterlist

It's a crisp autumn evening, and the High Hall is the place to be. Music pours from the open windows in rich, melodic tones, inviting the Gate's best and brightest. Tonight marks the celebration of the rebuilding of the city – and the heroes who helped defend it.

Presently, Ysera wanders about the ballroom, searching for Astarion. Her heels click against the decorative tiles as her eyes scan the crowd, hoping to spot his distinctive curls amidst the lords and ladies dressed in their finery. He had left her for only a brief moment to fetch her more wine, but as more people began to arrive, they had gotten completely separated.

Ysera suppresses a string of curses as she stumbles forward, her movements severely hampered by her shoes. Astarion had insisted she wear something more practical, but it felt appropriate to wear something nicer to such an important event. The elaborate star-shaped motifs decorating the velvety exterior were the perfect compliment to her gown, the very same one that he had finished for her only days earlier.

Wearing anything less than her best would have been an insult to Astarion’s efforts. Were she more graceful, she would move like a living constellation. The wine will do her no favors, but it will certainly improve her mood.

The beveled edge of a tile throws her off balance yet again, and Ysera braces to crash into the ground, throwing her arms out in front of her in a last, desperate attempt to keep herself upright. To her surprise, her palms slam into something equally as solid but far more forgiving, and an arm snakes delicately around her middle to steady her.

Ysera opens her eyes, expecting the scent of bergamot and rosemary to follow, but she instead finds herself glancing up at a stranger she's never seen before, wrapped in the aroma of wildberries and pine. The man holding her is human, but he’s dressed so exquisitely and carries himself with an air of elegance that one might just as easily mistake him for being of elvish descent. Dark hair frames his handsome face, and the corners of his verdant green eyes crinkle as he smiles pleasantly at her.

Embarrassment floods through her, color staining her cheeks as she extracts herself from the man’s grip and offers him a small smile in return.

“I'm so sorry! Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the man replies coolly. Even his voice evokes power and wealth, a deep, rumbling tone that somehow makes Ysera feel even more self-conscious about how out of place she must look.

Of all the men to inconvenience…

“I am Coran Moore.” The man, Moore, dips into a respectful bow. “Might I ask your name, my Lady? I don't believe I've seen you around before.”

Astarion had been right to try and teach her the proper way to behave amongst the members of high society, an old remnant of his time with Cazador. To hear Astarion tell it, Cazador had often paraded his spawn around during the elegant balls he'd thrown for whichever patriars were corrupt enough to lend him their influence – and what better bargaining chip than those who were already obligated to speak highly of him?

Ysera clears her throat and curtseys politely. Her form could be better, but at least she thinks she's avoided offending him further.

Small victories are still victories.

“Ysera,” she says. Then, after a pause: “Um, Whitlock. I doubt you're familiar with the name. I'm not really…”

She trails off, but Coran Moore’s eyes brighten with recognition.

“Everyone in Baldur's Gate knows your name, my Lady. The hero who saved the city. Or one of them, at least.” He flashes her a dashing smile, all teeth and calculated charm.

Ysera feels more than a little foolish. She chalks it up to whatever it is about him that's clouding her thoughts, unable to break away from his alluring stare.

“Oh,” she mumbles shyly. “Right.”

“Forgive me for my impudence,” Moore carries on, “but whoever convinced you those shoes were a good idea does not have your best interests at heart, I'm afraid.” His eyes drop to the floor to assess her heels as they peek out beneath her gown, and Ysera lets out a breath the moment they fall from her face, as if she's been released by some enchantment.

She twirls a stray lock of her hair that's escaped the fancy braids Astarion had woven into it shortly before their arrival.

“It was my idea. They matched the dress.”

She hadn't meant it as a joke, but Moore throws back his head and lets out a laugh all the same.

“Of course.” He extends a single, gloved hand to her, which Ysera takes for no other reason than it feels like the proper thing to do. 

“If I might be so bold,” Moore suggests, “I would like to invite you to my estate some time. If you have the time amidst all your well-earned celebrations, of course.” He addresses the look of confusion written on Ysera's face by quickly adding, “I would be thrilled to help you find a new pair of shoes. Or perhaps a new gown? I think you would look quite stunning in red.”

He must not need to imagine it, if the blazing heat that creeps up her neck is any indication. Ysera's too embarrassed to mull over exactly how appropriate such a remark is, even if his praise works wonders for her confidence.

“I have my own personal tailor whose work you simply must see.” Moore winks and releases her hand. “Special discount for one of the Heroes of Baldur's Gate, of course.”

The seconds pass like minutes as Ysera considers his offer. Her tail swishes anxiously beneath her skirts, thankfully hidden from view. Being designated as a local hero had come with plenty of perks; this, she convinces herself, is no different.

“I, uh…” She wrings her hands together. It would be rude to refuse him, no? This man is clearly someone important. Nevermind that she doesn't even know what she'll do with another gown that she has no use for.

“I mean – thank you. I suppose I could always take a look…”

“Excellent!” He claps his hands together. “When should I be expecting you?”

Ysera opens her mouth to make a suggestion before a familiar voice sounds out behind her over the music.

“Expecting you where, darling?” Astarion appears over her shoulder, slipping his arm possessively around her waist and deliberately pulling her against his chest. His ruby eyes narrow as he fixes an unflinching stare upon Coran Moore, lips pulled back in a strained half-smile.

“You must introduce me to this new friend of yours. I don't believe we've met, Ser…”

“Moore. Coran Moore.”

More holds out his arm to shake hands with Astarion, who makes no indication that he has any interest in returning the gesture.

“Astarion,” he says in a clipped tone. “And what is it that you want?”

“Ah, yes; I remember seeing your name amongst the reports as well,” Moore remarks in a disinterested tone. “I was simply trying to offer your… friend –” Astarion tightens his hold on Ysera “– an alternative to her unfortunate choice of footwear.”

His choice of words is intentional, calculated. Astarion knows he means to ascertain the nature of their relationship, and Astarion makes it clear in no uncertain terms. Moore's eyes flash wickedly, with a saccharine smile to match.

“Or anything she likes, really,” he adds. “A hero should look the part, don't you think?”

If he means to insult Astarion’s handiwork, the jab misses its mark entirely. His long list of clients are enough of a testament to his skill as a tailor – and at any rate, only a man without any more cards to play would stoop to such petty insults. 

Astarion shrugs off the blow with a roll of his shoulders and retaliates in turn.

“Yes, well, if we have the need for any of your cheap baubles,” he sneers, his voice high and contemptuous, “we'll know exactly where to find you.”

Moore visibly bristles beneath Astarion’s haughty glare.

“I beg your pardon?”

Astarion is all too familiar with this kind of man: pretentious, self-righteous, and utterly devoid of any real substance. He's played the part himself more times than he can count. The mask slips so effortlessly back into place that it's as if he'd never taken it off to begin with.

“I was under the impression you were a smart man, Moore. Shall I say it more clearly for you?”

Coran Moore clenches his fists and raises to his full height. The mocking grin that works its way across Astarion's face enrages him further, and before the pair of them can come to blows, Ysera intervenes by inserting herself between them.

“Okay, okay,” she says, pushing Astarion back, “that's enough. Your offer was very kind, Ser. Thank you for thinking of us.”

Moore’s demeanor changes the instant he turns his attention back to Ysera, no trace of his earlier anger in the way he looks at her. In another life, he would have made a fine chameleon.

“My Lady.” He bows again and turns to leave, but not before delivering one last barb.

“My offer – which I have extended to you and you alone – still stands. If you have any need for more … refined company, please don't hesitate to pay me a visit.”

And with that, he spins on his heel and walks away. The moment he is out of earshot, Ysera rounds on Astarion and jabs her finger directly into the middle of his chest.

“Astarion! You didn't need to be so prickly!” She huffs in exasperation when Astarion rolls his eyes.

“He was just trying to be nice,” she insists. “...by selling me something… which I'm sure is a perfectly normal thing to do at an event like this. I think.”

Astarion scoffs and clicks his tongue in admonishment.

“Was that before or after he invited you back to his estate?”

The accusation drains the color from her face, and Ysera pointedly looks away, suddenly finding the tiled floor far more interesting.

“I thought so,” Astarion says. Ysera doesn't have to ask how he knows – the answer is obvious enough, even to her.

“I saw the way he was looking at you, darling – there's only one thing a man like that wants, and I get the sense he's not above a little bribery to get it. And what a fine catch you'd make.”

Ysera buries her face in her hands.

“Give me that,” she mutters, swiping away the goblet in his hand and downing half the wine in a single swallow.

“You never should have let me convince you that coming here was a good idea.”

“Speak for yourself, darling,” Astarion quips smugly. “That was rather fun, wouldn't you agree?”

As they meander throughout the ballroom, Ysera's occasional muttering is drowned out by the menagerie of bards and other musicians who perform at the opposite end of the hall. Amplified by magic, the music carries far, much to her relief.

The last thing she wants to do is talk about Coran Moore and his strange proposition. After a while, a familiar face emerges from the crowd, and Ysera lets go of Astarion’s hand as she bounds ahead on unsteady feet. 

“Gale!” She throws her arms around the wizard, who struggles not to lose his own wine or the small plate of fancy hors d'oeuvres he's been snacking on. “You made it!”

Gale smiles warmly at her and chuckles. There's always such an infectious kindness to him that she can't help but grin back and hug him even more fiercely. When he sputters and sways on his feet, she finally releases him.

“Why, I could scarcely miss the opportunity for celebration!” Gale says, popping another square of something expensive looking into his mouth. “Good food, good wine – and even better company to boot.” He leans forward with a conspiratorial look on his face and adds: “My students have kept me busy, but I assured them my attendance tonight was quite mandatory.”

Ysera giggles and covers her mouth with her hands. The skirts of her gown rustle as her tail flicks excitedly beneath the layers of fabric. She has a sudden feeling of nostalgia for their time together back at camp, when the lot of them would sit around the campfire in the evenings exchanging stories and terrible jokes with one another. They all see each other so rarely now, but she will always cherish the memories she has of her dearest companions.

“I'm so glad to see you,” Ysera tells him. “Wyll and Karlach are here somewhere too. Probably off somewhere being pestered by the Duke before his big speech. Halsin is probably still here too… if he hasn't managed to rip off his suit yet.”

They both share a laugh, half expecting to see a bear eating its weight in appetizers somewhere amidst the crowd. He'd certainly be far happier that way, rather than stuffed into an ill-fitting ensemble that, despite its elegance, was clearly uncomfortable. If she sees him again, she’ll be sure to make the suggestion.

Ysera doesn't spot Halsin, but a shock of white hair catches her attention from only a few paces away.

“Is that…” She leans forward to confirm her suspicions, her smile growing wider when she spots two more of their companions.

“Shadowheart! Lae’zel!”

The cleric is dressed in a midnight black gown with a plunging neckline that tapers at her narrow waist before spilling into an array of satiny-soft skirts, complimenting her pale complexion and the braid that falls down her back like a moonlit waterfall. Beside her, Lae’zel looks as fierce as ever, dressed in the armor Ysera remembers so well from their travels. It's been polished to a mirror shine, along with the greatsword strung across her back.

Ysera spares a moment of pity for the poor servant who probably tried to take it away from her at the door.

“It's good to see you, my friend,” Shadowheart greets her, pulling her into a friendly hug. “Have you and Astarion been well?”

They launch into a lively conversation. Ysera tells them all about what she and Astarion have been up to since they last saw each other; Shadowheart, in turn, returns the favor by telling them about her and Lae’zel, and although the githyanki remains stoic throughout most of the conversation, it's evident by the way she glances periodically at Shadowheart that the two of them are doing quite well together themselves.

They've come a long way from trying to slit one another's throats in the dirt.

If Ysera had to use one word to describe Lae’zel, it would be intimidating. If she had two, she would call her admirable, though never to her face. But the wine has made her bolder than usual, and one more look at Lae’zel's too-serious expression makes her feel suddenly like bursting out in laughter.

“Don't look so sour, Lae’zel!” she admonishes, patting her on the arm. “It's supposed to be a celebration.”

Lae’zel scoffs lightly and peers down at Ysera, who feels very brave for not shying away.

“Do I not appear to be having fun?” she asks, in a tone that does nothing to counter Ysera's accusation. “Shadowheart assures me that it is an honor to be invited to attend such an elaborate ceremony.”

That, at last, is what makes Ysera laugh, struck by the absurdity of it all.

“Of course it is,” she agrees. In a moment of brilliant stupidity, she grabs the warrior by the hand and tugs her away from Shadowheart.

“Here, I know what'll help - come dance with me!” 

“Chk.” Lae’zel scoffs again and furrows her brow. “I have no desire to embarrass myself with such frivolities.” She looks very fierce, but Ysera is far too tipsy to care about insignificant things like her safety anymore. 

Shadowheart only smiles when Lae’zel throws an almost frantic gaze her way, uncertain how to deal with Ysera's uncharacteristic behavior. The two of them have never been exceptionally close, and even for such a hardened warrior, Lae’zel has no battle plan for this scenario.

“She’s right,” Shadowheart says unhelpfully. “It's customary. Go on and have a dance.” She'll pay for it later, but she knows a golden opportunity when she sees it.

Lae'zel allows herself to be pulled out onto the dance floor, though her posture is stiff and uncomfortable. Sensing her hesitation, Ysera chews on her lip for a moment and considers.

“Oh! How about this?” she offers. “Combat is sort of like a dance, isn't it? Maybe if you pretend you're trying to stab me, it'll be easier.”

Lae'zel’s scowl finally recedes, replaced by the easy smirk that flits across her face. She takes one of Ysera's hands and holds it aloft, mimicking the dancers around them.

“Be careful what you wish for.”

────

Astarion watches, perplexed and amused in equal measure, as he watches Ysera bully Lae’zel into dancing with her.

The sight of Ysera wobbling on her heels like a newborn fawn as Lae’zel leads her in a ferocious, chaotic waltz around the dance floor brings a grin to his lips, and he snorts when the other dancers part for them with looks of bewilderment.

Neither of them have any rhythm; Lae’zel, because she is unaccustomed to dance, and Ysera, because the wine has stolen what little grace she had to begin with.

A figure sidles up next to him, and Astarion catches a glimpse of Gale's trademark purple as the wizard gives him a thorough assessment.

“You look happy, Astarion,” Gale eventually concludes. Astarion swirls the wine in his goblet, takes a deep draught, and lifts his shoulders in a shrug.

“Of course. I suppose we have the old Duke to thank for the wine. I'm surprised his coffers weren't completely emptied out rebuilding the city.”

It's a calculated response, meant to gauge Gale's true intentions. Astarion is less guarded these days, but he still plays his cards close to his chest. Old habits and all.

Gale takes a moment to consider.

“I mean you and Ysera,” he clarifies, bringing his own goblet to his mouth and taking a quick sip. “Although I must agree, the wine is rather spectacular.”

A moment of silence stretches between them. Lae’zel and Ysera continue their rampage across the ballroom, locked in a strange display as they push and pull against one another. He hears Ysera's heart thrums above the music, thundering when Lae’zel twirls her so fast she almost topples into a nearby pair of half-elves. There's no time to apologize before Lae’zel whisks her away again – though she certainly tries her best.

Astarion hardly notices the way his expression softens as he watches her. As it so often does when she's caught up in the moment, living her life to its fullest.

And Gale has the measure of things. He is happy, isn't he?

It's difficult for him to imagine a life for himself without her in it, and even less easy to envision one where he would be happy without her by his side.

After a moment of introspection, Astarion tips his head to the side. His eyes flick to Gale for only a moment before returning to Ysera. He takes another drink from his goblet.

“She was the one to find me after I fled the docks, you know.”

There's something akin to surprise in Gale's expression for a moment, before his face becomes inscrutable. He's not used to Astarion being so candid with him, but his silence is a token of respect, paid in full for Astarion’s honesty.

“She sat with me until sundown and made sure that we – that I – had somewhere safe to go,” Astarion continues. His smile turns sardonic as he adds, “In that moment, all I could think of was how weak and ashamed I felt, and she never made me apologize for any of it. She never has. I've never understood why.”

And that, above all else, is the honest to gods’ truth. He doesn't doubt her affection for him (how can he, after everything they've been through?), even if it's still difficult to understand her motivations.

Loving her comes easy. Finding that same compassion for himself is a monumental task. He's not half the man she thinks he is, but he wants to be. 

Gale fixes Astarion with a knowing look and rests his hand on Astarion’s shoulder.

“She loves you, Astarion. What other reason does she need?”

She'd told him nearly the same thing, what feels like a lifetime ago. The irony makes him bark out a laugh, and if it weren't for the fact that the tadpoles are very much gone, he would swear Gale had been conspiring with Ysera all along.

The memory is so vivid in his mind. The way the moon had illuminated her face and made her eyes shine like the sun. How resolute she'd sounded when she'd pledged herself to his cause, despite the risks involved.

‘I don't want anyone else to feel the way I did. I don't need any reason beyond that to help you.’

Beside him, Gale raises an inquisitive brow.

“It’s nothing,” Astarion says, brushing him off with a wave of his hand. “Just an old memory.”

Gale's brows raise again, but this time his attention is fully tethered on Ysera and Lae’zel. The githyanki warrior has increased their already frenetic pace, and Ysera’s expression has quickly grown to one of very apparent terror. Her body dips and twirls as she struggles to find a place for her feet, and in a desperate plea for assistance she catches Astarion’s eye for no more than a second before Lae’zel’s got her spinning once again.

Gale leans over and brings his face close to Astarion's.

“Does she know it's a dance, and not a duel? Might I suggest –”

Astarion presses his goblet into the wizard's hands and strides forward.

“Already on it.”

He reaches his destination in no more than a few clipped strides, carefully extracting Ysera from Lae’zel's arms. Lae’zel is breathing heavily from the exertion, eyes wild as though she's just fought a very intense battle. Ysera stumbles into his embrace, her vision spinning as she clings to him and tries to get her bearings.

“Careful, darling,” he croons, placing a single kiss atop her head between her horns. “Are you alright?”

“Oh gods,” she murmurs, “where am I?”

Astarion chuckles fondly and rubs his hand over her back in soothing circles. Her chin lifts easily when he slips a single, gloved finger beneath her jaw.

“Exactly where you need to be, my love.”

They melt back into the crowd, and as the music grows soft, Astarion’s world narrows to the space between them. The sconces along the wall begin to dim, casting a pleasant glow across the ballroom. 

Ysera looks up at him in adoration, admiring how handsome he looks in this light, especially as it catches in his eyes and reflects a thousand shades of gold-flecked crimson. She tucks her head against his chest, mindful of her horns, and winds her arms around his back.

They sway back and forth, but after a few moments she can sense he has something more to say. She lifts her head to let him speak.

“May I have this dance?”

There's a vulnerability in his voice she doesn't often hear, and the soft smile he offers her has never looked so good or so genuine. She knows he can hear the way her heart skips a beat, but at least this way she doesn't have to try to find the words for how she feels about him at this moment.

“I don't know the steps,” she says in response. 

“Don't worry,” Astarion assures her. One hand slips into hers as the other brackets her waist. She would trust him with anything, as long as he keeps holding her like this. “Just follow my lead.” 

Astarion guides her gently around the dance floor, their bodies pressed together as he instructs her where to place her hands and how to move her feet. She takes to it far more quickly than she had expected, and it soon becomes as simple as breathing. Her mind is blissfully empty but for him; the comforting familiarity of his body, the way he cradles her in his arms, and the citrusy scent of him that she will always associate with what it means to be home.

“I'm sorry for making you jealous,” Ysera says, still feeling more than a little guilty.

Astarion scoffs incredulously.

“Please, darling. In order for me to be jealous, I would have had to have believed that oaf actually stood a chance with you.”

It's neither a lie nor the entire truth. He had been afraid of losing her before, of course. Once, when he confessed his feelings for her against his better judgment, and again when the brain fell and there was nothing tying them together other than the treacherous thoughts that told him she had no more use for him.

Somewhere along the line, the veil had been lifted, and he had finally accepted she wasn't going anywhere.

Almost as if she's heard his thoughts, Ysera grins up at him and flashes her teeth. 

“Unfortunately for you, you're stuck with me.”

“It's a difficult burden to bear,” he teases her back, “but I think I'm fit for the task.”

Their noses brush against one another before they share a quick kiss, letting the rhythm of the music carry them in slow, wide circles around the ballroom.

“You know,” Ysera says, almost mischievously. “Coram Moore said something very interesting that you might want to hear.” Astarion inclines his head but doesn't bother to suppress the pout he makes at the mention of the other man’s name.

“He told me I would look stunning in red.”

Astarion presses his face against the slender column of Ysera's throat, which muffles his deep chuckle. He opens his mouth, and Ysera shivers as his fangs slot into the twin scars on her neck where he typically feeds from her.

“Did he now?” he purrs. “Shall we find out for ourselves?”

────

The moment Ysera and Astarion enter the suite they've been given in the upper floors of the High Hall, Ysera kicks off her heels and tugs her hair out of the braids Astarion had made for her with a sigh of relief. With a flex of her toes, the feeling returns to her feet, and she follows Astarion out into the balcony.

“Gods,” she groans, resting her face in her hands as she leans her elbows across the balustrade, “that was embarrassing.” 

Hands in his pockets, Astarion watches the sky, dark as the void and adorned with thousands of glittering specks of silver stars. His fangs catch the light as he smirks sidelong at her.

“Not a fan of the spotlight, love?”

At the end of his grand speech to those in attendance for the celebration, Duke Ravengard had turned towards Astarion, Ysera, and the rest of her companions and asked if any of them would like to say something. Her nerves had twisted into silent panic as several hundred eyes swept over her, and she had prayed to any god who would listen that someone else would volunteer so she didn't have to.

She had almost collapsed from relief when Wyll approached his father's podium to make a statement on their behalf, delivering a few concise words on the importance and enduring health of the city, and what an honor it had been to be on the front lines of its defense. Shortly after, the celebration had ended, and it was all she could do to stop herself from sprinting to their suite upstairs.

“I told you he was gonna ask one of us to get up there and talk,” Ysera laments. “And you thought he wouldn't be crazy enough to do it. I win.”

“I wasn't aware we were wagering on it, darling,” Astarion responds. “But since you're so insistent, what would you like for your reward?”

She doesn't need to think for any longer than a few seconds.

“A kiss,” she announces. “I want you to kiss me.”

Astarion sweeps her into his arms and slots his mouth along hers.

“How scandalous,” he murmurs against her lips. When he pulls away, Ysera pouts and balls her fist in his jacket to tug him back. Astarion rolls his eyes but willingly gives into her demands, this time nipping at her bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside her mouth.

“Insatiable, aren't you?” His voice is low and sensual in a way that makes her shiver.

“With you? Always.”

Ysera is light in his hands as Astarion hoists her up and onto the balustrade, holding her close while she steadies herself on the carved wooden beam. His fingers drag across her scalp as his fingers dive into her hair, and he tugs just enough to coax a soft moan from her. He has enough leverage to bend her neck to the side and bare her throat, but as he tears his mouth away from hers to turn his attention elsewhere, something catches his attention. 

Across the narrow courtyard, Coram Moore watches them through an open window. Astarion doesn't care why he's there, but as he grins wickedly over Ysera's shoulder a plan formulates in his mind.

“Darling, would you mind?” he asks, innocently enough that she won't suspect anything. He holds up his gloved hand, and Ysera immediately opens her mouth, biting down on the tip of the leather hard enough for Astarion to pull his fingers free. The moment his cool skin touches her leg beneath her gown is electric and she sucks in a breath, anticipation burning hot in her belly.

He takes his time with her, gliding his slender fingers up her calf, face tucked against her neck so she's free to make more of those pretty little noises for him. Ysera holds him by the hair, not trusting her balance the more and more he teases her. She can already feel the wetness pooling between her thighs, and her clit throbs with need as Astarion nears the place she wants him most.

Astarion is finally thankful for the vastness of her skirts, for the chiffon and lace that keeps her guarded from prying eyes. Nevertheless, his fingers trace a devastatingly slow path across her skin, drinking in the warmth of her and the sound of her increasingly desperate mewls and moans make it all but impossible for either of them to keep her pleasure a secret.

“Nnn… Astarion!” She gasps his name, but he can hear the concern in her voice.

“Yes, my love?” he inquires, fingers stilling just beneath the apex of her thighs. “Afraid someone might hear us?”

“No,” she says, “not really.” Then she smirks. “But if we don't get invited back next year, I'm blaming you.”

“Perish the thought.”

It’s settled. Let them all see, then, so there will be no doubt in anyone's mind that she is his. The next time he glances across the courtyard, Coram Moore has vanished.

Ysera is already in quite a state when his fingers brush against her through her underwear, and he groans when he feels the wetness seeping through the thin fabric. 

“Already? Why, I've hardly even touched you, darling.”

Astarion dips his head to nip at her collarbones and the tops of her breasts, and even a subtle shift of movement makes him hiss as his hardening cock brushes against her thigh. He doesn't need to see her face to imagine how smug that's made her, especially after his teasing remarks. But before she can comment on it, he slips his hand beneath the gusset of her underwear and drags two fingers along the seam of her, and she cries out at the sudden sensation.

“Q-uit stalling,” Ysera chokes out, less sternly than she would have liked. Astarion has already busied his fingers with her clit, tracing purposeful circles around her most sensitive areas with the precision of someone who knows her body almost better than she does.

“I'm doing no such thing,” he says, offended. “I'm simply affording you the pleasure you deserve. Or am I wrong? Does it not feel good?”

He asks the question with deserved arrogance, knowing very well how much she's enjoying this. Despite her impatience, the stuttering of her heart and the way she pants against him tells a clear enough story. 

“It would feel better if – ahh! ”

The moment Astarion sweeps the pad of his finger directly over her clit, Ysera bucks her hips and bites back a scream, mouth slack as her vision swims.

“Asshole,” she groans. Then, “Don't you dare stop.”

Astarion grins triumphantly. “Say please, sweet girl.”

“ Please don't stop, Astarion. Not if you know what's good for you.” The sweetness on her tongue turns to venom, and she barely gets the words out. But there's an edge to her voice that speaks directly to the lizard part of his brain that wants to forgo all this – what had she called it? Stalling? – and take her straight to bed. His composure is nothing when matched against her.

With more difficulty than he would like to admit, Astarion claws back the remaining threads of his sanity. He gathers her wetness on his fingers and presses a single one against her entrance; he slips inside with little resistance, stroking her walls with practiced efficiency. Her body easily acclimates to the second one he pushes inside, and Ysera arches her back to coax him deeper.

“Greedy,” he huffs, stealing another kiss from her. “Can you take another, darling?” 

“I’ll take anything you give me, Astarion,” she whimpers, shuddering when he makes good on his offer. It doesn't feel the same as his cock, but when he buries himself to the second knuckle and crooks his fingers, the pleasure she feels is enough to wipe whatever remaining thoughts she has from her mind.

Ysera babbles incoherently as he fucks her with his fingers, praising him as he swallows her moans with another hungry kiss.

“So good… you're so… ohhh…”

As Ysera writhes beneath his touch and bares her throat to him, Astarion finds his patience growing thin. He finds that he wants nothing more than to feel her unravel on his fingers, the cloying thought guiding every pass of his thumb as he guides her closer and closer to the edge.

“Yes,” she begs, “yes!” There is only desperation left for her now. Astarion gives her what she needs, and as his fingers glide across her walls one last time, she finds herself tossed about on the rising tide of her orgasm, burying her face into his jacket to muffle her sobs of pleasure.

Once her body has stopped its trembling, Astarion slides his hand from between her legs. Ysera opens her mouth without hesitation, letting Astarion press his slick fingers against the flat of her tongue. Her lashes flutter as she looks him in the eyes, tongue swirling around his fingers as she tastes what he's done to her.

And Astarion’s brain nearly short-circuits.

He can think of nothing but replacing his fingers with his cock; if he doesn't get her back inside now, it might very well be the end of him. Ysera seems to have the same idea, and she slips from the balustrade, barely pausing to grab him by the wrist as they retreat into their suite.

Astarion takes only as much time as is absolutely necessary to close the balcony doors and draw the curtains shut. Ysera's already tugged the laces of her gown open, and Astarion spots the fading glimmer of the mage hand she summoned to assist her before her gown flows like a river of ink down her body, leaving her in nothing but her smallclothes, which she wastes little time discarding just as haphazardly.

She strides towards the bed with Astarion in toe.

The mattress dips beneath her weight when Ysera sinks into the plush duvet, with wildfire in her eyes and a laugh that washes over him like a sunbeam through a stormcloud. Astarion barely has the time to begin shedding his clothes before she's reaching for him, tugging him down to join her only moments after he kicks off his shoes and undoes the buttons of his embroidered jacket. 

He crashes into her with a noise of protest, just as roughly as she surges up to capture his lips with her own. A quick flick of her tongue against the seam of his mouth is enough for Astarion to oblige her, and he groans as he parts his lips to let her taste him. She kisses him like it's their first, their last, and every time in between, hands tangled in the curls that he had worked so hard to style before tonight's affair.

“Patience, darling,” he tries, barely able to pull his lips away and admonish her eagerness before she's chasing after him. “You're going to ruin the stitching.” His trousers were already tight enough to begin with, tailored to accentuate his long, slender legs. And now, the growing need between his thighs is merciless, the swell of his cock straining against the only remaining barrier between them.

“I'm certain you can fix it,” she murmurs deviously, grinning when her teeth sink into his lower lip and his hips buck suddenly. “After all, you've just shown me how talented those hands of yours are.”

The inflection of her voice is downright sinful. Astarion struggles not to whimper when her hands fumble for the fastening of his waistband, fingertips brushing over the bulge in his pants with just enough pressure to make him ache for her more than he already does.

“Despicable woman,” he grumbles, tugging his pants and underwear down as Ysera hums contentedly and kisses him again. The aftertaste of wine and her own arousal is sweet on her tongue, and he can smell enough of it in the blood coursing through her veins that he yearns to pierce her throat with his fangs and indulge in the rich, heady taste of her. But he would need to abandon her lips to do it, a prospect neither of them seem to be too keen on at the moment.

The instant Astarion’s cock springs free is a euphoria rivaled only by the way it feels pressed against her flushed skin, leaking onto her stomach. Their bodies mold together, the space between them small enough that Astarion can't help but rock his hips forward to chase the friction he so desperately needs. His desire to be inside her overtakes his every thought, and he has half a mind to beg her for it as he tears himself away from the hungry sweep of her tongue.

“Ysera…”

She looks at him through half-lidded eyes, angling her gaze towards him with a look of adoration on her face. 

“I –”

He's only just opened his mouth before her hands slip around the small of his back, and Astarion finds himself dazed for the second time this evening before everything stops spinning and he finds himself beneath her. Ysera smiles tenderly at him, brushing away a stray lock of his hair that was so rudely obscuring his view of her lovely face.

“My turn. Let me take care of you now.”

Pleasure erupts within him like the fires of the hells themselves when Ysera splays her palm over his stomach and rolls her hips in a slow, steady rhythm across the hard length of him, teasing his neglected cock. She's absolutely soaked, and it feels so wonderful, but it's not enough, it's not enough, gods it isn't enough.

The loss of contact between them is agonizing when Ysera pulls away, but as she sinks between his legs and runs her tongue along the underside of his cock, his protests die on a shaky, broken moan. He watches, spellbound, as her lips encircle the head of his cock, her eyes trained on his. The hand she wraps around him is bliss, and his hard length twitches as she takes him eagerly into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “that's… wonderful, darling.”

“I had a good teacher,” she mumbles around him with a smirk, and the vibration of her voice entices him to thrust up into her until he hits the back of her throat. Ysera groans and takes him beautifully, following his lead and bobbing her head along the full length of his cock as she sucks and licks him. Her fingers cup his balls, teasing him in gentle sweeps that have him keening. With a hand buried in her hair that moves to wrap around one of her horns, he fights not to buck wildly into her mouth.

If she keeps this up, he's going to come.

Not that he doesn't want that, of course, but it's too soon. He needs more of her – all of her.

Astarion tugs gently on Ysera's horn and she releases his cock from her mouth with a soft pop , licking her lips as she sits up and waits for him to gather his thoughts. Elusive as they are, he finally manages a gruff, “Not yet, love… come here, will you?”

Ysera sighs softly and climbs back on top of him, grinding her hips against his sensitive cock.

Astarion’s mouth falls open and he pants softly, his throat constricting around a whimper he can no longer contain. He bites out her name through gritted teeth, brow furrowed as heat coils like a taut spring low in his belly. He grabs her by the wrist and tugs her forward, caging her close to him with the arms he wraps tightly around her back.

“Who's impatient now?” she laughs, smirking at him before he kisses her, all tongue and teeth. His hands clamp down on her hips, fingers embedding little crescent moons into her sun-kissed skin. A low groan – or is it a growl? – rumbles in his throat in warning.

“Must you torture me so, darling? By the gods, let me have you.”

He could take her right now, if he chose to. It would be a simple enough thing, to lift her just high enough so he could plunge his cock inside her eager little cunt. The bliss he imagines feeling as he thrusts wildly into her is almost enough to make him do it, but she seems so intent on taking control for now, and he'd be a fool not to admit the idea doesn't intrigue him.

And the admission of his desire for her was all she wanted, in the end.

The wetness between her legs drips down her thighs as Ysera extracts herself from his embrace, and the sight of her makes Astarion's mouth go dry as she wraps her free hand around his cock and sinks down onto him. Both of their lips part with a satisfied sigh, and Astarion throws his head back against the pillows.

She feels better than he ever could have imagined, warm and soft and unbelievably tight as her body molds to the shape of him. She bites her lip as she rolls her hips experimentally, her walls already pulsing around him.

“Astarion,” she moans, taking the hand he reaches out to her and threading their fingers together tightly.

“I know,” he says, squeezing her hand.

Something he learned early on in their relationship, even before it was a relationship, was her fondness for physical contact. Whether they were in the throes of passion, laying next to one another, or simply existing in each other's space, she always sought comfort in the closeness of him, delighted merely by the feel of his skin on hers. 

It wasn't easy, overcoming that particular distaste of his, but now, the thought of her not touching him, of not running her hand across his chest or cupping his face so gently as she smooths the pad of her thumb over his cheek is enough to make his dead heart ache with longing. 

She holds him delicately, not because he is fragile, but because he is something precious. Some one worth loving.

Her hips undulate as she rides him for all he's worth, his cock slamming home inside of her each time their bodies make contact. The heat of her engulfs him completely, unfurling through his limbs. Their movements are an extension of the dance they shared before, harmonized this time not by music but by their shared sounds of ecstasy.

A lopsided grin spreads over Astarion’s face, a single brilliant fang poking out beneath the uneven curve of his lips. He feels weightless and almost giddy, as though lost in a dream he hopes he never has to wake from.

“Have I told you lately that you are the most beautiful woman in all the realms?” he asks. His eyes rove over every inch of her body, from the place they're joined to the feminine curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and the blissed-out look she fixes on him.

She smiles back and rolls her eyes, sucking in a breath when his fingers return to her hips.

“You've had too much wine,” she insists. “You're drunk.”

Astarion huffs a laugh.

“What's the saying, darling? ‘Drunk words are sober thoughts?’”

“You're ridiculous,” she says, crouching low to hide the color in her cheeks with another passionate kiss.

“So tell me I'm wrong,” Astarion says, confidently calling her bluff. He kisses her back just as fiercely, the fingers of his hand tangling in the loose waves of her hair. The soft strands wrap around his fingers and he pulls hard enough to coax another undignified noise from her. 

“Tell me you're not the most stunning–” he bites her lip, groaning as he catches the single bead of blood that blooms on his tongue; “–magnificent… radiant creature to ever grace these halls.”

He explores her mouth between praises, free hand tracing absent-minded patterns across her skin as he lets himself enjoy every inch of her body. He drags his nails along the curve of her spine, and she arches into him with a broken moan.

The heat radiating from Ysera's cheeks may as well be an inferno; he doesn't need to see her face to know his words have hit their mark.

“If I agree with you,” she mumbles quietly, “will you stop embarrassing me?”

It's an absurd request, and one he has no intention of granting.

“Oh, no, my love,” he purrs, purposely lowering his voice because he knows it will drive her wild. “Never.”

His fangs graze the soft curve of her jaw, and Astarion revels in the way she shudders as goosebumps bloom across her skin. He mouths at the shell of her ear and she cries out with a sharp snap of her hips.

“And besides, we both know you wouldn't want me to anyway.”

Ysera's magic roars to life beneath her skin like a hibernating predator roused from slumber. Mastery over her powers has leant her formidable strength, and so it is with careful deliberation that she manipulates the Weave, until the very air itself crackles and seems to writhe around them. Traces of her magic burst around them like a constellation of stars, bathing them in soft, glittering light.

Satisfied, Astarion pulls her ear closer to his lips, near enough that she can almost certainly feel the wickedness of his grin.

“Does it please you, knowing how much you make me ache for you?”

“Everything you do pleases me, Astarion.”

He doesn't expect her admission to affect him so deeply, and he holds her close with a fierce possessiveness. His hips roll into hers at a feverish pace, his fangs a sharp, desperate question against her throat.

“Do it,” she commands him. “Sink your fangs into me and take what's yours.”

Astarion whispers his thanks against her throat before his fangs pierce her neck, warm blood flooding his mouth and coating his lips. Ysera hears every ravenous swallow he makes, lost in the taste of her on his tongue and the feel of her on his cock as he drives into her again and again and again. She cries out as the pain bleeds into pleasure, the drowsy satisfaction of losing so much blood nearly making her go limp in his arms.

But Astarion doesn't seem to mind, chasing his own pleasure with reckless abandon. One hand slips between them to tease her clit again, and as her cunt flutters around him and Ysera whines into his ear, he falls apart beneath her. He growls against her throat as he empties himself inside her, hips undulating wildly with each spurt of his cock. He doesn't stop until she comes again, her throat ragged with the way she screams for him.

When she has enough clarity to remember where she is again, Ysera lets Astarion gently roll her onto her side; he moves with her, his softening cock still buried inside her as he holds her close, kissing her face, her neck, her breasts. She sighs softly beneath his affections, letting him shower her with praise.

Tucked against his chest, her eyes flutter closed, and she drifts in and out of consciousness as she fights against the overwhelming urge to sleep. Astarion nuzzles his nose against the crown of her head and presses a soft kiss into her hair.

“You must be cold, darling. Let me get up, and we'll get you beneath the blankets.” He tries to roll to the edge of the mattress but Ysera tangles her legs with his and whines in protest.

“No,” she says, voice heavy with exhaustion. “Stay with me.”

Ysera sits up just far enough to cast a quick Fire Bolt, tossing the mote of flame into the empty hearth across the chamber. It roars to life, bathing them in its gentle warmth.

“There,” Ysera yawns, falling back into her pillow and snuggling close to him again. “Problem solved.”

Astarion can't help but laugh.

“Stubborn girl. Whatever am I to do with you?”

Ysera smiles softly and places a quick kiss on his lips. She knows the answer as if it's been there waiting all along. 

“That's easy. Let me love you.” She's still so warm as she drapes an arm over his middle, determined to hold onto him as long as she can. A hundred different responses hang in the silence that stretches between them. But before Astarion can settle on one that appropriately conveys the depth of his feelings for her and her endless kindness, Ysera has already fallen asleep, snoring softly with her face pressed against his chest. He cards his fingers through her hair, and when her lips pull back in a smile, he wonders if she sees him in her dreams.

“Don't be ridiculous, darling,” he tells her, finally letting his eyes close as he settles in beside her. His heart feels light, and the warmth he feels blossoming in his chest has nothing to do with the fire burning in the hearth or the comforting heat of her skin. “As if I could ever do anything else.”

[justwhisperingfantasies]

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Characters: Reader. Jensen. Jared. Mac. Heather. Alex. Kyle. Mike.

Warnings: Language, Drinking, Heartbreak, Fluff, Angst, Couple Fighting. Rough Sex. Unprotected Sex [no just no] Breed Kink, P-I-V , Oral [both receiving] I think that's all if not lmk.

A/n: Sorry this one took forever and I'm sorry. Beginning is sad be prepared.

You guys are amazing. Seriously thank you for every heart, reblog, and comment. I love hearing your feedback. 🫶 Please do not copy my work.

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Special Thank You To: @copperboom82 Thank you beta-ing and listening to all my rambles. 🫶

Jensen

He pulled into the drive way, and parked beside Beau. He huffed, if this went bad, she would probably change his name.

He walked up to the porch, finding her siting on the porch steps.

“Hey, “He said lightly kicking the step her feet were on.

She scooted, giving him room to sit down.

“I can explain.” He took her silence as sign to continue. “She told me her dad was in the hospital. That he wasn’t going to make it. I felt bad, that’s why I stayed to talk, next thing I know she threw her arms around me.”

She stayed silent.

“There’s nothing.”

“So I got a call on my way home.” She cut him off.

He rolled his eyes, “Let me guess.”

“Yep, it was her. “ She sighed. “How did she get my number?”

“I don’t know… What did she say?”

“Oh ya know, how you couldn’t believe people actually thought we were married.”

“I never said that.”

“But you did talk to her that night, and you lied about it.”

“Yes, but I told you the truth.”

“After you lied.” She took a drink of her water. “She also told me y’all have been fuckin this whole time and how much you just loved fucking her in my cowboy hat.”

He scoffed a laugh, “Now you know that’s not true.”

She turned on the screen of her phone and handed it to him. White hot rage bubbled in his stomach as he saw a picture of Heather lying in his bed with y/n’s hat on.

“She sent 4 of different poses. You can scroll through them, if you’d like.”

“You don’t have to be a smartass.” He said handing her phone back.

She swiped and turned the phone back in his direction, “Oh and there’s this one. Of you, her, and some of your band mates, the night we met.”

“She came in, had a beer, and wished us good luck. That’s it.”

She swiped again “And one of you and her at the brewery. Which I just found has a co-owner.”

Jensen huffed, “I am been trying to buy her out since the divorce. She won’t budge.”

“And correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that what you wore fishing last Sunday?”

“Yes, she told me it was for the website, but it’s not like I’m holding her or sticking my tongue down her throat.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Yeah… So that makes it all ok?” Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t say that.”

The cicadas hummed as they sat there. Neither knowing what to say.

She wiped her eyes before the tears could fall. “She also said, that you told her that you hope I’m not pregnant with your kid.”

“That’s not fucking true. You can ask Jared,” He sighed. Kickoff the steps he got up and started to pace. “Why would I do half the shit I've done if I was fucking someone else, or if I didn't want a future with you?”

She stayed silent.

“And do you really think I’d cheat on you?”

“You cheated before…”

“That’s not fair.” He blinked back his tears.

“You really wanna talk about what’s fair right now?”

“Look, I know everything is all fucked up right now” He grabbed her hand and held it in both of his. “And you have more reasons to not trust me right now, but baby the things she said isn’t true.”

“Jensen..”

“Don’t. y/n don’t let her win.”

She stayed silent.

“This can't be over.”

She looked over at him, wiping the tears away from his cheek “I don’t want it to be, but how do we come back from this?”

Jensen

“Hey man,” Jared said as he sat down at the bar of the brewery

“J.P. what’s up bud?’ Jensen greeted, cracking a can of beer open and sliding it to Jared.

“Not much. How are you?”

Jensen opened another one for himself. “Eh, I’m hanging in there.”

“So, have you talked to y/n?”

“Not since Sunday,” Jensen said after taking a drink.

“It’s only been two days, just give it some time, man everything will work out.”

“You remember what I’ve told you about my luck right?!.”

“And what usually happens when I say i have a good feeling about something?”

Jensen rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Jensen lifted his head as he heard a car door, “Motherfucker.”

“Dude. Follow my lead.”

Jensen tilted his head with furrowed brows.

Jared pulled out his phone and began scrolling.

Reader

“Aw Jared.” Mac said as his name flashed on the radio screen.

“He’s probably with Jensen.” You reached for the ignore button, but Mac slapped away your hand and hit the green button

“Jay-rod!” She exclaimed. No answer. “Jared? Hello?”

New text message popped up on the screen.

Padalecki: Trust me. Don’t hang up. Please just listen. And please do not hold anything against us. We are just great actors I promise 😉 you know we love you.

You pulled into the nearest parking lot and pulled your e-brake. Mac turned the volume up.

“Hey! Heather!” Jared shouted

“You need to cut him off if he is happy to see me.”

“I’m just happy, now that y/n is gone we can finally have fun again.” Jared slurred.

Your jaw dropped.

You heard Jensen chuckle. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to see how you were doing.”

“Better now.”

“I thought you’d be mad.” Heather’s voice got closer.

“Eh, I was at first, but I see why you did it.”

“Jared, can I talk to Jay for a minute?”

“Sure thing. I gotta piss anyway.”

You heard some ruckus and what sounded like a barstool slide across the floor.

Heather laughed. “You really need to cut him off.”

“He would have done that sober” Jensen chuckled again “So, What can I do for you darlin’?”

“Just acting.” Mac whispered as you grinded your teeth.

“Is it true? Did you guys really break up?”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Thank god.”

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Anything.”

“How’d you get the picture in her cowboy hat?” Jensen chuckled “Man she was so pissed.”

“Promise you won’t press charges?”

“Now, would I do that to you?” Jensen said in a flirty voice, making your jaw clench again.

“Well, I kinda broke into your house. I was just going to take pictures in your bed, but I saw the hat and I knew it wasn’t yours, so I figured why not.”

“You’re an evil genius, Heather.”

“I know.” she snickered. “Hey, have you heard anything? Is she pregnant?”

“No. she’s not. How the hell did you know about that?”

Heather laughed. “I watched her the night of the pop-up. Nobody goes to a bar and orders soda unless they are pregnant.”

“God, I forgot how damn clever you are.”

“So now that she is out of the way, maybe we could.”

You heard another round of ruckus. “Jensen you need to fix these floors dude.” Jared said in his drunk voice.

“Well i gotta get going.” Heather’s voice seemed farther.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Dude. Are you really going to call her later?” Jared asked in a normal voice.

“Fuck no.”

“Did you get anything good?”

“Yes. Please tell me you were recording that.”

“No, better. y/n?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Ow.” You said when Mac nudged your arm.

“Bonnie?”

“Yes, Sasquatch.”

“Did you hear it?” Jensen asked.

“Yes.”

“What did she say?”

“She just admitted that pretty much everything she said was a lie.” Mac told him.

“Not everything.” you mumbled.

“Hey there Mac.” Jared said.

“Hello boys.” Mac said using her Crowley impression, making you laugh,

“So y/n, what do you mean not everything?” Jensen asked

You sighed. “Can we talk about it later?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Reader

Your heart pounded as your finger loomed over his contact. “Come on ” you told yourself.

You hit the green button and brought the phone to your ear.

“Hey.” Jensen said as he answered.

“Hello Mr. Ackles.”

He chuckled. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better. How about you?”

“Same.”

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting on my couch. Having some scotch.”

“Mmmm scotch.”

“Did you take a test today?”

“Yeah.” You murmured

“Well I can tell by your enthusiasm that it was good news.” He huffed.

“I'm sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I don't know I just feel bad.”

“Well don't. We kinda knew it was a long shot anyway.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “Still would of been kind of cool though.”

“Really? So you.” You heard the beep on his end. “Hey bab-” He stopped himself “Eh, y/n I gotta take this. Gimme a minute.”

“Sure.”

After a couple minutes you got antsy.

Y/n: Do you just want to call me back. Ackles: No. Y/n: Is everything ok? Ackles: Lawyer. Y/n: So I shouldn't be stealing your attention.😂 Ackles: Don't have to steal it. You always have it.

“I’m sorry.” Jensen said,

You jumped a little as his voice came through the speaker.

“You're fine. Is. Never mind not my business.”

“Frank and I, Frank is my lawyer. We have a meeting tomorrow with Heather and her lawyer.”

“Ah. I see.”

“Yes I'm gonna push her to let me buy her out.”

“And if she doesn’t?”

“Let's just hope she does.” He huffed “So you wanna tell me what you meant earlier with that comment?”

“The not everything one?”

“Yep. That'd be the one.”

“Well I mean she didn't. She asked me why I never came to the brewery and I said I don't know. She said because Jensen couldn't have the 2 girls he was fucking in the same spot. I know now you weren't fucking her. But you didn't tell me about her co-owning the place and apparently always there.”

“Actually she hadn't even stepped a foot in it for a year, the day our pictures came out, boom there she was. That was the day the boys and I went fishing.”

“See I didn't know that. Maybe you should learn how to open up more.”

“And invite you into all this bullshit?”

“Yes, when you are in a relationship with someone their bullshit is your bullshit and yours, theirs. If I would of known about the brewery, she wouldn't have been able to use it against you.”

“I don't know, I just got scared. And then it felt like too much time had passed. Like I was hiding it.”

“But you were.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“And she did come see you the night we met, but I guess I can't hold that against you since we weren't technically together.” your phone beeped. “And now I'm getting another call.”

“Maybe you should of just came over.” he teased

You hit the red button as you read private caller. “I need to get my number changed.”

“Let me guess.”

“Yep. I ignored it.”

“Great, now she's calling me.”

You sighed. “She's always gonna be there isn't she?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Reader

“I can not believe you talked me into this shit.” you said walking through the doors of the honky tonk.

“Trust me, I'm just as surprised at you.” Mac laughed as you followed her to the bar. “Bar keep!” She pounded her first down getting the guys attention.

“Omg is that McKinley Jane?”

“Hey Kyle, How are you?”

“Good! Girl i haven’t seen you in months.” He turned toward you. “You must be y/n. I’m Kyle.” He stuck his hand out.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Alex is here somewhere.” He said turning back to Mac.

“You know Alex?” you asked

“Yep, I know Jensen and Jared too. Jensen and I went to school together.”

“Ah, so how big of a dork was he back then?”

Kyle chuckled. “Imagine the same guy with a baby face, no beard or shaggy hair. He’s always been a dork. Great guy though.”

You sighed. “Yeah.”

“So you guys want a beer? Or we have Jell-o shots tonight…”

“Give us one of each.” Mac told him. “Start a tab?” She said handing her i.d and credit card to him.

“You got it darlin’. What flavor?”

“Surprise us.”

“Hey gorgeous.” You heard Alex say as he wrapped his arms around Mac from behind. A faint sense of jealous hit you. “Hey there stud.”

You cleared your throat. Alex chuckled. “Hi y/n.”

“Oh. Hi.” You teased.

“The boys and I got a pool table in the back. Y’all wanna play?”

“If you mean kick the crap out of you let’s go,” Mac snickered.

“Thanks Kyle,” she shouted, handing you your beer. The two of you took your shots and handed for the back corner.

You and Mac followed Alex, the balls were racked and ready to go.

“So,” Alex said picking up a pool stick. “I call dibs on y/n’s partner.”

You laughed.

“Ha! I think the fuck not, bud.” Mac playful sneered.

“Did you really think that was going to work?” You asked him

Alex shrugged I thought I'd give it a shot.”

“She can't be that good.” A guy walked up beside you.

“I've known her most of my life and I've only seen her lose twice.” Mac explained. “The first time she was drunk off her ass, the second time.”

“He cheated.” You cut her off with a smile.

“Y/n, Mike. Mike y/n.” Alex introduced him. Mike nodded at you “Pleasure.”

“Same.” you told him. “Mac you break.”

“Why do you get to break?”,

“Did you rack them?”

“Yeah.”

“You know it's bad luck do break your own rack right?”

“Ok maybe you know your stuff. Doesn’t mean you're good.” Mike teased.

Mac took her shot. Nothing went in “you should of broke.” She told you shaking her head.

Mike swaggered over the the white ball. 1

He got 2 striped balls in, before missing a shot.

“Alright sweetheart. Let's see what you got.” He taunted, stepping back.

You strolled over to where the white ball was, sinking 4 balls in.

“Damn little lady.” Mike commented.

“I told ya.” Mac said

You lined up your next shot and your head dropped with a groan when you missed.

You walked over to the table and took a drink of your beer.

“Finally.” Alex teased

“So are you single?” Mike asked as stepped beside you.

“Um. Technically, but I’m really not.” you said as you watched Alex, he got 2 more balls in.

“Y/n!” You turned around finding Matt walking up to you.

“Well hello there.”

“How are you?”

“Good, you?”

“I'm good, where's Jensen at?” Matt asked

“Not sure”

“Shit! I forgot I'm sorry.”

“Your Jensen’s ex?” Mike blurted out.

His words were like a punch to the gut. You nodded, not being able to form words.

“Please don't tell him I hit on you.”

You rolled your eyes.

You and Mac looked up as your heard the commotion coming from the bar area.

“Wonder what that is...” Mac said looking at you

“I’m gonna go get another round.” Alex said. “I’ll let you guys know.”

“Oh, Grab some Jell-o shots too, baby.” Mac called after him.

“You’re up.”

Mac went over and lined up her shot, getting one ball in.

“Well I see why you always partner with y/n.” Mike teased Mac.

“Just shut up and shoot.” She joked back.

Mike got 2 balls in before he missed.

“You’re up Jaws.”

“Harty Har,” you said sarcastically. “I’ve never read that one before.”

You got the last 2 of your balls in, you line up the shot for the 8 when you heard his voice.

“I got next.” Jensen challenged.

You called your shot and made it in.

“I don’t know Jay, she’s pretty good.” Mike said.

“I’ve beat her before.”

“You cheated! And you had help from Steve.”

“Well come on cowgirl, show me what your made of.” He nodded to the empty table

“You’re on, Ackles.”

Jensen.

“So, what are we going to bet this time?” she asked as she started racking the balls.

“Hmm.. I could think of something.” He smirked as his eyebrows raised.

She rolled her eyes.

“I was talking about the next round, sweetheart.” he chuckled.

“Sure you were you perv,” she teased

“Better idea. If I win you have to come to the Dallas con this weekend.”

“Alright, And what do i get if I win?” She asked.

“I’ll take you to the Dallas con this weekend.”

She laughed, “Or…” she bit her lip as her eyes scanned him up and down.

“Alright, kettle.”

“Just shut up and break already,” she taunted.

He did sinking 2 of the solid balls.

“Damn, small balls again.”

“God, I forgot how much shit you talk when you play pool.”

She giggled as she lined up her shot.

“Yeah, but I can back up my shit talk,” she said after getting 3 balls in, making him laugh.

He lined up for a jump shot and got the ball he wanted in. “So can I darlin’.” He winked at her, he laughed again as she rolled her eyes. Jensen put 2 more balls in before missing a shot.

“Son of a bitch” She exclaimed.

“Alright, Dean calm down!” Jared said as he approached.

She let out a belly laugh. “That’s my man.”

“He has really pretty eyes.” Jared said in a high pitched voice.

“Oh my god! And those muscles.” y/n added.

“Oh and those bow legs.” Jared said as he started fanning himself.

“Alright! That’s enough,” Jensen groaned with pink cheeks.

“So, Bonnie you whooping his ass?”

“Not at the moment.” she walked around the talk “About to be though.”

“Less talkin’ more shootin’.” Jensen teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him, making him and Jared laugh.

They watched as she got 3 more balls in.

“Damn, Ackles, I think you’ve met you’re match.” Jared commented.

“I know.”

She cleared her throat when she got the last one of her balls in.

“Oh, look I’m down to the 8 ball, Jensen.”

“So much shit!” He chuckled, “Hold on, what did we settle on a bet?”

“I’m about to win and your going to change it now?”

“Were you serious?!”

“Guess you’ll have to play the game and find out.”

She called her 8-ball shot and missed.

“Wah-wah-Wah.” Jared teased her.

“Don’t you have a forest to go frolic in or something sasquatch?”

“Damnit.” She said when Jensen got his last 2 balls in.

“Which pocket you going for Jensen?” Jared asked.

“Top right.” He looked up at her, lined up his shot, and missed.

She called the 8 and made it in. She gasped. “Mac!” y/n ran over to her.

“Damn Ackles, I thought you had it,”

“Yeah, me too” He smiled as he watched them celebrate.

Reader.

“I know you threw the game.” as you approached him, playfully kicking his boot that was sticking out as he leaned on the pool table ankles crossed.

“You can’t prove it.”

“I don’t want to.”

His head lifted slightly as he laughed.

“So, how was your meeting today?” you asked standing in front of his long legs.

“Well, that’s actually why I’m here,” he sighed, “This place is for sale.”

Your jaw dropped. “So, what’s going to happen?”

“Well, since Heather and I couldn't come to an agreement. We are going to sell and spilt the offer.”

“No way!”

“Yea, It will be on the market, Friday.”

“And there’s nothing you can do?”

“Nope,” he looked down. “She won. That was the last thing she could take away from me.”

You placed you legs on either side of his and waddled over them, wrapping your arms around him. He sat his beer down and pulled you closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. You heard him inhale deeply as he nuzzled into the crook of you neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Jensen, I’m sorry.”

“It will be ok, It’s just a brewery.”

“Just a brewery?! That place is your baby.”

“Well that’s two I’ve lost this week…”

“It’s my fault.”

“How in god’s name is any of this your fault?!” He reared his head back with bewilderment in his eyes.

“You were doing fine until I came along. Now everything is fucked up.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up sweetheart. She did.”

“But if it wasn’t for me she wouldn’t.”

He pressed his lips to yours, cutting off your words. He rested his forehead on yours.

“I wouldn’t trade this,” he gestured to the two of you, “for anything in the world.”

You pulled his lips back to yours, his hands gripped your ass and pulled you closing. Your lips parted your lips inviting his tongue. you heard a small groan as he rolled his tongue against yours.

His nose nuzzled yours when the kiss ended. “From now on you have to be completely honest, and stop shielding me from the bullshit. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“I promise.”

“I don’t care if I’m not gonna like it. Hiding it or lying about it is gonna make it so much worse.”

“I know.”

“Like for real Jensen Ross.”

“Wait.. Does that mean?!”

You nodded your head with a smile.

He gasped and you were off the ground in seconds, spinning around as your arms held on tight.

“Ok Jensen stop. Or I will throw up on you.”

He chuckled as he stopped spinning.

He kissed you again.

“You wanna put me down?”

“Nope.” He nuzzled your nose again.

“So you’re just gonna walk around like this?”

“Yep.”

“And how long do you really think that’s gonna last?” you asked

“For the rest of my life.”

Jensen

Somehow she managed to still kick her shoes off at his door, her lips never leaving his.

His fingers found her ass, he heard a small yelp against his lips as he lifted her off the ground.

He plopped down on the closest couch in the sitting room, He heard a light moan as her core bounced off his hardening bulge making it thrum.

Her fingers knocked his hat off as they twisted in his hair, she moaned into his mouth as she rolled her hips, making him do the same.

She broke the kiss, her fingers pulling at the hem of his shirt. He lifted his arms and leaned. Her eyes danced across his chest as she threw it behind her. He smiled, his hands gliding up her sides pushing her shirt up, Jensen threw it and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her chest to his face, kissing and nibbing at the exposed skin. He found his favorite spot. Although there wasn’t a mark there anymore there soon would be.

She inhaled sharply as he sucked and raked his teeth across her skin, just above her right breast.

“I should probably just get a tattoo of a hickey there, at this point.” She teased, making him chuckle.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” he said then raked his teeth against the sensitive skin again, making her whine.

His fingers found her bra clasp next. He watched as the cool air hardened her nipples as he pulled it off, Her hips began to roll as he flicked his tongue against one, kneading the other in his palm.

A growl left his lips as she quickened the paced of her hips, making his cock throb.

She kneeled on the floor in front of him, pulling his pants down once she got them unbuttoned.

He felt her hot breath on his cock, making it tingle.

Breaths turned into pants as he watched her pretty mouth wrap around his cock.

“Fuck baby.” He cried out as she slid down his shaft.

His head went foggy as hers started bobbing. Pulling her hair out of her face he twisted it around his hand. Her eyes flashed up to him, sending shivers all over his body. He noticed the tears well in her eyes as his cock hit the back of her throat. “Baby...” he whined again. She moaned, the humming vibrations making the tension start to build in his spine.

“Damn baby.” He said trying to catch his breath. She grinned as she stood up, unbuttoning and pulling down her jeans. She straddled him again after she kicked them off her ankles.

“Um excuse me?” he exclaimed.

“Get me back later,” She whispered “right now I want you inside me.” her words making his cock throb again. He grabbed her hips as she lined his tip to his entrance.

Her pussy enveloped him as she slid down, making them both moan, as his cock stretched her tight wet walls.

His fingers tightened on her hips as they started to rock, pleasure coursing through his veins.

Heavy pants and moans filled the room as her pace quickened, making her clench around him.

She leaned back, her hands on his thighs, moaning his name as he watched her tits bounce. Fuck she was so hot.

“Baby, I'm getting close,” he warned her with a groan.

“Jensen. “ She cried out as he walls clenched tighter.

“Babe. Babe,“ he said head foggy.

He felt her cum trickle down as her pussy squeezed him, making his balls tighten. He tried to buck her off , but she pushed back down.

“For real?” She nodded as her hips started to bounce again.

He wrapped his arms around her and went a loud grunt the tension released as his warm seed coated her walls.

His muscles relaxed, as she put her lips to his.

“I love you.” he said as her forehead rested on his

“I love you too.”

Reader.

You woke to the smell of burnt bacon as the smoke detector wailed. Pulling his t-shirt over your head you made your way to the kitchen

“Jensen?!” you yelled

“It’s fine, It’s fine. I just had the stove too high.”

“Are you sure? Where’s your fire extinguisher?”

“Not necessary,” He looked over at you, doing a double take as he noticed his shirt. His eyes scanned lower as he bit his lip. “Whatcha got on under that?”

“Can you focus on the food before you burn your house down?” you quipped pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

He flipped off the stove. “I’m done anyway, mouth.” he smiled as he swaggered over to you and too the mug out of your hands

“Um, haven’t we covered this already? Taking my coffee equals violence.”

He chuckled as he sat on the counter.

“Yes but speaking of mouths, I believe I owe you.”

You gasped as his arms caught you and tossed you up on the corner. His hand glided up your thighs as his lips captured yours.

Trailing kisses down your neck, he pulled the shirt up to your collar bone. You leaned back on your hands as his mouth moved down to your breast. His tongue swirled around your nipple as his fingertips found your clit, making you cry out his name.

He lifted your ass and scooted you back to the middle of the island, Spreading your legs his head dipped down “Baby,” you moaned as he ran his togue up and down your slick sending pleasure through your veins.

Finding your clit his tongue swirled around it as he slid 2 fingers inside you. You could feel the tension start to build as he started pumping his fingers making your walls clench around them.

“Fuck Jensen.” You moaned out as he curled his fingers, hitting the sweet spot just right.

He slammed his fingers deep. “You gonna come baby?”

“Yes.” you moaned as he slammed his fingers again.

“Come on then.” He flicked his tongue against your clit. “Let me feel it.”

The tension got tighter as his tongue lapped faster.

You shivered as your climax coursed through your veins, his fingers slowed as you pulsated around them. Grinning at you he grabbed your hips and pulled you back to the edge. He pressed his lips against yours.

“You know I love you right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

He spun you around once you feet hit the floor, bending you over the counter.

Pulling his sweat pants down he unleashed his already hard cock, He pushed his t-shirt up your back, lining his tip up to your entrance

“Fuck.” He moaned as he pushed inside you, grabbing your ass as he stretched you again. “You good?”

You nodded, feeling a sting on your across your backside. He drew his hips back, making you moan his name as he slammed back into you. Pleasure started coursing through you again as his pace quickened, his fingertips so tight around your hips you swore you could feel the bruising start.

You could feel the tension start building, faster than it had before as your walls squeezed him.

“Oh. So close already?” he taunted

“Yeah baby, don’t stop.” You cried out as his hand dipped between you thighs, finding your clit.

His hips went even faster, bring the tension to it’s peak, You moaned his name as waves of orgasmic bliss course through you again,

“You gonna let me come inside again?”

“Yes.” you moaned, causing him to pound harder.

“Fuck.” he groaned as he pushed deep inside you, filling you with his hot pearly cum.

He spun you around again as you stood up, weaving his lips with yours as he pulled you against him.

Reader

“But babe, look at this one.” He picked up the phone off the display rack, “And it’s blue!”

“Jensen, I don’t need a new phone. Just a new number.”

“Howdy folks. Sorry about your wait. What can we do for you?”

“But, Its bigger than the one you have now.” Jensen protested.

You sighed. “Please ignore him. I don’t need a new phone.”

The sale associate’s eyes looked over to Jensen as he stepped beside you.

“Holy crap! You’re Jensen Ackles.” the young man gasped. “Oh my gosh I just love Supernatural, and you as Soldier Boy was just absolutely amazing. Oh! and Beau Arlen Just Ah.”

Jensen gave him a diffident smile and stuck out his hand “Nice to meet you…”

“Tony.”

“Tony!” Jensen repeated.

“What can I do for you sir?”

“We both need new numbers and she needs that phone over there.”

“No, I don’t.” Your argument fell on deaf ears as they ignored you.

“Alright, I just need your current phone number,” Tony said typing on his tablet as Jensen rattled it off. “And it looks like you are eligible for an upgrade. And if we were to add her line to your account you would get a discount on the phone. With the special we are running you would also get a free pair of air pods.”

“Absolutely Not Jensen!” you objected

He gave you a mischievous grin “Do that both with new numbers.”

“Alright, Let me go grab those. Did you want the pro max’s?”

“The biggest and the best.”

“This is ridiculous!” you said crossing your arms.

Jensen looked over at you poking the tip of tongue past his lips.

“Alright I will be right back.” He turned and went to the back.

“I’m paying for my phone and my line!”

“We'll see. “ He turned toward you

“We ain't seeing shit Ackles I'm telling you!” you growled turning to him.

“Oh you're telling me?” his hands slid onto your hips.

“Yes sir, I am,” You kept your arms crossed as he pulled you to him.

“You think you're big enough to be telling me?”

“Please I could take you”

“You think?” he chuckled. “Or should I bend your ass over again?”

Your eyes followed his as he looked at the table in front of you.

Your eyebrows rose as you hands slid up his chest. “I just might have to take up on that doll face.” You taunted as you stretched on your tip toes pressing your lips to his cheek.

““You missed.” He said pulling you back. Capturing your lips with his. Deepening the kiss as he hand grasped your hair.

Tony cleared his throat, startling you. “Um, Mr. Ackles?”

You cheeks got warm as Jensen chuckled.

“Sorry, she just can’t keep her hands off me.”

Your pursed your lips as your cheeks got warmer.

“We just got to out the sim cards in and get them set up. Do you need help moving your files and accounts?”

Jensen looked at you and you shook your head. “Nah, we got it.”

“Alright. And then are we terminating you service ma’am?” They both looked at you. “Since you are being added to his plan?”

You sighed. “I guess so.”

Tag List 🤍

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@nightxcreature @impala67rollingthroughtown @mariahoedt @manicjk @kr804573

@quietgirll75 @nancymcl @amberlthomas @hobby27 @deans-baby-momma

@perpetualabsurdity @redneckyachtclub @kamisobsessed @wonderland2022 @barnes70stark

@jackles010378 @foxyjwls007 @mqdhvtter @perpetualabsurdity @barnes70stark

@madebyhappymeals @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @deansimpalababy @mandee7 @roseblue373

@n-o-p-e-never @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @1313diana @lmg14 @spxideyver

@aand13b @phoenixqueen @amberlthomas @mochminnie @spnaquakindgdom

[mystic-myrtille]

"Imagine if a character did a bad thing, the fandom would be so mad and bash them!" ... yeah no shit?

Sorry, I'm not trying to be rude, but have you seen the salt tag these past days? It's filled to the brim with Marinette salt and bashing and whatnot. Last week I blocked 5 people because they made a bunch of posts about how Marinette is the worst person ever and I was getting tired of it. There's even a whole community dedicated to salting/critizising Marinette. People are angry at how weird she was about Sublime, how she broke Adrien's ring and probably poofed him out of existence (or not since Astruc said something about Adriens amok being fine because LB didn't intend to free the amok... idk makes no sense lore-wise), how she tried to mix a friends movie night with a romantic date yada yada. We don't need roles reversing, we see the fandom's reaction.

Everyone and their mothers fucking complain about how she sucks.

It's everywhere.

And it's not like I don't understand where this is coming from, her portrayal this season is... yeah... you've probably seen it yourself. It's bad.

Meanwhile Adrien didn't do anything this season, he just stands around, is all lovey dovey around Marinette and apparently doesn't make any mistakes in the relationship ever. He's just crazy chill about it. Like... there's clearly a bias here. Why does Adrien know how to act in a relationship but Marinette doesn't? Why does Marinette always have to be the butt of the joke because she doesn't know what she's doing, and Adrien isn't? Why isn't this season about both of them doing small mistakes and finding out together how to handle their relationship instead of just one person doing the most unhinged shit ever while the other is suddenly a relationship expert? Wouldn't that be nicer and a good way to bring the two to grow closer and ultimately become better people and a stronger couple as a result?

This is the point of the post and I really don't see how bringing a gender-reverse discussion into this is supposed to help. If Marinette acts stupid she gets salted on. If Adrien acts stupid he gets salted on. If both act stupid both will probably get salted on. It's always been like this in the fandom.

The new season just reinforces what the writing is like for thew whole show: Marinette makes a mistake in every episode, no matter how cringe or ooc or unlogical it is, and Adrien is just too damn perfect and every flaw he might have is actually the world around him being flawed (which I think is also the reason he doesn't do much in general. If a character doesn't do things, he can't do them wrong lmao).

But if we really wanna bring gender in, here's a take: If Mari was a guy the writers wouldn't make him/her act this way in the first place.

Marinette being the one making all the mistakes in their relationship so far is kinda notttttttt giving me the best vibesssssss

[acerathia]

dum spiro spero || Rafayel | Qi Yu

Summary:

while i breathe, i hope And Rafayel gives you a reason to breathe.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

established relationship, fluff, scenery drive (he's the scenery to me), sunset watching, rafayel being beautiful, and reader is madly in love with him, kissing, love confessions, talking about some vague ancient stories

Note:

Happy Valentines!! as always, i'm in love with him, this has nothing but me just doing that lol

“I wish to be alone,” his voice resounds through the thick wood of the door after you have knocked on it, impatience tinting every hit.

“Unfortunately, I’m not a genie and I don’t grant stupid wishes, now open this door, Rafayel,” you bite between ground teeth, feet tapping against the ground.

“No way, I don’t want to go to this event, whatever it is, I’m busy!”

You groan and press your fingers against your glabella and temple. “Busy with what? Don’t tell me you’re even too busy to see me?”

There’s a stretch of silence before you hear the click of the key and the door opens slightly. Peeking into the small gap, you see Rafayel, his lips pressed in a small pout. He cocks his head and furrows his eyebrows.

“You can’t just say that… I know you’re baiting me, but it still doesn’t feel right.”

At his words, you can’t help but giggle and lean close to him so you can give him a peck on his pout. “Sorry, my love, you know I had to pull out the bigger guns.”

Rafayel only huffs and closes the door behind him, key clicking before it slips into the pocket of his pants, his face already softening just by being in your presence.

You can’t help but raise your eyebrows. “Why did you lock the door? What are you hiding?” While asking him this question, you reach for his pocket to fish the key out of it. He evades you nimbly by simply taking your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and pulling you closer to him, breath against your face.

“Hm, that’s just a precaution against Thomas, I can’t let him just take anything I didn’t finish yet,” he answers and you squint your eyes at him, but as you barely have time to investigate this matter any further, you simply drop it, until next time at least. Especially as he continues talking without letting you finish your thoughts, much less say anything at all, and you let him, listening to his wall of words.

“This doesn’t make sense, why is my presence even required? All I’m gonna do is get hounded by these people I don’t care for,” he starts his complaints, even if he lets you take his hand to lead you away. “They’re going to ask me stupid questions, and I have to take it and not answer in an ‘offending’ way? Like, it’s obviously not my fault they were asking for it…”

You’re nodding in agreement as you listen to him, before you deposit him in the passenger seat of his car and take the driver’s seat for yourself. While starting the engine, you start the radio and let some soft music fill the inside of the car. Before changing the gear to drive away, you lean over him to put the seat belt over him, making sure that your lips graze his throat ever so slightly and that your body is pressing against him more than necessary. Slowly, with the seat belt in hand, you straighten up and a soft click indicates that the seat belt is locked in. After that, you shift gear and with a smooth turn, you leave his place and begin driving on the highway, acting like you have done nothing, even if you notice the way his ears turned red, visible even in the low light.

It seems like your actions have stunned him for a bit, as the flood of his complaints cut off immediately, and you notice how Rafayel opens the window, trying to cool his face. The moment he looks outside, he furrows his eyebrows and looks towards you.

“Hey, this isn’t the way to the hall,” he tells you, confusion tinting his words, and worry that you might have lost your way, as he’s usually the one driving you both around.

You grin and simply keep the route you specifically had planned for this evening. “Well, good thing we’re not going there, isn’t it?”

Glancing towards him, you flash him a bright smile. “It’s Valentines, silly, let’s have some fun instead, yeah?”

“Alright, but I suppose I gotta rename you to Miss Kidnapper now, a Bodyguard would never do this,” he replies and you hear the little chuckle in his voice.

“Unique circumstances can spur unconventional action. I suppose I can accept this new job offer, Mr. Rafayel.”

The drive is a calm one, the streets empty, not a soul to see, everyone else focused on their own life, their own love, as are you, as you glance occasionally towards him. It’s late in the afternoon, and even if the sun hasn’t set yet, dark enough to need some lights. But in his presence, you sometimes feel like any other light is unnecessary, his presence by your side, your lifeline; the rays halloing him, always. His hair shimmers underneath the low sun, making every strand seem like soft waves, moving with the wind, swaying softly. You wish you could stare at him all day, but alas, you had a road to watch out for.

Luckily, it doesn’t take long until you arrive at your destination. You park the car close to the barrier, making sure that the view is immaculate. After turning the engine off, you hurry to open the door for him, holding a hand out for him with a little grin. Despite his little huff at your gesture, Rafayel takes your hand and exits the car. The moment the setting sun envelops him, you can’t help but stare. His beauty something out of this world, and you feel your heart jump at the way he seems to glow, the soft light making his features stand out, the wind playing with his hair, making you want to raise your hand and have a touch. His existence alone gives you air to breathe.

You lock eyes, and there’s mirth in his jewel-eyes and you give him a smile of your own, as you lead him towards the hood of the car, fingers interlocked. And by his side, you lean against the warm metal, watching the sun leave, slowly sinking into the embrace of the earth, colors changing hues, orange, pink, a beautiful purple, akin to the one next to you, until the darkness slowly settles upon the scene. Throughout these changes, you haven’t looked away for even a moment, watching the way the last rays of the sun tint him in the most beautiful colors, kissing his skin in a way nothing else can; and you do so, breathlessly, until he glances towards you with a beautiful smile, one overshadowing even the sunset across the horizon, and you breathe.

Once you’re able to breathe again, you put your arms around his neck and you feel as his own snake around your waist to pull you closer. You stretch yourself towards him and kiss him ever so softly, lips of clouds and you inhale him, feel your soul complete underneath his touch. It’s a simple kiss, warm and gentle, lips against lips, yet it gives you life and existence.

And even if your lips part, Rafayel does not allow you to distance yourself, pressing his forehead against yours, noses touching, breath intertwining, and all you can sense is him, him, him.

“Did you know that ancient lovers are marked by the stars, each constellation telling their story, showing their love for each other for every generation to come?” he whispers, without ever glancing away from your features, tracing them ever so gently.

“Hm hm. What about them?” you ask, expecting the unexpected, yet something marked by his feelings for you, something from the depth of his heart, his soul, just for you.

“Well, I don’t need big proclamations, or an epic story to prove my love to you, your existence by my side brings me hope, makes me able to breathe freely and truly. Without you, I could not do so without the emptiness of you missing from my life. I love you, and I will forever do so.” Once again, Rafayel kisses you and with his words he makes you bloom, gives you a reason to breathe, to hope, to live, to love. To you, he is hope incarnated, and thus, love itself. As nothing is more hopeful, nothing lets you breathe more than love itself, and you love him more than anything, and you will continue to do so as long as you breathe.