#let me know if i need to adjust anything!

[creamflix]

part two here

it wasn’t in words, and it certainly wasn’t in grand gestures, but it was there — woven into the quiet corners of your shared life, stitched into the routines neither of you ever admitted to.

you and sukuna didn’t do “romantic.” there were no declarations, no flowery exchanges. hell, you’d scoff at the idea if anyone even suggested it.

but the love was there, silent and stubborn, like the both of you.

you noticed it when you went to grab your shampoo one morning, only to find it full again. sukuna’s brand was there too, lined up neatly beside yours on the shower ledge. when you confronted him about it, towel still wrapped around your hair, he grunted without looking up from his phone.

"wasn’t me," he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching like he knew he was lying.

"right," you’d said, narrowing your eyes. "guess the shampoo fairy came by then."

his response was a noncommittal shrug, but his smirk gave him away.

it was the same when you went to make coffee. his mug was already sitting by the machine, his preferred dark roast brewing without a word exchanged. you didn’t think much of it until you caught him doing the same for you — setting out your mug, pouring it just the way you liked, even when you hadn’t asked.

"don’t make it a habit," he grumbled one morning, catching your amused look as he handed you the steaming cup.

"me?" you teased, blowing over the rim of the mug. "you’re the one making coffee every morning, sukuna."

"tch. don’t flatter yourself," he shot back, though his ears reddened faintly.

then there was laundry day, your least favorite day of the week. sukuna always got to the clothes hanger first, hauling the weight of damp fabric without complaint. he didn’t ask you to help, didn’t even look at you while he did it. but every time, without fail, you’d find yourself ironing, smoothing out the wrinkles he’d leave behind as he tossed shirts into the basket.

"if you’re gonna do it, do it right," you’d gripe, gliding the iron over one of his dark button-ups.

he’d glance at you over his shoulder, one brow arched. "then stop fixing it if it’s so bad."

"maybe i will."

but you didn’t, and he knew you wouldn’t.

there was a rhythm to it all, unspoken but understood. sukuna wasn’t one for sentimental displays, and neither were you, but your actions betrayed you both.

when you stocked his favorite snacks in the pantry or folded his socks the way he liked, it was a silent "i love you."

when he hung your coat by the door after you forgot it again or shoved an umbrella into your hand before you left for work, it was the same.

still, the thought of anyone pointing it out was unbearable.

"you two are cute," a friend dared to say once, watching as sukuna passed you the soy sauce before you even asked.

"shut up," you both snapped in unison, faces heating simultaneously as you turned away from each other.

but later that night, when he set his phone down and you leaned your head against his shoulder, neither of you spoke a word.

love didn’t need to be loud. not when it was tucked into every small, stubborn act you did for each other.

you and sukuna weren’t the type to hold hands in public or plaster your relationship across social media. “weird, couple-y shit” was beneath the both of you — at least, that’s what you told yourselves. you didn’t need to broadcast anything when the proof lived in the details, subtle and quiet, but undeniable all the same.

it was in the way you’d casually grab his jacket before heading out, draping it over your shoulders like it belonged to you. and the way he’d let you, even when he’d grumble about it under his breath.

"that’s mine, you know," he’d mutter as you adjusted the sleeves.

"looks better on me," you’d shoot back, smirking.

he’d roll his eyes, but he didn’t argue. instead, the next time you reached for his jacket, he’d already pulled it out for you.

and then there was the jewelry. you’d notice him wearing your ring on his pinky sometimes, spinning it absently while he worked through emails. or your earrings — simple studs he’d shamelessly tuck into his pocket before heading out, claiming he needed “a little flair.”

"didn’t know you were into accessorizing," you teased once, leaning against the doorframe as he adjusted the earring in the mirror.

"you wear my shit all the time," he replied flatly, glancing at you with that deadpan expression he’d mastered. "fair’s fair."

you had no comeback for that, though your smile lingered long after he left.

even when apart, there were echoes of each other in your days.

commuting to work, you’d pop on the playlist he’d made — a perfect blend of your favorite tracks and his, the 99.5% compatibility a badge of reluctant pride. you’d sit on the train, listening to a song he swore you’d love, and hate how much you did.

he wasn’t immune, either. on those rare days he missed you (not that he’d ever admit it), he’d scroll through your spotify history to see what you’d been listening to lately. or he’d catch sight of flowers in a shop window, lingering just a moment too long on the ones he knew were your favorite before moving on.

you both had your quirks when you were alone, too. sometimes, without thinking, your hand would drift to your arm, tracing soft patterns into your skin the way sukuna did. when you realized it, you’d roll your eyes at yourself, muttering under your breath.

"idiot," you’d say, but the warmth in your chest betrayed you.

sukuna was no better. he’d catch himself staring out his office window, the song you’d sent him last week playing faintly through his headphones. it annoyed him how much it made him think of you, but he never turned it off.

when the two of you finally came home, words weren’t needed. all of it — the small acts, the quiet thoughts, the unspoken gestures — culminated in that one hug.

his arms would wrap around you, firm and grounding, while yours slipped around his waist. the tension from your day melted instantly, replaced by the warmth of his body pressed against yours. neither of you said anything — there wasn’t anything to say.

it was all understood in the way his hands lingered on your back, or how you buried your face against his chest, inhaling his familiar scent.

"miss me?" you’d ask eventually, the words muffled against his shirt.

"nah," he’d lie, but his hold on you would tighten, giving him away.

and that was enough. no declarations, no theatrics — just the quiet assurance of being known, cared for, and loved.

it was a question you’d gotten more times than you could count.

are you sure you two are dating? they’d ask, with raised brows and skeptical tones, watching as you and sukuna bickered over the smallest things.

the answer wasn’t straightforward, because how do you explain a relationship built on years of chaotic familiarity, on the kind of comfort only two people who’d clashed and tangled relentlessly could find?

you still remembered that first day of college, sitting in class and thinking you’d never met someone more insufferable. sukuna was loud, cocky, and so obnoxiously confident it made your skin crawl. he’d snorted at something you’d said during a group discussion, and you’d fired back with a sarcastic quip, the tension between you sparking like a live wire.

"you think you’re so clever, huh?" he’d sneered, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair.

"clever enough to know you’re full of shit," you’d snapped without missing a beat.

it was war from then on. you couldn’t stand how he seemed to revel in getting under your skin, and he hated how competitive you were, always ready to one-up him in any way possible.

and yet, somehow, you two ended up spending more time together than anyone else.

"just here to keep you humble," he’d say, leaning against the doorway of your dorm, that smug grin never leaving his face.

"please, you’re the one who needs the humbling," you’d reply, throwing a pillow at him before grabbing your keys for yet another midnight drive.

it wasn’t all bad, though. between the insults and the relentless teasing, something softened. there were the early morning drives when neither of you could sleep, windows down as you cruised through empty streets, sharing playlists like it wasn’t a big deal.

or the smoke sessions on campus, crouched behind the library where no one could see, only to promise each other, "never again," when you got caught and barely avoided trouble.

halloween was a different kind of tradition. every year, like clockwork, you’d drag him to the drive-in theater, claiming it was the only acceptable way to celebrate. he’d complain the whole way there, grumbling about how cheesy the movies were, but he never once turned you down.

by the time graduation rolled around, something had shifted. the teasing got softer, the jabs less pointed. still, when he finally snapped at you — yelling at you on the quad about how you were "impossible to deal with" — you’d been too stunned to realize he was confessing in the only way he knew how.

"you make me insane," he’d blurted, running a hand through his hair, exasperated. "i can’t stand you, but — god, i like you, okay? you happy now?"

it had taken you a moment to process his words, mostly because you were yelling back, equally frustrated. "you’re the worst! how do you even think this is a confession?!"

but somehow, in all that chaos, you figured it out.

now, years later, the bickering hadn’t stopped, but it had softened into something comforting. you still got on each other’s nerves, but it was different. familiar. the sound of him complaining about your cooking or you groaning about his laundry habits was just another layer to the life you’d built together.

there were no more impulsive smoke sessions or late-night drives — well, not as often — but there were groceries to split, bills to argue over, and an apartment to share.

"you left your stupid socks on the couch again," you called from the living room, holding up the offending pair.

"and you stole my hoodie again," he shot back, strolling in and snatching the socks from your hand.

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to hide. this was it — your version of love. messy, chaotic, and wrapped in years of banter and care.

and honestly? you wouldn’t change a thing.

you heard the whispers sometimes, muffled through the walls or passed between neighbors as you walked by.

“failed relationship.”

the words always carried a judgmental edge, laced with the kind of smug certainty that only came from people who had no idea what they were talking about. you’d scoff and roll your eyes, but the audacity of it stuck with you. all because you and sukuna weren’t the quiet, overly sweet, hand-holding kind? pathetic.

what did they know?

they hadn’t seen the nights when sukuna held you close while you bawled into his chest, a miserable mess of cramps and hormones. they didn’t know how he tried — really tried — to be supportive, offering hot packs and snacks, his voice gruff but oddly gentle.

"here," he’d say, shoving chocolate into your hand like it was some kind of peace offering.

but then, because he couldn’t help himself, he’d ruin it.

"are you seriously crying over a commercial?" he’d ask, incredulous, pointing at the tv.

and just like that, the tears doubled. "you’re the worst!" you’d sob, throwing a pillow at him.

he’d groan, clearly out of his depth, but he never let you go. instead, he’d mutter something about how “women are terrifying” while holding you tighter, stroking your hair even as you blubbered into his shirt.

the neighbors weren’t there to see him the morning after you’d had one too many at a party. you barely remembered stumbling into the apartment, but sukuna had already set up everything you’d need: water, painkillers, even that greasy breakfast sandwich you craved when hungover.

"drink this," he’d bark, shoving a glass of water into your hands while you groaned pathetically on the couch.

"you’re too loouuud," you’d whine, shielding your eyes from the light.

"and you’re a lightweight," he’d fire back, but his hands were already pulling a blanket over you. "don’t do it again."

the thing was, he didn’t have to do any of it. but he did. without complaint.

well, not much of one, anyway.

and what about how he was your parents’ favorite? your mom still gushed about how thoughtful he was, always showing up with her favorite flowers, and your dad kept every sports magazine sukuna brought him, flipping through them like they were rare treasures.

"he’s such a nice boy," your mom would say, sighing dreamily.

you’d gag every time. "nice is a stretch, ma."

but deep down, you got it. sukuna had this way of worming his way into people’s lives, even if he’d grumble the whole time about how annoying it was. it wasn’t sweet in the traditional sense, but it was undeniably him.

and no, you didn’t owe anyone an explanation for your relationship. it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. love wasn’t always quiet or polite, and yours had sharp edges and biting remarks, but it was yours.

“you think we’re a failed relationship?” you’d said to him once, smirking as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

he glanced up from the fridge, holding a beer. “what idiot said that?”

“mrs. tanaka next door. apparently, yelling means we’re doomed.”

he snorted, taking a swig. “old hag wouldn’t know love if it bit her.”

“so biting is love, huh?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“depends,” he said, stepping closer, a sharp grin spreading across his face. “you complaining?”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “you're a weirdo.”

and maybe he was, but he was also yours — your college sweetheart, your partner, the guy who sometimes bit you because he thought it was funny. and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

sukuna heard it all the time — questions dripping with disbelief, laced with a kind of awe that annoyed the hell out of him. his coworkers couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around it, and his friends from college still brought it up every chance they got.

"seriously, man," one of them had said during a reunion, leaning across the table. "how the hell did you end up with her?"

and sukuna, being the smug bastard he was, never missed the chance to milk it.

"what can i say?" he’d say, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed with that stupid grin. "she couldn’t resist me. practically yelled it out in the quad, begging me to date her."

"that is not what happened," you’d hiss later when he relayed the same story to you.

"oh, but it’s so much better my way," he’d reply, dodging the cushion you chucked at his head.

but if sukuna ever sat down and told them the truth — not the exaggerated bullshit, but the real story — they probably wouldn’t believe him anyway.

because how could he explain the chaos of falling for someone as maddening and stubborn as you, and how he wouldn’t trade it for anything?

he liked how you had this streak of righteousness that made you storm up to people in public settings.

like that one time at a café, when a customer had been rude to the barista. sukuna had barely registered the situation before you were there, fire in your eyes and voice sharp as a blade.

"there’s no reason to be nasty," you’d said, crossing your arms in that way that made even him take a step back.

the rude customer had left with their tail between their legs, and sukuna couldn’t help the little smirk tugging at his lips.

"you’re scary when you’re like that, you know?" he’d said later, earning a glare that only made him like you more.

he liked how animals gravitated toward you like you were some kind of magnet. stray dogs would wag their tails, cats would nuzzle up to you, and there was even that one time with the trash raccoon.

"sukuna," you’d said that night, voice hushed but frantic, "look at him. he’s adorable."

"that’s a wild raccoon," he’d replied, deadpan.

but he still stayed outside with you until it wandered off, grumbling the whole time about how “only you” could make friends with literal wildlife.

he liked the way you’d dismiss other men with just a glare — sharp and unforgiving, the kind that sent a clear message. it wasn’t about jealousy; it was about how you made it crystal clear that you had standards, and none of them were worth your time.

and then there were the little things.

the way you’d offer your seat to someone who needed it, even after a long day at work.

or the way you’d make silly faces at kids across the room, their giggles a bright, unexpected melody in otherwise mundane settings.

he saw it all, even if he never said it out loud. sukuna wasn’t the type for big, flowery confessions. hell, he wasn’t even the type for small ones.

but sometimes, when he looked at you across the apartment — the same apartment you’d gotten for him as a gift — he felt it in his chest, a warmth he didn’t quite know how to put into words.

would he ever tell you? no chance in hell. he wasn’t about to ruin his reputation.

but sometimes, knowing was enough.

my pookie ( @curtins ) saw it first <3 this concept's been in my mind for a while and i finally got to write it. i'll be doing more oneshot drabbles like these, but you can leave few ideas or questions in my inbox if you'd like!!! thanks for reading produced by creamflix on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, modify, repost — support your writers by liking and reblogging. ♡

[pucksandpower]

Your Love Is My Drug

Oscar Piastri x Norris!Reader

Summary: Lando’s teammate is behaving strangely, so of course the logical assumption is that Oscar must be on drugs (the truth ends up being so much worse … for Lando)

The McLaren garage buzzes with activity as mechanics scurry about, preparing for the upcoming race weekend. Lando leans against the wall, his brow furrowed in concentration as he observes his teammate from across the room.

Something’s off about Oscar today. Actually, if Lando’s being honest with himself, something’s been off about Oscar for weeks now. The usually composed Aussie seems ... different.

Fidgety.

Distracted.

As if on cue, Oscar lets out another of those odd little giggles he’s been prone to lately. Lando’s eyes narrow.

“Oi, Piastri!” He calls out, striding over to where Oscar is hunched over his phone. “What’s so funny, mate?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, his cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Oh, uh, nothing,” he stammers, hastily shoving his phone into his pocket. “Just ... just a meme.”

Lando raises an eyebrow. “A meme? Since when are you so into memes?”

“I’ve always liked memes,” Oscar protests weakly.

“Right,” Lando drawls, unconvinced. He watches as Oscar shifts uncomfortably, tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

A sudden, horrifying thought strikes Lando. No ... it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Hey, Oscar,” he says slowly, trying to keep his tone casual. “You feeling alright? You’ve seemed a bit ... off lately.”

Oscar’s eyes widen slightly. “Off? What do you mean?”

Lando shrugs, aiming for nonchalance. “I dunno, just ... different. Distracted. You keep laughing at nothing and your face is all red.”

“Oh, that’s ... that’s nothing,” Oscar says, waving a hand dismissively. “Just, uh, excited about the race, I guess.”

Lando’s not buying it. “Excited, huh? Is that why you keep fidgeting with your pants, too?”

Oscar freezes, his hand stilling where it had been absently adjusting his waistband. “I ... what?”

“Your jeans,” Lando repeats, gesturing towards Oscar’s lower half. “You keep messing with them. What’s that about?”

“Nothing!” Oscar yelps, a bit too quickly. “They’re just ... new. Still breaking them in.”

Lando’s eyes narrow further. He remembers something, vaguely, from one of the few health lessons he’d managed to stay awake for back in school. Something about drug users and fidgeting ...

No. Surely not. Not Oscar.

But the more Lando thinks about it, the more it starts to make a twisted kind of sense. The secrecy, the mood swings, the constant flush on Oscar’s cheeks ...

“Oscar,” Lando says, his voice low and serious. “I need you to be honest with me. Are you ... are you on something?”

Oscar’s jaw drops. “What? No! Of course not!”

“Because if you are,” Lando presses on, ignoring Oscar’s protests, “I need to know. As your teammate. As your friend. This isn’t just about you, mate. It’s about the whole team.”

“Lando, I swear, I’m not on anything,” Oscar insists, his voice taking on a pleading edge. “I don’t know where you’re getting this idea from, but-”

“Then explain the giggling!” Lando demands, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “And the blushing! And the fidgeting! Something’s clearly going on with you, and if you’re not gonna be straight with me-”

“I can’t!” Oscar bursts out, then immediately claps a hand over his mouth, looking stricken.

Lando’s eyes widen. “Can’t what?”

Oscar shakes his head, looking miserable. “I can’t ... I can’t tell you. I’m sorry, Lando. I know I’ve been acting weird, but I promise it’s nothing bad. I’m not on drugs or anything like that. I just ... I can’t explain right now.”

Lando stares at his teammate, torn between frustration and concern. “Oscar, come on. We’re supposed to be friends. Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

Oscar’s phone chimes, and he jumps, fumbling to pull it out of his pocket. His eyes widen as he reads whatever message has just come through, and a small, dopey smile spreads across his face.

“Sorry,” he says distractedly, already typing out a response. “I’ve gotta go. We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Before Lando can protest, Oscar is hurrying out of the garage, leaving Lando staring after him in bewilderment.

“What the hell was that about?” Lando mutters to himself.

He’s still pondering Oscar’s strange behavior when his own phone buzzes. It’s a message from you.

Hey! Surprise — I’m at the track! Want to grab dinner?

Lando grins, momentarily distracted from his worries about Oscar. Absolutely, he types back. Meet you at the hotel in a few hours?

Later that evening, Lando’s sitting in the hotel restaurant, drumming his fingers impatiently on the table as he waits for you to arrive. His mind keeps drifting back to Oscar’s odd behavior, and he’s half-tempted to text you and ask if you’ve noticed anything strange about his teammate lately.

Before he can act on the impulse, you breeze into the restaurant, a bright smile on your face. “Lando!” You exclaim, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Hey, trouble,” Lando says fondly, returning the embrace. “What brings you to the race? I thought you were busy with work.”

You shrug, sliding into the seat across from him. “Oh, you know, just missed my second favorite brother. Thought I’d surprise you.”

Lando narrows his eyes playfully. “I finally won a race and I’m still not your favorite?”

“You can’t win everything,” you say with a grin. “Wouldn’t want your head getting any bigger than it already is.”

As you settle in and start perusing the menu, Lando can’t help but notice that you seem ... different. There’s a certain glow about you, a sparkle in your eye that he hasn’t seen before.

“You look happy,” he observes. “Something good happen at work?”

You bite your lip, looking suddenly nervous. “Oh, um, not really. Just ... life in general, I guess.”

Lando’s about to press further when his phone buzzes. He glances down to see a message from Oscar.

Hey, mate. Sorry about earlier. Can we talk?

Lando frowns, torn between his curiosity about Oscar’s situation and his desire to spend time with you.

“Everything okay?” You ask, noticing his expression.

Lando sighs. “I don’t know. It’s Oscar. He’s been acting really weird lately, and I’m worried about him.”

Your eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Weird how?”

“Just ... off,” Lando says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s all giggly and distracted, his face is constantly red, and he keeps fidgeting with his clothes. I’m worried he might be ... you know ...”

You lean forward, your brow furrowed in concern. “Might be what?”

Lando lowers his voice, glancing around to make sure no one’s listening. “On drugs,” he whispers.

To his surprise, you burst out laughing. “Oscar? On drugs? Are you serious?”

“It’s not funny!” Lando hisses, feeling defensive. “I’m really worried about him. He won’t tell me what’s going on, but something clearly is.”

You sober quickly, reaching across the table to pat his hand. “I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s not funny. But Lando, I really don’t think Oscar’s on drugs. Maybe there’s another explanation?”

“Like what?” Lando demands.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can say anything, Lando’s phone buzzes again. Another message from Oscar.

I’m in the lobby. Can we talk now? It’s important.

Lando looks up at you apologetically. “It’s Oscar again. He says he needs to talk. Do you mind if I ...”

You wave a hand, looking strangely nervous. “No, no, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

Lando nods gratefully and heads for the lobby, his mind racing. What could be so important that Oscar needs to talk right now?

He spots his teammate pacing near the elevators, looking agitated. “Oscar?” He calls out.

Oscar’s head snaps up, and Lando is struck again by the flush on his cheeks. “Lando! Thanks for coming. I ... I need to tell you something.”

Lando crosses his arms, trying to look stern despite his worry. “Yeah, I’d say you do. What’s going on with you, mate? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing, because-”

“I’m dating your sister!” Oscar blurts out.

Lando blinks, certain he must have misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Oscar takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’m dating your sister,” he repeats, more slowly this time. “Y/N. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

Lando’s mind goes blank. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. No sound comes out.

“I know it’s a shock,” Oscar continues, words tumbling out in a rush. “And I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was serious before we said anything. But I really care about her, Lando. And I hope ... I hope you can be okay with this.”

Lando’s brain is still struggling to process this information. “But ... but the giggling,” he manages to stammer out. “And the blushing. And the fidgeting.”

Oscar’s blush deepens. “Ah, yeah. That’s ... that’s because of Y/N. She’s been sending me these ... messages. And pictures. Really cute ones!” He adds hastily, seeing Lando’s eyes widen in horror. “Nothing inappropriate! Just ... you know. Flirty.”

Lando holds up a hand, feeling slightly nauseous. “Please, I really don’t need details.”

“Right, sorry,” Oscar says sheepishly. “Anyway, that’s why I’ve been acting weird. I was trying to keep it a secret, but I guess I’m not very good at hiding how I feel.”

Lando’s head is spinning. His teammate and his little sister. Dating. It’s too much to process.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice sounds concerned. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but the world suddenly tilts sideways. The last thing he hears before everything goes black is Oscar’s panicked voice calling his name.

When Lando comes to, he’s lying on a couch in the hotel lobby, with you and Oscar hovering anxiously over him.

“Oh thank god,” you breathe as his eyes flutter open. “Lando, are you okay?”

Lando groans, pushing himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Oscar supplies helpfully. “Right after I told you about ... you know.”

The memory comes flooding back, and Lando groans again, this time for an entirely different reason. “So it wasn’t a dream, then? You two are really ...”

You nod, looking nervous but determined. “We are. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner. We wanted to make sure it was, you know, real first.”

Lando looks between the two of you, taking in Oscar’s anxious expression and the way your hand is clasped tightly in his. Despite his shock, he can’t deny the genuine affection he sees there.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice rough. “I suppose this is better than you being on drugs.”

Oscar lets out a startled laugh. “You really thought I was on drugs?”

Lando shrugs defensively. “What was I supposed to think? You were acting so weird!”

“That’s just because he’s head over heels for me,” you say teasingly, bumping Oscar’s shoulder with your own.

Oscar grins dopily, and Lando has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. “Clearly,” he mutters.

There’s a moment of awkward silence before you speak up again. “So ... are you okay with this? Us being together?”

Lando looks at you, his beloved little sister, then at Oscar, his teammate and friend. He sees the happiness radiating from both of you, the way you lean into each other unconsciously.

He sighs dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to be,” he says, unable to keep a small smile from tugging at his lips. “But I swear, Piastri, if you hurt her-”

“I won’t,” Oscar interrupts, his voice firm and sincere. “I promise, Lando. I’ll take good care of her.”

Lando nods, satisfied for now. “Good. And for the love of all that is holy, please keep the flirting to a minimum around me. I really don’t need to see that.”

You and Oscar laugh, the tension finally breaking. As Lando watches the two of you together, he can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this might not be such a bad thing after all.

But he’s definitely going to need some time to get used to it. And possibly some therapy.

[mellowdiplomattrashpsychic]

Damian had to close his eyes, the green abruptly assaulting his eyes with how bright it was.

It was suffocating, like he was swimming into the league's training pool depths. The water pressure was similar to this, making him instinctively hold his breath.

It was wrong. He knew he should just give in. He already did this much. He couldn't take it back. He was halfway there. Just a little more, and he'll be with Danyal forever.

He just had to breathe.

Just as he was about to let go of the last seconds he had to live, he saw a change in light through his eyelids. He felt the pressure vanish just as quickly.

He coughed a gasping breath, hearing a wince of sympathy.

"Oh, right. I forgot about how people react to a change of ambient ecto quality... Sorry. Just- just take slow, deep breaths. You might feel a bit tingly, but that's just your body filtering out the polluted ecto and adjusting to the more pure version."

Damian followed Danyal's instructions, taking slow, deep breaths instead of quicker ones. It seemed that Grayson's breathing techniques to calm oneself wasnt applicable to those in the land of the dead. There was no need to hold his breath. It made exhaling difficult, as if the air had somehow gained consistency.

A few breaths in, and he could feel what his brother had referred to. He felt as though he were drugged, feeling as though he was barely clinging to his physical body. He felt ashamed that he couldn't get himself to let go.

He cracked his eyes open, blinking out the black spots and struggling to make sense of the shapes around him. But once he did, he saw buildings, a road, a starry night sky, streetlights, a few people-

Danyal moved in front of him, smiling softly.

"Feeling ok?"

"A little out of body, but the process should be over soon. I swear to you, it... it's not my intention to still be so... attached."

Please forgive me. I swear I'll join you soon. I don't know why my body can't follow my mind or heart.

Danyal's smile became smaller, making Damian's heart drop.

"It's fine, Ahki. I don't expect you to detach yourself from them. They're your family." Danyal pulled Damian into an embrace, a hand combing through his hair. "I know... I know people aren't fond of ghosts. But that's ok. I don't mind, I just... I'm happier with you. I would've backed off if you weren't comfortable with me."

Damian bit his inner cheek, hands reaching out and grasping the thin clothes Danyal wore. No matter how much Danyal altered them, they would always feel thin, as if they would tear as easily as wet paper. But that was not the case, not when they would have crumbled and torn apart with how tightly he held onto them at that very moment.

"They were worried about you. That you were sacrificing something by staying on the living plane." His voice wavered. He didn't mean to, he didn't. He swore it.

"Ahki?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't lie to me."

"When I close my eyes and listen to what you say, it's easy to tell when you're lying."

Damian's blood ran cold.

"I-I wasn't-" He tried to pull away. He tried to make Danyal look him in the eyes. To show his sincerity.

Danyal only held him more tightly.

"But you hid something. Please... please tell me, am I bothering you? Did you really not want me around?"

"No! No, that's not- n-not not-" His voice wasn't cooperating. He took a quick breath in his frustration, only to quickly regret it when it got stuck in his throat, encouraging his gag reflex that soon turned into a violent chain of coughs.

"Hey, hey, deep breaths. Deep breaths, Ahki. You want me around, I heard you. Breathe, it's ok. We're ok. I'm not mad or anything. I just needed to make sure you actually wanted me around. I'm sorry that I scared you like that."

It was difficult to regulate his breathing, his coughing fit making him gasp at air quickly out of reflex. It was dizzying, it was worsening, he couldn't breathe.

He could feel Danyal letting go, making his heart race despite the low oxygen levels.

Please don't leave, I'm sorry.

He reached out, hearing a distant apology before his nose was pinched and mouth was covered. His body spasmed, attempting to continue to gasp for air. His hands twitched, the temptation to grab one of his many weapons high.

But he couldn't. He couldn't do it again. Not to him. Not again.

He felt his heart start to slow, and his body quit acting foolish. That's when the hands left his face, allowing him to breathe deeply. It was slow, he was too drained to even attempt to gasp for air.

He fell forward onto a cool surface. A body.

Danyal.

Danyal suffocated him.

He deserved it, but it hurt nonetheless.

"Ahki..."

Why is there a cold ticklish feeling trailing down his face? Was he crying? When did he start crying?

"Shhh, I'm sorry, but you were going to drown if I didn't get you to stop coughing or gasping. Just a few more minutes, and I won't have to do that ever again, I promise."

"Ahki... Ahki, 'm sorry..."

His head felt so floaty, but his body still felt heavy. Why? Just why couldn't he follow through?

"There’s-..." Danyal let out a sigh. "What are you sorry for, Damian?"

"You asked me to... you asked me vome with you." His breaths still felt short. "But I couldn't follow through. I still can't follow it through."

"..."

He should've been worried about Danyal's silence, but he couldn't even keep track of time. How fast was he talking? Was he slurring his words? He felt so dizzy still. He felt like he was floating.

"I thought about it. I thought about it to the point that I became... anxious. Father and Richard... Todd, Brown, Caine, Pennyworth, and even Drake care so much... I didn't... I didn't want to hurt them by dying."

He was almost there. He shouldn't have struggled even if he didn't end up causing any bodily harm. He shouldn't have even attempted to reach for his weapons.

"They were scared. They're scared, please don't blame them. It's my fault, Danny... it's mine. It's my fault they tried to send you away. I want- I want to stay with you."

Was he still talking? It sounds like gibberish, words not sounding like any he recognized.

"Damian... Damian, I didn't- Fuck, I didn't mean it that way!" Danyal roughly pulled him off, a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady and the other shakily cupping his cheek. He was letting Damian see him, he wanted him to look at him. "I don't want you to die, Damian."

Damian's lips pursed, brows furrowing in confusion and denial.

"Don't lie to me-"

"Look at me, Damian! Look at me and see if I'm lying!"

Damian focused on Danyal's face, searching for his giveaways.

"I don't want you dead." Damian searched more desperately. "I want you to live, Damian. I want you alive. I want my brother alive. I don't want you dead."

He repeated it over and over until Damien glared at him and covered his mouth.

"I understand, I hear you, I-" He jumped, quickly pulling away in disgust. "You licked me!"

Danny only gave him an innocent and saintly smile in response.

Ugh.

"You're disgusting."

"But you love me!"

"Unfortunately."

Danyal giggled, pulling away and crossing his legs, now hovering an inch over the grassy ground.

Damian let out a slow breath, still feeling drained but not as terrified and filled with shame as before. He felt like he could breathe freely. He could still have Danyal by his side and live with the rest of his family without any guilt.

He still deserved some form of punishment, but it was fine. He was fine for now. Perhaps... Perhaps Danyal would consider everything up to this point as punishment enough. Even if it wasn't enough, that seemed like something Danyal would choose to do.

"Damian?"

"If you did not want me to pass, then why am I such poor condition? Where are we, if not the afterlife?"

Danyal smiled sheepishly.

"Right. So you know how the Lazarus Pits had that power to elongate life to the fatally injured? Well, it turns out that it's because it's made of ectoplasm, runoff more specifically. But there's other types. The one that's affecting you to this point is ambient ectoplasm. You could think of it like air. Gotham is filled with polluted ambient ectoplasm because of the amount of curses there, and it's pretty low on it since there's a lot of shades.

Here, though, we have pure ambient ectoplasm directly from the Infinite Realms, where the afterlife resides. So it's pure, and there's a lot of it. But since you're used to Gotham's ectoplasm level, your baby core needs to accommodate itself. You should be good to move around soon if not already."

"..." Damian turned away from Danyal and looked at their new surroundings. "Where exactly are we then?"

"Oh! We're in Amity Park, a town in Illinois. Not a very good welcome, but uh, yeah. This was last minute. I would've had a party set up with everyone- which reminds me! I need to call Jazz. She's my adoptive older sister, by the way. She's nice, a bit weird when it comes to psychoanalyzing people, don't pay much attention to it. She's cool, you'll get along live a forest fire!"

"Those are dangerous, Danyal. I feel as though I should be concerned with your apparent interest in arson."

"See! That's something she would say!"

"For good reason." Damian smirked.

"Rude!"

Dcxdp

Just thinking of like a demon twins au where danny finds out damian is no longer under their grandfathers rule and goes to visit him in ghost form.

And damian is grieving all over again. Because thats his little brother, dead at his hands. Never able to grow up and live a full life. Just this weird mirror version of it. And now that damians embraced his fathers way of preserving life it feels even more of a waste and he mourns the experiences they could've had together. It felt like less of a blow when he was still in the league and surviving wasnt much of a life. Danyal was most likely happier at rest then there, but now? Now damian wishes they had more time.

Danny not realizing hes forgotten to tell his brother hes actually still alive. keeps saying that damian should come with him. See his home, meet his friends, Etc. Damian thinking danyal wants to drag him to the afterlife. Considers it even, because he owes him that much. Scared by his own thoughts and telling bruce or dick about it. And theyre both grief stricken and furious. Just this whole misunderstanding snowballing. Another son but one whos been lost before they could ever meet. One theyd never been able to know. Who never got the chance to be a child before his time was cut short. And everyone wanting to find a way to lay danny to rest without him stealing damian away too. Bruce desperate to meet this imprint of a son he never met but terrified of it taking away the son he still has.

Lol thinking of like 100 ways this could go.

Bruce calling in constantine. Danny feeling betrayed that they called someone to banish him? He thought damian would be happy to see him? Would accept him. Thought he could meet his father as well.

Or

Damian making him a grave and showing him that he can "rest" now like hed never been properly laid to rest with the league. Danny thinking its either a) a funny joke or b) finally realizes whats going on.

Or

damian offering to go with him as long as hes able to come back? He still wants to live his life and there are others in dcu who can go between realms (sorta i guess?) Danny being like yeah? No duh we'll come back xD damian being like??? When he sees amity lol.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ 2003 - i can see us lost in the memory

chapter summary: After searching for answers about his past, Logan comes back to the mansion after finding nothing at Alkali Lake. When he comes back he sees you, the only thing he can remember.

word count: 6.9k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i skipped x1 (mostly because i felt like i couldn't place reader into the story and have her actually make a change in it) so we're starting with x2! don't worry, next chapter is going to make you sick with tooth rotting fluff

(also thank you for 700 followers!! and happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! <3)

warnings/tags: follows events of x2 (strays slightly), reader is a mutant with time manipulation powers, reader wears glasses, shy!reader, light violence

series masterlist - chapter 6 → chapter 8

Alkali Lake held nothing. No clues, no leads, nothing. And because of that he’s still drifting, unable to remember anything but you.

He’s not sure when the last time he saw you was, he can only remember that he’s had you 5 times and lost you 5 times.

But now… now he has nothing but fragments, barely more than dreams, and a dull ache he can’t ignore, even if he can no longer remember the details. He knows you were there, remembers the way your touch soothed him, the warmth of your voice—and each time he replays those memories, he feels something deeper, sharper, tugging at the places in him that will never mend.

---

Logan opened the doors to the mansion, Rogue walking towards him. “Logan!” She went up to hug him before quickly pulling back.

“You miss me, kid?”

“Not really.” She shook her head sarcastically.

“Hmm. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Who’s this?” Logan gestured with his head behind Rogue.

Rogue turned around, “oh, this is Bobby. He’s my- ”

“I’m her boyfriend.” Bobby cut in, shaking Logan’s hand using his ice powers, “call me Ice Man.”

Logan pulled away with a slight scowl, “right. Boyfriend? So how do you guys…?”

Bobby and Rogue shared a look, “well, we’re still working on that.” He said.

“Look who’s come back. Just in time.” Ororo spoke, as she walked down the stairs.

“For what?” Logan questioned.

“We need another babysitter.”

“Babysitter?”

“Nice to see you again, Logan.” Ororo said kindly.

“Hi, Logan.” Jean spoke, announcing herself as she walked down the stairs.

Logan briefly looked her way, “Jean.”

“Uh, I should go and get the jet ready.” Ororo said quietly.

“Yeah, well, it was good to meet you.” Bobby grabbed Rogue’s hand, “come on, let’s go.”

“Bye, Logan. I’ll see- I’ll see you later!” Rogue called out.

Jean walked in front of Logan, “Storm and I are heading to Boston. We won’t be gone long. The professor wants us to track down a mutant who attacked the president.”

“So it was a mutant.” Logan responded.

“You’ll be here when we get back- unless you plan on running off again.”

Logan tilted his head slightly. “Oh, I could—” His words trailed off as he caught sight of you. The stack of papers in your hands wobbled as you came down the stairs, muttering under your breath. He watched you, the tilt of your head as you pushed your glasses back up, the way you carefully balanced the papers in your hands.

You. He knew you. He knew that face, that presence. It hit him like a punch to the gut, an undeniable recognition buried beneath layers of fractured memories. You were the only thing that came back to him clearly in all the chaos. The short-lived lives you had, and every time it ended up with you dead in his arms.

He blinked, processing, as if you’d vanish if he looked away. You glanced up, catching his stare, and you stopped mid-step, eyes widening a little.

“Oh, uh… hi,” you said, awkwardly adjusting your glasses.

“Hi,” he echoed, still staring, as if searching for something familiar in the way you moved.

You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, then tried a smile. “You’re… Logan, right?”

He swallowed, feeling something catch in his throat. “Yeah. Logan.”

Breaking the tension, Scott walked down the stairs, “find what you were looking for, Logan?”

Logan barely acknowledged Scott’s words, his gaze fixed on you. The room, the people around him, the mansion itself—they all blurred, faded, became nothing more than static in the background. He knew you. The only thing he remembered clearly, despite all the fog in his mind, was you.

The stack of papers shifted in your hands as you glanced between him and Scott, your unease clear. It was like you sensed something, too, even if you couldn’t put a finger on it.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” Logan finally replied, his voice gruff, his eyes still on you. “Thought I’d… found something. Guess not.”

Scott didn’t seem too interested in probing. “Well, welcome back. Make yourself at home.”

But Logan barely heard him. He watched as you attempted a shy smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “I… I should go.” You hesitated, lifting the papers as if they’d shield you. “It was nice meeting you, Logan.”

He nodded, his throat dry. “Same.”

You hurried past, your steps soft but quick, almost like you were escaping.

Scott raised an eyebrow at Logan, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were one for the shy ones.”

Logan shot him a look that could’ve split wood, but Scott just shrugged and walked off, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts.

For a moment, Logan debated following you. He’d known you before; he was sure of it. And even if he couldn’t recall the exact details, there was no mistaking the pull he felt, the way his chest tightened just being in your presence. He couldn’t remember much, barely fragments, yet you were a constant. And every time, he’d lost you. Every damn time.

---

After double checking that everyone was out of their rooms, whether taken or already escaped, you made your way to the secret tunnel, hitting the paneled wall as it opened.

You saw Rogue, Bobby, John, and Logan running down the hall. “Go on,” you said, letting the kids go through before you did. You noticed no one behind you as the door slid down, closing.

“Logan!” Rogue called out.

Bobby and John had already started to run down the tunnel while you stayed by the wall, ear pressed against it trying to hear what was happening.

Rogue stayed by you, clearly worried about Logan. You opened the door quietly as Bobby and John came back. It was quiet in the hall, Logan was walking slowly toward the older man as your eyes briefly fluttered shut, pausing the intruders in time.

“Logan, come on. Let’s go.” Rogue yelled out.

“Logan,” you said gently, as he finally turned his head towards the group.

“Go. I’ll be fine.”

“But we won’t.” Rogue responded.

Logan contemplated for a few moments before walking towards you, “go. Keep going.” Logan entered the tunnel as the door closed behind him while you un-paused the men in the hall.

The five of you ran down the tunnel before climbing up a ladder to the garage. “Come on, get in. Get in!” Logan said.

You went to open the passenger door to the back when a large, warm hand landed on your waist, the grip warm and familiar even though you knew you'd never been this close to him before. Your breath hitched, and you glanced over your shoulder, only to meet his intense gaze as he gently nudged you toward the front seat. His hand lingered a second longer than it needed to, his touch almost hesitant, as if he was committing the feel of you to memory.

“Front seat, Y/N,” he murmured.

“R-Right. Thanks,” you stammered, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks as you slid into the passenger seat. He followed, taking his place behind the wheel, while Rogue, Bobby, and John piled into the back.

“This is Cyclops’s car.” Bobby said.

“Oh, yeah?” Logan unsheathed a singular claw, stabbing it into the ignition and turning on the car. The garage doors opened as the car sped out.

“What the hell was that back there?” John finally asked.

“Stryker.” Logan answered. “His name is Stryker.”

“Who is he?” Rogue questioned.

“I can’t remember.” Logan said quietly.

Rogue, after a few moments of silence, took off the dog tags around her wrist, passing them to Logan in the front, “here. This is yours.”

Even though you couldn’t see the kids in the back, you could tell they were uncomfortable with the silence. John leaned forward, “I don’t like uncomfortable silences.”

“What are you doing?” Rogue asked from beside him.

John turned on the radio as music played loudly from the car’s stereo’s, “bye, bye, bye…” Everyone groaned at the loud intrusion as John promptly turned it back off.

But, a small compartment opened, revealing a sleek metal device. “I don’t think that’s the CD player.” John said.

Logan grabbed it, twisting it in his hands. It blipped once, “whoa,” he muttered. Logan looked at John momentarily, “sit back.”

“Where we going?” John asked.

“Storm and Jean are in Boston. We’ll head that way.” Logan answered.

Bobby looked off to the side, “my parents live in Boston.”

“Good.” Logan said.

---

It was morning when you arrived at Bobby’s parents’ house. He unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “mom! Dad! Ronny! Is anybody home?” No one responded, the house was empty. Bobby looked at Rogue, “I’ll try and find you some clothes.” Bobby then looked over at John, who was continuously flicking his lighter open, “don’t burn anything.”

Logan was in the kitchen, trying to get the phone, or comm device he wasn’t sure, to work. He put it to his ear, “hello?” Static crackled over the device, “hello?” Logan asked again. “Come on, Jean. Where are you?”

You had just freshened up a bit when the door opened, Bobby’s family entering the house, looking at Logan in the kitchen with an open beer bottle.

“Hey, Ronny, next time you…” Bobby’s father started, but stopped when he saw Logan. “Who the hell are you?”

“Uh…” Logan pointed at the stairs as Bobby ran down them.

“Bobby…?”

“Honey, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” Bobby’s mother asked. Rogue quietly walked down the stairs.

“Bobby, who is this guy?”

“Uh… this is Professor Logan.” Bobby paused before speaking again, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Soon, you all ended up in the living area, the kids and Bobby’s parents sitting down on the couch with you and Logan standing in the doorway.

“So, uh, when did you first know you were a… a…” Bobby’s mother trailed off.

“A mutant?” John spoke up, still flicking his lighter open and closed.

“Would you cut that out?” she said.

“You have to understand, we thought Bobby was going to a school for the gifted.” his father spoke.

“Bobby is gifted.” Rogue cut in.

“We know that. We just didn’t realize…”

His mother cut off her husband, “we still love you, Bobby. It’s just… this mutant problem is a little…”

“What mutant problem?” Logan interrupted, leaning against the other side of the doorway as you with his arms crossed.

“…complicated.” she finished.

Bobby’s father spoke again, “what exactly are you a professor of Mr. Logan?”

“Art.”

“Well, you should see what Bobby can do.” Rogue said.

Bobby leaned forward, gently touching his mother’s teacup with one finger as the tea turned to ice.

“Bobby…” his mother trailed off. She flipped the teacup on its side as the ice slid to the plate.

“I can do a lot more than that.”

His mother shakily put the plate and teacup on the glass table as the cat jumped up and started to lick the ice. Bobby’s brother Ronny left the room with a quiet anger.

“Ronny?” His mother called out as he went up the stairs. “This is all my fault.”

John spoke up, “actually, they discovered that males are the ones who carry the mutant gene and pass it on, so it’s his fault.”

A few moments later, the comm device started to beep. “Oh, God…” Logan took the device out of his pocket and started to walk to the sliding door, “it’s for me.”

“Bobby… have you tried… not being a mutant?” His mother asked.

Logan came back inside and locked the sliding door, “we have to go now. Now!”

“Why?” Rogue questioned. “Logan, what’s wrong?”

He walked to the front door, claws extended and you and the kids following to come face to face with police officers on the front lawn, point guns at you.

“Drop the knives and put your hands in the air.” An officer ordered from their right.

“What’s going on here?” Logan muttered.

“Ronny.” Bobby answered, coming to the realization.

“I said, drop the knives!” The officer ordered again.

Glass shattered from inside the house, “turn around! Up against the wall! Up against the wall!” An officer ordered Bobby’s parents, still in the living area.

“This is just a misunderstanding.” Logan said.

“Put the knives down!”

Logan turned to look at the officer, “I can’t. Look,” he raised his arm slowly as the officer fired a shot, straight into Logan’s forehead.

Rogue screamed and you gasped as Logan hit the patio floor.

“All right, the rest of you- on the ground now!” The same officer ordered.

You, Bobby, and Rogue slowly sank to the ground, but John stayed standing.

“Look, kid, I said on the ground!”

“We don’t want to hurt you, kid.” The officer on the other side said.

“You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about on the news?” John flicked open his lighter as you murmured his name, “I’m the worst one.” He blasted fire at the officer who shot Logan, sending him off the patio. He turned and did the same to the woman on the other side, then inside the house at the two officers.

John turned forward, blasting fire at the officers on the front lawn, the car exploding, before doing the same to another police car. A siren sounded down the street, coming to the house, as John blasted another stationary car by the front lawn, throwing the moving car off track. He blasted that car too.

Rogue, on the ground in front of you, took off her white glove and grabbed John’s ankle. The fire in his hands died off as Rogue stopped the fires surrounding the police cars and lawn.

The bullet popped out of Logan’s head as he woke up, the Blackbird slowly landing in the street. Logan stood up, cracking his neck. Bobby and the kids rushed off the stairs first, heading to the jet.

Logan instinctively put a hand on the small of your back, not pushing you or guiding you just… resting there. You took a quick glance up at him before reverting your gaze back to what was ahead of you.

John was the first one to walk up the ramp, and the first one to see Kurt turn in his chair. “Guten tag.” Kurt greeted.

The rest of you got onto the jet, buckling in, “who the hell is this?” Logan asked.

“Kurt Wagner. But in the Munich circus, I was known as the Incredible Nightcrawler.”

“As, save it. Storm?”

“We’re out of here.” The engines powered up as the ship jerked slightly while taking off.

---

“How far are we?” Logan asked, walking up behind Jean’s chair.

“We’re actually coming up on the mansion now.” Jean replied, as the console started to beep.

“I’ve got two signals approaching.” Ororo said, “coming in fast.”

“Unidentified aircraft, you are ordered to descend to 20,000 feet. Return with our escort to Hanscom Air Force Base. You have ten seconds to comply.”

“Wow, somebody’s angry.” Ororo commented.

Logan looked back at John, “I wonder why.”

“We are coming up alongside you to escort you to Hanscom Air Force Base. Lower your altitude now.” The two planes come up on both sides of the jet, “repeat-lower your altitude to 20,000 feet. This is your last warning.”

The planes started to fly behind, “they’re falling back.” Ororo spoke. Rapid beeping sounded out from the console. “They’re marking us.”

“What?” Logan asked.

“They’re going to fire! Hang on!” Ororo started to fly the jet in a defensive position as they buckled into their seats. “I got to shake them.”

The jet briefly flew upside down then righted itself, “please don’t do that again.” John said.

“I agree.” Logan remarked. “Don’t we have any weapons in this heap?”

The sky started to darken as dark clouds formed, quickly turning into tornadoes. The jet started to shake from the heavy winds as Ororo tried getting the two planes off their tails.

Once their radar was clear, Ororo stopped, the sky brightening back to its natural state.

“Everybody okay back there?” Jean questioned.

“No,” Logan answered simply.

Rapid beeping sounded out from the console once again, “oh, my God, there’s two of them,” Ororo said. Jean used her powers and took out one of the missiles, “there’s one more.” The remaining missile continued flying closer to them, “Jean?”

Jean gasped, “oh, God!” At the last second, Jean directed the missile slightly up, causing the back end of the jet to blow open.

Rogue, who wasn’t buckled in, flew out the back as Bobby yelled for her. Kurt briefly looked back before disappearing and then reappearing in the jet, right by the pilot’s seat next to Ororo and Jean as the jet nosedived.

The panels in the ship began to crackle as metal creaked and the back of the jet repaired itself. “Jean?” Ororo asked.

“It’s not me.” Jean answered, as the jet suddenly stopped, hovering over an older man and woman you didn’t recognize.

---

You had your head and arms buried deep into the jet's console, a strand of hair falling in front of your face as you tried to twist one more wire into place. The tech was scrambled from the missile hit, panels still flickering with bursts of static, and while it wasn’t exactly in your wheelhouse, you knew enough to give it a try. Besides, it kept your hands busy while the rest of the team talked to Erik around the fire and the kids set up tents.

After some time, you walked down the stairs of the jet, mostly for a small break from the incessant lighting and saw Logan smoking a cigar by the ramp. You almost turned around and walked back up, until he turned to look at you, more than halfway down the stairs.

You gulped and played with the tool in your hands as Logan looked at his cigar briefly, noticing the smoke was frozen in the air. He turned his gaze to the trees nearby also taking note that they were frozen as well; no wind blowing through their leaves.

“Ya always freeze time when you get nervous?” Logan tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched you, trapped in your own nervous suspension of time. You gave a tight, embarrassed smile, the tool in your hands twisting around your fingers as you took a deep breath and forced yourself to let go of the freeze.

“No. Only sometimes,” you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat. The trees resumed their gentle sway, and the smoke from his cigar curled upward lazily again. Logan watched the subtle shift, something almost playful glinting in his gaze.

He took another drag of his cigar, eyes not leaving you. “So, what’s got you nervous?”

Your fingers fumbled with the tool. “It’s, um… I don’t usually come across people who…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands.

Truth was, he made you nervous. Why wouldn’t he? He was… a lot of things, and in the few days you have known him you couldn’t help but feel more reserved than usual.

Logan leaned back against the ramp, watching you with a calm expression, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Care to be more specific?” He seemed content to let you fumble, patient in a way that only made your pulse quicken more.

You shrugged, pretending to focus on the tool in your hands. “I don’t know, maybe it’s the… whole mysterious, intense thing you’ve got going. That, and the fact that I accidentally freeze time whenever you look at me like that.”

He raised an eyebrow, letting out a low chuckle. “Like what?”

“Like…” You trailed off, finally looking up at him. “Like you’re trying to figure something out, but I’m not sure I want to know what.”

“Maybe I am,” Logan said, taking a drag of his cigar. His eyes softened a bit, and you felt a warmth settle over you. He didn’t push, didn’t pry—just waited. After all, patience was one of the many things he’d perfected over the years.

You shifted on your feet, glancing down to where your fingers had turned the wrench over and over, antsy. “Maybe I just don’t know what to make of you,” you murmured, feeling the weight of his gaze again.

“Guess that makes two of us,” he replied, his voice low. There was something unspoken in his words, something you couldn’t quite name.

The silence stretched out, and then, because there was something about the way he looked at you that felt like an invitation, you spoke. “Why’d you come out here, anyway? I thought you were all about avoiding everyone else.”

Logan flicked some ash off the end of his cigar. “Maybe I was gettin’ tired of avoidin’ things.” He paused, looking out toward the treeline, then back at you. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you’d freeze time again.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. “Not exactly something I can control.”

“Good to know,” Logan replied, smirking. He took another puff, the smoke curling up in wisps around him. “So, are you fixin’ that thing, or just givin’ it the ol’ college try?”

You looked back at the jet, the half-repaired panel flickering with static. “Oh, definitely just winging it.”

Logan chuckled, the sound rich and deep, and for a moment, the tension seemed to ease. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a ‘wing it’ type.”

You shrugged, biting back a smirk. “I’m full of surprises.”

The easy conversation brought a hint of a grin to his face, something warm and fleeting, and he tilted his head toward the jet. “C’mon, let’s see what else you can do, winging it.” He raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you.

You looked at him, then back at the jet, a bit of excitement tingling under your skin. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what we can fix.”

---

“Stay with the kids.” Jean said. You opened your mouth to argue, you weren’t a child, yet it seemed like every mission you were treated like one. Never allowed on the field, never even brought in on a debriefing.

The rest of the group, other than Mystique who was already in the base, were outside the jet, making their way into Alkali Base. You were supposed to stay behind with Rogue, Bobby, and John.

“But, Jean—” you started, voice catching on the frustrated protest that lingered in your chest.

Jean turned, a hand on her hip and an exasperated look that was all too familiar. “We’ve talked about this, Y/N. You’re here to look after them.”

“Right,” you muttered, crossing your arms, your gaze falling on the others, who were half paying attention, half pretending not to notice. Rogue’s worried glance lingered on you; Bobby looked between you and the hallway where the rest of the team had disappeared.

Jean’s expression softened just slightly. “This isn’t a punishment, okay? The kids need someone they trust to keep them safe.”

You glanced at Logan, who gave you a slight nod, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Fine,” you mumbled, “I’ll stay with them.”

Jean pressed a reassuring hand to your shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.” She turned to catch up with the others, her footsteps echoing as they faded into the depths of the base.

Logan lingered for a moment, gaze unwavering. He looked at you for a beat too long, and something tightened in his expression. He gave a faint nod before heading off.

As the rest of the team disappeared down the corridor, John grinned, clearly amused by your frustration. "Looks like you got a babysitting gig, huh?"

You shot him a withering look, but Rogue was quick to jump in. "It's not like that, John."

“Could be worse,” Bobby added, trying to lighten the mood, “at least we’re safe here.”

You leaned against the cold metal wall, fingers tapping the console out of habit. “Yeah,” you replied, though your voice held none of the certainty you tried to convey.

From the depths of the corridor, Logan’s scent still lingered faintly in the air. You felt the tug of something unexplainable—a pull toward him that you’d noticed ever since he first set foot in the mansion. It was like trying to remember something you knew you’d forgotten.

Your hand, almost of its own accord, clenched into a fist, feeling the temptation to slow time, to buy a few seconds to gather your thoughts and process what lingered between you and Logan. But with Rogue, Bobby, and John right there, you resisted, focusing on keeping things steady.

And, yet, as you listened to the faint sounds echoing down the hall, a deep sense of restlessness settled in your chest.

---

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly from the water before disappearing as quickly as it came.

“She’s gone,” Ororo said quietly.

The vision broke your focus as you flew the jet, the emergency landing protocol activated as it landed harshly, Rogue and Bobby standing in the cockpit by your seat.

A whoosh made you turn to the side to see Kurt putting Charles down in a seat. Kids started to climb up the stairs into the ramp as Ororo came by your side, “I got this, Y/N,” she said gently.

You let out a few more heavy breaths before standing up from the pilot’s seat, letting Ororo take your place.

As Scott fiddled with some of the controls, Charles spoke up, “Scott, we’ve got to get to Washington. I fear this has gone beyond Alkali Lake.”

Logan finally climbed up the stairs, a young boy in his arms, “Bobby.”

“Hey, I got him,” Bobby replied, carefully taking the boy from Logan’s arms.

Logan watched for a moment as Bobby wrapped an arm around the kid, murmuring something reassuring to him. When the boy seemed to relax, Logan shifted his gaze to you, lingering just a beat too long, that same unreadable look in his eyes.

The jet was buzzing with energy as everyone settled in, but his eyes never left yours. You felt it, that weight, the unspoken thing hanging between you both ever since you met. The others didn’t seem to notice—Bobby was focused on the kid, Rogue was buckling in, and Ororo and Scott were adjusting settings on the console. But Logan, he was watching you, something intense simmering beneath his stoic expression.

You tried to brush it off, focusing on the quiet hum of the jet as it prepared for takeoff. But that pull was there, like something forgotten tugging at your memory, or maybe… not forgotten, exactly. Maybe something you’d never known.

Finally, unable to help yourself, you looked back at him. “What?” you asked softly, half a smile on your lips to cover the nervous energy prickling at the base of your spine.

Logan didn’t smile back. “Nothing,” he replied, voice rough. But his gaze softened, just barely, and there was a glimmer of something warm. “Just making sure you’re alright.”

His words were casual, but you caught the faintest edge of something… familiar. Like a memory you couldn’t quite touch. You felt your fingers twitch, the familiar itch to pull time in around you, but you held back.

“I’m fine,” you said, brushing your hair behind your ear as you tried to shake off the strange feeling. “Thanks for asking.”

Logan nodded, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched you for a beat longer, almost as if he were searching for something. Whatever it was, he didn’t find it—or maybe he did but decided not to say. Instead, he moved forward to Ororo, where her and Scott were trying to power the engines.

“What’s wrong?” Logan questioned.

“Vertical thrusters are offline.” Scott answered.

“So fix ’em.”

“I’m trying.”

“Hey, has anyone seen John?” Rogue called out.

“Pyro?” Logan asked. “Where the hell is he?”

“He’s with Magneto.” Jean replied.

“…but I don’t know how long they’re going to last.”

“I’m trying to override, but it’s not responding.” Scott grunted, “come on!”

“Oh, no, we’ve lost the power.” Ororo said.

“It’s coming. Come on!”

“There’s power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

“Jean,” you whispered under your breath, too scared to act, fearing what would happen if you intervened. Instead, you watched as she walked down the ramp of the jet, glancing at the group one last time.

Charles tilted his head slightly to the side, “Jean?”

“Wait, where’s Jean?” Logan asked.

“She’s outside.” Charles said.

Scott bolted up from his seat to the ramp, but it closed as he got there, separating Jean from the rest of them. The consoles lit up as the engines came back online.

“No! We’re not leaving! Lower the ramp! Storm, lower it!” Scott yelled.

“I can’t!” She replied.

The water finally washed over to them, but because of Jean and her telekinesis it went around her.

“She’s controlling the jet!” Storm said, as the jet started to lightly shake.

“You, get her, now!” Logan told Kurt.

Kurt briefly phased, “she’s not letting me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Charles spoke. “This is the only way.”

Scott leaned down next to Charles seat, “Jean? Listen to me. Don’t do this.”

“Good-bye.”

The jet started to hover above the water as a bright light shone briefly-

“-power in the fuel cells. They’re just not connected.”

“Okay, I’ll try to reroute it this way.” Ororo continued, but your gaze was focused on Jean, who was looking at the ramp of the jet. “Scott, the engine control system is shot.”

“Which part?”

“All of it!”

“Can’t you override?”

“Yes. It’s going to take some time.”

As Jean walked toward the ramp, you reached out and grabbed her forearm, halting her determined steps. Her head turned, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, her eyes softened. There was a weariness, a resignation in her look that you couldn’t ignore.

“Jean,” you whispered, tightening your grip. “There has to be another way.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away, staring into the distance. The ramp was only steps away, but she hadn’t pulled her arm free. “It’s the only way to save everyone,” she said, her voice barely audible, as if speaking louder would shatter whatever resolve she had left.

“I’m not gonna let you die,” you spoke quietly.

Jean tilted her head, looking at the cockpit one more time before back at you, “you rewound. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t tried to pull away, and you could feel the rapid beat of her pulse through your grip on her arm. She knew. Somehow, she’d pieced it together—how you’d rewound, maybe even more than once.

“Yes,” you replied softly, your voice barely audible over the hum of the jet, “but this time—”

“This time won’t be any different,” Jean cut in, a trace of regret in her tone. “Some things… you can’t just rewind.”

You tightened your grip, not willing to let go. “I don’t believe that. I don’t believe it has to end like this.”

Her gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that you couldn’t bear. “You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re a team, Jean. You can power on the jet, and I can pause the water.”

She looked away, clearly weighing every word you said against her own grim resolve, then back at you with a look of resigned understanding. "You don’t understand, Y/N. This—" she gestured to the waters crashing around them, then down to her own chest, her hand resting over her heart—"what’s happening to me... it’s too much. It’s a flood I can’t hold back.”

You could feel her pulse, still wild beneath your hand, and the memory of her last words echoed in your mind. "You have to let me go, Y/N. You can’t keep holding on to something that’s already gone.”

But she wasn’t gone, not yet, and the desperation that rose inside you felt like a fight against fate itself. “Jean, I’ve seen things go wrong before.” The words slipped out, the ghost of a memory that you couldn’t quite catch. “But I can feel it this time… we don’t have to lose you. Just trust me.”

For a moment, Jean’s gaze softened, and her grip on her resolve wavered. “Y/N…” she started, and you caught a glimmer of something in her eyes—gratitude, or maybe even hope. Her hand rested lightly over yours, though you could feel her power humming beneath her skin. “Alright,” she whispered finally, her voice barely audible. “But if something goes wrong… if it’s too much…”

You cut her off, squeezing her hand tighter. “Then we find another way. But you don’t have to do this alone.”

With a quick nod from Jean, you focused your energy, feeling time ripple and bend beneath your skin. Jean closed her eyes, inhaling deeply as she took in the extra moments you’d gifted her, enough to gather her power without tearing herself apart in the process.

Outside the jet, the water slowed, hovering just a few inches away from the plane, frozen in time. Everyone held their breath, the hum of the jet's engines amplified in the stillness. Scott turned back to the controls, guiding the jet forward through the suspended water. “It’s working,” he murmured, almost to himself. "We’re moving.”

In the cockpit, you felt your pulse race as you held the time bubble steady, feeling the strain build in your bones. This level of control was more intense than anything you’d managed before, but you pushed yourself to hold on, the determination to keep Jean and everyone safe steeling your resolve.

The jet jolted slightly as it broke through the edge of the water and rose higher, out of immediate danger. But the strain was starting to build, the sheer amount of energy it took to hold everything at bay beginning to wear on you. Your hand slipped, and you nearly stumbled, but before you could lose your focus entirely, a strong hand caught your arm.

Logan was at your side, his face mere inches from yours, concern laced in his voice. “You good?” he asked, his grip grounding you.

“Yeah… just give me a sec.” You took a breath, focusing on the feel of his hand, the warmth in his touch that felt familiar in a way you couldn’t explain. With that small, grounding connection, you found the strength to hold the time bubble for a few seconds more.

When the jet was finally clear, you released the grip on time, and the rush of water resumed its course beneath them. You staggered slightly, feeling a rush of exhaustion course through you, but Logan’s arm was still steady around you, even as you fell to the ground, your eyes fluttering shut.

Logan’s grip tightened as you slumped back, your breath shuddering as exhaustion swept over you. His hand was warm, rough fingers gently brushing against your cheek, bringing you back just enough to the moment. Your back was draped over his knees, your pulse still racing as you struggled to catch your breath. The world was a muted blur, but his voice broke through, steady and low, anchoring you.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow circle on your cheek. “You’re alright. I got you.”

It was only his words, and the softness in them, that made you blink back the haze of exhaustion. As your vision cleared, you saw his face just inches from yours, an intensity in his gaze that seemed to search for something… something deeper than he was saying.

“Logan,” you whispered, not sure why his name slipped out so easily or why it felt so familiar, as if you’d said it before, in another life or another time. But the look he gave you held a weight you couldn’t name, a history you couldn’t remember.

“You with me?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper, but beneath it, there was something else, something almost pleading. He waited as you blinked up at him, your pulse slowly settling, tethered by his touch. “Y/N?”

“Yeah…” You tried to push yourself up, but the strain of holding time around the jet had left your muscles aching, feeling drained in a way you’d never experienced before. Logan’s grip on your shoulder tightened, steadying you, and for a moment, you let yourself lean into him, feeling his warmth.

His face softened, a flicker of relief crossing his expression, though he didn’t let go. “You pulled us out of that mess,” he said, his voice low, and for a second, something raw flickered in his eyes. “What were you thinking? Freezing the water like that—it could’ve knocked you out cold.”

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t just watch Jean go.” You inhaled deeply, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced toward the cockpit, where Jean’s quiet breathing filled the jet with a fragile peace. “I couldn’t let her do it alone.”

Logan gave a slow nod, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. You felt the intensity of his gaze, as if he was seeing something beyond what you could understand. There was a warmth to it, one that made your heart stutter, something deep and unexplainably familiar. He paused, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. “You’ve always been this way… haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, thrown by the hint of something personal, something he couldn’t quite put into words. He dropped his hand from your face, settling it on your shoulder, but you could still feel the warmth lingering where he’d touched you.

“Never mind.” He looked away, his expression unreadable. But his hand remained steady on your shoulder, grounding you as the jet finally stabilized, the engines humming to life. You could hear the others bustling around, but for this moment, it was just the two of you, a silent understanding hovering between you.

“Logan…?” you started, not sure what you wanted to say or why his presence felt so deeply familiar. He turned back, a question in his eyes, as if he were waiting for something. But the words wouldn’t come. How could you ask him about a feeling you didn’t understand? About a memory that didn’t exist?

Instead, you exhaled, letting the silence fill the space between you. “Thank you.”

He watched you, his gaze lingering on your face, as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say. But he only nodded, a soft look crossing his face, one that felt almost like longing.

“Anytime,” he murmured, his hand finally slipping away, leaving a chill in its place.

“Y/N, you good back there?” Ororo’s voice broke the spell, and you managed a nod, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Yeah. Just… catching my breath.” You gave her a small smile, forcing your muscles to relax, even as your heart was still pounding. Logan stood, his gaze lingering on you for a beat before he moved to check on the others. But before he left, he looked back at you, his eyes holding a silent promise, a feeling that maybe—just maybe—he was still there, still watching over you.

---

A storm crackled outside thanks to Ororo and everyone around the group was frozen in time courtesy of you.

“Good morning, Mr. President.” Charles said. The President looked over to the side where Kurt was crouched on a small table. He began to stand up slowly, “please, don’t be alarmed. We’re not going to harm anyone.”

“Who are you people?”

“We’re mutants. My name is Charles Xavier. Please, sit down.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Rogue.” Charles briefly glanced over at her, as she placed a large file onto the President’s desk. “These files were taken from the private offices of William Stryker.”

The President started to flip through the file, “how did you get this?”

“Well, let’s just say I know a little girl who can walk through walls.” Charles said, as the President looked over at Kurt who let out a quiet snicker. He finally sat back down.

“I’ve never seen this information.”

“I know.”

“Then you also know I don’t respond well to threats.”

“Mr. President, this is not a threat, this is an opportunity. There are forces in this world, both mutant and human alike, who believe that a war is coming. You’ll see from those files that some have already tried to start one. And there have been casualties. Losses on both sides. Mr. President, what you are about to tell the world is true. This is a moment. A moment to repeat the mistakes of the past, or to work together for a better future. We’re here to stay, Mr. President. The next move is yours.”

“We’ll be watching,” Logan said.

logan is around 171 years old (but at this point in the story, he doesn't really know how old he is so it's kinda irrelevant now) and reader is around 26 years old

[xetlynn]

hii i have a little request for ekko like omg i love him so bad

so imagine winter times come around and you an ekko are in your shared room (the firelights bases ofc)

and he sees you shivering under your cover so he comes over and just cuddles all up under you

thennn a few words and giggles are shared and thingss get a little heated between yall and ykyk 🤗

I hope you wanted smut. That’s what I made.

Arcane Imagines- Ekko

Still Cold

⚠️WARNING🔞: SMUTTTT

[arcane] [main page]

Prompt: it’s cold, you need to be warmed up. (Established relationship)

Contains: hand job, oral m! Receiving. Afab. Whimpering, whiny sub Ekko:(

You shiver, wearing a few layers of clothes along with tons of blankets. Your nose practically freezing off since you feel claustrophobic if you put my face under the covers. You hear the door open to you and your boyfriend’s shared room. Steps coming towards me. “You cold or something?” He asks, You just scoff in response like it wasn't obvious.

He snickers, throwing the blankets off of you causing you to whine. “Oh shush, c’mere you big baby.” He climbs into bed, pulling your body on top of his.

”You’re warm.” You mumble, clinging onto him. “I’m so cold.” You complain, he puts the covers back over the both of you. 

“I know a way to make us even warmer.” He wiggles his eyebrows and you shove his face away from your neck before he got the chance to pounce on it with his lips. He got hard before he even got into the bed. “I’m too cold to think about that.” You huff, adjusting yourself on him so you were more comfortable. 

It didn’t help Ekko’s situation though. He needed you badly and you put yourself right over his crotch. He tensed up but nonetheless stayed quiet, rubbing your back to get you warmer. “My body aches from how cold it is.” You wiggle over top of him. Ekko lets out a low, almost inaudible grunt. “Stop moving so much.” He grabs your hips to keep you in place. “Sorry, sorry.” 

A few moments go by and you begin to understand why he told you to stop moving. You feel something poking against your core. Your lips lined into a smirk, deciding to mess with him. “Ekko, massage me again.” You look at him with a pout. His eyes met yours, he seemed extremely nervous. He never wanted to push anything on you, so when you said you were too cold to think about it he stopped and he tried to take the thought out of his brain. 

“Um, alright.” His hands move on your back again, you let out a soft moan, humming into his chest. The vibration only worsening his perverted thoughts. Your digits find his hips, going up and down his body in slow motions. He wanted to stop and shove you off of him. 

You were so soft, such a comforting body he just wanted to explore every part of you. Keep you warm and safe. His member twitches and you chuckle. His face flushes. 

“He sure has a lot to say.” You tease him, not looking at him as your hand goes underneath you, trailing all the way down to the place he needed you most. He lets out a gasp. 

Your smaller hand palms him through his sweatpants. “Pretty girl, please.” He whimpers, he pulls his arms up to his head, watching your focused expression. “You wanted to keep me warm, right?” A smug smile tugging upwards, “my hands are pretty cold.” You go to his ear, kissing it softly as the hand that was once palming him went to the waistline of his pants. “Gonna treat you so well.” You lay your head back down on his chest, moving your body slightly off of him so you could get a better view of your actions. 

Ekko watches as his girlfriend extracts his dick from his clothing agonizingly slow. Spitting on your hand before smearing it on his tip, mixed with his precum. “So cute.” You compliment. 

“Cute?” He huffs, your thumb rubs it over the sensitive mushroom top. “Mhm.” 

He bucks his hips up, desperate for you to touch him more. You take your hand away to shove his hips back down. “Be patient.” You sit up with the blankets over your shoulders. You spread his legs apart enough so you could sit in between them. You yank his pants off half-way, keeping them at his thighs. 

His orbs grow darker by the sight of you on your knees before him. Even though you're clothed up you are the only one to affect him this way.  

“What do you want?” You ask, your fingers dancing around his skin. “Take your shirt off. Please.” He mewls in a soft tone. “Then I’ll be cold.” Your bottom lip puckers out as you give him puppy-dog eyes. “I need to see them, they’re so beautiful.” He begs, his hand going down to his dick, using your spit to pump up and down. “If that’s what my boyfriend wants. I guess I can make some sacrifices.” You take off your sweater along with the tank top that was underneath. Flaunting your breasts. 

“Stop touching yourself.” You prod aside his wrist replacing it back with your palm once again. Stroking his cock while leaning over to pronounce your boobs out. “I was supposed to b-e warming- shit- warming you up.” He stammers, grabbing at your left tit, massaging it gently. “This is warming me up.” You giggle, laying a kiss on the cockhead. He squeezes his eyes shut as your tongue kitten licks him. 

Your hand is still kneading at the base. “I- ohmygooodd.” He groans. “Use your mouth.” He runs a hand on top of your hair, grasping at it. “Not very good manners.” You glance up at him. He holds a breath. “Please use your mouth pretty girl. Please.” He whines like a dog, rutting his hips up only to be knocked back down. “Patience, Ekko.” Your voice was soft but stern.

You’ve never acted like this before, it was new to him. He was normally in control. “Fuck, okay, okay.” He throws his arm over his eyes. You snigger, sticking your tongue out. You smack his cock on it repeatedly until popping it between your lips. Hollowing out your cheeks, sucking on his tip. 

You lower your head until your nose hits his pelvic region. His happy trail tickles you ever so slightly. You go back up then continue at a leisurely state. Frustrating him ridiculously. “[Name] please stop messing with me. I need more.” He tugs at your hair. “Mmmmhmmm?” Your noises pleasuring him. “I’m going to fuck your throat if you don’t do something.” He tells you through gritted teeth. 

The thought of him facefucking you aroused you. You felt the wetness in between your thighs even through all your clothes. You move your heel underneath your cunt. Pressing your butt down to feel the friction as you bob your head up and down on your boyfriend's thick cock. 

Now being more mindful of his needs. The slurping sounds with a mix of occasional gags. You hold onto the top of his thighs as you get faster. Ekko’s toes curling from your skills. He felt like he was about to cum at any moment. His abs tightening, flexing just for you. 

“[Name], pretty girl. I- oh fuckfuckfuck… I’m close.” Once again his pelvis went up. You weren’t expecting it causing your upper torso to contract as you gag. You lift up, his dick falling against his stomach. The saliva and pre-cum dribbling down your chin. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. I promise.” He implores, his hands wandering on your chest down to your stomach. 

“Fuck my throat.” You vocalise, sounding raspy. “A-are you sure? You don’t have to do it because I mentioned it.” He double checks and you smile, pulling forward by his shirt kissing him. Your spit and his own liquid smudges across his mouth. 

You drop him back down on the pillows. He plants his feet down on the bed, lifting himself up a tiny bit and you put your mouth back on his dick. “You ready?” He bites his lip, your eyes look up at him. Your cheeks rise, making you seem like you’re squinting to show that you’re smiling. You give him a thumbs up. Both of his hands go to your head. 

He thrusts up into your muzzle, starting off tender you wink at him then his hips begin to accelerate. You hold onto his legs for support. His hands pushing you down as far as you can take him. 

“I’m going to cum! Fu-uuuuck!” He keeps the quick pace. Your pussy spasms at his moans and whimpers he made. “I love you so much, pretty girl. So so so much.” He breathes heavily. “Gonna let me spill into your throat? Swallow it like a good, beautiful girl that you are?” He questions you and you hum out. Slightly nodding your head. “Fuck, that’s my girl.” 

His cock convulses, his tip bruising your uvula. “Ohhh, love you, love you , love…” His voice gets cut off as he cums, his mouth hanging open with no noise coming out. His seed spurting down your throat as your nose pressed against his skin. He restrains you in place until his balls are completely empty. He roughly drops down and you swallow everything before coughing to catch your breath. 

His dick lays limp and his face looks fucked out. “Hope you know I’m not done with you.” You smirk, grabbing his soft cock and he whines, attempting to push you away. “Too sensitive, pretty girl.” He complains. “Mmm I’m still cold though.” 

He tiredly rubs his face realizing how long of a night he was about to have.

[revelboo]

REVELLLLLL DROP ANOTHER SCAVENGERS CHAPTER AND MY LIFE IS YOURSSS !!!!

Disaster squad!

Lifeless Ordinary Pt 5

Scavengers x Reader

• Shifting slightly to keep an optic on Misfire and Crankcase as the two try to get behind Swindle at the bins of human things, despite Krok warning them to not steal anything. They have to realize they need this crook to get them food for you. And if they get caught, Swindle’s likely to refuse to sell them anything else. “I mean, you gotta understand with the way humans multiply, they’re everywhere. Hundreds of different languages going. How was I to know which one your pet speaks?” Swindle flashes his denta, but it’s his newest acquisition that Krok’s attention keeps sliding to. Another human sitting in the middle of a bin of cloth coverings, folding the items one by one and sorting them into stacks. Ignoring the rest of them.

• Used car salesman aura robot is back and talking with your guys. Even not understanding a word the guy is saying, you’re almost positive he’s lying through his denta as he talks to Clicky. Over the weeks of being stuck as a pet, you’d started making up names for them all. Clicky, Goggles, Wings, Broken, and Big. Not exactly creative, but naming them makes you feel better. Makes them people instead of just scary, giant robots that want who knows what from you. You’re so busy watching the fast talker, that you almost miss the other human. Almost.

• Adjusting you against his chassis, Fulcrum watches you try to signal the other human, waving an arm until they look up and chattering at them. Sagging some when they reply, shaking their little head and gesturing at Swindle. You can’t understand the other human, he realizes. So the crook isn’t lying and he winces when you slump against him, sullen now. Still muttering nonsense. “You have their language?” Krok asks, beginning to click that thing he carries around and the sound makes Swindle grimace.

• Slumping against Goggles you have the absurd urge to cry, because there’s another human right there. And they can’t understand you. Apparently the universe is having fun jerking you about. Just one thing. Can just one single thing go your way?

• “I know that language,” Swindle grumbles glancing at you in Fulcrum’s hands and tearing his optics away when Spinister grumbles softly and rests a big hand on Fulcrum’s shoulder. Staying close to his tiny pet, but letting someone else carry you so he can get to his weapons if need be. It’d be easier just to shoot the mech in the face and take everything. He’d explained that to Misfire, but the seeker had just shook his head at him like he was being the unreasonable one. These things are all things you’d need, right? So why not take them. How’s that short sighted? Relaxing some when Swindle hands the data file over to Krok and he calls for Crankcase to try it. Because if this one doesn’t work, he’s shooting the other mech no matter what Misfire says.

• “Why is it always me? Why not test things on Spinister? Or Fulcrum.” Swearing at them all, he lets Spinister install the language chip. “You’re all awful,” he mutters and you sit up straight in Fulcrum’s hands and lean so far out, the other mech pins you tighter to his chassis in surprise. Staring right at him with wide eyes.

• “I understand you!” You’re so giddy, you almost pitch out of Goggles’s hands. Because that wasn’t weird alien noise coming from Broken. He’d spoken and you’d understood him and you’re about to start bawling you’re so happy. Finally. You can go home.

Previous

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

I apologize in advance for the person this fic turned me into 😮‍💨😍😩

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

THE SEXUAL TENSION IS PALPABLE and Bucky is so charming 🤭

Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

I-

God damn he is just yummy and so protective 🥹🥵

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused

“What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,”

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you.

This made me feel bubbly and warm 🤭 I would be constantly blushing next to that man

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response.

In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck.

👁️👄👁️ I want this energy I need it, I love the way you write

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

JUST WHEN THINGS CAN'T GET ANY HOTTER WE GET THIS FLUFFY MOMENT I LOVE IT😭

He is so needy and precious and he knows what he wants and I love it I love it I love it

Lines Crossed

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warning(s): 18+ mdni / drinking / jealousy / forced proximity / smut / female reader / drunk jerk (stranger) / tension / will they won't they oh they will 🫣❤️‍🔥 / sex w/protection / pet names / sprinkles of possessive + protective Bucky so be prepared / there's a build-up so enjoy ❣️

Prompt: oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

a/n: Please be kind this is my first time writing something like this. 🥺🩶 I decided to challenge myself and join @mercurial-chuckles‘ smutty September fest. A tad late on the deadline because Hurricane Helene decided to take the power out. 😭 This is a standalone fic, but you can most definitely read it (and is intended to be) as a continuation of the events of A Night of Frights & Delights. Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ❤️❤️

part one backstory // divider // ambiance 🤍

You step into the foyer of the Stark Manor, a grand staircase greets you, its golden railing glowing underneath an ornate chandelier. Various guests mingle around the manor, the buzz of conversation accompanying the music that pulses throughout. Everything about the sight in front of you screams old wealth and elegance. 

Your eyes scan the luxurious home with an expression of awe. Despite being invited before, you had never come to one of Tony’s parties. Choosing the comfort of your bed and your favorite show instead. However, this time knowing a certain captain of the baseball team would be here—and your history with him—well you just had to come. 

As you take it all in, your gaze locks on a pair of beautiful blues. The very same ones you were thinking of all day. And by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was awaiting your arrival just as much as you had been waiting to see him. 

There was no denying he most certainly had been. 

Bucky had arrived about half an hour earlier with some of his teammates. His impatience grew by the second at your absence. He was dying to see what you wore for the party. You denied him any sneak peeks, which only fueled his excitement. He tried distracting himself by greeting anyone he could and making conversation, but he continuously gravitated to the foyer, waiting for the moment you stepped in through those doors. 

When you finally did, Bucky knew with the utmost certainty that the wait was worth it. When his eyes met yours you knocked the air straight out of his lungs with the black dress you were wearing. The satin dawning your body accentuated your silhouette perfectly—and the high slit at your right leg showed off the right amount of skin. The way you did your hair and your makeup complimented you perfectly, and Bucky was losing his goddamn mind because of it.  

Sincerely, he was close to whisking you away and keeping you all to himself. 

You looked nothing short of beyond stunning. Bucky had been holding back for months, staying within the lines you drew that night in the tent, and honestly, he deserved a medal for that. It’s the hardest thing he's ever done. What he felt for you couldn’t measure up to anything else in his life. Never had he felt so over the moon in his feelings for anyone. Yet, you brought on those sentiments by just being you. He was sure if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he was damn near close to it. 

And right now, seeing you in that dress, his mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Places that only belonged to him and his bed on those nights you left him wanting more. Thoughts and scenarios where the night ends with him tearing that dress right off you and showing you just how serious he is about wanting you. 

He’s not so sure he can be on his best behavior tonight. 

Bucky discards the drink he had been holding and saunters over to you. Your heart races in your chest when you see the way his blues darken when he rakes his eyes over your form—shamelessly drinking you up. You take in his figure as well, the all-black suit giving him an aura of class and sophistication that was stirring something dangerous within you. 

Bucky cleaned up good, real good.

He stops a mere foot away from you, his eyes twinkling with intentions both of you long for. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until his voice broke you out of your trance. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave my side tonight, not in that dress,” Bucky’s voice is deeper than usual, contrasting the charming grin on his face. You roll your eyes playfully, “I don’t need a babysitter, Bucky,” you reply amused at the thought. Having Bucky by your side all night would definitely lead to you two enjoying each other’s company in other ways. 

Not that you would object if it did. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more as a light chuckle escapes him. “Maybe not you sweetheart, but I might. Someone’s going to have to keep me in check tonight. I already have a hard enough time keeping my hands off of you and now you walk in looking like a masterpiece and I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, almost as if to stop himself from saying too much. 

“Something tells me you’re going to lay it on thick tonight, aren't you?” You tease him, all the while your body thrums with the way he compliments you. Bucky always knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the only girl in the room. An effortless gift he had only when it came to you.

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

The spell you two were under was suddenly broken by Darcy, who rushed over to where you were standing and linked your arm with hers. “Sorry! I’m going to steal her away for a bit there Bucky!” She says unapologetically as she tears you away from the man who looks like he could have devoured you if your friend hadn't interrupted. Your protests fall on deaf ears so you're left waving a small—but not definite—farewell to Bucky. 

It seemed Bucky’s friends had been waiting for the right moment to steal him away too. As soon as you were in another room Sam and Steve went up to Bucky and dragged him to whatever antics the baseball team was up to. His disappointment matches yours, but if there was one thing he had proven all these months was that he had a lot of patience. He knew you two would end up crossing each other’s paths more than once tonight. It was only a matter of time. 

“You forgot you promised to stick by my side tonight. My ex is here, I need the support,” Darcy reminds you with a slight pout. She looks like a ball of fire with the way she pulls you through the crowd in her crimson dress. Her eyes dart to every guest looking to avoid her ex at all costs.

“I didn’t forget. I was just saying hi to a friend,” you explain emitting a snort from Darcy, “A friend? If he’s just a friend than I’m the Queen of England.” You roll your eyes, a small huff of a laugh leaving your lips. Darcy wasn’t wrong. You and Bucky weren’t just friends, but you also weren’t anything more—and that was by your account. 

You and Bucky have fallen into a grey area of what you are to each other. At first, after the camping trip, you tried avoiding him. Not because what happened upset you—but because you couldn’t trust yourself around him after that. Making out with him in that tent made you realize that what you thought had been an annoyance towards Bucky was actually the beginning of a deep-rooted crush. One that bubbled to the surface after that night. 

Avoiding him altogether was an impossible task when he lived in the other apartment in the duplex you rented. Especially after he insisted on giving you rides back and forth from campus with the excuse that now that you two were friends it's only natural for him to be more friendly. By his definition, it also included things like buying you food on days he knows you’ve been too busy to get something for yourself, walking you to your classes whenever he has the chance, and going with you to art exhibitions to dabble in your passion with you. 

Oh, and it also included kissing you mercilessly during tutoring sessions. 

Around the time that fall semester began, Bucky asked you if you could tutor him on a few subjects. He hadn’t done the greatest academically last semester and he wanted to keep his grades up before baseball season started. You were hesitant at first, but ultimately gave in when you realized how sincere he was about needing the help. 

Tutoring Bucky meant spending lots of time with him after classes. The sessions were innocent at first, but after the first time kissing on your bed, Bucky made it a tradition to have his lips on yours, and his hands wandering your body at every session. He even stopped hosting parties at his place, preferring being in your room and getting drunk on the taste of you. 

Bucky was too infatuated by you to ever want to do anything else. Studying was an afterthought whenever you were around, and yet he was doing better than he ever had before in all his classes. Being someone you could be proud of was honestly the best motivation he could ask for. 

Deep down you knew you were falling for him. There was a bit of apprehension on your part as you hadn’t known Bucky to ever have a girlfriend. From what you can remember, ever since you’ve known him, he was the kind of guy who preferred flirting and casual encounters. And there was no guarantee you would be the one to break that. So to keep yourself safe you drew those lines—built those walls up high to guard your heart. Bucky respected those lines and never crossed them. No matter how badly he wanted to. 

Some days, like today, made you want to say screw the lines and just give in to what you desired most. However, when that desire included lowering those walls you put in place, you weren’t brave enough to risk it—so you didn’t. Instead, you and Bucky danced around those lines until it drove you both mad. 

Your thoughts follow you for the next hour as you stay by Darcy’s side. Bucky has this natural way of consuming your mind lately—and your sketchbook. You wish you had it with you right now because when your feelings decide to overflow you channel that intensity onto the paper. For months, every page had been filled with graphite drawings of Bucky. His smile, his eyes, his determined expression when studying, his confident stance during baseball games, and everything else that sparked the creative fire in you. You found a lot of solace in drawing him. 

Bucky was undoubtedly your favorite muse. 

You're so lost in your thoughts you don’t register you’re in the kitchen of the manor until the guests around you cheer. It seems Darcy and Thor have fallen into a friendly competition of sorts to see who could down more shots than the other in one minute. A group of spectators and friends have gathered in the kitchen to watch the showdown go down. Your eyes dart to Jane who only gives you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She is not looking forward to having to drive those two home later.

Contrary to your friends, you weren’t drinking much tonight. Bucky’s lingering presence at the party was all your senses needed to feel like you were in a daze. For appearances, however, you decide to grab one of the red solo cups to blend in with the rest of those around you. 

“Hey, Y/n! Enjoying the party?” A male’s voice comes from your right and when you turn to see who it is a friendly smile appears on your face. It was Ian Boothby, a fellow art major at your university. You’ve had him in enough of your classes to consider him a friend. 

“Hey, Ian. Yeah, I’m having a good time. Are you?” Your question is a catalyst for a much longer chat with Ian. The two of you fall into light conversation about the semester, art, and other relevant topics. It's a nice breath of fresh air compared to the thoughts that had been consuming you tonight. Especially when he tells you the story of one of his painting mishaps causing you to laugh along with him.

Soon after, a hand snakes its way around your waist, and when you smell that familiar woody muskiness you know exactly who it is. 

“Having fun without me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks, his lips forming a smirk. You face him and the look in his eyes stills you. 

Bucky does not look pleased. 

“Bucky, hey man. How’s baseball prep?” Ian beats you to it by addressing Bucky first. Bucky's eyes flick between you and Ian before he presses you into his side by the hold on your waist. This does not go unnoticed by Ian.

“Boothby, it's going good. How’s the cross-country season treating you?” Bucky asks, his tone giving away how uninterested he is in continuing this conversation. If Ian picks up on the animosity he doesn’t show it as he goes on and on about the sport. Bucky’s impatience grows the more he speaks and his hold on you gets a little more firm. When Bucky’s expression finally gives way to how he genuinely feels Ian finds a way to excuse himself and exit the conversation.

A beat passes before you finally speak, “Ian’s my friend. You didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you say with slight annoyance. Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“Oh? And how was he looking at me?” 

“Like in the way only I should be.” 

The possessiveness in his voice catches you off guard. The air electrifying around you both at his words. You weren’t going to drink, but you suddenly felt the need to. You take a sip of the substance in your cup, the bitter liquid doing little to ground you. Bucky can tell how he’s affecting you and joins you with his drink. His eyes never leave yours as he gulps some of it down. 

You have to stop yourself from inhaling the entire thing in one go. 

“Ian’s harmless. He’s just comfortable with me because he’s an art major too. I’ve had a lot of classes with him,” you do your best to continue the conversation and ignore the way your body heats up when Bucky gives your hip a possessive squeeze. Massaging the area afterward in gentle strokes.

“You do a lot of bonding over paint?” Bucky’s response is slightly mocking, licking his lips to catch a drop of alcohol that wanted to escape. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he relishes the way you're looking at him now. Your gaze trained on his lips. When you realize he’s noticed, the heat from your body goes straight to your face.

You wouldn’t let him have the upper hand though. Never. 

“Well, when you have to sketch someone’s naked body you obviously become friendly,” your reply causes Bucky to choke on his drink, the hand at your hip falling as he uses it to grab a few napkins from the granite counter behind him to wipe at the mess he made. You hide a wicked grin behind the rim of your cup. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Excuse me? What does that mean?” He knows what you mean, but he’s giving you a chance to tell him you're joking. He’s not hiding the jealousy that crawls up his spine at your revelation. 

“It means Ian’s a nude model for some of my classes. He may not look like it but underneath those layers, he’s got the most gorgeous—” Bucky cuts you off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you into him. There’s been plenty of times you’ve shut him up with your mouth and it was his turn to return the favor. Because hearing you talk about the naked body of another man gets under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to.  He wasn’t going to just stand there and hear another word of it. 

The kiss catches you by surprise, but soon your drink is discarded in favor of pulling him closer by his blazer. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks, since it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed in front of others. Your craving for him was far too loud to ignore anymore. Your lips stay locked until your lungs burn begging for air.

Bucky pulls away with a smug smile, his voice an octave lower as he moves to whisper in your ear, “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I know you love getting a rise out of me, but just so we’re clear—next time you want to mess with me like that—I’ll make sure you can’t even stand after I’m through with you,” his declaration causes a shiver to make its way up your spine. 

You swallow hard, your mouth opening to say something, but no sound comes out. Bucky lets out a rough chuckle, ghosting his lips against your cheek before pulling away to stare at how speechless he’s left you. He’s blatantly savoring every second of it. 

You want to say something—anything. Something witty or playful, but the thought of him making good on his promise—the image it conjures in your mind—keeps you silent.

“Buck! You’re needed at beer pong! Tony’s team is winning and the bet is up to five hundred,” Steve rushes into the kitchen, breaking through the bubble you two were in. His eyes dart between you and Bucky with a knowing look. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of you two. 

You start to register there’s still an extravagant party happening around you.  

Bucky sighs with slight irritation as he once again gets his moment with you interrupted. He reluctantly tears his attention away from you to call back to Steve, “I’ll be right there!” Steve nods in approval before going back the way he came. 

Now’s your chance to say something, but Bucky pulls away from your body before you can. A coldness replacing where his touch used to be. “Hold that thought, baby. Looks like my team needs their star player,” he winks at you before placing a tender kiss on your forehead, “you keep thinking about what I said while I’m gone,” he says in a gruff whisper, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip in a barely there touch. 

He knows he needs to leave before he takes this somewhere you can’t go back from. 

Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to say anything as he makes a smooth exit. Heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the beer pong game. Your body prickling with an ever growing sexual frustration. You were embarrassingly close to snatching Bucky away and giving in to all your desires in one of the many rooms of the manor. 

“You two need to get a room,” Jane seems to read your mind as she teases you. Appearing from behind you once Bucky was no longer in sight. You can’t deny her words, letting out a small huff, “I don’t know what good that would do. I’ve been clear about not wanting to take things further.” You explain to her, not sure if you could go back on your words for the sake of giving in to what you want now. Jane has had this conversation with you a few times before, and it appears she's hit her limit today. 

 “That man is absolutely head over heels for you. How can you not see that?” Jane shakes her head at you, wondering how she can make you realize what you already know yet deny. There's a vulnerability that overcomes you when you reply, “It’s not that I don’t see it. I just—I’ve never seen him be serious about anyone. The only thing he’s ever serious about is baseball.” Jane looks like she’s about to do something drastic at your denial. 

“Y/n, Bucky is serious about you. He’s literally all about you—he’s chosen you over baseball many times. I’m not around him like you are and even I can see it clear as day. Do you know Thor and like half of the baseball team thinks you two are secretly dating? Stop denying what you know deep down is true and just give in—be happy,” Jane tells it like it is, her tone leaving no room for argument or denial. 

For so long Bucky has shown you another side of him—one not many get to see. He’s given you priority and importance when he didn’t have to. Care and consideration when you needed it most. A shoulder to lean on and a steady support to rely on. Time and time again Bucky has demonstrated how much you mean to him.

Perhaps, you both have been something more to each other for a long time and Bucky’s kept his wishes at bay to make sure things developed at your pace. 

When it finally hits you, you almost feel exposed by how skillfully Jane can read you. At how easily she can see the situation for what it is and not for what your worries twisted it to be. If Bucky had made it clear to you how he felt, what was stopping you from taking things further than they had been before?

At this point, nothing, nothing was stopping you but yourself.

This realization follows you to the dance floor. A very drunk Darcy had pulled you to it along with Jane, babbling tipsily after losing the drinking competition to Thor. You had never seen a living room with such high ceilings before or enough room to host a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. The living space had been stripped of its furniture and supplied with top-notch equipment to make it resemble the inside of a club. 

At least in the near darkness, it resembled one.

You’re in a huddle of your closest friends, all of them letting the music guide their movements to their heart’s content. You sway absentmindedly, so you're not merely standing there awkwardly. The kaleidoscope of party lights strobe and kiss your skin with an array of colors as the music thumps around your body. 

A loud cheer catches your attention, the source of the sound coming from a table on the far left end of the room. Tony and his friends were boisterous as they made a shot against their opponent's team in beer pong—Bucky’s team. You had a clear view of it all from where you stood. 

Bucky’s team seems to be taking turns on who drinks every time Tony’s team makes a shot. They look amongst themselves until Bucky steps up and chugs the liquid in the red solo cup. It's like he can feel the shift in the air because as soon as the cup is away from his lips his eyes scan the space and find you, and suddenly it's like you two are the only two people in the room. 

You want him—all of him. You enjoy the teases, the banter, the back and forth, but you know you’d enjoy calling him yours more. 

The music picks up in tempo as your boldness grows. Keeping your eyes trained on him, your hips begin to sway provocatively, tempting him to say screw the game and make his way towards you instead. Bucky’s not even paying attention to the game anymore his eyes soaking up your every move as it fans the flames of desire between you. The atmosphere around you buzzes as the ground shakes due to the sea of dancing bodies, and yet nothing thrums within you more than your need for Bucky. 

The little show you’re putting on for him continues as you roll and wave your body in ways that seduce him. Ghosting your hand along the curves and dips of your figure showing him exactly where you’d like his hands to be. Bucky’s mind is reeling with everything he wants to do to you and none of it involves the dance floor and all of it involves you and him in some private corner of the manor where he can show you exactly what his hands are capable of. 

You are making it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on anything else. 

Slowly and with shady intentions a group of drunk guys circle the huddle of you and your friends like vultures. Finding their way to snake themselves into any corner or crevice they can fit into. Their bodies bumping and grazing against yours. There’s one guy in particular that has his sights set on you. Getting closer to you on the dancefloor and creeping his hands along your waist. You swat his hands away, but he doesn’t disperse immediately. The alcohol on his breath fanning your face causing you to gag. The more you dismiss him the more adamant he was about keeping you close to him. 

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused.

Bucky glares at the drunk guy, his gaze cold and unapologetic, “Alright, that's enough.” The drunk guy sneers, his words slurred, “What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,” Bucky’s reply is sharp and menacing. He directs it to all the men that had swarmed you and your friends. 

Shifting you so you stand at his side, Bucky steps forward to let the guys know he’s not messing around. Your hold goes to his right arm where you’re watching the exchange unfold anxiously. You hope things don’t escalate, not wanting Bucky to get into a scuffle. You know he can handle himself, but the idea of him getting hurt in any way caused your heart to ache. 

The guys size Bucky up and it seems some of them think they can take him on. Until the strobing lights illuminate Bucky’s darkened gaze enough that in their drunk haze, they finally recognize him as captain of the baseball team. That means that fighting Bucky meant taking on the entirety of the team. And with the way Sam and Steve were looking over to see if they needed to step in, and Thor was already storming over—they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

It was comical the way the drunk men scramble to get away as fast as they could. Muttering incoherences and apologies under their breath. They don’t get far as Tony’s hired security for the night promptly kicks them out. 

Thor comes up to check on everyone, giving special attention to Jane who keeps assuring him she’s fine. You turn to Bucky, who’s already inspecting you to make sure you are alright, “Bucky I—” You almost tell him not to worry, that you had things under control, but in reality, you’re glad Bucky stepped in. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, Bucky’s tense demeanor softens at your words. He moves to get a better hold on you, his grip at your waist protective teetering on possessive. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. I got you—always,” Bucky’s genuine response makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken. Your senses are awakened by his proximity, completely enamored with the way he looks at you. 

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you. There’s a sparkle in your eyes as you stare at him, Bucky’s heart racing at the sight of it.

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response. Bucky has never felt more elated knowing that maybe finally you two can go to places he’s only dreamed of. 

“Yours?” You question him playfully, which causes him to chuckle, the sound a low rumble, “You and I both know you are, sweetheart. I told you I had all the time in the world to make you fall for me—and I meant it,” he smiles, an intense fire in his eyes that only accumulates when you respond, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Bucky.”

He wastes no second to connect your lips, kissing you with a loving purpose. His lips have a slightly bitter taste to them from the beer that still lingered there. And yet, the bitterness disappears when one kiss turns into two and then three. His arms encircling you to pull you into his chest, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

Bucky pulls away to ghost his lips against your jaw until his lips brush against your ear, “Those little moves you were doing for me earlier, do them again,” his husky tone sends a shiver down your spine as he tugs you in to dance with him. Your bodies mold to one another, hips swaying in rhythm with the vigorous music. The beat allows you to gyrate and grind in ways that drive him to the edge of his control. 

His hand rests on the small of your back, holding you close, fingers splayed out as if making a silent claim. You can feel the way his gaze burns into you, the air getting hotter making it harder to breathe. Your hands trail up and down his arms as need be. The rest of the party fades away leaving you two alone in this space of this charged energy. Every lingering touch and longing glance is layered with unspoken urges that would soon intensify to the brink of madness. 

“You have no idea what you do to me do you?” 

“I do. I’m not immune to what’s going on between us, Bucky.”

Your body, your voice, the way you plead with your eyes for him to take this further—it causes a stirring within his pants—the fabric getting tighter the longer the dance goes on. He needs to get you away, to get you alone. Bucky needs to satiate this hunger for you that threatens to consume him or he is going to end up doing something Rated R on this dance floor. 

The throbbing between your legs agrees. 

An idea pops into Bucky’s mind when he glances at his group of friends. He increases the volume of his voice so you can hear him over the music, “The baseball team was going to host a game of hide and seek. Should we play?” Playful mischief glimmers in his eyes as he asks you. 

“Hide and seek? Seriously?” You raise a brow, wondering how that was going to work in a mansion full of a million rooms.

“Yeah, come on. It'll be fun,” Bucky draws you away from the dance floor and over to where his friends are mingling and taking a few shots. Steve sees Bucky approach and they have a quick whispered exchange. Your eyes dart between them, curious as to what they're discussing.

“Seems like we’re getting a head start,” he comments to you as he leads you away from the main party and down a few intricate hallways. His hold on your hand is firm, yet careful—almost as if he’s afraid you’ll get lost in one of the many corners of the manor. The thrum of the music fades the further you slip away from the party. Your pulse spikes, both from the adrenaline of the game and the heat that still simmers between you.

Bucky has been to Tony’s parties plenty of times before, so he knows the layout of the manor pretty well. The clicking of your heels along the marble floors echoes at the pace of the beating of his heart. He tries to focus on the expensive artwork that lines the halls instead of the way your hand perfectly fits in his. The artwork is what’s guiding his path through the manor and you are the best distraction he could ask for. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice echoes down the endless hallway. 

“Somewhere no one will find us,” he winks at you, your heart skipping a beat at his words, his pace steady and purposeful as he turns one more corner and slips you two inside a room. You're encased in darkness, blindly feeling for a light switch until Bucky uses the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the space. You faintly make out your surroundings. You seem to be in one of the many guest rooms of the manor. The attention to detail in the room was no short of the attention paid to the rest of the place.

You knew Tony’s family had money, but seeing how they splurged for a mere guest room, meant his family was beyond loaded. 

Bucky whispered something to you, but you didn’t catch it as he took you by the hand and ushered you into the room’s closet, clicking it shut behind him. He reaches up to turn on the small lightbulb to cascade the enclosed space in a soft glow, turning off the flashlight on his phone and putting it in his pants pocket. The tension is now thicker and more palpable in the small space, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

If you had a dollar for every time you and Bucky ended up in a tight space together, you would have exactly two dollars. While maybe strange, it somehow seemed fitting for you two. 

Bucky steps closer to you, your bodies inches apart, the dim light doing nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes, “Now that I’ve got you here—I think I did a good job with the hiding spot, don't you?” His heated whisper brings your breath to a hitch. 

You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, “I don’t know…We had a whole mansion to hide in, and you chose a closet?” You can’t help but tease him, trying to lighten the unbearable tension. 

“Would you rather go hide in the library? The wine cellar? The arcade?” His voice is dripping with mirth taking another step closer to you. He knows what you're doing, but he’s not going to let the tension die down—not this time.  

“The arcade sounds fun,” you quip, leaning back against the wall. 

“Hm, maybe, but I prefer the closet. It’s a lot more private and it has its…advantages,” he reaches out to pull your hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss across your knuckles. You go to use that hand to lightly push at his chest, but he catches it in time and intertwines your fingers instead. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. 

“Maybe the closet isn’t so bad, but these heels…Worst decision I made tonight,” you shift slightly, not meaning to change the subject, but your heels are torturing you. In the quiet of the closet the pain begins to creep up on you, begging to be acknowledged. After hours of walking on them, dancing, and standing overall—your feet were killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand upright while hiding. 

“Are they hurting you?” 

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Lets get them off then,” Bucky slides his hand underneath your right thigh, eyes locked on yours, as he hikes it up against the outside of his leg. Your hips brush up against his front, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. He watches your every reaction as he slides his hand down the underside of your leg until he reaches the strap of your heel. He’s able to undo it effortlessly, relieving you of the discomfort, his fingers grazing your ankle as he slides your right heel off. His every touch leaves heat in its wake. 

“Bucky you really don't have to—” he cuts you off with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, switching his hold from your right leg to your left one, “I want to, sweetheart. Just let me help, ” he removes the other heel with the same tantalizing tenderness he used for the first one. Putting them to the side where they won’t get in the way.

The relief you feel is immediate.

“Better?” 

“Much.” 

“Good.” 

A moment passes before he speaks, his voice quiet with an underlying devotion, “You don’t get the hold you have on me, do you?’’ His right hand dances along the outside of your thigh while his left plays with the strap of your dress, twirling it between his fingers. The hand at your thigh traces patterns onto it. Trailing intricate swirls across the flesh, along your hips, ascending to your waist, and all the way up to the space between your breasts. The touch lingers there when you let out a soft sigh. 

You honestly forget how to breathe. 

“Say the word and I’m all yours, Y/n,” his voice is rough as his lips ghost against yours—seductively grazing against them. Going so far as licking his lips with an invigorating grin to really drive you crazy.

Bucky is waiting for you to make the deciding move. When you realize this, you throw all caution to the wind, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. You waste no time in granting him access to deepen it. Bucky follows your lead ardently. His hands snake down your body to cup your ass and pull you impossibly close to him. 

Your hands get lost in his hair, a groan rumbling through him at the way you tug at it. You two aren’t sweetly kissing, you're devouring each other. Yearning for the other all night leaves no more room for taking things slow or holding back. You’re both now giving in to what you want most—each other. 

The heat between you intensifies until it crescendos to a boiling point. The aching between your legs imploring you to do something about it. You reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing Bucky to let out a husky laugh. 

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck. 

“Bucky….I…” your words are cut off by a soft moan when Bucky’s left hand sneaks its way through the slit of your dress until he reaches the inside of your thighs. He massages the flesh there, his thumb brushing against the hem of your panties. 

Your arousal pools impossibly more, and the lustful haze only increases at the way you feel his hardened cock straining against his pants—right against your hip. 

“Mm? What was that, baby? Couldn’t hear you over those pretty noises you're making,” his every word drips with cockiness. 

“You're insufferable.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Bucky kisses your neck with more fervor. Sucking and nipping at the skin hard enough to leave marks. Your thighs involuntarily close together at the way he calls you his girl. He eases them back apart with his deliberate touches. Kneading the soft flesh in his hands as his breathing goes ragged along your neck, tickling your skin. He was on the brink of losing what little control he had left. 

You suck in a sharp breath, losing what little semblance of control you had left the higher his touch gets. He only goes so far, barely brushing across your clothed cunt to give you a taste of what he can do if you just let him hear it. You were desperate for more and he knew it. 

 “Fuck me, Bucky,” you manage to whimper out, hooking your fingers into his empty belt loops and yanking him towards you. Bucky lets out a low growl at the brief friction, his eyes darkening to an almost unrecognizable color. For a moment, his brain short circuits at your words, processing that you really said that to him accompanied by that alluring sound. He’s heard those sinful noises from you before, but never like this. Never with the assurance of more. 

“Say it again.”

“Bucky, please just fuck me already.”

You don’t have to tell him another time. Bucky crashes his mouth onto yours with a new intensity, mumbling lustful promises into your mouth. How he wants you, how badly he aches to make you feel good, how he yearns for his pretty girl to lose herself with him, and so many more things that make you dizzy. 

He moves to bunch up your dress, hiking it up your legs until it's bundled at your waist. His breathing strains at the sight—your black lacy panties luring him in—his muscles tensing at the growing need to be inside you. His left arm reaches down to hook his forearm under your knee and bring it up to his hip. You wrap that leg around him, steadying yourself on your other foot as you grind against each other. You can feel the way his cock aches to be freed and it causes you to arch deeper into him. Your moans mingle into one, the slight relief overwhelming you. 

Bucky takes his free hand and splays it at the small of your back, offering strong support as your bodies continue to grind against one another. A chorus of moans and yearnful whines erupt from you both. All of the pining and hunger for one another amalgamates into one as you continue to rub against each other. You swallow each other’s sounds, tongues tangling carnally as neither of you leaves any room for air.

“Do you have—?”

“Back pocket. Wallet.”

Your lips barely disconnect at the brief exchange. You reach behind him, patting down his backside until you feel the outline of his wallet in his pocket. You take hold of it and bring it forward. Meanwhile, Bucky decides to leave wet kisses along the valley of your breasts. You can barely contain yourself and your soft moans as you pull out the condom. The wallet almost slips from your grasp as the attention to your breasts causes you to tremble. 

You hold it tighter intending to put it back in his pocket when something catches your eye. In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

You love this picture. You have a copy of it taped to your bedroom mirror back home.

At your stillness, Bucky looks up to see what’s going on. When he notices you staring at the picture, he smiles fondly. " It's the only picture I had of us,” he utters softly, causing a warmth to spread throughout you. You gaze at him in tender awe, marveling at the fact that Bucky is real.

Why had you ever doubted he was anything but yours? 

You kiss him this time with all the unspoken feelings you’ve bubbled up and kept inside. The wallet falls from your hands, but it's no matter as Bucky kicks it to the side with his foot, and shudders at the way your lips claim his. This goes beyond lust. Your heart beats with reason, and that reason is the man in front of you. 

“Bucky, I want this. I want you. All of you,” you whisper passionately, your hands lowering to help him unbutton and unzip his pants, the foil neatly tucked between your fingers. A guttural moan leaves him when you push the layers of fabric down and free his cock, pumping it a few times to get a feel of it. His head falls to your shoulder, sighing softly in a near whine as you tear the foil open and roll the protection down his length. It twitches in your hands, his hips bucking at the contact. 

His arms are preoccupied with keeping you close and steady, so you gently guide him to your center. Moving your panties to the side as he tantalizingly slides along your folds before he slowly enters you. Your mouth goes agape at the sensation while Bucky has to do everything to make sure he doesn’t cum right then and there.

This was so much better than what he had imagined in his dreams. 

It's been too long since you’ve done this and the burn at the stretch causes you to cry out quietly. Bucky peppers your face with sweet kisses and whispers of devotion. Trying to do his best to comfort you as he lets you adjust inch by inch. The hand at the small of your back rubs circles into it with his thumb, your own hands shooting up to grip his biceps for support. 

“I’m not gonna last if you tighten up like that sweetheart,” he hisses a groan at how tightly your walls envelop him. You’re really making it hard for him to not come undone in a short amount of time. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax for me.”

His gentle words are accompanied by thrusts that are slow with a deliberate purpose. He’s careful with his pace as he wants this to go at whatever speed you need. It takes a bit, but his soft kisses and comforting touches coax the burn away until you're left with the ardent ache of needing more. 

“Faster, Bucky,” you plead breathily. He rests his forehead against yours.“Can you handle it, baby?” His question is full of loving concern, prioritizing your pleasure over everything.

“I can…fuck…please,” you assure him, your leg pulling him in tighter causing him to bottom out. Bucky curses and moans all in one. At your assurance, he picks up the pace of his hips, rocking them against you with a fiery velocity. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls of the closet in waves. 

He gives it to you exactly how you asked him to. That man would do anything for you—just say the word and its done. 

Bucky is on cloud nine at the way you take him. The way your bodies mold and arch into one another’s like you can’t get enough. As if all you ever needed to consume to live was each other. When he goes to kiss you, you can barely kiss back as you’re too lost in the way he slams into you.

“Fuck, baby, if only you could see yourself. You’re so fucking gorgeous making those pretty expressions for me,” Bucky grunts out, drinking up the sight of your face. A string of mewls leaves your lips at the keen attention he keeps on you. Everything about you right now is a work of art in his eyes he wants framed and kept at his bedside. A constant reminder he’s the one who gets to make you look and feel so damn good.  

“Don’t stop, please don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.” 

Your words egg him on to go harder, causing your back to press tightly against the wall. Hiking your leg just a tad bit higher to thrust into you at another angle. This was the best decision he ever made as he hits the perfect spot within you. One that leaves you clinging onto him desperately as your walls tighten on the brink of release. 

It takes a few more fierce drives into you until your orgasm hits you and you're cumming with a feverish intensity. Moaning Bucky’s name in a euphoric mantra that’s music to his ears. It's what brings him over the edge and he stills at the force of his orgasm, his head collapsing into the dip of your neck as he releases into the condom. 

“My girl. My sweet girl. You feel so good, baby,” Bucky softly whispers against your neck. Planting small kisses as both of you come down from your highs. Your arms wrap behind his neck to embrace him and keep him close to you. Bucky continues to mutter sweet praises along your skin, as your hands thread through his hair tenderly. Both of you steadying your breaths as you come back down to Earth. 

If it weren't for Bucky holding your right leg up, it would've fallen from its position at his hip long ago. You’re even more grateful for it now as your body felt completely boneless. And when he pulls out, its the grip he has on your body that keeps your knees from buckling.

Bucky lifts his head so his gaze locks on yours. His blues are swimming with a vehemence that steals your breath and causes your pulse to race.  

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s not hearing it, afraid you’ll want to go back to a place that would devastate him. “Wait, just hear me out. Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me. From the moment we met there was just something about you that kept pulling me in. And I knew—I just knew I had to get to know you. And then one thing led to another and I fell for you—hard. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. There's only you. It’s always been you. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you every day, that I’m yours. That I have been for a long time,” Bucky’s tone borders on pleading, you give his hands a light squeeze to ease the worry in his features. 

“Bucky you have nothing to prove—”

“Y/n—” 

This time you stop him by clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“Bucky, you have nothing to prove because I’ve felt the same way for a long time. I just fought it for so long out of fear that maybe you weren’t serious about me. But I can see now I was wrong. I’ve been yours for a long time too, Bucky. I just pretended I wasn’t—and I’m done fighting it. I’m done being in denial. I want to have something serious with you. I’m ready for it,” your heartfelt confession immediately melts away the tension in Bucky’s shoulders. 

You wanting this as much as he did made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He mumbles something into your hand, the biggest grin on the other side of it. You laugh adoringly at the sight as you remove your hand to replace it with your mouth instead. Both of you sink into the kiss as a deeper devotion is exchanged. 

“Whoever is seeking is horrible at it,” you remove yourself with a light giggle, taking a jab at whoever the seeker of the hide-and-seek game is. A game that was long forgotten by Bucky until you mentioned it. 

Bucky smiles sheepishly, “About that…there's not actually a hide-and-seek game. And if there is they don't know we’re playing,” he confesses with a twinkle in his eyes. You shake your head at him, laughing in disbelief, “Bucky, then what were you and Steve whispering about?” Your curiosity is met with a boyish grin from Bucky, “I was just letting him know not to come looking for me. I wanted to get some alone time with you,” his hands find your hips again to give them a gentle squeeze.

Bucky is far from done with you yet. 

You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his revelation. Of course, he’d come up with a way to get you all to himself. Can you blame him? 

After a few more stolen kisses and lingering touches, you both start to compose yourselves. Adjusting your outfits and collecting your items from the ground. Thankfully, the guest room has its own bathroom where the two of you can clean up much better than in the small closet. Tousled hair, smeared makeup, and sweaty skin required a deeper attentiveness.

You both take your time in freshening up. The bathroom lighting does wonders to reveal every piece of evidence of your sexual encounter. You can now clearly see all the red marks that would eventually turn into hickeys that scattered your neck and chest. Bucky beams pleased at the markings he’s left as you scold him for making them so prominent. 

Bucky doesn’t give a damn. He’d gladly make more in an instant. 

By the end, all that's left is to get your heels on, which Bucky insists on helping you with. He offered to carry you for the rest of the party or even giving you his shoes, but you declined both options. You paid good money for these heels so whether you liked it or not, you were forcing yourself to wear them. 

Bucky helps you up onto the expansive marble counter. Lowering down onto his knees in front of you to slide your heels back onto your feet. Nimble fingers work the straps into place, making sure they're not too tight at the ankles. When he looks up at you, a devilish grin appears on his face. That spark of desire is back in your eyes when you see how good he looks knelt between your legs. Your mind was reeling with ideas as the heat once again pranced across your skin. Bucky’s gaze bore into yours, almost as if he could read your mind. He can’t help but get turned on again. 

You were in the same boat. 

“You know, I have a big stats test on Monday. I could use an emergency tutoring session right about now,” his tone is laced with suggestion as his fingers trace along your ankle. You hum, “Hm? Do you? I think I could accommodate that.” Your reply gives Bucky the go to start kissing up your legs until he reaches your knees. He never breaks eye contact as he places a tender kiss on each one before standing up and giving that same attention to your mouth.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against your lips, the kiss a promise of the fun awaiting you for the rest of the night. Now that the lines were blurred beyond recognition, into something deeper, something real, you were both completely all in. 

[silenttrxxs]

choi san! x reader

best friends to lovers! nsfw, smut. 18+ NO MINORS!!

3am, the time read on your phone, you groaned loudly rolling back over and pulling the duvet back over your head as you sighed. Why the fuck your phone was ringing at 3am was beyond you... you sighed when the ringtone ended and silence fell over the room again. You smiled to yourself and gave into the wave of tiredness that spread through your body. Growling, you got up picking up your phone and putting it on speaker as you grabbed a blanket wrapping it around you sliding your slippers on and trudging to the kettle as you spoke on the phone. "san i swear on anything that may be above this better be good or im personally going to string you up and gut you its 5am" you growled into the phone. Giggling a little as you heard him suck in a slight breath as your tone shocked him. "s-sorry y/n but im outside and i need you packed and ready in 2 hours okay, i brought you your favourite snacks and drink now open up please" he spoke as he picked up the bag and stood ready to be let into your home.

"youre lucky i have a soft spot for you and you know a way to bribe succesfully" you said opening the door and smiling hanging up the phone.

you took the bag and put it on the table as you wrapped your arms around sans shoulders, hugging him tightly.

"i have missed you san-san but why this early you know i like my sleep" you spoke stepping back and grabbing a cookie and taking a sip of your drink. san stood there, watching your every move and smiled.

"well i thought since the company has finally allowed us time to go away for a while i thought who best to spend time with than my best friend. And plus you get sick and tired living with hwa and mingi after a while" san says laughing a little. "right so i have 2 hours to pack for what exactly" you scoff pulling the blanket of and walking back to the bedroom pulling out your suitcase and not so graciously throwing it onto your bed. You turnt to your wardrobe grabbing your underwear and rolling it up putting it in and your toiletry bag, pulling out a multitude of clothes out and rolling them up. "well where are we going then sannie?" you question as you look over at san who is pulling out your makeup and putting it into a bag for you.

"hmm ill tell you when we get there..." he says shrugging his shoulders.

"b-but" you gasp and give him a puppy dog look, trying to get him to break and tell you.

"excuse me you think that works, i deal with wooyoung on a daily basis im indestructible to that charm darling" san giggles and pats your head placing the bag in your suitcase and helping you to zip it up.

You both walk to the car, san taking the suitcase from you and lifting it setting it into the boot of his car before opening the door and ushering you into the passenger seat. He starts the car and looks at you, "you better have your passport thats all im saying madam" he laughs as you pick up your bag and root through it, you make a noise that makes san jump as you hold the passport up and put it back. "okay so its abroad hmm... interesting" you say as you fumble with the stereo and put some music on, enjoying the journey to the airport.

you both arrive pulling out your suitcases and giggling together as you help tuck sans hair into his hat and adjust his mask, walking to the terminal. You try to guess the destination but you're dragged away from every sign and each time the tanoi announces a boarding san is quick to cover your ears and shake his head laughing.

"this isn't fair you know, you could be leading me to my own death and ... stupidly id be traipsing along like a lost puppy" you roll your eyes and cross your arms.

"what if i am, what would pouty little y/n do about it huh, they love their sannie too much to say a word" san says in a teasing tone.

"god i could just slap you right now" you joke and smile a little as you watch the way his eyes crinkle as he laughs with you.

san jumps as he covers your ears as your boarding is announced he covers your eyes as he leads you onto the plane. "thank you thank you she isnt to know where we are going so im gonna cover her eyes till were seated" he says to the staff as they ask what hes doing.

you laugh as you get guided to the seat of the plane and once sat you look around, youre sat in first class with san, milan posters everywhere. " San you didnt" you gasp out as you realise where you both are going.

"oh yeah its beautiful there and i have always wanted to bring you but its been a busy season lately and i never got the chance" san says.

"now get some rest ill wake you when we get there" san says patting his shoulder as you rest into his hold on the plane, he puts on a movie and holds you tight enjoying the journey with you.

time skip

you both arrive in milan. the city lights shinging brightly as you exit the airport together, you look over to san as he ushers a taxi. youj gasp as he speaks fluent italian.

"ciao sì, potrei avere un taxi per 2 per favore" he says and you roll your eyes a little trying to will away the blush that creeps on your cheeks before he turns to you.

"dai allora amore mio" he says look at you as he smiles. noticing the slight red tinge to your neck. "someone likes my italiano" san says as he loads the suitcases into the taxi with your and opens the door as he slides in next to you.

you shove him a little as he gets in and sigh relaxing a little as you enjoy the trip. You gasp loudly as san speaks pointing to the building your getting closer to the hotel beautifully traditional. "were here mi amor" he says as he helps you out the taxi and grabs the suitcases, thanking the driver and paying him.

"now lets go and see the room" he says excitedly as you follow behind taking in the decor of the hotel, the walls splayed with dolce and gabbana photos. "is this what i think it is san-ah" you ask. trailing behind san as he opens the door to the penthouse suite.

"come on then dont just stand there with your jaw on the floor" he says pulling you into the suite and laughing.

"san what the fuck do you think your doing... this place..." you say your thoughts trailing off as you take in the view. Your suitcases dealth with and a whiskey being poured and a glass of red wine passed to you.

"here" san says passing the drink to you and smiling as he wraps his arm around your waist as you both look out the window, san takes the glass of whiskey and smiles, his attention being diverted to your face as you sip the wine. He takes in the flush that spreads across your neck and up into your cheeks as his hand squeezes your waist a little testing your will a little.

"its beautiful isnt it" he says his eyes glistening with a look that you had never seen before. "s-san" you breathe out turning slowly, sans lips ghosting over yours as you sucked in the breath his lips were on yours. The way your lips melded together sent shivers to course through your veins. Your body heating up with the feeling of his hands wandering across your body. You spent years trying so hard to keep your feelings at bay, keeping the relationship you held with him at an arms length not wanting your heart to get broken yet again with the feeling that he may have not felt the same way but this pang in your heart being struck away as your mind was filled with the feeling of his tongue ghosting across your lips silently asking for entrance. You opened your mouth allowing him entrance, your hands gripping onto his shirt the glasses of drink long forgotten as your body was lifted from the ground. The air only thickening with desire and lust as you found your body thrown onto the bed. The cool air hitting your body as sans skilled has made ease of removing your layers.

You whine into his mouth as his hands grip into your skin, the pain making you hiss slightly you was sure his touch was going to leave a trail of marks in its wake. You smiled as you locked your gaze with his, noticing the unmistakable feeling of his arousal pressing against your core. You let out a moan, the noise causing san to buck his hips into you, wanting nothing more than to hear more of your noises as he took his time to unravel you from the inside out.

"fuck youre beautiful like this" he breathed out as he sat up, his gaze falling over your body, taking the look beneath him in like the smoothest whiskey he had ever drank. His thirst becoming unquenchable until he has his lips on you. He groaned as he felt your hands reaching for him, gripping into his thighs as your nails scratched into the skin, the burn setting aflame something animalistic in him. He gripped you, pushing your legs apart, moaning as your pussy clenched around nothing, the arousal leaking out of you in waves, he licked his lips as he smirked. moving his body weight to the end of the bed, pulling your weight with him, his face finding purchase between your thighs, drinking in the sweet scent that fell from your body the closer he got. He turnt his head licking a stripe along your thigh, his teeth biting into your thigh, the feeling igniting something inside you that you didnt know was there. You gripped into sans hair tugging harshly, his face now close to your aching core. "so needy arent we baby" he breathes out before licking a slow stripe along your folds, your arousal coating his tongue as his hands grip into your thighs ensuring you stay still, only allowing your hips to buck as he teased your clit with a smirk places across his face. You moaned loudly his name spilling from his lips as he brought you closer and closer to the most intense orgasm you have had in a while, your sight becoming hazy as you felt the familiar knot tightening in your gut, the wave coursing through your body only to be ripped away as he lifted his head, moving to stand, his fingers gently caressing your folds as he collected your arousal on his fingers and stroking himself, you blinked as your body was tossed around, now on your knees as he pulled your hips off the bed, bending you over it as he lined up with your entrance, pushing himself inside you as your walls clenched around his throbbing cock. He felt himself bottom out, the warmth of you covering him in a hazy feeling as he moaned at the feeling his hands stroking your back, pulling you up slowly, the angle making you both moan loudly.

You gasped, moans falling from your lips as he thrusted into you slowly the burn of the stretch long forgotten and your body aflame with pleasure as you felt his hands gripping into your hair tugging harshly as he used his other hand gripping into your hip his thrusts becoming harsher, you whined as he groaned his grip on you getting harder as he chased his own pleasure with you.

"fuck baby you feel so good, p-please" he breathed out, the way he spoke causing you to clench around him. A hiss leaving his body as he abused your hole.

"let me cum inside you please baby i need to feel your cunt milk me" he hissed out as his hips thrusted into you harder. You whined louder his name becoming the only vocabulary that you knew in this moment. You clenched around his throbbing cock as a silent agreement. Feeling the way you clenched around him he moaned loudly, releasing into your core, his seed pouring out mixing with your own release around his cock, his attack not stopping as he fucked both your arousals back into you, the overstimulation causing you both to hiss as the feeling. "fuck baby" he breathed out as he pulled out of your abused cunt.

you turn around slowly, the thin layer of sweat covering his body making him look more heavenly than you ever dreamed of. "i- i have no words" you breathed out trying to contain how your heart wished to pour itself into him.

"lets go take a shower and talk about that after hows that sound" san says lifting your body from the bed, helping you to the shower.

[xoxochb]

wrote this while sobbing my eyes out xx

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

your brain is filled to the brim with only utter melancholic thoughts. and your muscles are numb, fuzzy if you will, you can barely feel yourself anymore as if you’ll slip away and turn into tiny subatomic particles to roam the universe from eternity.

though right now you would much rather be a proton than yourself. you inhale a shaky breath, letting it out hurriedly as you don’t have much oxygen coming in and out as fast as you would please. even in your saddened state, percy is here to comfort you through your hard times.

he rubs a warm hand up and then back down the skin of your back from underneath your shirt soothingly, hoping to coax all the depressing emotions out of you. silently, he wishes he could take all your pain and suffering and give it to himself so you’d never have to suffer a single thought like this again.

percy plants a delicate kiss to the top of your head, taking his opposite hand to wrap around one of your hair strands comfortingly (he knew how much you loved having your hair played with). you adjust your position to have your ear placed over where his heart lays in his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of it, memorizing each beat.

“I don’t- I don’t want to… to feel like this anymore,” you cry out. percy kisses your forehead and mumbles a silent ‘I know’ in hopes you’ll understand that he’s understanding your current predicament.

he brushes a second strand from your damp face and whispers, “tell me what you’re feeling.”

“not good.”

“not good?”

you nod slowly. “my- my chest… hurts. and everything- it’s all-” you’re words are cut off by a sudden sob you can’t seem to control whether your life depended on it.

percy waits for your outburst to diminish so you’re back to just a simple cry as previously. when you manage to get yourself to this point, he asks a second question.

“can I do anything to make you feel better?”

“just be here…” silence. “that’s enough.”

you don’t need a verbal answer from percy to know what he would say. you know, for a fact, he would stay here with you until the end of time if you asked him to, and even more if you really wished.

[emmyrosee]

I know you like big beefy Tenya too so... Would you forbid him from ever wearing contacts outside the house because the no glasses look makes him too hot or do you forbid him from ever going outside because the glasses alone are a risk to society?

I treat my pookie bear sweetheart sunshine Tenya like Kiyoomi- the less people that see you, the better.

Like he’s all geared up to go out to the grocery store for milk, and all you see is muscle and shiny hair and that smile of his, and his glasses that make his eyes practically glitter, he’s so fine. He does have contacts, but those are just too powerful against society, he just becomes too beautiful to bear. You tell him you just love him in glasses more; he doesn’t need to know specifics.

“Uh, you can’t go out.”

He freezes his grabbing of keys to look at you, “why is that?”

“Because you’re too perfect.”

He cocks his head slightly in confusion and god, the way his brows pinch in the center of his forehead, you want to kiss the small bit of skin that juts out from being scrunched. “I don’t follow, my love…”

“Tenya,” you laugh softly, getting up from the couch and making your way to him. You make good on your desire to kiss the perfect perch between his brows, and he softens softly at the affection. “You are, single handedly, the most handsome and perfect man I’ve ever seen. I hate sharing you with other people. So, respectfully, you can’t leave the house. It’s the rules.”

“I still don’t understand,” he says softly, but his cheeks are blazed in a flush. “Won’t people have to see me, regardless of our desires?”

“They can only see you when im with you,” you say, kissing his forehead before making your way to your shoes. “So, I guess im going with you to get milk. Fight off anyone who tries to come up to you.”

He adjusts the glasses perched on his nose, clearing his throat and following you like a puppy toward the collection of shoes by the door. “Well… who would I be to question the rules?” He says, and you laugh and move to lace your fingers with his.

“The worst.” You swing your interlocked hands back and forth, as if to test the durability of the affection. “Let’s go get milk.”

“I must confess, I feel a little guilty that you feel obligated to come and defend my honor.”

You beam up at him. He blushes again.

“For you? I’ll do anything, tenya.”

[vibeswithdivs]

You are not alone anymore

pairing: reader x max verstappen

The thermometer beeped, its sharp tone cutting through the quiet of the room. Max frowned as he glanced at the small screen. 38.9 degrees Celsius. He sighed heavily, setting it down on the nightstand and turning back to her.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, his voice a low murmur that carried both concern and frustration.

She barely opened her eyes, her face flushed from the fever. “It’s just a cold,” she mumbled, her tone defiant despite the weariness in her voice. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Max crouched beside the bed, his tall frame folding awkwardly, but his gaze was steady as he studied her. “Not worry me?” he repeated, a small crease forming between his brows. “You’re burning up, lieverd. You’ve been running on fumes for weeks, and now look where that’s gotten you.”

Her lips quirked up faintly at his Dutch endearment, but she quickly tried to sit up. “I just need to—”

“Stay. In. Bed,” Max interrupted, gently but firmly pressing her back against the pillows. He shook his head, his hand lingering on her shoulder as his blue eyes softened. “For once, can you let someone else take care of you? Please?”

Her lips parted to argue, but the warmth of his hand against her arm and the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression made her stop. She exhaled deeply, leaning back into the pillows with a reluctant nod. “Fine. But only because I don’t feel like fighting you right now.”

Max chuckled softly, leaning in to press a light kiss to her forehead. “That’s what I thought.” His lips lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his frown returning. “You’re too warm.”

“It’ll pass,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah, with rest, food, and water,” he replied, standing up. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

The clinking of glass and the low hum of the kettle drifted into the room as she lay there, too tired to do more than close her eyes and wait. The mattress dipped slightly when Max returned, a steaming mug in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

“Here,” he said, sitting beside her and holding out the mug. She took it reluctantly, the warmth seeping into her cold hands.

“You didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she murmured.

Max raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a half-smile. “Trouble? Meisje, this is nothing. You’ve been the one holding everything together while ignoring your own needs. If anything, I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Her cheeks flushed, though whether it was from the fever or his words, she couldn’t tell. “I’m fine, Max.”

“No,” he said softly, his tone firm but filled with affection. “You’re not. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

She looked down at the mug in her hands, her fingers tracing the rim. It was hard to let go, hard to admit that she couldn’t do everything on her own. But Max’s hand on her knee, warm and steady, grounded her.

“Drink,” he urged, his voice gentler now. “Then we’ll work on getting some food in you.”

She obeyed, taking slow sips as he watched her carefully, his eyes never leaving her face. The concern etched into his features made her chest ache, but it also filled her with a warmth that had nothing to do with the tea.

Over the next few hours, Max stayed by her side, tending to her every need despite her half-hearted protests. He adjusted her blankets, made sure she took her medicine, and even coaxed her into eating a few spoonfuls of soup, his patience unwavering.

At one point, she woke to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone while his other hand rested lightly on her thigh. She blinked at him, her heart squeezing at the sight of his familiar profile softened by the glow of the bedside lamp.

“You’re still here?” she asked, her voice rasping slightly.

Max looked up, his lips curving into a small smile. “Where else would I be?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her throat tightening. “Racing? Sim practice? Anywhere but stuck in here with me.”

“Hey,” he said, setting his phone aside and leaning closer. His hand slid up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her warm skin. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now. You’re my priority, remember?”

Her eyes stung, and she quickly blinked away the tears threatening to fall. “I just… I’m not used to this. Being taken care of.”

“I know,” Max murmured, his forehead resting lightly against hers. “But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me. So let me take care of you, schatje.”

She nodded, her eyes falling shut as his words wrapped around her like a cocoon.

The fever broke by the following morning, leaving her weak but significantly better. When she finally managed to sit up without help, Max was already there, propping her up with pillows and offering her another mug of tea.

“Feeling better?” he asked, his voice laced with relief.

“A little,” she admitted, her lips twitching into a small smile. “Thanks to you.”

Max grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Told you I’d get you through it.”

She rolled her eyes, but the gesture lacked any real bite. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love me for it,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her. His lips were soft and lingering, a quiet reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his hand finding hers beneath the blanket. “Promise me something,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“Next time you’re not okay, tell me,” he said, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against her palm. “Don’t wait until you’re falling apart to let me in.”

She swallowed hard, the sincerity in his voice breaking through the last of her defenses. “I promise,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the emotions swirling in her chest.

“Good,” Max said, his lips curving into a soft smile. “Now, finish your tea. You’ve got some recovering to do.”

As she sipped the warm liquid, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks, she couldn’t help but think that maybe—just maybe—leaning on someone else wasn’t so bad after all.

[pinkslipxox]

ahhh i love the one where the twins were sick could you do something similar but when like it’s near Christmas and like they can’t stop throwing up🥲

omg thank uuu, hope you like it 🥰🫶

——————————————————————————

The soft glow of Christmas lights twinkled delicately throughout the living room, casting a gentle warmth that filled the air with festive cheer. However, inside the cozy space, things felt more somber. Almost Christmas, but not quite as magical as the O’Connell household had envisioned. The twins, Ava and Mia, were huddled together on the couch, clutching their blankets like they were the only comfort in the world. The past few days had been a blur of sickness as the little ones fought off a nasty bug, and they were weary, their usual laughter replaced with pitiful whimpers.

Billie Eilish, in her favorite oversized sweater, moved about the room like a guardian angel. Her green hair fell softly around her face as she filled a bowl with ice for the twins and prepared ginger ale—a simple remedy meant to ease their stomachs. Every movement was deliberate as she tried her best to create a soothing atmosphere amidst the discomfort.

“Hey, my pretty girls,” Billie cooed, crouching down beside the couch. She brushed a lock of hair behind Mia's ear and kissed her forehead, then did the same for Ava. “How are you feeling, babe?”

Ava looked up, her eyes glossy, her little face scrunched in discomfort. “I don’t feel good, Mommy,” she confessed, her voice thin and shaky.

Mia, cuddling closely to her twin, sniffled softly. “Me neither…” she murmured, her voice laced with fatigue.

Y/N, their sweet and caring partner, settled beside Billie, wrapping her arms around the girls. “It’s okay, my loves,” she whispered, her voice a soft balm against their distress. “We’re here for you. You’re safe.”

Billie joined in, curling around both daughters, creating a protective wall of warmth. “And Mommy’s got two special mamas taking care of you,” she added, her tone both comforting and playful. She brushed fingers along Ava’s arm, trying her best to soothe the little girl.

Ava leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder, seeking a refuge that only she could provide. “Cuddle…” she murmured, her eyes fluttering against fatigue.

Y/N smiled softly, adjusting her position to accommodate both daughters. “Of course, sweetie,” she said, throwing a blanket over them as Billie nestled in on the other side, forming a snug little nest.

“Just breathe, alright? And if you need to throw up—or if you need anything at all—just let us know,” Billie reassured them, her eyes filled with an unwavering tenderness that Y/N had fallen in love with since the day they met.

Just then, Mia looked up at Billie with her big, watery eyes. “Can you sing to us, Mommy?” she whimpered.

Together, Y/N and Billie exchanged a knowing glance; something about that request felt like a lifeline in the clouds of sickness.

“Of course, little one,” Billie murmured, and as she started to hum a gentle, slow melody—one of their favorites from years past—the atmosphere shifted. Y/N held the girls tightly, her heart swelling with love as Billie’s soft, silky voice filled the room. It was a lullaby infused with maternal love that echoed through the confines of their home, wrapping around them like the warmest blanket.

As Ava and Mia listened, their eyelids began to droop, their little bodies relaxing against their mothers. Billie leaned in closer to Y/N, and in that moment, as the twins fell asleep in their embrace, the chaos of the world outside faded away.

Billie turned to Y/N, her beautiful eyes shining with love. “You’re my rock,” she whispered, gently brushing her fingers along Y/N’s cheek and leaning in ever so slightly to place a tender kiss on her lips. It was soft and full of appreciation, a momentary escape from the sickness that surrounded them—reminding Y/N of the warmth of their love amidst the challenges.

Y/N smiled against the kiss, pulling Billie closer as she wrapped her arms around her waist. “And you’re the best mother,” she replied, her voice laced with emotion.

Billie grinned, her heart swelling as she looked at their daughters, now peacefully sleeping between them. “This Christmas might not be what we planned, but as long as we’ve got each other, we’ll make it magical in our own way,” she said, her words dripping with optimism.

In that moment, cradled on the couch with their sweet girls by their side, Y/N and Billie felt the true meaning of family wrapping around them like the gentle embrace they shared. Sickness would pass, but the love they had—their bond—would endure, making every Christmas unforgettable, no matter the circumstances.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Take Me With You

A/n: I’m not even sorry he’s so cute I need to drink his unborn children in a salty cocktail

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), mommy kink, whiny Slash (feed gooners), if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

All it took was one look and you were hooked, you couldn’t even see his face but he had you.

You liked the music, a friend got you into Guns N’ Roses but you weren’t big on the scene and didn’t know them all too well. Still, the music was good so you took your friend up on their offer when they got tickets to their concert.

Front row, right at the stage. The opening band was cool, Sound Garden, but when Guns came out you were you in awe, specifically with the lead guitarist.

He took every measure to cover his face, dark glasses, a top hat pushed low, his big hair patching up the holes, but his body, those hip rolls and those skilled hands, experienced fingers. A thin layer of sweat coated him and you were ready to climb onto the stage and lick him clean.

Your friend saw the way you were eyeing him and kept making jokes, nudging you when he got close.

When the concert ended you walked out with your friend, at least you almost did. You couldn’t not at least attempt to see Slash again, so you made up some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom and snuck off.

It really wasn’t as hard as it probably should’ve been for you to get backstage but you weren’t complaining, not when Slash was so close, not when you saw him slipping a dressing room just down the hall.

You followed shortly behind, closing and locking the door behind you. You turned back around to find Slash sprawled out on the couch, fly down revealing his thick bush.

He was staring at you blankly, his hat and glasses were set on the table in front of him, giving you the first glimpse of his face, big brown eyes, bushy brows. He gave you a once over and a smile spread over his face; it wasn’t lustful, he didn’t look at you like this was some joke, like he’d ever even give you a chance, he just looked happy to see you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice was nothing like you expected, it was soft and sweet with a rasp to it from smoking.

“I, uh, I’m not too sure, honestly.” You replied. You didn’t have a plan, you had a concept: get backstage, see Slash. You never thought you’d get backstage nor did you think you’d see Slash.

Slash chuckled and gestured you closer. “What do you want to do?” He asked, that smile still on his face.

Your eyes trailed over body again, plush thighs stretching out his leather pants and expensive ostrich skin cowboy boots. “Whatever you want me to do.” Slash’s brows raised at that, of all things he hadn’t expected that, at least not worded in such a way.

He gestured you closer, tapping the floor with his boot to signal for you to sit down. You did just as he asked, kneeling between his legs. “You ever done this before?”

You’re face scrunched. “I’m not a groupie.” You said, grudgingly pulling your eyes from his happy trail.

Slash snorted and shook his head. “No, I mean, like, ever.” He said, cocking his head to the side as he took in your innocent front, doe eyes looking up at him, a nervousness to the way your lips moved and your eyes flickered.

You slowly shook your head, hoping he wouldn’t send you away. Instead he just adjusted his position and pulled his half hard dick out of his pants, stroking himself a few times.

He held his tip to your lips, smearing pre on them as a silent request for entry. You opened your mouth for him and he brought a hand to the back of your head, pushing you down on him.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, head falling back. “Thank you for coming back here, fuck.” He mused, guiding you to help you bob your head on him. “Squeeze your thumb, it’ll stop your gag reflex.” He said, demonstrating it himself.

He did enjoy hearing you gag on his length, choking on his girth, but this was your first time. He was content with just seeing the struggle, your throat bulging with him, eyes watering and drool beading out the corners of your mouth, trickling down your chin.

You took his suggestion and it did help, not completely but it was definitely better than before. Honestly, you didn’t mind the discomfort so long as you got to watch his expressions, his eyes closing in ecstasy, when he opened them you got to see the need in them as soft whimpers and whines left him.

He had you going slow, dragging this out. “Fuck, I don’t- I don’t even know your- fuck, mommy.” He moaned, eyes crossing as thick spurts of cum shot down your throat, he could barely keep his thighs from locking around your head.

He let go of your head, letting you pull away from him with a few good coughs. You wiped you mouth and stood up, taking a seat beside him on the couch.

Slash threw an arm over your shoulder and pulled you to his side, kissing your cheek. “You sure you don’t want to make your way through the rest of the band?” He teased.

You shook your head. “They don’t all look so pretty when they cum, do they?” He scoffed and pulled his arm back, fixing his pants and standing up.

“Alright, get out, I gotta go.” You chewed your cheek, looking him over, eyes landing on his clothed ass. He turned back to see where you were staring and laughed. “Jesus, what do you want?”

You thought for a moment, slowly bringing your eyes back to his. “I get to choose?” Slash stared at you, you wondered if he heard you at first but then he nodded. “Take me with you.” That sweet, warm smile found its way back to his face.

[lostintransist]

This Bunny Bites Part 10

Check out part 1 here.

CW: None.

Climbing in the back seat with Cara you wink at Kyle from the backseat.

“Loverboy.”

He replies with a dry, “Bunny.”

The glare you send him should set his hair on fire. Unfortunately, your magical girl powers had yet to manifest.

Gaz eyes Cara before adjusting his gaze to driving.

You turn to continue talking to Cara as if Gaz isn’t there. Watching him on the sly you see what piques his interest. Knowing what snags a man’s interest had been a skill you had cultivated since you had moved in with your father and on the daily had to try and learn what you could do to keep yourself safe.

Cara caught you with a particularly funny joke and you’re snorting laugh cuts through the cab of the car. It’s not a demure laugh and never the one you use in front of clients. Before Gaz could comment Cara jumped in.

“Ooh judgey driver you got.” Turning from you to place a hand on the back of his seat Cara ran one long red nail down the back of his shoulder, “Aren’t drivers paid for their discretion?”

“Aren’t former dancers meant to know how to read a room?” Gaz doesn’t look from the road as he tosses back his comment.

Leaning back Cara lets out a hum and folds her arms across her chest. Glancing at you she gives you a wink. You’re sure Gaz saw when he snorted from the front seat.

“I would say he’s an Aquarius, his favorite accessory is a good watch, and he’s a closeted bisexual.”

“How the fuck did you do that!?” Gaz turned to glare at you both once the car rocked to a stop at a light. “What did you tell her?”

“She didn’t tell me anything. One thing you get good at as a woman who works almost exclusively with men who can and will hurt you is reading them. The micro-expressions tell you the truth since a man’s lips never will.”

Gaz and Cara are staring at each other, both trying to prove a point with their eyes. You glance through the front window and point.

“Light’s green.”

Swearing Gaz turns and focuses on driving again. The color is leeching from his knuckles as he settles into a parking spot under a nondescript building. Stepping from the driver’s seat Gaz opens the back door where Cara is sitting. He leans into her space, the angles of his face sharp and angry with the overhead lighting.

“How do you know? How did both of you decide so much about me?”

“The tenseness in your shoulders and the way your eyes watch a microsecond too long at men you find attractive. Your taste in men is super different than your taste in women. I wonder is that normal,” She turns to you. “Is your taste in men the same as your taste in women?”

“Oh absolutely not, my taste in women is far superior to my taste in men.”

“Mmm, I wish I liked women. That one time in college was nice but I kept wishing for the heady scent of semen,” Cara sighed, stretching her legs between Gaz’s in a move to force him to get entirely too close or to back up.

He chooses correctly. Cara in her heels stands eye to eye with Gaz. You miss most of their facial communication as you escape the back seat from your side. They are still face to face when you round the boot of the car.

Lifting one well-manicured brow Cara looked from eye to eye, the subtle challenge of two kinds of power meeting. You let it go for three, four, five seconds even.

“Alright quit the dick measuring, I have to go and try on a million and one outfits and would like to get this over with.”

Cara smirks as Gaz turns to glare at you. Snapping his head back to stare at Cara, even knowing he lost the interaction, he looks ready to snarl at her.

“She’s right loverboy, we have an appointment to make,” Cara coos at him.

Stepping from between him and the car Cara links elbows with you as you both meander to the elevator. Gaz is reaching a particular point of done. You can see it in his posture. Leaning your head onto Cara’s shoulder you speak before Gaz can reach the elevator.

“Go easy on him, I think he’ll need a snack before we head home.”

The bump of Cara’s chin is all the acknowledgment she gives before Gaz joins you in the elevator.

The experience of dress shopping isn’t so different than any other time you have been. The addition of a dedicated assistant with a list from Price is new though. You needed a full wardrobe, including a golf outfit, two pantsuits, a full new set of chic underwear and bra combos (though you fight the assistant about anything with lace, it makes you want to peel your skin off and you will not budge on this point), and at least eight semi-formal dresses and three formal dresses.

Cara helps you in and out of clothes, confirming when a dress or an outfit is a good enough fit or color to step in front of the tri-fold mirror snapping a picture or two of you and Cara. Gaz grows increasingly done in the background of each photo you send to Price. Might as well confirm he is getting his money’s worth.

When the third hour ticks into the fourth everyone is done. Gaz has spent the last twenty minutes arms folded and ankles crossed as he stares at the toe of his boot. Your body is starting to ache from the constant shifting and moving. Keeping your game face on for so long has drained your emotional batteries and it’s dinner time. Cara gets snappy when her blood sugar gets too low.

When the assistant finally confirms you have picked enough of everything John requested you gratefully put on your own clothes again. Flopping down onto the couch next to Gaz you let out a sigh of relief. Cara had popped over to the bathroom as soon as she heard the news that the appointment had been completed.

“Wanna grab a burger after we leave here?”

“No.”

The terse reply is not unexpected, but annoying all the same.

“I’ll buy.”

The only response is a shifting of his eyes to catch you out of one side of his vision.

“Come on Gaz. Price said you guys would be playing bodyguard for me so we both need to get comfortable being together for long periods of time.”

A sigh drops his shoulders.

“I’m normally better on jobs than this,” he admits quietly.

“Normally you don’t have to deal with two women particularly skilled at worming our way under the defenses of men in our vicinity.” You shrug by way of apology. “We don’t always use our powers for good.”

“Powers,” he guffawed, “Makes you sound like some kind of supervillain.”

You’ve got him now. A saccharine smile splits your face.

“I sure do have the dramatic backstory to pull off being a villain,” you waggle your eyebrows at him.

Gaz gives a hint of a smile and shakes his head as he looks back to his feet.

“I won’t say anything by the way.”

This draws his face fully to you, beautiful eyes confused but concerned.

“That you’re bi. I collect secrets to keep me safe, not to hurt other people.”

Cara appears across the store, finished with her bathroom trip.

“Well I guess we’ll see if you keep to that edict then,” Gaz stands and offers you a hand. If you take it as a peace offering instead of an offer of assistance that’s between you and your thoughts.

Driving back home is much more lively. Gaz is drawn into the conversation instead of purposefully being left out. You can see Cara is interested in him. First off he’s gorgeous and she did always have a thing for pretty men. Secondly, he didn’t seem put off by her former work at all, which was a rare thing. The Madonna/Whore complex lived out in so many men when they learned about what you did for work.

Choosing a fast food restaurant to swing through had nearly turned into swings being thrown when you refused to eat at certain places that either didn’t treat their employees right or funded atrocious acts somewhere in the world. Eventually, Cara found a small, family-owned business that served burgers and Gaz worked his way there. So much for the goodwill you had worked on building today.

Laughter picks back up between Cara and Gaz as you snarf down your food, headless of the mess you were making on your face. Slipping into the quiet of listening you are looking forward to resting in your bed as Gaz points the car toward your home. You give your quiet thanks as you step from the car.

Leaning out of the window Gaz gave his parting words.

“Price will be in touch, he has a few more appointments he needs to put you through before your first party.”

“Appointments like what?” You ask cautiously.

“Pampering ones, you will need to look as cared for as any of the ladies at the parties you will be attending.”

Nodding you accept the wisdom in that.

“Will I have an escort for that too?”

“Most likely, you’ll be going to the same salons as most of the ladies you will run into at the events.”

Puffing your cheeks you force the air back and forth as you think.

“I’ll take Ghost or Price but not my brother.”

Gaz lifts a brow, “Not sure that’s your choice.”

“Pretty sure you want Johnny to come home alive right?”

The narrowing of his eyes tells you Gaz doesn’t think you could take your brother in a fight. He might be right but you would inflict some damage before he subdued you.

“Tell Price what I said, and have him call me when he sets the next appointment up,” you offer a two-finger salute, blow a kiss to Cara who has moved to her car, and head up the steps to your flat.

God, you needed a nap.

Bunny Masterlist | Masterlist

@leahnicole1219 @notsochillnerd @darling006

[bonezone44]

'Dirt Clouds'

Joel Miller x F!Reader wc: 1098 Summary: You and Joel talk about your age difference on the way to a barbecue. a/n: real love makes an effort. (part of @iamasaddie 's 24-hr writing challenge. )

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You’re not sure how many dirt roads it takes to get to this barbecue Joel’s driving you to, but each one is bumpier than the last. One of the potholes back there sent your sunglasses bouncing all the way off your nose and up onto the top of your head. Joel mumbled a quiet apology when it happened and started gripping the steering wheel a little bit tighter. But there’s only so much the man can do along these unpaved and barely maintained back roads.

Shit, it’s been ages since you’ve been this far out in the boonies. Last time you were out here you were going mud-riding with your friends on four-wheelers. Afterwards, it took two whole hours to get all the red Mississippi clay outta your hair and another two to feel like a human being again. And last time, you knew everyone. They were your best of friends. This time, you’re going out there to meet a bunch of strangers. A bunch of Joel’s friends. And for the first time ever.

Part of you feels as if you should be more nervous than you are. But being with Joel has made you face a lot of things about yourself–about what you want and what you need from life. About whose opinion matters to you and whose doesn’t. You know you don’t have to win his friends over. You don’t have to win anybody over–you don’t have to compete with anyone’s ideals but your own. You sleep very peacefully at night with Joel by your side. And you won’t let anyone tell you to want any different.

The music coming out of the truck’s radio sounds like low static compared to the creaks and thunks coming out of the truck itself.  Joel’s eyes are so dead-set on the road in front of him, you’re surprised he even noticed when you nearly lost your sunglasses. He keeps adjusting his grip on the wheel. He sees you staring at him and is quick to quiet your thoughts.

“I’m fine,” he says, flicking his hand.

You giggle. “They’re either gonna like me or they won’t. I am not worrying myself about it.”

“I’m not worried, either.” He deflects so fast that you know he’s lying.

“Joel,” you laugh and roll your eyes. “Everything is going to go just fine today.”

“I know.” His brows are terse and he side-eyes you as if he’s offended you were assuming things weren’t going to go just fine. Kinda like he’s obviously been doing the whole drive out here.

You smile and shake your head, looking out the dusty window at the wall of pine trees lining the pale yellow road. The sun is high in the sky–not a cloud to be seen. It’s hot enough outside that even in your tank top and cut-off shorts you feel your thighs sticking to the leather seat beneath you. You’re tempted to grab a beer and cool off a little, maybe hold the can against Joel’s cheek to cool him off, too, if the bead of sweat dripping down his jaw is any indicator of how he’s feeling. In the middle of your decision-making, though, the truck hits another pothole and sends you flying.

“Shit!” Joel eases the car to a stop. “Are you okay, baby?”

 Your head tapped the roof on that one and you’re not sure where your sunglasses went. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” You grin and rub your crown.

“Are you sure? We can go back home if we need to. You just tell me and-and-and we’ll go.”

You throw your head back with a laugh. “Joel!” You’re grateful he stopped. Now you two can talk face to face without him trying to hide himself. He’s so full of nerves that it’s just silly at this point. You reach out and grab his hand. It’s thick and callused and warm. “What is going on?” You try to show concern, but there’s still an amused curve to your lips.

Joel melts. The way you look at him is like a warm balm over all the sore parts of himself. He can’t hide anything from you. He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t have to. He knows that he can say what’s on his mind and you’ll listen. You’ll make an effort to understand. He just gets all up in his head about things sometimes and forgets to open the door and let you in. He grits his teeth and sighs. “I’m just worried about the guys… sayin stuff ‘s all.”

“I can take care of myself,” you say with some attitude.

He smiles. “I know that, baby. I just–” He stops. His mouth opens, but the words don’t come out. 

You already know. “It’s the age thing, isn’t it?”

His shoulders fall.

“Joel, look at me.” He does and you get real stern and in his face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby–”

“No–I love you.” Now you’ve got both of your hands holding his one. His hands are so big that it takes both hands to cradle his one. “I know you. You have been nothing but kind and respectful and supportive of me. You have been more generous with your time and understanding than anyone in my life has ever been. And that’s a fact.” 

Joel’s chin rises. His lips tighten. His eyes soften.

“People are gonna make up all sorts of shit about us.” You shrug and shake your head. “And there’s nothing we can do about that. But these are your friends, okay? And once they see us together, it’ll all make sense.”

He sighs. “I just don’t want you gettin’ hurt.”

“If I get hurt, then I get hurt.” You shrug again. “I’ll get over it. ‘Cause I got you.” You smile. “You make me feel safe.”

“And if that ever changes, you tell me.” His lays his other hand on top of yours. “You tell me so I can fix it.”

You giggle. “I know, Joel. I know.” 

He’s more than proven himself to you over the past year of your time together. Your own flesh and blood was never as patient and dedicated as this man has been. You weren’t giving him up for anything. You inch forward and move in to kiss him and he meets you half-way. You love the poke of his facial hair around his pouty lips. You love this man.

��Now, come on. Let’s get going before the ice starts melting in those coolers.” You grin.

“Okay, baby.” He smirks. “Let’s go show ‘em.”

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[crownmemes]

One Night Stand Sentences

(Sentences from various sources for muses who aren't so great at flirting and romance. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"Would you consider having an affair with a married man?"

"What's your name anyway?"

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?"

"I thought we weren't getting sentimental?"

"Do you want to come back to my place?"

"Did you think this would mean we would be together?"

"What is it about me that you find so irresistible?"

"Half the fun of sex is fantasy."

"I want to talk about the kiss."

"Okay, let's establish some ground rules for our date."

"You can't possibly believe you're the only man to come to Paris with me."

"Can we just enjoy each other's company for a little while?"

"I don't even know your name."

"Do you live alone?"

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Tomorrow, if you feel the same way in the sunlight, maybe we can plan an actual date."

"If once is a mistake and twice is unfortunate, what does that make this?"

"I never did know your name."

"Are you like this with all your women?"

"I didn't know you were so easily seduced!"

"Do you remember the name of every woman you've slept with?"

"What are you doing here? I thought you went home?"

"Thanks for the invite, but I don't like one night stands all that much."

"I don't want to know you. I don't need to know anything about you."

"I'm guessing you haven't got time for sex?"

"What do you mean you're married?"

"Just because we talked yesterday morning doesn't make us sweethearts."

"What did you say your name was again?"

"If there's any chance that we can pretend this never happened, I'd be completely fine with that."

"Do you love me, I wonder?"