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that-sarcastic-writer · 6 months ago

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A Touch of Madness

Logan Howlett X girlfriend!reader

Summary: Logan comes to you after being away, and all he wants is your touch, and he knows just how to get on your good side. This is just porn without plot.

Takes place in the same universe as Too Sweet but can be read as standalone

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors dni, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, couch sex, soft rough sex, Logan talks you through it, the claws make an appearance (I have a thing for his claws okay), Logan is obsessed with his girl, fluffy relationship, established relationship

WC: 3.9k

A/N: how did I make this longer than too sweet when it was supposed to be a Drabble. Hello idk how to write short shit. But like hello yall are so awesome? I appreciate all the love yall have given my first Logan fic. I also have an older Logan fic in the works but that one has plot so it’ll be a minute before its out. For now here this <3

He couldn’t take it anymore. You were driving him mad. It’s not like he deserved your anger. Not fully anyway. It wasn’t his fault he was gone this long. He had been thinking about you all week, about your soft lips, about the warmth of your thighs, about your sweet moans only for his ears to hear. And all he wanted was to pull you into his arms and take you, over and over, until you begged him to stop.

But no.

You were being childish. That’s what he called it anyway.

“Sweet girl,” he called after you, like a puppy following close behind you as you strided around your apartment. He knew you were doing it on purpose, the excuse of having to do chores so you could elongate his torture. The way you so innocently looked back at him made him clench his jaw. “C’mon.”

“Don’t sweet girl me, Logan. I told you, I’m busy.” You sassed him, huffing as you kept walking, finding the most insignificant of chores to waste your time with. He rolled his eyes at you, eyebrows furrowed into this perpetual gaze of annoyance.

The truth was, you were aching for him, your thighs warm and your skin tingling solely at the thought of him taking you to do as he pleased. But, if there was something in this world you could be, it was petty. And if you had to suffer a whole week without him, he could suffer for an hour, even if it was also at your expense. Truly, you almost enjoyed the annoyance in his face, the sharpness in his voice, him damn near groaning behind you every time you evaded him under the excuse of needing to get some dumb chore done.

“You’re killin’ me here, sugar.” He actually groaned this time, his jaw set. You stopped in your tracks and turned your head to look at him, shooting him a pointed look. “I said I was sorry.”

“Serves you right. And I don’t care if you’re sorry. You haven’t called me in a week.” Your words were sharp with bitterness and it dawned on him. That was why you were upset. A slight bit of humor tugged at the corner of his lips and he breathed out a laugh. You stared at him with blank eyes, you weren’t laughing.

“C’mon, is that seriously why you’re upset? You know I was out of the state.” He tried to reason with you. Charles had entrusted him and Storm with finding a certain mutant that was causing havoc, three states over. And Logan had very much underestimated how long this would take them. So here he was, after a whole week away, damn near begging you to let him touch you. “It wasn’t like I wanted to go anyway.”

No, he would much rather be with his sweet girl, one that was being particularly difficult and making him suffer when all he wanted to do was hold you, to feel the warmth of your soft skin.

He stepped into your personal space, his intoxicating scent almost making you give in. You counted to five in your head, eyes closed to remind yourself that you were, indeed, angry at him.

“So? You got a phone, don’t you? You could’ve called me.” You huffed, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a small pout, Logan had to hold back the urge to laugh at you. “You can’t disappear for a week and expect to come here and do as you please.”

You shot him a sharp glare, he just stared at you, eyebrows raised in surprise at your sudden shot of confidence. His sweet girl was talking back to him? Giving him attitude? He tilted his head at you, almost as if to dare you to walk away from him.

There was a bit of malice in your eyes as you gave him one last look before you walked away, thinking of what other useless chore you could add to continue his torture. But Logan had other thoughts in his head. If you weren’t going to behave, he would happily put you in your place.

“Hey, c’mere or I’m gonna bring you here myself.” He called after you, the strings of his sanity hanging on by a thread, just waiting for you to tug at the last strand. He knew you too well. You turned your head, eyes big in feign innocence and you tilted your head at him in defiance.

“Make me then.” The words left your mouth before you could think them through. In hindsight you should have known better, but you also wanted to see just what could happen if you pushed him hard enough. You saw the way his eyes flashed with malice, he stared you down, and in that moment you remembered just how small you were compared to him. “Oh fuck.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as adrenaline rushed through you, but it wasn’t like you could go outrun him, especially not in your tiny apartment. He caught you, though he did purposely chase you into your living room, simply because he wanted to get you going, pumped with adrenaline. You squealed as he wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled you against his chest. His sharp canines nipped at that one spot on your neck that had you whimpering.

“You goin’ somewhere, sugar?” He husked, his lips hot on your cheek. You couldn’t help but sigh in contentment, eyes closed. God, you missed him.

“Mhm, still mad at you.” You mumbled, barely hanging on to your silly grudge. A chuckle rumbled in Logan’s chest.

“That’s alright. I don’t need you to be happy with me to do what I want to do.” He inhaled, breathing your sweet scent, and he spoke as he threw you over his shoulder. “Just need you to look pretty while I do it.”

You weren’t complaining about your position, you were in fact, bursting into giggles as he effortlessly carried you to the couch, though your giggles turned into another squeal when he smacked his hand flat against your ass. Logan had a grin on his lips as he tossed you on the couch, wasting no time in spreading your legs apart to settle between them.

He leaned down, gripping the armrest above your head, caging you in as he leaned down. He brushed his nose against yours, sighing softly.

“Don’t be such a brat. Kiss me.” The words rumbled in his chest with a groan, his primal needs overcoming his senses. He didn’t have to tell you twice. You laced your fingers in his hair, pulling into a hard and heated kiss.

His tongue slipped inside your mouth as he shrugged off his flannel, tossing it somewhere on the floor, his belt soon following the same fate. You tried to sit up against the armrest, but you quickly realized Logan had other plans deep in his perverted mind. With a hold of your ankle he dragged you down on the couch, your back flat on the surface as you looked up at him with big eyes.

“Stay just like that, pretty.” He spoke, pressing another heated kiss to your mouth before tugging off your sweatpants, followed by your panties. He tossed them somewhere over his shoulder, somewhere you would have to run around searching for later. But you couldn’t give a fuck about that. All you could focus on was the heat forming between your legs as Logan settled between them.

His eyes met with yours one last time before he was diving in between your warm thighs. His tongue licked long stripes from your hole up to your clit, circling around the sensitive nerve before going back down. Over and over until your soft gasps and sighs of pleasure turned into moans. His large hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open to do as he pleased. One leg hung over the back of the couch and the other was thrown over his shoulder, and he effortlessly held you down as he shoved his tongue into your cunt. He was like an animal, insatiable as he took you on his tongue.

“Oh fuck. Shit—Logan—” Your eyes rolled back, lips parted as you whined. You gripped the back of the couch, soft twitches taking over you each time his nose brushed your clit.

It was no secret that Logan found pleasure in giving you yours, and he ate you like it. Grunts and hums rumbled in his chest as his tongue found your clit again, and he reveled in the particularly high pitched cry you let out when he slipped two fingers into your wet core.

“Needed to taste you so fuckin’ bad. I thought about it all week.” He spat into your clit, groaning at the way your tight walls squeezed his fingers. He could only imagine what you would do when it was his cock stretching your walls.

“Yes, yes, yes.” You chanted, fingers lacing in his hair as he lapped at your clit. You wished you could hold your pleasure, rivet in it for just a little bit longer, but the way he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot, the way his tongue was so relentless on your swollen clit, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh my—”

Your words never left your throat, chest pounding with sheer adrenaline as your release coated his face and fingers. It was sudden, it left you breathless as your thighs twitched with aftershock. Your eyes were wide and glossy in shock as you shuddered with the remnants of your orgasm. It wasn’t until you pathetically attempted to drag yourself away that Logan stopped. You were shaking, gasping softly when he pulled his fingers from you, but you all but cried when he licked at your wet pussy, getting a taste of you.

“Logan, please I can’t—” Your voice was shaky as you tried to move away from his face, he chuckled at you, pressing his face against your inner thigh before he crawled up to your face.

“‘Is okay. You did good.” He kissed your lips, his large hands holding your face as he let you taste yourself on his tongue. You moaned, clenching around nothing already in anticipation of him filling you. “You wanna stop?”

“No, no, no! Need you, please!” You were quick to protest, wrapping your legs around his waist to prevent him from going anywhere. You couldn’t really stop him from doing anything, but he found it endearing that you tried. He bumped his nose against yours, lips pulled up into a tiny smile.

“Need me where, hm?” He opened his eyes to look at you, and truly how he didn’t bend you over the nearest flat surface the second he saw you was beyond his comprehension. You looked so perfect like this, underneath him, clinging to him. His sweet girl. He didn’t know what it was about you, but from the moment he met you he was done for. You drove him absolutely mad and now he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“Inside me, Logan. Please.” You sighed out, face flushed with embarrassment. He smoothed out the frown lines on your forehead with a tiny kiss. A sweet gesture in comparison to what he was about to do to you.

In one swift motion he had you bent over the armrest, with your ass to him and your chest flat against the armrest. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip as you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he pulled off his white tank top. Your glazed eyes fawned over each perfect muscle in his body, taking particular interest in the veins that popped in his arm when he flexed them as he ridded himself of his jeans. How you ended up with a man so incredibly hot, you had no idea, but you were thanking the Gods for that.

“I need to be inside you, too.” He rasped into your ear, groaning in ecstasy as he sank himself into your needy cunt. Your jaw fell open he filled you, inch by inch. He pulled your t-shirt over your head, instantly attaching his lips to your shoulder as he rutted his hips against your ass.

His pace was grueling from the start, grip tight on your hips, sure to leave bruises in the morning. A little reminder of his intoxicating presence. You braced yourself on the armrest, sounds of pleasure leaving your lips almost instantly. He pressed his forehead against your cheek, the thick hairs on his chest leaving a tingling sensation across your back as he held you flush against his chest. Heavy breaths filled your ears as you so desperately reached to touch him, any of him. Your trembling fingers found the sound of his face and he leaned his head to capture your parted lips into a messy kiss. He swallowed your sweet sounds as the sting of his cock had you squeezing the life out of him.

“This what you needed, hm? Maybe I should fuck sweet pussy more often? Give it more attention?” He grunted the words in your ears, lips pressed against your cheek as a sheen layer of sweat began to coat your soft skin. You whimpered and nodded weakly, your cunt clenching him with excitement. He smirked softly, his hand coming up to lace through your hair. “Yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweet girl?”

Logan held your face down as his hips drilled into you, each delicious drag of his cock bringing you closer and closer to your sweet release. God, you needed it. All you could do was moan in response.

“Y-yes! God, yes. Please Logan.” You whined out shamelessly, eyes rolled back into your head. Logan hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as he pressed his lips to your temple, the gentle gesture ironic considering just what he was doing to you. He said nothing as he sneaked his free hand to the front of your body, rough fingers rubbing harsh circles on your sensitive clit. Your jaw fell open, your hand flying to grip his wrist. Your thighs clenched around his hand, whining as his cock brushed that one spot that had you seeing white. “Logan—”

Your voice was a warning, but he welcomed it. He flicked his wrist without mercy as he rolled his hips, his words only encouraging you to fall apart for him.

“Come for me, pretty girl. You can do that, can’t you? I know you want to.” He let go of your hair to turn your head to meet his eager lips. He happily swallowed the pathetic sounds that left your mouth as he flicked at your clit, his cock hitting so impossibly deep you were left trembling as your release seeped around him.

Logan held you down on his cock, his thumb playing with your clit until you were gasping and your nails dug into the skin of his wrist. He kissed along your jaw as his hips stilled for just a second, your body still shaking underneath him.

“You okay?” He asked softly, grabbing your face to look at him. You looked at him with hooded eyes and nodded weakly, barely lifting yourself off the couch.

“Yeah. ‘m okay.”

Logan tilted his head at you, an eyebrow raised with amusement as he leaned down to leave a kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Perfect.”

He grabbed your hips, pulling out his cock to manhandle you onto your back before he was sinking himself into you again. Your slick walls welcomed him perfectly, like this was the only place he belonged, but he wasn’t complaining. If he could die, he would die happily buried deep in your cunt.

“Oh, God, Logan.” You gasped, thighs twitching as you looked down to find where his thick cock is filling you, splitting you open over and over. Your jaw fell open as you watched him grab one of your ankles and he held it up by his shoulder, spreading you open for him to dig himself deeper and deeper within you tight walls.

“Look at me, baby.” He groaned, chest heavy as a thin layer of sweat covered his muscled body. You did your best to comply, you looked up, eyes blurry with tears of pleasure as he damn near folded your body in half. Your knees were pressed against your chest as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “Yes, there she is. My pretty girl. I missed you.”

You couldn’t help but moan at his words, and also at the sting of his cock rapidly bringing you to your third release. The way he brought your legs to his shoulders, he sunk himself so deep within your walls you swore you felt him in your stomach. It felt so good you wanted to cry.

“Missed you too, Logan.” You brought your lips up to his, eyebrows furrowed into an expression of pure arousal as you gripped his hair, clinging to him for dear life.

Your release was quick and sudden, hitting you without a warning the second Logan pressed his thumb to your swollen clit. You were just so sensitive, tears staining your cheeks as you sobbed. You clutched on to his large bicep as you spilled around his cock. The way your tight walls squeeze him made him groan, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on chasing his own release while fucking you through your own.

“Look at you, you’re just so good for me. Fuck it, I’ll just take you with me next time.” Groans fell freely from his soft lips as he braced himself on the back of the couch with one hand, and the other held the armrest above your head. He leaned down to press his forehead against yours as your sweet praises and chants of his name filled his ears.

The sound that rumbled in Logan’s chest was animalistic, a deep growl as he coated your insides with his hot release. The metallic sound of sharp claws filled your ears once more as his claws unsheathed themselves from his knuckles, one on the back of the couch and the other just above your head, again. You gasped his name with a soft laugh, though you would be lying if you said it didn’t drive you feral when his claws accidentally came out. You brought a hand to his face as he pulled his claws out of your couch, the sharp metal once again hiding themselves within his knuckles with a sound. He held himself up on his forearm as his head fell to your neck.

“I’ll pay for it.” He muttered a chuckle into your neck, leaving a soft kiss to your jaw. You laughed, draping a hand over your forehead, breathing in deeply as you felt your mixed releases seep around his cock and drip onto the couch. He should just buy you a new couch, he thought.

“Wanna buy me a new body while you’re at it?” You teased him, already sensing you would have bruises and your thighs would ache for days.

“Did I hurt you?” Concern filled his voice as he lifted his head to scan your face for any discomfort as his hand came up to graze the thigh draped over his waist. You scrunched up your nose at him and shook your head.

“Of course not hun. Don’t be silly.” You traced your fingers over his face and gave him a lopsided smile.

“I did miss you, for the record.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips. “I missed you too Logan.”

“Lemme clean you up sugar.” He sneaked a kiss to your cheek as he untangled himself from you, much to your protest.

You whined at the emptiness he left you as he stood up. Though you did quite enjoy the sight of his perfect ass he walked off to find something to clean his mess with. When he came back, he had a small towel and he cleaned you without protest, he left warm kisses on your face as you talked to him about your day. He ultimately tossed the towel aside and slipped on his boxers, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of his still hard cock, but you needed a break. You didn’t let him leave though, reaching to grab his wrist with soft eyes

“Wanna watch a movie? I miss watching movies with you.” You mumbled, voice soft as you looked at him with pleading eyes. He laughed softly at you, you made it sound like you hadn’t seen him in a month.

But, how could he ever say no to his sweet girl?

“Mhm, put on somethin’ .” He gently moved you so that he was lying behind you on the couch, his big arms wrapped around you as he held you against his chest. Though you were still completely naked, you paid no mind to it. It actually felt kinda nice to be so close to him and feel the warmth of his body in such an intimate way.

He covered you both with the throw blanket you always kept over the couch for days exactly like this, for those days you wanted to feel warm and close with him on the couch. He ignored the three holes where stuffing was coming out of the ripped fabric as he pulled the soft blanket up to your chest and as you happily settled in his arms, clicking away at the TV. He would buy you a new couch, just as he bought you new pillows, and new blankets. And anything you asked him to, really.

Logan wasn’t used to domestic, the soft touches, cuddling, but he liked doing it with you. He craved it actually, probably just as much as he craved the sex.

“Next time you’re away that long, just give me a call? Please? So that I’m not worried sick thinking you died.” You finally said, the whole reason for such intense feelings merely an hour ago finally surfacing. He laughed softly at how ridiculous you sounded. He technically can’t die, he thought.

“I wouldn’t.. I can’t…Y’know what? You’re right. I’m still getting used to this whole having a girl thing. But I'll do better, yeah? Don’t need you to be mad, sugar.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, settling his face on your neck as he attempted to pay attention to whatever horror movie you decided to watch today. “But if you’re gonna let me fuck you like that when you’re mad, get mad more often.”

“Logan.” You scolded him, nudging his ribs softly as a warm blush coated your cheeks, knowing you wouldn’t hurt him, but it still made him chuckle.

He had to admit, he lasted way longer than he did last time. He lasted almost halfway through the movie before the feeling of his cock sitting hot and heavy in his boxers became apparent to him again. He inhaled your scent softly, his lips ghosting over your neck as he rolled his hips softly against your ass. And while you did try to protest, whining that you wanted to get through one movie with him, the sting of his cock was better than any movie in this world. The credits rolled, the soundtrack now drowned out by the sound of your sweet moans. Logan would be damned if he let you leave the warmth of his body for even just one second tonight. Or maybe ever.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #Logan Howlett smut #the Wolverine #Wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #Logan Howlett #Wolverine

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radiance1 · 8 months ago

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By all accounts, it shouldn't have worked.

By all bloody accounts, that should not have worked.

Constantine will repeat.

That, by all accounts, should not have worked.

The warehouse was shitty. The materials were shitty. The summoning circle was shitty. The chanting was shitty. The magic was shitty.

By all accounts, the summoning should not have worked.

So Constantine couldn't give much of a shit about really stopping it because the summoning was so shitty it shouldn't have worked by an means possible.

So what. In the ever-loving fuck. Was the Ghost King, known tyrant of the Infinite Realms. Standing in the middle of the circle and not, last he checked, imprisoned?

That was another thing that he thought would have made it fail, actually. Because the Ghost King was incapacitated, asleep, gone, unavailable, nada.

So what. The fuck. Was he doing. Here?

Constantine knew the day was going to well to stay that way but wow. The universe loves to fuck him over, apparently.

Or the Justice League in specific.

Or both.

Doesn't matter, because now he has to bullshit his way out of this or get ready to brawl for his life.

Good thing he's good at both of those things, then.

Mostly the bullshit-

"Phantom what the fuck are you doing-" Constantine wheezed out, watching one of their newest members-a ghost going by the name Phantom-fly over in front of the known tyrant and-

Oh.

Oh, holy shit this won't end well.

Ghost King.

Phantom. A ghost.

Well, shit.

This is fine. This is totally fine. He just needs to bullshit his way out of this or face two powerhouses.

This is fine.

He's done worse.

"Sup War" Phantom said, floating around the summoning circle that contained the king of all ghosts like it wasn't a problem. "Didn't expect to be seeing you here."

"Ward." The Ghost King inclined his head slightly, eyes trained on Phantom. "I would not have come here if not for Time's insistence and I have been meaning to..." The King paused, hands gripping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword. "...Check in... on you."

"Aww, were you worried about lil old meeeee?" Phantom, ever the little shit and holy shit did Constantine want to go over there and shut him up, said. Floating around until he was staring upside down in the Ghost King's face. "Didn't know you were so soft, pa."

"I am not soft." The King huffed, flame dancing at the edges of his hair. "I was merely... concerned. Over how you would be acclimating to your circumstances. This world's League of Justice covers far more than your small haunt."

"Weeeell, it's not that bad honestly." Phantom admitted. "Haven't really done anything too big yet just some smallish things here and there. So, you know." The ghost boy shrugged, swinging back in the air to turn upright and crossing his legs. "Nothing too bad."

"Good." The Ghost King nodded, shoulders slumping so slightly that if Constantine wasn't looking, he wouldn't have seen it. "That is good. Yes. Good." The King slightly cleared his throat, grasping and ungrasping the pommel of his sword.

Silence echoed in the warehouse as the King seemingly looked for words to say.

"Would you..." He cleared his throat again, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. "Would you like to join me and Time for a meeting? It has been some time since you had last joined us." The King shifted slightly before adding. "Of course, if you're busy you do not have too."

"Sure." Phantom said, rolling back and forth in the air as he hummed. "Been a while since we've had some family time-"

"Family time?" Constantine caught someone-who he thinks was Green Lantern-say. He was just as bewildered.

"And if Time sent you here then it must be important." Danny paused before shrugging. "Or maybe not, can never know with him. But yea, sure. I'll come."

"Wonderful." The Ghost King smiled. Smiled. At Phantom. "Then I shall. Leave. Now. To do. Things. Yes. Things." The summoning circle flashed a familiar green, the same green when the King was first being summoned. "Goodbye, ward."

"You can call me son, you know."

The King paused for a moment, blinking slowly before hesitantly nodding.

"Then goodbye. Son."

The circle flashed and just like that. The king was gone.

"Kid. What the fuck." Whoever said- okay wait no that was Constantine, him. But yea fuck it he agrees with himself. "What the fuck." He repeated.

Phantom, the brat, only gave him a shit eating grin and a peace sign before disappearing on the spot.

#dc x dp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover #Felt like writing sum and this spawned :P #dark ages #In the background #Me when I realize I'm the writer and can write whatever the fuck I want #Characterization be damned I'm already fucked so what's one more sin on my list

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goldsbitch · 2 months ago

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monaco kiss .wav

Lando's mildly exhibitionist dreams came true. Due to genius sound engineering, the world can now listen to him and his girlfriend having sex, without a clue it's them.

the track mentioned and referenced (no need to listen to it to get the story, go and be free): French Kiss - The Original Underground Mix, Lil'Louis, The World (credit where credit is due)... 05:30 is the timestamp

word count: 7k

warning: smut, minors DNI, p in v, oral sex, voice notes, colapinto level amount of the word "mate"

PS: i rarely do, but I fuckin love this one

If there was ever a place where Lando could spend hours and hours on end, it was the blue couch at Martin Garrix's personal studio. That piece of furniture was the peak of comfy. He'd asked many times where he got it - if only Martin could remember that.

The whole studio has a cozy vibe around it. A safe space for the F1 star to escape the ever-present eyes of the public, a timeless place where he could wind down and sit passively, while his friend digged notes for hits of the future. They'd often sit for hours in silence, just winding down.

To Lando's joy, the ultimate friend chemistry he had with Martin also worked for him and his, not-so-new-anymore, girlfriend Y/N. In fact, the moment these two met, it was clear that Y/N would quickly become a frequent member of their private recording sessions.

But this time, she had to be in a different city due to work, so it was just the boys, the olden days. Back when Lando would actually dabble in DJ'ing. Those days were long gone, but...It wasn't a rare thing that Lando would help and brainstorm ideas, chord progressions or effects applied to the tracks. What the public didn't know was that he was a loud creative force behind some elements in Martin's recent tracks. Lando had almost threatened him, urging to keep this behind closed door. He wasn't gonna Leclerc this one out.

"You look beat, mate," said Martin finally after nearly two hours of staring into track nods. Lando finally looked up from his phone.

"I'm waiting for you to be done, bro," he replied simply, reffering back to their debate regarding this latest track. A pause. "You know my opinion."

Max turned around to face him, only to find a signature overplayed smirk looking back at him. "You know what, I'm a fucking renowned producer, and you have the decency to come and tell me my track is shit?"

Lando did not flinch. This as a fairly normal way they'd speak together. "Well, someone apparently has to," he shot back, challenging Martin to flip out.

"Screw you," he replied and turned back to face his three monitors. Lando waited patiently, knowing that this was his signature first reaction to criticism. He always came around eventually. Max was his friend. And he would do everything to stop him from releasing crap. "Ok," he heard the DJ say, caving in to his doubts. "I am too deep in this track anyway. Tell me what you think."

"Mate, you said you wanted to do something more experimental. You forgot to add boring," Lando deadpanned.

Martin sighed loudly and leaned back to his chair.

"Don't get me wrong, I fucking love how you go from like - what, 120bpm?-"

"135-"

"Yeah, whatever," Lando said, not happy when Martin used his i-know-music-theory-and-you-don't tone. "As I was gonna say, the come down from the fast tempo to the painfully slow one, in the middle of the track, kind of works. It's certainly nothing like I'd heard play anywhere lately. But like, there is nothing in the production that makes it stand out? Like no real build up or interesting sound."

Lando knew it was brutal from him. But he wasn't there to pat his friend on the back. Just like Martin would never fake compliment his on a bad race. To Lando, this was peak friendship.

Martin hit quick save and closed the file abruptly, startling a minor panic in his friend. Did Lando overstep?

"Come on, mate. Don't copout now."

Martin was visibly startled. "Maybe I just need to put this one down for a moment. Lando did not know what to say to that. He might be right.

"Cig break?"

They were standing at the small balcony connected to main entrance to the studio, cigarette smokes mixing together. Yeah, Lando did enjoy an occasional smoke break with his friend. A guilty pleasure one might say.

"So, what was the starting point of the track?" he couldn't help but ask, still not happy to see his friend aborting something he'd spend hours on.

Martin gave him an annoyed look, but did not hesitate to reply. "Remember how the conversation I had about techno tracks being awfully predictable?."

Lando eyes shot up. "Wait, that weird chick you ran into in Germany?"

Rarely would Martin blush, but today was a lucky day apparently. A mocking snort came as a reaction from his friend. "Mate, I don't remember ever seeing you so flustered because of a girl." Few weeks ago, Martin had the fortune of meeting someone who he called "the love of his life" in a random club. And that girl had the audacity to leave him on read for hours. Him, Martin Garrix. Infuriating.

"Yeah, well, fuck you. She was real cool, alternative and reminded me of why I got into music in the first place. Let's revisit how insufferable you were when you met Y/N." Lando exhaled, forever happy anytime anyone ever brought up him and Y/N meeting. If it were up to him, that would be the only thing he's talk about. Getting to know her was like the best kind of drunk one can get. Tipsy enough to make everything fun and perfect, and not too much to get lost in it.

"Fuck off, I was never as insufferable as this," he defended, deep down knowing he might have been even worse. But, he and Y/N ended up dating. Poor Martin was desperate even for a reply.

"Whatever," Martin remarked and put his cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. This small gesture reminded Lando why he was friends with this guy, the precious safe-space he managed to create. If there was a moment to act as a friend, it was this one.

"Shut up and let's get back to the track. We just gotta let loose a bit, that's all," he said, determined to get Martin out of the rut of his own head.

They'd been sitting for another hour, the sun long gone from their sight, two vodka soda's mixed from personal studio bar in, dozens of old tracks analyzed.

Martin played the middle section once again. Lando's head was mindlessly nodding into the beat they'd added and it was starting to look kind of good for the track. But it was not exceptional. And if Lando was trying to help Martin get the attention of some pseudo-pretentious alternative chick, they had to step up their game.

"Can you recall any track which uses the same level of tempo slow down? We could like, I dunno, look into why it works when other people did it and maybe something will come up." Lando often drew inspiration from other artists, something Martin usually hated. But, desperate times.

The racer watched the DJ and suddenly, as it was as if the musical equivalent of the DRS just hit him, his eyes went wide and he stood up.

"Of course!" Martin exclaimed and started pacing around the room. Lando was obviously surprised and kept still, hoping for the best, really. He watched his friend, walking back and forth around the room, deep in his own thoughts and searching for something on his phone.

"Yes! That's it," he finally said happily and put a song up to their loud speakers. The excited look he gave to Lando was almost scary. "You're gonna absolutely love this one," he continued with absolute confidence.

Lando prayed for this to be good, otherwise he was going to have to start getting worried about his friend's sanity, based on the crazy eyes.

The song started with a steady, four-on-the-floor beat (or that was what Lando had assumed). It was a typical 1980's techno track, fast, repetitive with a strong bass line.

But they were almost four minutes in and nothing that would stand out in any way was coming out of this track. Lando could not help but give Martin a doubtful look, not really getting what he was excited about. But Martin was there, nodding his head to the beat, in his own world. He must have sensed Lando's so-far-unimpressed expression, so he shot him a quick smile and gestured for him to wait. Finally, something started to happen and just like in Martin's new track, the music started to slow up on the tempo, quite dramatically. It got Lando somewhat hooked. And then-

And then! He thought he was imagining things. That his mind created sounds in his own head out of boredom.

Instead of a new instrumental added a vocal component was added. The most sensual female moan started to dominate the track, as the tempo kept slowing down. Lando felt his stomach dropped and hair and the back of his neck stand. It was sensual, almost vulgar in fact. Like some sort of elegant porn track playing over the original beat. Unapologetic. And it was increasing. What started as a somewhat socially acceptable sigh, turned into a full on orgasm moan - and as the music almost stopped, the female voice was taking on the main stage, full on peak. Thank God the walls were sound proofed. Lando cock was twitching. He tried to ignore Martin, who was grinning like a school boy first time seeing a porn video. And once the voice finally reached a peak, the music started to pick up, leftover moans cutting through the beat. Only then was Lando able to look Martin in the eye and got out of the semi-trance this track got him into. Finally the tempo fully picked up and the nine minute song was over.

"Uhh..." Lando got his initial reaction out and stared into the screen. Martin was there, unable to contain his laughter.

"You look flushed, mate, you good?" he teased, obviously pleased with himself for getting Lando out of his comfort zone.

Lando was finally getting back to Earth and couldn't help but to release a girl-like giggle. "Yeah, mate...I think if you do something like that, you will break the internet almost definitely."

What Martin could not know, because they did not have that kind of a relationship, was that Lando's phone was full of noise recordings of him and Y/N having sex. She was quite a vocal person. And he was a bit of a naughty boy, asked for a permission to record a sex tape nearly dozens of times. His girlfriend was probably right in refusing to do so, given the fact that if a video got out, it would be a disaster for both of them. But, an audio? One without any names mentioned? That was something she felt comfortable. And it as this thing Lando was using to get himself off when he was traveling alone for the past few months. So yeah, Martin hit the nail on its "head" with this one.

Lando gulped, trying to get himself back in the right headspace and not thinking of all the times Y/N screamed and moaned for him while bent over a table or laying in a silky bed.

"I fuckin' love this idea, mate. I'm gonna check with the lawyer team and see if I can go and sample this or something," Martin said, his tone indicating he was happy and done for the day.

"Yeah. This would work," Lando replied, unable to tone his voice down to his usual octave.

It was a surreal plane trip home to Monaco. They'd wrapped at the studio and Lando was headed directly to airport. This was proving to be unfortunate, as there was no time for him to go anywhere and take care of the problem growing in his pants. He had never listened to their voice notes in public, but he could not find any sort of self-restraint not to do so that day. Shamelessly walking around the private lounge area with a ragging boner and sex noises blasting in his headphones. He prayed for no fans showing up. At one point he was debating just beating it off in the airport bathroom. A teenager he had not been for a long time now.

And like a cruel joke, a voice memo landed in his messages from Y/N precisely at the time he as about to board his flight.

A part of him hoped it was a voice note of her jerking off. Sadly, it was not.

"Hey, my love, I hope you're all good and will make the flight. I've had such a boring day and can't wait to see you," she said a tone so sweet Lando felt almost guilty for walking around with thoughts of her on all fours, begging for his cock. It brought him back to normal, which was probably for the better. "Anyway, I'll be at home, let me know when you're coming." He smiled, loving the fact they were there for each other even in the innocent sort of way. "Aaah, what a day," she ended the voice note with a moan. A fucking tired sort of sigh. Normally, it would be a very casual thing for Lando. But did it sound like something out of their sex tapes? Of course it fucking did. "Mmmm.." And with that, the voice memo ended and Lando's boner was right back on.

"Hi, my love."

"Hello, sweetheart."

It was something he was proud about. Teaching her to sleep naked. Sleeping in clothes is close to committing a crime when she has a body like that. Clothes were for the outdoors anyway. It was doing something to his ego to see she fully accepted that. To his luck, he found Y/N just like he wanted - bare, snuggled up in their bed under a criminal amount of duvets, but most importantly, given his current state, still somewhat awake. She was giving his the most inviting look he'd ever seen on a human.

"Are you hitting the shower?" Y/N asked, pushing the duvet closer to her neck, as if to cover herself for some reason. Lando found that more than amusing and shook his head.

They'd exchanged few pleasantries, mundane questions while we was undressing and finally crawled into the bed with her. As a natural move, she shifted, letting him to be the big spoon. He caressed her hair before stepping in. Changed his tone from casual to bedroom. Finally.

"You and me baby, just us. How it's suppose to be."

Flirting was a second language to Lando and he was not afraid to use it.

"I see you kept the bed warm for us," he said, warmed his hands by blowing his hot breath on both of them. When he was sure that his body adapted from the chilly outdoors air to their hot flat, he started tracing lines on her body and pressed his crotch to her ass, to test her reaction, and see if he got lucky and caught her in the right mood.

He wouldn't be able to see it, due to the fact he was spooning her from behind, but her eyes shot wide open as his ragging boner pressed on her and a cheeky smile crept in. She answered by moving back to him, and arching her back. Loud, horny sighs from Lando followed.

"I see you've been a good boy, am I right?" she whispered sensually.

And fucking yes, he was a good boy. She'd often reward him when he manage to obstain from jerking off when they were suppose to see each other. If he had been hard before, they would need to come up with a new name for what he was experiencing after hearing his hard work being acknowledged.

He gulped, trying to keep his some cool in his voice. "You can guess twice," he challenged and pushed his body towards her, squeezing his dick between their bodies. She giggled and turned on her back to face him. Tried to kiss him slowly, but he was having none of that. Once the door was opened, he took the lead and kissed her with all of his pent up hunger. His hands were holding her jaw in place, as if she was going to slip away - which was the exact opposite of her plans. Soon enough she kissed back with similar urgency, roaming her hands on his chest and pulling his ever-so-curly hair.

"I need you," she whispered when he reached away to take in some air.

He grinned, happy to have some sort of level of upper hand, given how down bad he actually was.

"Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?" he asked, expecting the same answer he gave her. His cheeky fingers started exploring her upper thighs.

She waited a moment. "No, I haven't," bit her lip. This took Lando as a surprise and he opened his mouth in disbelief.

"Well, would you look at that..." he said, secretly loving this side of her. Horny little angel, getting herself off. In his mind, it was like she'd been training for him. He gripped her thigh, making her gasp.

"I think you might still find some evidence on the sheets," she whispered, and it was exactly that sound that was a turning point of Lando. He flipped over to tower her and slammed his lips towards hers. He opened her legs with his hands and started exploring her core - and it was exactly as she said it. Still wet from her on fingers, as he'd imagined.

"Well then, we'll do this on my terms. You understand?" he said in a playful tone. "What are you?"

She knew what answer he was looking for. "Bad girl," she sighed as he fingered her in a way that could not be described as gentle. Soft moans started escaping her mouth and that was the main thing Lando was longing for.

"And what am I? For keeping myself full for you?" he asked, trying to keep her on the edge with his moves.

Her eyes were now shut and her arms locked around his back, same as her legs. "Good boy," she sighed.

"Exactly. So do me a favour," he said, kissing her again, "be loud for me tonight. Make my ears ring and wake up the neighbours. Otherwise I'll make sure you don't get what a good girl gets." Both of them knew there was not a single cell in Lando willing to keep his empty promise. She was going to finish multiple times and he'd work for it the whole night if he had to.

Back arched. Lando's fingers doing the God's work. "Yes," she almost choked on her breath and let out an honest and beautiful sound.

It was already getting too much for Lando, he stroked himself few times and then slid into her wet cunt, as if it was his home.

And boy, was it better than any home he'd ever know. He warm wet, almost dripping cunt welcomed him in the sweetest of ways. Lando waited few seconds for both of them to adjust before he gripped her legs and swung them over his shoulders. It was a dance they'd practiced countless times before. She knew to clench her legs and provide support for him to be able to fully start launching into her.

He gave her one more lustfilled look before he thrusted for the first time. The thing he was specifically looking forward was the way how the breath escaped her throat in almost surprised way - as if she was not expecting this to happen. Pure pleasure overruled any thoughts he was having pretty quickly. The way her walls clenched over him was a sensation very few things could compare to. It was so easy to start moving faster and harder. He lived for the sight of her, lying down beneath him, eyes closed and finally, after few more perfectly placed movements, first moans started to escape her lips. He wanted more, tonight he needed it all. Speeding up, gripping her legs tighter. And with that, he watched as her boobs were bouncing back and forth, a sight so glorious he had to put one of his hands on it. All that she was somehow trying to hide in, started to come out. Face stuck in a scream like position, hands gripping Lando's arms and the most glorious of it all - the silent moans growing into muted screams. And once he added even more speed, those turned into unhinged screaks. He didn't even notice him own mouth stuck open. Breaths were getting heavier and heavier, drops of sweet sweat were falling on her torso and slowly Lando moved his hand over to from her boobs to the crease of her neck and squeezed just a little bit, the way he knew she liked. He didn't mind that the sound she made got a little muffled - he could feel the sound coming from her throat before it left her body.

And then finally, Lando felt almost a hot liquid hit his dick and gradually bounce over to his lower stomach as he moved even quicker than before, knowing well enough that when this happened to her, the incoming orgasm was about to be glorious. He thrusted, fully focused on her expressions and loud screams.

When her release happened seconds later, he nearly came himself. By some miracle, he managed to hold it of for just few more minutes. He kept thrusting, while he felt her body collapse momentarily, complete hard shut down. More liquid came out of her and Lando wished he could fuck and lick her at the same time.

And just like that, she was back again, panting hard and finally, eyes open once again. Her fucked out face challenging him once again. She smirked and tried as much as he could to keep up his tempo. It always took her one orgasm to bounce back and become more active. Lando wished he could go on for hours, but his dick almost begged him to allow the release. He wasn't gonna deny himself pleasure tonight.

"Say my name," she said in a loud demanding tone, stern look on her face. He wanted to chuckle, always finding it amusing how she went from almost a comatose princess to a challenging boss girl in seconds. After he made her come, of course. But Lando's mind was truly getting blurry at that point. He kept saying her name as like some sort of prayer as he carried himself to the heavenly release. It was the ultimate relief, dipping in a hot water, getting charged with electricity, tasting the sweetest drink, stepping into the hottest sunshine. Whatever kind of pleasure Lando could think of, nothing would ever mount to finally releasing it into her, especially after a long, oh so long, build up.

And with that, he fell next to her. Heave panting on both sides of the bed, before either of them spoke.

"All good? Are you ok?" he asked, just like he always did after they'd slept together. The thought of her not having a good time haunted him. He was aware that it sometimes came out more anxiously than he intended to, but who has a proper working brain after a sex session.

Y/N turned at him, blissful smile on her lips. "Oh yeah, baby. Love when you come home like this."

He smirked, getting some of the blood back to his brain. "Hmm, I also love coming home."

Their fucked out minds chuckled at the stupid joke. He gathered all the remaining strenght, got up and cleaned her up.

"Oh God, I've missed you," she complained into the no quiet room, still filled with sex air.

"You have no idea, how much I did, sweetheart."

It had been a good few weeks before Lando found himself once again in Martin's studio. This time Y/N was able to join him on the iconic couch. They sat, her legs relaxed over his, Lando's hand stroking her shins innocently. Physical touch boy if there ever was one.

Light banter laced the evening, few sips from Martin's signature vodka sodas and general lightness of the company were bound to end up with Martin sharing his latest relationship news. The alternative girl he met in Germany? Yeah, that was over. However, the track was definitely not.

"Ok, but like, I'd never seen you this anxious about a new track before," Y/N spoke, feeling like there was something these two guys were walking around, somewhat afraid to say hat it was.

Martin and Lando shared a look. There was not a single bone in Lando's body that was afraid of Y/N reaction to this track. He way in fact dying to know what Martin has done with it in the past few weeks. Martin was not allowed by his label to send any demos, only to show them in person. Well, he was not even allowed that, but it's not like they were there with them in the room. Martin raised his brows while looking at Lando, as if to look for a permission. Lando nodded, secretly looking forward to seeing what Y/N had to say about their newest idea.

"Well, I'm actually still working on a track we tried to finish when your boyfriend was here the last time," he said reluctantly.

"Yeah mate, I'm stoked to hear what you recorded," Lando said, trying to add some entusiasm to Martin's speech.

Martin's face formed a small frown. "Well, I'm worried, mate. Listen for yourself, it might be just me hearing this track for too many times. But, I'm afraid it does not work."

This took Lando by surprise - he was full on expecting a hot, sexy banger.

Martin did not add anything and upon Y/N's plea for finally play it and with zero protests on Lando's side, he did just that.

So they listened to the almost six minute track. The instrumentals were basically in the exact same state as when Lando was there for the last time. Intrigue filled his body as the tempo slow down came - it must have been time for the moaning to start. He could not wait to see Y/N's reaction. Was there a chance she would actually be mad and consider it tacky?

He didn't let her out of his sight, no matter how much Martin tried to catch his eye. Y/N sat there, her usual focused face on, as per any other time they'd listen to a new track.

And just like that, it took Lando only few bars of the part with the moans to understand where Martin's disinterest came from. This wasn't the right vibe. There was absolutely no comparison to the original track they'd based this on. It was a weak mockery of that whole idea. Sounded cheap, almost fake and with no atmosphere whatsoever. A face of slight disgust formed on Lando's face and he temporarily forgot he was watching Y/N for her reaction. They finally exchanged a look with Martin, both knowing this was just not working. While the girl moaning into the track had a perfect pitch, something was just not right.

Only when the moans and sighs part of the track ended he noticed the look on his girlfriends face and started actually feeling embarrassed. Will she think this as his idea and that he is a pervy simpleton? That he actually likes this?

He started his defense before she'd have any time for a reaction.

"That's not good, mate," he stated the more than obvious. Martin nodded, his expression hard to decipher. "It was not meant to sound this cheap."

"Yeah, don't know what to tell you. We recorded this with like two other producers in the room, this girl is apparently a good porn actress with a perfect pitch. But it sounds just like that. Like, I wanted to create a hot track, this is just cheap and kind of sad."

Lando gulped, almost fearing Y/N's reaction.

And boy, was she staring at him. It almost caught him of guard. Definitely silenced him. If he had to describe it, it would something along the lines of shooting arrows. Lando felt very small. But then, like by some sort of miracle, the corner of her lip turned up and a cheeky smile started to form. Martin knew more than interfere in their silent conversations and turned around to leave them be. A shot of confidence went though Lando's bloodstream and he gave Y/N a questioning look. Almost wanting to challenge her to say something. She shot her eyebrows up and tried to bite her smile away. Lando played dumb and shook his head, as if he did not understand. With that, she nodded toward his phone that was lying next to his hips. Lando's eyes went wide and his heart rate went up. Is she really suggesting this?

Out of nowhere, her look still firm on Lando - who stopped blinking a long time ago - she spoke, probably more to Martin than her boyfriend.

"I love the idea, and I think it could catch on really well. But like you said. You can't fake that if it's suppose to be good. Any girl will se right through this anyway."

Was Lando about to fall in love all over again?

"So what, am I suppose to pay someone to fuck in the studio?"

The silence that followed was a heavy, awkward, hot and hilarious one. Many looks were exchanged between the three of them before, as they say, all the pennies dropped.

"Oh my God," Martin exclaimed. Neither Lando or Y/N reacted in any verbal way, however Lando did raise his eyebrows in order to stop his smile from growing. Failing at that miserably. Suddenly, he was more than aware of Y/N legs near his crotch.

Martin shook his head, as if he became prudent out of nowhere and spun on his chair few times, most likely thinking it over. Lando was about to step in to ease the tension, but Y/N was faster.

"It would be the easiest way to test if the track works, just saying," she commented and Lando tried to stay as still as possible, almost worried that if he moves to much, he might wake up.

To potentially have his girlfriends orgasm voice blasted anonymously in clubs all around the world was doing some thing to his semi-exhibicionist persona, which he had to keep buried deep down. Things he had a lot of trouble admitting to outloud.

The conversation was continuing, no matter how spaced out and horny Lando became.

"Ok, say it works. Are you ok with this staying on the track?" Martin asked Y/N only. He knew his mate well enough to figure he'd be more than fine with it.

Y/N seemed to think about it, in a serious way, for few moments. The air felt oh-so-heavy to Lando. Please, say yes. Both of you.

"As long as it stays anonymous and nobody else, not even your label ever finds out, I say we go and give it a try," she answered and turned over to her boyfriend. He knew the look she had on her face more than well. It was the same one she'd have after agreeing to press record on their personal sex voice memos. And it was doing things to him.

It looked like Martin was coming around with the idea.

"Fuck it, ok then. I guess, I'll just press the button and give you guys some space in the recording room. But like, bare in mind I only need her, not you," he hinted over to Lando, "and for the sake of our friendship, I'd really appreciate if you kept it clean in terms of dirty talk. I don't want this to be the reason I died. Also no...mess please. Ugh."

Lando downed his drink, still unable to believe this was happening, and finally spoke again. "I'm sure there is a way to make sure we get only Y/N's voice."

Images flooded their heads - for Y/N very much wanted, to perfectly contrast Martin's reaction, who was sitting on the complete opposite of the excitement spectrum.

"Ok, let's go with it before I change my mind," Martin said and began prepping the recording room.

Lando squeezed his girlfriends hand, to make sure she was really ok with it.

"I love you," he whispered, unable to hold it in.

"Me too. I'm happy you don't think of me as slutty or perverted," she replied, hint of shame for the first in a long time creeping on her face.

"I would never....We can stop whenever, if you stop feeling it, ok? Please promise you'll let me know."

There was a look on her face he couldn't put a name on. "Thank you."

Martin coughed demonstrateively. "Lando, come over. I'll tell you what to do." Lando eyebrows shot up once again. "Not like that, with the recording, you weirdo," Martin exhaled, already regretting the decision.

"So, the recording is on, have a good one, I guess," were Martin's last words before Y/N was about to have a series of little deaths.

And with the click of the door, they were alone. Deep dark silence. Never before has she seen Lando stare at her this much like a hunter would at his prey. His good name was on the line. Maybe not for the whole world, but he had to show his best bud he can make his girl come. And perhaps something more than that.

The room was small, light dimmed out.

"So, what do you have in mind?" she asked softy, still not quite in the same feral mood Lando was in. He crossed over the distance between them slowly to put a finger on her mouth.

"No words, remember?" he reminded himself probably more than her. His plan was never to fuck her here. She'd soon find that out.

With ease and confidence only those who kissed each other countless of times, he locked his lips with hers. His hand in the back of her hair, pulling, not gently. Her tongue rolled over his and she bit his upper lip, to return the favor perhaps. Her head bent back and he follow the train to her collarbone with pecks. With ease, he started walking her over to the chair here the recording artist would usually sit. Today, she'd be the main act and he her muse. She was regretting not wearing a skirt that day. He saw no issue when he pulled her jeans down. He was already hard and just had to squeeze himself for few times, a mindless action. No doubt in his mind that before the night calls quits that day, he'd see his own release. She noticed his moves and tried to get in on the action, only to somewhat wake him up from his own selfishness as he stopped her hands reaching his crotch. Another head shake - hopefully, this time she'd get the hint.

Her eyes were filled with hot wanderlust and with that, she gave up on trying to take the lead. He smiled and got rid of her panties as well.

Two strong hands popped her up on the round chair with no back rest. One last kiss on the lips before he knelt down. Stomach tingled with anticipation. Lando was taking his time, slowly kissing his way up her legs. The ever so blue, green and whatever colored eyes glowing with lust. He stopped at the spot where thighs and knees bend, his tongue finally out, as if for a practice run. Only recently he found out about her secret soft spot. He watched her face relax and give in, first pleasure arriving. He was the moon and her body a shore, waiting for the waves.

Long heavy breath. Lando wanted, needed more. He progressed further and further, until the only place left to go were her folds and wet core. But before that, he didn't for get to leave few bite marks on her upper thighs. Quick catch of breath and her hands buried in his curls. Watching him as if the gods had sent him to ruin her.

And they might have. Normally, he's utter few cheeky lines before dipping his tongue deep into her, but the looks were all he could use this time.

Relaxed and come for me, baby. Drip all over this chair and make them know I can make you scream.

His tongue could as well be completely dry and it would not matter. They way how he was all over her got her wet anyway. His moves were never the same, yet they always worked like magic. He twisted, pulled in and out and all over. Slight bite at her less sensitive folds. Clit suck. And then he called upon his fingers to assist. She was barely sitting on the chair, legs fully rested on his shoulders, priorities loud and clear. As were her moans she didn't notice at first. She had to support herself with her arm, squeezing the weak leather top of the chair. Her other hand was busy with pushing Lando's face towards her. First tide started to arrive. Lando drew his head back to catch some breath - and she let him, because his fingers became the main act. He made sure to hold the tempo, knowing that would work like volume increase button. Was there a more beautiful sight than watching a woman you love hit the highs of life? Lando very much doubted. Judging by the way her face clenched, she must have forgotten the why and where. Her throat served like a gateway to pleasure sounds. And she screamed, more and even more once he sucked her clit again.

They call it little deaths because it might just be the only accurate description of what washed over her. If wasn't often he'd go down on and not fuck her shortly afterwards. Since that was out of the picture, she focused fully on his moves, knowing this was the peak.

He felt her relax after a particularly loud scream. Coming down to Earth once again. She opened her eyes and he smirked. He knew, by the way she tried to steady his breath and the slight movement of her supporting hand that she considered it "job done". She nodded and head and he shook his once again. Her puzzling look quickly replaced by a lip bite as his mouth traveled back to her core.

One more round, one could say Lando's ego was becoming the main hero of this story. The thought of somebody having to go and listen to another round of him destroying his girl with pleasure was an intoxicating one.

Martin's track was an instant hit and minor shock to the public. Never before has he released something so explicit. Y/N's screams were out for the whole world to listen and it did a wonder to their sex life. It was something else to fuck and blast your own love soundtrack on.

There were two main versions release, one less explicit, for the DJ's to play around the radio during the day and for club goers to party to during the night.

Lando stopped counting how many times it happened that in the middle of the day he'd hear this song around the paddock radio. Whenever he did, he would send Y/N a photo with a cheeky wink, and she'd do the same when she had the luck of listening to her own voice in public like that. A nice, somewhat innocent tradition for them only to understand.

Keep you friends close and rivals closer. That's how Lando ended up at one of the many celebrations of Max Verstappen's title celebrations. Little did he mind, secretly loving the fact the pressure was off him for a moment. Expensive alcohol flowing freely also helped.

He found himself sitting in a VIP booth across from Max, by some stroke of luck, alone. And of course, that was the first time he slipped up. Somehow he managed to avoid a situation when someone who knew him well was around when Martin's monaco kiss came up.

"the recording is on, have a good one, I guess"

Martin decided to keep his own line in the intro, only later admitting he'd re-recorded it out of his own insecurity. Which Lando found very amusing, given the fact him and Y/N only needed one take to get it right perfectly.

His stomach dropped a bit when he heard the now iconic opening line. Shifted a bit to regain some composure. Sipping a drink might help to hide his slight panic and lack of any real light did not allow his blushed cheeks to go noticed.

Across from him, Max was nodding his feet to the beat of the track. The conversation grew stale a moment while, so Max's complimentary comment on Lando's friend's track must have been intended as an innocent ice-breaker.

"what do you have in mind"

Another line kept in from the recording. Y/N's real voice hidden under many layers of autotune to keep her identity anonymous. As per her wish and Lando's secret regret.

The tempo started to slow down. Anyone would remember the track by heart if they'd listened to it the same amount of times as Lando had. Words were lost on him and he did not find a response to Max's comment. Very unusual from Lando. He sipped his now empty drink, hoping more liquid had magically appeared. Max noticed something was off. And then the key jump, straight out the book Diet Pepsi took inspiration from. Followed by the peak moan, or maybe a scream, from his girl for everyone to hear. It was not supposed to be this arousing. Max tilted his head and after another few beats, his intense stare aimed at his rival/friends went wide.

Lando tried to stop his smirk. He really did.

Max's mouth went open and he stopped his breath before uttering a simply lovely, slightly astonished: "No way."

Lando averted his gaze to the crowd below in order to avoid Max, who chuckled and took a big gulp of his not-empty glass.

If the lights went on, everybody would be able to see a bright red Lando. He was never going to break his promise about keeping this a secret, so he did not comment. But he grinned at Max's nod of approval.

He excused himself as went to the bar. Searching for his girl.

Light brush on her waist made her turn, wonder in her eyes easing when she saw it was him. They were both in the same horny headspace.

He leaned in and whispered, as much as one can whisper in a club, the last few beats of their track playing. "You sound so hot, baby. I'm so down bad for you."

Tipsy, she shot him a wide smile and mouthed a silent "i love you".

2K notes · View notes

allurilove · 9 months ago

Text

Yandere Classmate x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

Includes: Headcanons of stalking, obsessive behavior, unhinged man lowkey, sexual fantasies, perverted and lewd behavior, stealing, male masturbation, gender neutral reader, grumpy x sunshine,

*He has no name, and is only referred to as “your classmate” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This yandere classmate is different from the other one I have wrote about. Here is the second part! This is purely fictional writing!*

Synopsis: You wish on a shooting star for a boyfriend. Your classmate has an unhealthy obsession with you, he’s almost entranced, and he follows you around like a lost puppy. He doesn’t know what you have done to him, but he won’t let you go. No, he’ll hunt you down and make sure you’ll stay with him forever.

When you wished to be in a relationship with a man that was utterly obsessed with you— joking or not joking— the universe heard you loud and clear.

It was like he was here on earth just to be with you. Every single part of his body was screaming, clawing, and dragging his feet towards you. It was hard to get close, and near damn annoying that you were surrounded by your friends all the time.

Your classmate was entranced the moment you walked past him, and whenever you did and he heard your sweet laugh… his legs immediately made him get up from his spot to follow you.

You were just the sweetest being he has ever seen. Always nice and kind to others, even if they didn’t deserve it. He felt like he had a responsibility to protect you from assholes that would take advantage of you.

He began to follow you around. Listening in to your conversations, and he would take mental notes of what would make you laugh. He was determined to make you smile, to make you laugh harder than that fool in front of you.

He gave up on his education to pursue you. I mean he was learning… just happened to skip some of his classes to sneak into yours. You were a more interesting subject anyways. He would sit somewhat far away, and switch it up every time. He didn’t want you to notice him, not yet anyways.

Your classmate really wanted to sit next you, or maybe offer to buy you lunch. When you went to the bathroom, and left your cup on the table, there was a faint lip mark on it. He gulped, his hand slowly reaching for it. If he couldn’t kiss you soon, this was the next best thing. He pressed his lips where yours were previously, his tongue flicking the rim. He savored your saliva, and out of adrenaline he decided to keep the cup all together.

Whenever you were gone, or didn’t come to school that day, he had to visit your locker. It was after gym class, and no one was around as he leaned in to sniff at the little vents. Your scent had been brewing in there for a couple of hours, and he groaned.

He desperately tried to lap up every scent — he inhaled and licked the air— his hands palming the tent in his shorts. If only he knew your locker combination.

Your classmate pulled his shorts down, and his boxers followed suit. He finally freed himself from his confinements, and he rubbed his hand up and down his length. He masturbated at the thought of you often. He only needed an image of you, a scent, or an item of yours. Either way, his dick would be in his hands, twitching and cumming.

When he wasn’t stalking you and literally trying to learn everything about you, he took the liberty to primp himself. He wanted to look good for you after all. He would wake up early, shave and even wax his body clean of body hair, cut his nails, and do shit to his cuticles. He went to the barbershop and got a new hair cut, and made sure his face was clean and shaven. If that wasn’t your thing he would grow it all out.

He was a bit hesitant to do much with his lower body. But he sucked it up and made sure to trim down there too. He wasn’t used to shaving, and had to buy a couple of bandaids. A sanrio bandaid near his crotch.

And he realized he was deeply out of shape. Shit. When you were running on the tracks, so was he. He had to hold his breath to hide his deep and hard breathing. He soon found out he shouldn’t have done that.

You came over to him after he briefly passed out cold on the ground. He slowly opened his eyes, and you came into the view, and he saw a tiny bit up your shorts. That was enough for him to go into a frenzy.

He bought all of the fruits he could find, he read on the internet that the best way to eat someone out, and practice, was to use fruit. The peaches juices were dripping down his neck as he continued to tongue, and devour the hole. He imagined that he was on the ground and you were sitting on his face, his arms would lock you down onto him, making you put your full weight on him. Suffocate him for all he cares, he just wanted to hear you say his name. Or at least acknowledge that he exists.

He isn’t popular like you are, but he has his own group of friends. And by friends, he means your siblings. The only natural way to get close to you, was through your family after all. Plus, if you two were to get married, he already had an in with the family.

It also meant he could see your room. He snuck away for a minute to examine where you slept. He slowly knelt down, his hips aligned with corner of the mattress, and he digs his face into your sheets. His hands gripped the soft plush of your blanket, his cock rubbing against the corner. He whined as wanted more, he just wanted to bury himself deep inside you, and feel your warmth around him. He bets that it would feel like heaven.

Your classmate quickly retracted as he felt a tiny wet spot growing on his pants, his face flushed as he sat back down onto his ass. When he does so, his hands land on a piece of fabric. Out of instinct his hands curl around it and he picked it up, he inspected it and his eyes widens. Your underwear. In his hand.

His hand was tightly gripped around his mouth and the other was around his cock. His back was arched and he locked himself away in your bathroom. He loved the feeling of your underwear rubbing on his tip, and his hips snapped against his hand. He closed his eyes and he imagined you were giving him a handjob instead. Fuck, he just needed to smell you instead. He smelled your underwear, as he climaxed, his cum dribbling on the floor.

When you applied for college, he did too. He found out every single one you wanted to go to from your siblings. He got waitlisted. You got accepted. It wasn’t even a straight up rejection, it wasn’t a yes, and it was just a damn maybe.

He winced, his eyes almost closing as he smiled for the picture. It turned out alright and he paid the fee. A couple of months later, he got his passport in the mail. He booked his flight, and he lied right to your face. He convinced you to get an apartment with him instead of going to a dorm, and he followed you around campus, even though he doesnt have a single class there.

Allure: This is a bit of a different format from how I usually write, and idk how to feel about it lol! Here’s the c.ai link: https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/ondwnvhr

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cosmopretty · 3 months ago

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Paige Bueckers X Fem

synopsis: After a bad game Paige comes home and needs a way to get her anger out and it always helps by fucking you

warnings: smut, nsfw

Tonight was a big night for Paige she had home game, sadly you couldn't make it because you were helping one of your friends go through her breakup. Paige said she understood I mean you went to almost every one of her games she called you "Her good luck charm" because she felt like you were one of the reasons she could win. It wasn't real, it was her talent and hard work that helped UConn win, but regardless she gave you credit.

Instead of watching the game on the TV like you said you would, your friend wanted to watch The Titanic, rolling your eyes you agreed. By the time Paige comes home your friend was long gone, back to her dorm.

Laying down on the bed you flinch hearing the dorm slam shut, getting up you walk over to Paige only to see her with her hand in her hands on the counter. Confused you walk up to her slowly "Paige? Honey are you okay?" you ask her quietly not wanting to upset her further.

She pushes her self off the counter and stands to her full height, her six foot tall frame towering over you "I lost the fucking game, missed the last shot. It was all my fault" she says almost yelling at you.

"Oh Paige- you know-" Before you can finish your sentence she interrupted you "You wanna help me feel better?" she asks you walking closer to you, her hand coming down to hold your hip.

She squeezes the flesh "Of course Paige" you answer her almost immediately.

The tall girl smirks "Then go lay down on our bed naked and wait for me" she says leaning down to kiss the side of your neck before abruptly letting go of you.

Walking away from your you start to take you shirt off as you walk away, your back to her.

Once you get back into your room you strip of the the rest of your clothes. This wasn't the first time Paige came home angry just to fuck the shit out of you.

Before you can even sit down Paige storms in pushing you down on the bed and climbing on top of you. She flips you both over so she’s straddling your waist.

Immediately your body submits to her even if you didn't want to. She knew how to push your buttons and make you hers. After all you were her girl.

"You're my good luck charm and you weren't there, maybe if you were we could have won" She says her hand moving down to your core, rubbing her fingers through your folds.

Before you can even think to reply to her words she shoves two of her long veiny fingers inside of you. Without giving you time to adjust she starts pumping them in and out of you roughly.

Your legs try and squeeze shut but her hand stays between them fucking you. Staring up at Paige as you whine "Fuck P-Paige" you whimper.

The feeling of her fingers abusing your walls so roughly made your stomach tighten, you knew you weren't going to last long. Her voice snaps you out of your thoughts "Come on and cum for me baby" she encourages you her thumb coming to rub your clit.

The sensations of her attack on your clit and fingers pumping into you caused your stomach to tighten so hard you came crashing down on her fingers "FUCK PAIGE" you moan loudly your cum coating her fingers, dripping down.

She smirks sliding her fingers out of your hole before pushing them between her lips, sucking your juices off. Her eyes lock on yours as you watch her suck your cum off of her fingers "Your so hot Paige" you admit accidentally out loud.

The blonde smirks pulting her fingers out of her mouth "I know" she says getting off of the bed and stripping of her clothes. Once she's fully naked she stares at you while she starts harnessing the strap to her hips. You knew you were in for it, she wasn't stopping until she was done, it didn't matter how many times you came.

Paige climbs back on top of your rubbing the strap though your folds collecting your slick

"How bout you ride me baby? Show me you're a good girl and maybe I'll be nice" she tells you flipping you both over so you're straddling her waist. Her back leans against the headboard as her hands hold your waist squeezing the flesh "Go on baby give me a show" she commands pushing you up to hover over her strap.

You slowly push yourself down the strap before falling all the way down, your jaw falling slack as the long strap pushes through your hole into your gummy walls.

She smirks moving your hips with her big hands pushing you up and down on her strap “Such a pretty girl” she whispers her head dipping down into your neck.

Her mouth leaves warm open mouthed kisses down your neck as her strap pushes through your gummy walls. You moan your head dipping back “God P- Paige fuck-“ you whine as she starts sucking on your sweet spot.

“You gonna cum baby” She asks you kissing behind your ear as her hands help speed you up.

Your hands squeeze her shoulders as you nod feeling your stomach tighten “Yes please let me cum P” you beg her. Your hips grind down harder on her strap as it hits your G spot.

Her blue eyes bore into yours “Okay princess go on cum for me” she demands her hands squeezing the soft skin of your hips. Her hips jerk up thrust the strap deeper inside you as she helps you cum.

“F-fuck fuck” You moan pulling Paige into a kiss as you feel your stomach snap and let go, cumming all over her strap.

Paiges lips muffle your moans as she helps you ride out your high. She pulls away from the kiss and embarrassing string of saliva between you both.

You stare at her out of breath the strap still inside you “Your so pretty, all fucked out for me” Paige whispers one of her hands moving up your body to push some hair behind your ear.

“Too bad I’m gonna ruin you” She mumbles flipping you over onto your back faster than you can even think.

You stare at her confused about to say something before she interrupts you “Don’t look at me like that baby, ready for round two?” She asks smirking.

A/N: THE BITCH IS BACKK!!!!

DID YOU MISS ME? I MISSED YALL

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emmyrosee · 3 months ago

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“Hey.”

“Hi?”

This is the first time in four weeks you’ve answered his phone call. He never thought he’d be the one to break no contact first.

Sukuna tried, god he’s tried so hard to keep no contact, but there’s something about your saccharine voice that lures him back like a siren. He can’t get enough of it, and the lack of it in his life drove him crazy.

What you don’t know, is how often he clicks on your contact, how many times a day he dials your number, how much his fingers long to text you.

Even if after four weeks, he’s gone without it.

It’s hitting the call button that he hasn’t done. Until tonight, of course.

His mind scrambles to find an excuse for calling you, jaw opening and closing like a fish, and eyes darting around, even if you don’t see it. His gaze falls onto his sleeping dog, and he sinks his teeth into his lip.

“I just wanted to let you know, I finally got Titan to do that trick. You know-“

“Wow. Thanks for letting me know,” you say sarcastically. “Are we done here?”

“Yeah,” he says, gnawing at the tip of his thumb. “Yeah. Sorry to bug you. I just… thought you’d like to know.”

But neither of you make a move to hang up. He was positive you would immediately, sick of his voice and his attitude, but you don’t. Maybe you needed this as much as he does.

“No,” he finally croaks. “No okay? I’m not done. I fucking miss you.”

“Sukuna, stop-“

“No, you stop,” he snaps, voice tight with emotion. “Because if this is the last time we talk, you’re going to listen to me and you’re going to listen good.”

You go silent. He hears you breathing, and you don’t make any noise to indicate you’re going to hang up. He lets you sit there, pondering, he wants to leave the ball in your court, even if ending the call is his worst nightmare right now.

“Speak.”

He shudders at the coldness in your voice, he rolls his shoulders and slumps back.

“You… are all that I think about,” he says firmly. “You and I, we are golden. I can’t imagine my life with someone else, I fucking hate to, there’s no one for me but you, and the fucking fact that I have to wake up to a cold bed because of something I did, is something I hate.

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, I miss your voice and your laugh and your eyes. I miss your cold hands sneaking under my shirt, and I miss the way you fit against me when we cuddled. I miss you so fucking much, I hate this, I hate it so fucking much, and if I could fix it I would, I want to, please let me fix it-“

“You can’t.”

You shut him up.

“There is no fixing it, sukuna. You broke that trust, shattered it. You think I don’t miss you? You’re crazy.”

He calls your bluff, “you’re full of it. You want to get back together so bad it makes you sick. I know it does, I know you.”

“And how exactly have you come to that conclusion?” You scoff.

“Because you picked up the phone.”

You’re silent at that. He sinks his teeth into his lip, “you’d never answer the phone on someone you want out of your life. You’ve ignored people for less, you don’t fool me for one second.”

You’re still silent. He hears you breathing, as if waiting for him to keep going, read you like a book and prove you wrong.

He rests his head on the wall and shakily calls out your name, letting the vowels feel foreign on his tongue from lack of use. Pet names became so popular, his mouth almost forgot how to say your name. “I can fix this, if you’ll let me. I fucked up. But I know I can fix this.”

“You can’t fix shit,” you scoff. “You would’ve never let it get so bad in the first place if you cared.”

“I couldn’t fix what had already been destroyed,” he snaps. “But we know where we went wrong. We knew what went right. We can do this, do not send me away.”

There’s hesitation on your end. He feels it, he feels your reserve crumbling as he speaks.

“Please… don’t send me away,” he whispers.

You sigh. He sucks in a breath in preparation.

“I miss Titan,” you confess. “If we’re going to talk, we’re doing it at your place, so I can see your dog.”

He smirks.

“And I make no promises,” you hiss. “You don’t get the satisfaction of thinking we’re automatically getting back together because I don’t want to do this over the phone. We’re not. Not yet. Not now. But this isn’t a conversation to not do face to face.”

He closes his eyes and lets his body relax.

“It’s a date.”

“Don’t call it a date.”

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blushweddinggowns · 6 months ago

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Eddie woke up with a pounding headache and an intense sense of dread. He groaned as he sat up, shutting his eyes to block out the searing light from the window.

He took a deep breath before opening them again, letting out a sigh of relief when he realized he was in his own room, safe in their apartment. But that wasn't stopping his pounding headache.

God, what the fuck happened last night? He remembered going to Gareth’s party, getting cross-faded. Then, just pure white-boy wasted as the night went on and someone brought out tequila shots. He remembered whining about missing Steve to some guy-

Oh god. The guy. It came screaming back to him, blurry and unfocused but there.

I can be your boyfriend for the night.

How the fuck had the line worked on him? Eddie didn't know, but he knew that it had. He remembered kissing him, whimpering into his mouth while moaning Steve’s name. How good it felt.

What the fuck had he done?

Pure panic was starting to set in. He cheated on Steve. He actually cheated on Steve. And for what? Because he hadn't seen him for a few weeks? It only took one vacation with Robin for him to destroy the trust they built? Was he that pathetic? That selfish? That idiotic?

He didn't even remember how far they'd gone. He didn't even know how he got home. Or if the guy came with him. The idea of him fucking someone else in their bed made him feel physically ill. Ill enough to have Eddie jumping out of bed, frantic as he looked around for any clues. But there was nothing. Just the evidence of the life he'd built with his boyfriend. The one that he had single handedly ruined.

Maybe he could just not tell him. Keep it secret for the rest of his fucking life. Track down anyone who did know and blackmail them to be quiet. That seemed more sane then coming clean. Sane enough to have Eddie stumbling out of his room in a hurry.

But before he could call Gareth to insanely demand the names of anyone who could have seen him, he smelled it. The scent of coffee brewing, plus the sound of a happy hum.

Steve was home. A whole day early.

Holy shit, Eddie was going to be sick. He was actually going to puke. The feeling bad enough to make his legs weak, so bad he crashed right into the wall.

Loud enough to have Steve calling after him, "Babe, is that you?"

Eddie opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Not when Steve was rounding the corner, smiling at him like that. All soft and loving, "There you are. Rough night?"

Was that the last time he would look at him like that?

"Eddie?" Steve asked, frowning at his lack of answer, "Are you okay?"

Eddie wanted to die. He actually wanted to die. Why had he done this? But he couldn't lie to him. Not with the sweet, trusting way Steve was looking at him. He just couldn't.

"I need to tell you something," Eddie finally managed to choke out, his heart beating so fast he was scared Steve could hear it. Maybe he'd have a heart attack it he was lucky. Avoid this whole shit show through almost dying.

But he wasn't that lucky.

Steve cocked his head at him, "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie," Eddie said, letting his first thought come out, "I'm so fucking sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"I kissed someone," Eddie blurted out, his hands shaking as he started to word vomit, "Last night. A-At the party I told you about."

Steve just stared at him.

"I-I was drunk!" Eddie went on, his voice coming out wet, "It didnt mean anything, I don't even know why I did it."

Steve still wasn't saying anything. He was just looking at him, his expression unreadable. It just made Eddie feel more desperate.

"Please say something," Eddie begged, "I know this is bad. I do. But I dont even know who he is. I-I won't do it again!"

Steve still had his head cocked as he looked at him, something in his eyes that Eddie didn't understand, "Is that all?"

Fuck no that wasn't all. Not when Steve was looking at him like that. Eddie didn't even think about it as he sunk to his knees, fully fucking ready to beg at Steve’s feet.

"I love you," Eddie tried, the tears he was holding back finally starting to fall, "I fucked up. I know I fucked up but please don't leave me. Please. I can make up for this. I can. Please."

It was hard to see him through the tears in his eyes, hard to comprehend anything through how fucking bad Eddie felt, the sheer amount of self-loathing nearly drowning him completely. His vision was cloudy enough to almost make it look like Steve was... smiling at him?

Steve reached down, grabbing Eddie underneath the armpits to help lift him back onto his feet. Strong in a way that still made Eddie's heart skip a beat whenever he saw it in action. He led a still sniffling Eddie to the couch, grabbing for his hand when they sat down.

"Baby, how do you think you got home last night?" Steve asked.

Eddie frowned, "I-I don't know. I don't remember."

"Do you remember what the guy looked like?"

Eddie swallowed, so nervous he was still kind of afraid he was going to puke. And he highly doubted that puking on Steve would help his case for him to stay, "I don't remember fully."

"What do you remember?"

Eddie sighed, looking down into his lap, "I remember missing you. And then a point where I got drunk enough to say it to anyone who would listen. Then this guy showed up and he said-"

"I can be your boyfriend for the night?"

Eddie snapped his head up, staring at Steve with his mouth open. How the fuck did he know that?

"And then did he do this?" Steve asked as he brought his hand up, cupping Eddie's cheek. Looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world before placing his thumb on Eddie's bottom lip, teasing it with a smile, "Before saying you were beautiful?"

"I-yes? But how-"

"Honey," Steve sighed, a touch exasperated but mostly fond, "I got back last night. Then went to go find you when I remembered about the party."

Oh god, did that mean Steve saw the whole thing? Was this the calm before he kicked Eddie out? Was he about to be dumped-

"I can see your brain working babe, but it's working in the wrong direction."

"Huh?" Eddie asked, completely lost on why Steve was smiling at him instead of cursing his name.

"Eddie, it was me," Steve said calmly, though his face said he was holding back a laugh, "You made out with me. Before I took us home and you failed at trying to give me road head on the way home. Twice."

"I-what?" Eddie asked, shellshocked.

"You cheated on me with me, babe," Steve laughed, his calm face finally breaking, "Then when we got home, you cried about missing me to me. You're adorable when you're wasted. Stupid, but adorable."

"Oh my fucking God," Eddie breathed out, the reality of the situation hitting him. He groaned, hiding his face in his hands while Steve cackled next to him. He had never felt like a bigger fucking moron, Jesus Christ, "I am never drinking tequila again."

"Good idea," Steve chuckled as he pried Eddie's hands away from his face. He brought one to his mouth, kissing his fingers as he grinned, "But I love the honesty, sweetheart. 10/10. And the begging? Kind of hot."

"I was terrified!" Eddie moaned, staring up at the ceiling as a blush climbed up his neck, "You scared the shit out of me."

"You scared yourself!" Steve laughed, grabbing for Eddie's chin to force his head back down to look at him. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "My favorite little drama queen."

"You're a bastard," Eddie grumbled, like he wasn't smiling when Steve leaned in to kiss him on the lips, "Evil."

"But wasn't I a good boyfriend for the night?" Steve asked, laughing even harder when Eddie pinched his side. Eddie leaned in to kiss him again, effectively shutting him up as the last of his anxiety drained away.

But one thing was for sure. Tequila would be his worst enemy until the day he died.

Purely inspired by this post by @hawkinsbnbg

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #such a fun lil idea lol #he so stupid #cheating that is not real #at all lol

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marril96 · 4 months ago

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Reasons

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha wants to know why you wanted to go on the Road.

You knew you were in trouble when Agatha left the rest of the coven huddled around a fire and joined you in the forest area, away from prying ears.

You needed some peace and quiet. The trials were emotionally tasking. Risking your life day by day, doing things such as drinking poison and performing a song while fire raged around you…

It was a lot.

But this was your life now.You knew full well what you were signing up for. Agatha had warned you, loud and clear.

The choice to come here was yours, and you would make it all over again if given a chance for what you wanted — what you needed — from the Road wasn't something easily attainable. You'd be damned if you were to give up now.

Some things were worth risking everything for.

"Y/N," Agatha said as she approached you, casual, hands in the pockets of her coat. Like she were on a walk in a park rather than a dangerous and deadly Road.

"Yeah?" You weren't really in the mood to talk, your batteries still low from the latest trial. It didn't help that you didn't feel fully at ease with the others. The kid was fine, but the other witches made you nervous. You didn't trust them. You didn't know them.

The only one you really knew was Agatha. Which was why you just stood there instead of moving away or feigning sleepiness as she walked over, something clearly on her mind. It paid off to have befriended her back in the day. It was by pure chance, an encounter neither one of you expected, but, in hindsight, you were both glad it had happened.

She had earned a listening ear, someone to confide in, who wouldn't judge her no matter what. Someone who would have her back even if the rest of the world were to turn against her.

You had earned a protector in a world that was dangerous for your kind.

"We need to talk," Agatha said. Her tone didn't reveal much; you didn't know what to expect.

You turned to her. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's peachy."

"Is Jen talking shit about you again? My offer to punch her in the face still stands," you said. You'd nearly done so a couple days back, but Agatha had held you back. She could handle Jen, she'd said. Her words had meant nothing to her.

It didn't make hearing lies and slander about your friend feel any better, but if she said she was okay, then that was that. Agatha was centuries old; much older than you. She may have been powerless now, but she could still hold her own. She'd heard worse. She'd lived through worse. Some random witch's petty insults didn't bother her.

Agatha chuckled. "Jen is… Jen. But no, she hasn't said anything."

"Then what's up?"

"I need to ask you something."

"Why do I feel like I'm about to be interrogated?" you said, nervous. You forced a smile. "Are you back in your true crime mode? Are you gonna manhandle me until I confess?"

"That's cute," Agatha said, rolling her eyes, prompting you to laugh.

If you'd known Wanda Maximoff had cast a spell on her, you would have come and gotten her out of it sooner — or tried to, at the very least. That was the thing about friendships that lasted for centuries; a lot of time was spent apart. It wasn't unusual for one of you to disappear for a few years and then pop back into the other's life. You missed her when she was gone, of course you did, but she had her life, and you had yours.

It was only when she'd showed up at your door with Teen in tow that you'd finally found out why she'd gone radio silent for three years. And, much to your disappointment, the witch who'd done it to her was dead, so you couldn't even punch her for it, or call her a bitch to her face.

Such was life.

"What are you doing here?" Agatha asked.

"What do you mean?" you said, taken aback.

"On the Road," she clarified. "Why are you here?"

Because you wanted something you could never have without it. Simple as that. "You asked me to come."

"No, I didn't. I told you I was going. You demanded I take you with me."

Right. You'd hoped that little detail would slip by her. You should've known by now she kept track of everything; her mind was as sharp as her magic.

"I haven't seen you in three years," you said, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. "I wanted to hang out with you. And, like, maybe get some more power along the way."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Yes. She did. Multiple times in the past. Which was why, whenever the two of you needed to swindle someone — for whatever reason — she was the one doing the talking and you just nodded along and smiled.

"You did."

"Yes," Agatha said. "I did. Because you are."

You sighed. "What do you want me to say?"

"The truth."

"There's nothing to say."

There was a lot, actually, but you didn't dare open up that particular can of worms. Once it was said, it could never be taken back. So why say anything at all?

"Oh, is there?" Agatha said sarcastically.

"Don't do that," you said.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

Because you're my friend. Because I don't want to ruin this. "Because I'm asking you not to. That used to mean something."

"It still does." Her voice was soft. Tender. Gone was the sarcasm, the defensive sharpness. It was just her now. Your friend.

"Then why are you asking?"

"Because I want to know."

"Leave it alone." You knew she wouldn't. She never did.

"Y/N," Agatha said, your name but a whisper on her lips.

You sighed. Was she really going to do this now? Why couldn't she just take you at your word and put up with a little white lie? Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"Why did you want to come here?" She wasn't demanding. She wasn't prodding. She was just asking.

She knew you couldn't resist her for too long.

The perks of allowing Agatha Harkness to be your close friend. She knew you too well for your own good.

A lump formed in your throat. Heat bit at the back of your neck like a curse about to swallow you whole. Your heart raced, a marathon booming in your chest.

There was a silence, long, drawn out. Then, in your quietest, softest voice, you said, "You know why."

She always did.

She always knew everything.

Secrets weren't secrets for long around Agatha Harkness.

You tried to tell yourself that you were being careful, that your emotions were in check at all times, but the truth was, your poker face was worse than your lying skills. You just pretended you were doing a good job, and Agatha went along with it.

To her credit, she never tried to take advantage. She never made fun of you for it, or played games. The deal was friendship, and that's what she gave you. Nothing more, and nothing less.

"I want to hear it from you."

A tear slid from the corner of your eye. Your cheek burned like a fireplace. Your mouth trembled, holding the words back, wanting to keep them trapped forever. But what would be the point, really? The truth was bound to come out eventually.

The truth had been out for a long time, written all over your face. A big, scarlet letter for all the world to know how you really felt. What you really wanted, but never felt like you could have.

"You." It felt almost freeing to say it out loud, as if a weight had been lifted off your chest, allowing you to breathe in a way you hadn't for years. "I came here because I want you."

Really, what else could you have possibly wanted? You were satisfied with the power you had. You got by. Your life wasn't in danger. There was nothing for you to ask for, that you didn't already have.

Except for one thing you thought — you knew — was unattainable.

Agatha Harkness. One of the most powerful witches you'd ever gotten to know. Rumored to be cruel and ruthless, heartless. A remorseless monster. A serial killer of witches. Your best — and only — friend. The love of your life.

"Go on," you said after a few moments of silence. "Make fun of me."

"Now, why would I do that?" Agatha asked, appalled at the suggestion. Offended for sbe thought you knew her better than that.

Which was exactly why you were so afraid. She hid her feelings expertly. Rather than admit vulnerability, she preferred to go on the offensive. A scorpion stinging with its venom where it hurt the most. She cared about you, and she trusted you, but there was no telling how she would react to something like this out in the open.

You saw how she treated people. You watched her murder witch after witch and discard the bodies as if they were nothing. You watch her climb over others to prop herself up, to rise to the top.

What was to stop her from doing the same to you?

What made you so different?

Why had she never treated you any different than one would a friend? Why had she always had your back, without you even having to ask? Why had she taken lives — many, many lives — to save yours?

Why did she trust you with her story, with memories of her son and the failed romance with Rio?

Why did she feel comfortable to bare her soul to you and let the tears flow freely, a salty river down her face each and every time she revealed a piece of her history?

"I just…" You were nervous. You were scared. You wanted to die.

"You know, honey, you didn't have to be so dramatic about it," Agatha said, perking up. Teasing you like she usually did; a bit mean, but with no real malice behind it. Playful. A cat throwing around a mouse it had caught. "You went on the Road to score a date? Really?"

It wasn't really a date you were after, but her point stood.

You were stupid.

This was a stupid idea, and it had backfired, and now she was going to mock you for it until the day one of you died.

"You do know all you had to do was ask, right?" she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Like you'd ever give me the time of day."

Agatha pressed her hands to her hips, elbows sticking out. "Who's to say I wouldn't?"

Now she was definitely taking the piss. "Come on," you said, putting on your fakest smile you knew would never fool her. "You're this amazing, badass, smoking hot witch."

She preened at the compliments. The surefire way to feel heart. She was nothing if not an attention whore.

"You-you're everything." Your everything, and more. So much more. "And I'm a nobody."

"Don't you ever say that," Agatha said in her stern, no nonsense tone. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. All daggers and sharp edges. She grabbed you by the shoulders, fingers digging in, and looked into sour eyes so intently it sent chills down your spine. "Don't you ever think you're a nobody."

"Everyone else thinks that," you said quietly.

It was obvious the others didn't think much of you. You could see it on their faces; the lack of respect, the underestimation. Jen had called you Agatha's pitbull to your face.

That was all you were to them. A pathetic witch whose only purpose was to speak up for Agatha. She may have joked about Teen being her pet, but it was clear to them all that that was your job. Agatha's witch familiar who was hopelessly in love with her and barked — but never bit — at every perceived slight against her.

"Who cares what they think?" Agatha said. "You're an exceptional witch, Y/N. They are nobodies."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"Does that sound like something I'd do?"

No. It did not. She might use those words to manipulate some poor, unfortunate soul, but not you. Never you.

She always said it to you like it was.

"I mean, you do like to manipulate people," you joked. "And you lie better than I do."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Everyone lies better than you do."

"True." There was no denying that.

She sighed, exasperated. "You really are an idiot."

And then her mouth was on yours, and she was kissing you, and your entire world exploded into fireworks and sparks and electricity, and, for a few short moments, you weren't in a dirty, creepy forest but rather somewhere warm and welcoming, and you never wanted to leave.

Agatha was everything you had imagined, and much, much more. Fire and ice all in one. Sugar and spice and everything nice and cozy and so fucking delicious.

Hers was the taste you never wanted to give up.

She tried to lean her head back, to take a break for breath, but you grabbed her chin and kissed her again, and again, and again. Hunger like you'd never felt before overtook you. Your nerves were on fire, legs weak underneath you, but you held on, forced yourself to remain standing. To remain kissing her for you never knew when you would get another chance.

If you would get another chance.

"Honey, I may be immortal, but I still need to breathe," Agatha said with a chuckle, right against your lips. Playful. Teasing.

Deciding it was enough, you backed away. Your lips were swollen, tingling. The taste of her, all of her, still on them, lingering like a ghost of your past. Forever imprinted on your mouth, a tattoo you hoped would never fade. You never wanted to lose it. Never wanted to forget what it felt like to be kissing her.

"Sorry," you said, blushing, nervous to hell and back.

Agatha looked you in the eye once again with the same fire as earlier. "Never apologize for taking what you want. You're a witch. The world is yours for the taking."

"I don't want the world," you said. "I just want you."

"Done." She said it so casually, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

You didn't buy it.

You quirked up an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Really."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"You knew I was…" Completely and totally in love with her. "...into you."

"You have a tell," she said simply. She always could read people like an open book.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wanted you to ask for it."

"But why?"

Agatha sighed. "Y/N, what is it that I've been teaching you since the moment we met?"

"Fuck the rules?"

She nodded. "Fuck the rules."

"To be unapologetically me," you said.

"Because…?" she prompted.

"I'm a witch, and I've got nothing to be ashamed of. If I fuck up, that's fine. Shit happens. There's nothing that can't be fixed with a little bit of magic."

Agatha grinned, brimming with pride. "That's my girl."

That's what you really were now. Her girl.

A part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that this was real. That it wasn't some dream or a hallucination the Road had inflicted on you as part of some fucked up trial.

The other part wanted to wrap her in your arms and never let go.

"Can I kiss you again?" you said, uncertain. Still not used to this new situation you'd gotten yourself into.

"You don't even have to ask," Agatha told you.

So you went for it. You kissed her. Once. Twice. Three times.

An infinite amount of times.

Later on, when it came time to get some shut eye, you kissed her goodnight, and she wrapped her arms around you. A protective cocoon, warm and safe.

And, in the morning, she was the one to wake you with a kiss of her own.

It was only fair.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @werewolfvpire @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #aaa #agatha all along #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

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3amfanfiction · 27 days ago

Text

Our Girlfriend pt 2

The morning after.

You can thank @disasterofastory for this piece about the morning after you had four men in your bed. Considering you'd never spoken to two of them, how is this going to go? 1.5k little ficlet of a scene. A little bit of fluffy sweetness to even out the pure smut of the first chapter.

Part one

The bed was almost empty by the time you woke up, only you and Johnny remaining. You were curled up to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart as your eyes peeled open, sticky with sleep.

You didn't move at first, just laid there content to breathe in the still morning air where nothing needed to be done. There were no deadlines to meet, no chores to complete . . . it was just you, existing.

You watched as the thick chest under your cheek raised up as he drew in the breath to speak. Your quiet morning was about to be disturbed. You held onto the few split seconds you had remaining, locking onto this peace to get you through your day.

"You awake, love?"

Because real life always came knocking.

You hummed an assent, not interested in trying to force your tongue into shapes that would make words. You felt wonderfully wrung out, with only the things occurring right this moment needing thought. There wasn't any stress about yesterday or any worry about tomorrow.

Johnny stroked along your back gently with calloused fingers, a slight tickling scratch to go along with the warm caress. It roused you enough to turn and press a kiss to the warm skin you were laying on, a non-verbal 'good morning' in place of any proper greeting.

Johnny pressed a return kiss to the crown of your head, never ceasing the running of his palm over your back. You really did love him. You knew it was fast, that people say there was no way it would last because of how quickly you two fell together but you ignored them. Johnny was something special and you were thankful he was in your life.

The sun had shifted slightly when he spoke again. "How do you feel this morning?"

As a matter of fact . . .

"Johnny." Firm. You know he'll try and wiggle his way out of an answer if he catches any hint of weakness. "What was that last night?"

He didn't respond at first. After a moment you tilted your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling, a serene look on his face with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"It was nice, wasn't it? I can't believe I decided to take a nap right in the middle of it though. Don't worry, love, I'll be making it up to you." He was coming to life with every word spoken. His face more animated, fingers starting to twitch and legs rubbing together. You knew you only had a few more minutes in bed before he would be up and gone—ready to start another day.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it. Why did they all talk like we were dating? What have you been telling them?"

"Nothing that wasn't true, I promise." He turned to look beseechingly into your eyes, ensuring you saw the truth in what he was saying. "I told them about you, of course. How amazing you were—always looking out for me, being so understanding, not taking any of my shite." He grinned at the last one, ever amused by your backbone, "and they fell in love with you, just like I did. And then you went and showed me that you loved them back and I couldn't let it go. I had to bring the four of you together."

Immediately you clocked what he meant. "Johnny MacTavish, those muffins weren't—they didn't mean—" How could you even begin to explain away this misunderstanding? Especially after what happened last night? You didn't get any further before the bedroom door opened.

"Good morning, sleeping beauties," Kyle beamed as he walked in holding two coffee cups. "You two finally ready to join the rest of us?"

Oh shit. The rest of them.

How are you going to face them? You'd never even properly met two of them and you let them into your bed. You'd let the man standing in the doorway come in your mouth last night. You've never even spoken to him.

All of a sudden you found yourself tongue-tied, unable to do anything more than mumble a shy thank you as you were handed your cup of coffee. Starting to sit up you realized you were still completely naked under the blanket and looked around self-consciously for a shirt to pull on.

Kyle saw slight panic in your eyes and grabbed a t-shirt off the floor. It was the one Simon had worn last night. You thought about putting up a fuss, asking for one of your own but in the end you graciously accepted, more worried about being covered in the bold light of day than worrying about who's shirt you wore.

Comfortably covered once more you turned to face the two men, looking at you with differing shades of the same smile. You felt around the corners of your mouth and eyes to make sure there weren't any lingering crusties before you took a sip of your coffee. Your eyes widened and darted up to Kyle's face.

"Johnny hasn't stopped talking about you since he you met. Any one of us could make your drink with our eyes closed by now," he teased gently, good-natured mirth shining through his warm eyes. "I hope you don't mind, we took liberties with your kitchen. Cap and Simon are finishing breakfast right now. Well," he allowed with a small shrug, "The captain is, Simon isn't allowed near the stove. Not unless you want a bit of char on your food."

"You didn't have to do all that, here let me . . . " You worked to pull yourself from the bed without spilling your coffee or flashing anyone. "Let me get dressed and I'll be down. They're guests, they shouldn't be cooking." Of all the things. You didn't truly mind the thought of them in your kitchen but it felt like you should protest on principle. When you stood up your hips gave a worrying twinge and you braced yourself against the mattress. Yeah, maybe you should just leave them be after all.

It was embarrassing how quickly Johnny and Kyle were at your side, clearly no worse for wear after the night you all had. You'd like to see them jump up like that after having their hips spread around another's torso. Not so easy then, huh?

Waving them off exasperatedly you gingerly left the room and headed for the kitchen. You walked in just in time to see John swatting at Simon, shooing him away from the stove where he had picked up a spatula and was attempting to stir the eggs. You must have made some sort of noise because both men turned to look at you, freezing as they took you in. Standing in the kitchen with bare legs and Simon's black t-shirt, Kyle and Johnny clustered behind you, you must have made quite the sight. John was the first to come to his senses, pushing the utensil back into Simon's hand distractedly and walking over to you.

"Good morning, sweetheart." He looked you up and down, "we weren't too rough with you last night, I hope?" he questioned with a raised brow, his soft-looking mustache bristling with the movement of his mouth. It twitched while he waited for your answer—worried but fighting not to show it.

"I'm good," you reassured, "Better than, even." You smiled sweetly up at him, enjoying watching the tension leave his face, the little furrow between his brow disappearing. It almost startled you, how fond you were of these men. It was strange.

You didn't know the exact shade of blue John's eyes were but you knew he needed reading glasses if it was late at night and he was still working on paperwork. You'd never seen the way the hair curled at the nape of his neck but you knew he liked deep-tissue massages after tough missions.

So strange. You knew them intimately and as strangers all at once, a unique dichotomy to be in. You wondered if they felt the same way. They knew how you took your coffee and what you would normally make for yourself for breakfast. Was it so hard to believe they were in the same boat as you? That they knew you as deeply as you knew them?

You found it was easy to fall into their orbit. All of them drifting around the others in ever-changing patterns. Present but not suffocating.

They liked to keep a hand on you though, for all that they gave each other room to breathe. They would take turns standing beside you after you took a seat—a hand placed low on your back as they came in for a kiss or moving over to hold your hand while they spoke about anything under the sun.

You laughed when the eggs Simon had been tasked to look over had to be tossed out after smoke started wafting from the pan. The happy peals doing more to settle the men than you knew, because hadn't you realized? They were already falling for you too.

#tf 141 x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #fic: our girlfriend

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captainreecejames · 8 months ago

Text

Can't Have a Good Thing || My ex is a footballer LS2 edition

[masterlist][my ex series masterlist]

summary you go from dating an american footballer to an american driver

pairings ex!christian pulisic x reader, logan sargeant x reader

warnings probably a little anti pulisic but i still love my baby

notes pictures are from pinterest so thank you to all those lovely users (as I wrote this my english teacher from 11th grade came into my job and it was not fun!)

May 2023 ynusername posted -------

liked by cmpulisic, reece and others

ynusername final chelsea game of the season, love you guys

chelseafc awww we love you too yn ❤️ by author

cmpulisic always love having you there ↳ ynusername wouldn't want to be anywhere else

username1 look at my girl dawg, chelsea is embarrassing her ↳ username2 please, christian didn't even play

reece once a blue always a blue ↳ username3 NAH WHY IS THIS SO CRYPTIC ↳ username4 you can't say shit like this then leave DUDE

username5 that chrisyn interaction screams for help ↳ username6 i wouldn't be surprised if they're not dating anymore but trying to keep up appearances ↳ username7 breakup statement incoming ↳ username8 can we get fabrizio to comment on wag breakups please!! ↳ username7 lol can you imagine a here we go! breakup is official! peak comedy

cesarazpilicueta 💙 ↳ ynusername love you too capitan!

July 2023 real life ---------

It’s been a rough few months in the house for the two of you. Christian’s time at Chelsea was most likely coming to an end, and you had just started a new project at work, so your time was filled with that. Nights spent making dinner and laughing together turned to plates left in the microwave and lights out early. Mornings started with short wake up kisses to hardly whispered goodbyes.

In fewer words, the relationship was falling apart. You barely knew what was going on in each others lives anymore, it’s no surprise when he tells you he’s leaving Chelsea.

Chris is still in Florida with his family, enjoying the last few days off before preseason. You had been with him for the 4th of July, but needed to fly back to London almost immediately for a new project and you’re exhausted. When he Facetimes you it’s almost 11:30 at night and your still sitting in your home office, but with how excited Chris is, he can’t tell that you’re operating on extremely low levels of energy. You want to be excited for him, but you can see the writing on the wall.

“Hey babe.” You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the shock any less. “I’ve got some big news.” He waits for you to say something, but all you do is blink and nod. “AC Milan are going to sign me.” He waits again for you to say something. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Your lack of enthusiasm confuses Christian.

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

Your apathy turns to frustration quickly and you shift in the chair. “Because, Christian, I’m not just going to blow up my life in London to follow you to a new city. I’ve got a job here and it’s going well. I don’t want to have to start all over again. Not to mention learning a whole new language. Have you considered how isolating that would be for me?”

“So what, I just rot at Chelsea because you don’t want to move?” He is now just as defensive as you, words biting at the holes that have formed in your relationship, making them grow.

“I didn’t say that!” You sit up even straighter, putting your phone down against the computer so it stands on it’s own.

“Well it sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want to pack up my life and move to a new country where I don’t know anyone.”

You could see the fight leave his body as he came to the same realization you did. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I think we’re done Chris.” You can feel your heart break that last little bit with the words you say. You love Christian, but with everything you’ve gone through, it’s not enough.

twitter ---------

September 2023 real life ------

In one hand you held your phone, looking down at the details of your train back to London, in the other a hot chocolate to warm you up in the brisk wind of Oxford. It’s how you missed the body in front of you and ended up falling straight on your ass because of it, hot chocolate splashing onto your shirt.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, pulling your shirt away from your body so it didn’t burn.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said an American accent. You groaned in your head, not wanting to deal with this. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” They put a hand in your face, gesturing to help you up, which you took.

“No, it was my fault, I was staring at my phone,” you told them as they pulled you up. He was strong, and also probably a little awkward as he was still holding your hand.

“Me too, so I really won’t let you take the blame.” His awkward smile was also cute, but you tried not to think that, it wouldn’t agree with your ‘no boys agenda.’ “Do you need another hot chocolate?” The cup was empty at your feet, making you wince.

“Yeah, probably another shirt too.” It’s at that point that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, and he drops it.

“Let me get you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re still very early for the train, but travel anxiety is terrible and you want to leave soon.

“I insist.” Something about his smile and red cheeks makes you say yes to him, and you’re really not sure why. “I’m Logan, by the way.” He’s leading you back into the line of the cafe, smiling at you still.

“I’m YN,” you tell him.

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, benchilwell, and others

ynusername exploring oxford finally

bsfinstagram babe you run into any quidditch players ↳ ynusername bitch you know i'm swearing off athletes

username7 damn why are you so beautiful

samkerr 💞 ↳ ynusername ugh bestie i love you

pulisick10 'SWEARING OFF ATHLETES?' Christian mate pulisic what did you do!?! ↳ username8 that is so fucking harsh though like pulisic really did a number on our girl here ↳ pulisick10 ben chilwell still in the likes tho ↳ username8 nah her and ben are friends, like ben was always close with christian and just cause he left doesn't mean that she can't be friends still ↳ username8 also she's still good friends with the women's team ↳ pulisick10 well that's cause the women are better ❤️ by ynusername and bsfinstagram ↳ username8 NOT HER LIKING THAT but also won't argue with that

logansargeant at least the weather was good ↳ ynusername youre right, thank you english sun who comes out once in a blue moon ↳ bsfinstagram I'm questioning things ↳ ynusername well you shouldn't

username11 she's sworn off athletes but has a formula 1 driver in her comments... ↳ username12 fake bitch ↳ username13 two people can be friends right? ↳ username12 she breaks up with christian because of the distance but is talking a driver like he isn't gone more than half the year, she's definitely fake for that ↳ username13 how do you know that's why they broke up ↳ username14 she doesn't she's just being a hater ❤️ by ynusername ↳ username11 damn all this fighting on my comment thread?

username12 not yn liking so many comments, do you read them ↳ ynusername gotta appreciate a good laugh ↳ username13 yn stalks her comments like a real one should

twitter ---------

yn's messages -----------

November 2023 yn's messages ------------

real life --------

Your hotel room is kind of a mess, with clothes thrown around and various pieces of paper on the floor. It’s not really a surprise to Logan, even though he hasn’t known you very long.

After a long day exploring New York City in fairly okay weather, the two of you are relaxing in your hotel room before dinner. “Can I ask you something?” Logan asks. He’s currently sitting in the desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and head hung back.

“Go ahead.” You’re on your bed, laying like a starfish.

“Would you say yes to going on a date with me?” You sit up straight, staring at him with wide eyes as he doesn’t move.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m asking if you’d say yes to me asking you on a date.” His clarification makes you narrow your eyes, but he still doesn’t move.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

That gets him moving, turning the chair to look at you. “So would you say yes or no?”

“I’d say no right now.”

“What about in a month?”

“In a month, when we’re both back in England, I’d probably say yes.”

“Cool,” he shrugs, going back to putting his feet on the desk. “Then I’ll ask you again in January.”

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon and others

ynusername look who came to visit

lilymhe booooo bring me next time ↳ ynusername you're welcome whenever, he invited himself ↳ logansargeant literally not true you asked me to come ↳ ynusername stop lying! i wanted thanksgiving but you have this job that makes you fly across the world to drive a stupid car or something

oscarpiastri look at him jumping for joy for you ↳ ynusername yeah well, what can i say, I'm a dream come true

bsfinstagram ahhhh just under 2 weeks until you come home!! ↳ ynusername I missed you so much ↳ bsfinstagram debrief over wine incoming!

username18 nope she is definitely dating this driver ↳ username19 it's so weird cause like if she really broke up with christian because of distance then isn't this just so much worse ↳ username20 i don't think they broke up just because of distance, things were probably weird for a couple of months before hand cause she wasn't going to as many mens games, she was definitely going to the women's games though.

timothyweah did you get a hotdog from the hotdog guy? ↳ ynusername yes... why? ↳ timothyweah cause they're good and i just want to make sure that you did ↳ ynusername okay timmy

chelseafcw don't stay too long we miss you ↳ ynusername aww, i miss you guys too

May 2024 ynusername posted--------

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

ynusername Miami you can be pretty but you're on my shit list

landonorris no whyyyyy ↳ ynusername idk might have something to do with my boyfriend dnfing at his home race. ↳ landonorris oh, okay ↳ ynusername but i guess congrats on your win ↳ landonorris thanks ynnnnn! ↳ oscarpiastri someone is still drunk

logansargeant ohhh he's handsome ↳ ynusername yeah and he's got a jealous ass girlfriend so beware ↳ logansargeant love you too babe

username23 finally confirmed that they're dating only seven months later

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant smau #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 smau #f1 smau #read #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant #christian pulisic x ex!reader #my ex is a footballer series #danielle writes

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egcdeath · 9 months ago

Text

something old, something new

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: when your childhood best friend asks you to get married, how are you supposed to say no?

word count: 7.2k

warnings: MATURE (mentions of sex but no explicit sex scenes), marriage of convenience, fluff, mentions of alcohol, patrick is a bad friend (but he improves), friends to spouses to lovers, fake dating, yearning and pining, everyone is bad at communicating, many feelings are being repressed, mentions of dieting in an athlete way, one singular creepy old man, no use of y/n

author’s note: i cannot get this tennis man out of my head!! i hope you all enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

It wasn’t every day that you could count on hearing anything from your childhood best friend, but it seemed like whenever you did hear from Patrick Zweig, it was always an ask for something more shocking than the previous one.

As kids, you spent many evenings doing the homework that Patrick didn’t want to do, despite the fact that you didn’t really want to do more homework either. At boarding school, you’d somehow become his personal designated driver, answering his calls no matter what time and groggily picking him up from whatever party he’d found himself at. In your adulthood, you found yourself becoming a go-to stand-in for him at events he didn’t feel like attending. The amount of times that you’d shaken hands at charity galas and introduced yourself as Patrick’s girlfriend, despite not having a single romantic encounter with him, was frankly astounding.

It seemed like whenever Patrick needed something, you were the first person he reached out to. After his parents, of course.

You dreaded knowing the reason behind the simple hey, text message you’d just received, but you were sure that you’d find the reason out sooner rather than later–and that whatever the reason was could not have been good.

Like clockwork, only an hour after you’d received his message, Patrick appeared at the doorway of your apartment. He came to you equipped with his secret weapon, the kicked puppy look that he often used on you before he asked you for a ridiculous favor, like breaking up with his girlfriend for him or telling his mom that he still wasn’t joining the board of the family business.

You sighed as you took his less-than-stellar appearance in. Downtrodden expression, wrinkled and sweat-stained shirt, as if he’d gone to the gym to sweat out his feelings before coming to you, and eyes so red-rimmed, you wondered if he’d been crying.

If you had to guess, he’d either been arguing with his parents, who knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his tennis friends, who also knew exactly how to get under his skin, or his latest girlfriend, who probably confronted him about his own wrongdoings. Regardless of who had upset him, he had obviously come to you to lick his wounds.

Like always, Patrick stalked inside without asking you for any further permission. The two of you had done this song and dance more times than either one of you would like to admit.

“How are you?” he asked, stopping in your kitchen to steal an apple from your decorative bowl of fruit.

“I’m good,” you said with hesitation, eyeing him once more. He really looked like shit. If he hadn’t looked so sad, you would’ve told him exactly how much shit he looked like.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me how I am?” he questioned, a little pathetically.

“No,” you walked off to your living room, fully expecting him to follow you. You were unsurprised when he did exactly that. “Let’s just get right to it. Why’d you come over here?” you asked as the two of you sat down on your couch.

“My parents are cutting me off,” he explained, voice breaking as he spoke.

Surely, this couldn’t all be over an empty threat. They seemed to threaten Patrick with this every few days. In fact, you’d been in the room with him when his parents promised that he’d never see another dime from them–more than once. Every time, it ended with them coming to their senses and throwing more cash at him.

“That’s what, the twentieth time?” you laughed. “They always threaten to cut you off. What’s different this time?”

“This time, they mean it.”

You laughed even harder in his face. If you had a quarter for every time you’d had this conversation, you’d be richer than the two of your families combined.

“I’m serious,” he inched closer to you. “They’re tired of funding my ‘tennis habit’. They want me to get serious about life. To join the board and start a family. My dad showed me an edited draft of his will and everything”

“So?” you prompted, trying to figure out where you fell into the equation. Hopefully he wouldn’t try to put you up to something absurd, like seducing his father into convincing him to not threaten Patrick’s inheritance.

“So, tennis is the only thing I care about.”

“Okay…” you trailed off. “What would you like me to do about that?”

“I need you to help show my parents that I have a vision for the future.”

“Again, Patrick, what exactly are you asking me to do?”

“Marry me.”

You weren’t sure what you expected him to say, but it certainly was not that. Your mouth instantly dropped open and you were sure that you were gaping like a fish. Maybe if he had asked you ten years ago, you’d have instantly said yes, but you’d let that naive dream die after you’d come to realize the transactional subtext of your friendship.

“What?”

“I want you to marry me. I was thinking… you remember when we were younger and we made that pact, that if we weren’t married by the time we were adults, then we’d get hitched?”

You continued to stare at him, completely dumbfounded and not believing a single word coming from his mouth. “I… I…” you couldn’t even form the words. “We were kids!”

He gave you a halfhearted shrug, as if that didn’t matter at all, and as if he didn’t just ask you to be legally and romantically bound to him forever.

“You are fucking unbelievable! You haven't talked to me for anything other than asking me a favor in years, I barely know you’re alive apart from the random drunk texts you send me, and now you want me to marry you? Do you even hear yourself?”

You scoffed and stared at him in disbelief. “And that has to be the worst proposal in all of human history. First you tell me that tennis is the only thing you care about and then ask me to marry you? You’re a joke.”

He let you finish your rant, but after a beat he finally asked. “…Is that a no?”

———-

Stranger things had happened to you than marrying your childhood best friend just a month after he’d randomly popped back up in your life. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you walked down the aisle on a beautiful beach off of the Amalfi Coast.

The last few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind, with what felt like every second of your time consumed by making guest lists and invitations, booking hotel rooms, and finding a dress that you liked enough to get married in. Obviously, you knew this was more of an elaborate scheme than a celebration of love, but you wanted it to be nice anyway. For all you knew, you may never get married again.

You don’t know what possessed you to say yes to Patrick. Maybe the small, desperate part of you that had been begging him to truly see you since you were old enough to realize he didn’t, or maybe the desire to finally have that fairytale destination wedding you’d been dreaming about from the time you learned what a wedding was. Regardless of the reason, both of your families were overjoyed by the union. In one fell swoop, you’d been able to satisfy both of your parents’ desires for you to settle down, and you’d done it with someone both pairs approved of.

You had to give props to Patrick, the ceremony was beautiful. Given the short timeline, the two of you decided to divide and conquer the planning of the event. You were sure that he’d outsourced the work, since he was still in the middle of his tennis season, but whoever he hired did an excellent job at giving you the wedding you’d always wanted.

Despite the very short timeline everyone had been given, you were able to wrangle all of your close family and friends to Italy to watch you elope. Your parents had insisted on inviting second cousins and shareholders to your wedding, but you’d somehow convinced them that you and Patrick wanted a smaller, more intimate ceremony. It was probably better to have less people there, lest someone notices the artificial nature of your union.

Part of you felt like you’d pulled off the greatest prank of all time as the two of you stood up in front of your small crowd, gazing as lovingly as you could manage into each others’ eyes while the officiant said his spiel, but the other, more logical part of you filled with dread as the reality of the situation began to set in. Patrick seemed to have a way of always dragging you into a shitty situation, and you hoped for both of your sakes, that that wouldn’t be the case for your marriage.

After what felt like a lifetime, Patrick began to recite his vows, claiming to have loved you since you were children, and promising to continue to love you ‘till death did you part. If you had been marrying literally anyone else, your knees would go weak with swooning.

Unfortunately, you were cursed with the knowledge of the reality of your situation, one where your vows sounded more like: “We only have to stay married until I retire, which should be sooner rather than later. We don’t have to do anything together: no galas, no family dinners, no family vacations. Hell, you don’t even have to come to my games. And we don’t have to be exclusive either. This is basically just a title, so feel free to see anyone you want to. I can already see the worry in your face. Stop that. We can hire someone to make us prenups, so the divorce will be an easy, clean split of our assets. See? It’s not that bad.”

The dichotomy between the words he’d said to you a month ago and the bullshit he was spewing now almost made you laugh, but that was clearly not the reaction you were meant to be having when the love of your life was publicly declaring their feelings for you.

Once he finished declaring his romantic, empty words, you began to read off your vows. They fell in a similar vein to his, a proclamation of a lifetime-spanning love that didn’t really exist in the first place. But when you glanced up at him from your slip of paper, he was really selling it. He stared at you like he adored you, like he wanted to study every inch of your face after running off with you into the sunset.

The ridiculousness of it all finally hit you like a freight train, and you managed to pivot the laugh that was creeping up into your throat into a weepy sounding crack of your voice. Surely people cried during their own weddings.

You finished off your vows, doing your best to pretend like this whole ordeal wasn’t the most ridiculous scheme you’d ever been dragged into. You imagined a world where he was less selfish and you were less selfless, one where you were exchanging these vows with sincerity, and it helped you to get through the words that you knew were almost completely meaningless.

The two of you then took turns placing the ring on each others’ fingers, with Patrick giving you a ring with the largest diamond you’d ever seen, and you giving him a band that had been passed throughout your family. He’d agreed to give you the heirloom back once you divorced, so you couldn’t complain too much about giving it away in the first place.

The announcement of being able to kiss the bride rang out in your ears, yet you still found yourself surprised when Patrick eagerly wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. Cheers erupted around the two of you, and you pulled away as the officiant declared you Mr. and Mrs. Zweig.

You had successfully tricked your audience, and yet, you still had the strangest feeling.

Your reception felt far more natural than your wedding ceremony. After a change of outfit, a huge bowl of pasta, and a few flutes of champagne, you were feeling substantially better about the arguably poor decision you’d just made. You chatted up your friends, who jumped at the opportunity to comment on how cute of a couple you two were, did some light matchmaking between single guests, and placated both of your parents with manufactured acts of affection. You even managed to get Patrick out on the dance floor, after he swore to you that he didn’t dance.

By the time the two of you were stumbling back into your villa, the woes of the day had practically been forgotten. When you were having this much fun, who cared about a massive, potentially life altering decision?

You immediately made a beeline to the bathroom, anxious to get into your comfortable pajamas and to wash your face after a long day of wearing tight, extravagant dresses and a heavy layer of makeup.

“So what did you think of your big day, Mrs. Zweig?” Patrick called out from the other side of the bathroom door, where you were sure he was also preparing for bed. “Was it everything you wanted and more?”

“I think this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you paused as you thought about something before confessing, “but it was everything I wanted and more.”

“Yes!” he celebrated from where you couldn’t see him, though you could perfectly envision the goofy look on his face. “I owe it to you after everything I’ve put you through. I just hope you weren’t too let down by the groom.”

“What?” you drew out before blowing a raspberry. “Of course not. You looked very handsome today,” you complimented in between splashes of your face.

“You looked pretty beautiful, yourself,” he complimented you right back.

“Aww, thank you, honey,” you emphasized the pet name.

“Hmm, I don’t know if I like that,” you heard the squeak of the bed from behind the door as you assumed that he’d sat down.

“Hey, you’re the one who made me marry you,” you pointed out. “Am I more than you bargained for?”

“Of course not, babe,” he emphasized his own pet name, which sent you into a fit of laughter. “It’s just so weird to hear you refer to me as anything other than an asshole.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, you’re still an asshole,” you replied as you walked out of the bathroom, donning an old shirt with the logo of your boarding school and an equally old pair of shorts. “Just a married asshole.”

You took in the sight of your now-husband as you made your way to your side of the bed, surprised to find that you quite liked the sense of domestic bliss you were feeling. The bed dipped as you sat down and glanced back at Patrick with the slightest bit of hesitation.

“Is this weird for you? I can go to the spare room, if you want me to,” he offered, surely in reference to the two of you sleeping in the same bed.

“Don’t worry about it,” you assured him, setting a steady hand on his knee. “What kind of couple would we be if we didn’t spend our wedding night together?” you teased.

“The kind of couple that marries for convenience?” he suggested.

“Hey, who’s to say that this isn’t love? I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. Maybe some of it lingered, or some shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he looked at you with that sleazy smirk that you both loved and hated. “What happened?”

“Hmm… I think I realized that you’re a dick,” you matched his smirk with a challenging one of your own.

“Huh. Did you have this realization before or after you started seeing Dan Thompson?” he questioned.

You were surprised by the mention of your first boyfriend, particularly because you weren’t sure that Patrick remembered any detail about your personal life, let alone your love life. “I realized it after you started treating me like your workhorse.”

“Oh okay, so you had a crush on me while you were with your boyfriend. Good to know.”

“Shut up,” you groaned and turned away from him as you finally full laid down.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I also had a crush on you?” you heard the bed sheets rustle as he scooted closer to you, and you turned back to face him.

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t see any world where that would make sense to you. In your youth, it seemed like Patrick was always off somewhere with a new person, and none of those people were you. Not that you had an issue with it, but the thought that the two of you might’ve had crushes on each other at the same time without either of you pursuing each other felt kind of weird.

“Nope. You’re the first person I ever jerked off to,” he said as casually as if he were telling you what he ate for breakfast, not breaking eye contact with you.

“Ew, you’re so gross,” you gently pushed him, but your hands lingered where they sat on his chest. “Was that supposed to be romantic or something?”

“That’s not romantic to you?” he asked with all the sincerity of someone who was fully committing to a bit.

The two of you broke out into laughter. Once you finally caught your breath, you began once more. “This is gonna be a long marriage.”

“Hopefully,” he remarked in response.

“If you keep talking to me like that, I will literally go get our marriage annulled, like right now.”

“Please don’t,” he whined, grabbing one of your hands from his chest and kissing your fingers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Every time you promise to make something up to me, an inconsistent fairy gains its wings.”

“Hey,” his tone suddenly became very serious, completely catching you off guard. “I really am sorry that I’ve been a terrible friend. I don’t know that I’ve ever said it, but I am. You deserve so much better than me, and I don’t even know how I convinced you to do this for me.”

You almost started to laugh, unable to take the absurd situation seriously. You’d been waiting years to hear him genuinely apologize, and now hours after you’d married solely as a favor to him, he was finally telling you what you wanted to hear.

“Please. I’m serious. I know you think I’m a piece of shit flaky ashhole, and I am, but I want to be a better husband to you than I ever was as a friend.”

You felt your heart stop beating for a second. The word husband sounded so foreign in his mouth. You couldn’t quite pin how you felt about it, but you knew you felt uncomfortable with the intimacy of his words.

“Patrick, please shut up,” you squeezed your eyes shut, suddenly a little overwhelmed with the Patrick of it all. In fact, you couldn’t think of anything more encapsulating of your experience with him than the whiplash you got from that moment. He could be a complete asshat, but his occasional moments of earnestness kept you following him like a lost puppy, accepting his apologies and granting him ridiculous favors, despite your better judgment.

“Are you okay?” he asked, moving closer to you to get a good look at you. You swore you felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

“I’m fine, I just-“ am overwhelmed by you being sweet? Can’t believe that I’m hearing you say this to me after so long? Also can’t believe that you and I are married?

None of the right words seemed to come to you, so you did the second best thing you could think of.

You pecked his lips and pulled away as if you’d just touched a hot handle. You didn’t know what had come over you, and immediately began to apologize profusely.

“Oh my god, I don’t know-“ you were cut off by his hands on your face, greedily and sloppily pulling you back in for another kiss, this one far more passionate and confident than the first.

Your kiss was messy but fervent, years of pent up sexual frustration and non-sexual frustration behind your every movement. As you kissed, you moved to straddle him, feeling a little ridiculous in your ratty old clothes, but that didn’t stop him from groping you over your pajamas like you were the hottest thing on the planet.

Maybe the strangest thing to happen to you that day wasn’t even your wedding.

——

That night was the first in a series of very strange events. You couldn’t even fully wrap your head around what was happening in your marriage. You just knew that the two of you had become closer friends than you’d ever been before, and that you slept together when either of you had the urge. It was basically a no strings attached situation, except, legally, all strings were attached.

If you were confused by your arrangement, you were sure that your friends were even more lost, something they proved to you as they interrogated you over brunch.

“So, just so we’re clear, you married him as a favor?!” your friend asked in complete disbelief.

“Well… yeah, basically.”

“Shit. Can I ask you for a favor of a million dollars?” she joked, leading to the laughter of your other friends at the table.

“Well, that’s different. At least with our marriage, we both benefit. He gets his parents off his ass about being so focused on tennis that he doesn’t have any future prospects, and I get my parents to stop trying to marry me off to every single rich boy they find.”

“But you’re not like, actually married. Like you guys don’t have feelings for each other?” another friend questioned.

You sipped your mimosa before explaining your situation for what must’ve been the fifth time that day, “we’re basically friends with benefits.”

“But you’re legally married? Like, the wedding was official and stuff?”

“Legally? Yeah. But it’s literally just that,” you clarified.

“Legal marriage and sex?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, hoping that they were finally catching on.

“Then… are you guys seeing other people?”

“Oh yeah, what ever happened to that one model guy you were seeing?” another one of your friends pitched in.

“It didn’t really work out,” you addressed that with an understatement. He rightfully flipped his shit when he found out you were going to be marrying someone else. “But neither of us are seeing other people. I don’t think either of us want to risk bringing anything back to one another.”

“That sounds pretty committed to me.”

“Not really,” you dismissed.

“Then why are you even together?”

“How many times do I have to explain how we both benefit from this?”

“No, not legally, or socially or whatever. Why are you hooking up with him? Aren’t you scared you’ll mess up your friendship or something?”

“Well, the sex is really, really good. But I’m really not worried. There's no romance between us. We’ve been friends for so long that it’s just… weird to look at him like anything other than my friend. It’s basically a loveless marriage of convenience.”

Your friend shot you a skeptical look. You just shrugged her off.

———

The moment you found out your afternoon meeting had been canceled, you reached out to your assistant to make arrangements for you to go to Patrick’s tennis game. He’d been on a winning streak, and though he insisted that you didn’t need to come to his games, you knew that he secretly liked having you there.

Over the past few months of your marriage, you’d grown to realize that he often didn’t say what he actually meant. Like the time he told you that he preferred to live alone, before breathily confessing in your ear that he slept better by your side. Or when he swore to you that he loved the pancakes you’d served him, despite the food being some of the worst you’d ever put in our mouth and him being on a diet. You almost found it sweet that he tried to prioritize your feelings over his own, which was surely a result of overcompensation from the way he had treated you for the majority of your lives.

You arrived at his match just in time to watch him take a break, making your way into the stands and finding a seat where you’d have the best view of your friend as possible. You didn’t expect him to scan the audience and find you until much later on, but you were pleasantly surprised when the two of you made eye contact and he absolutely lit up. You waved, then gave him a thumbs up in hopes to communicate your support from far away.

While you couldn’t always make it, you liked to play the role of supportive tennis wife. Getting dressed up and making an appearance not only publicly legitimized your sham of a marriage, but helped you to reconnect with some of your former boarding school classmates, who were often in the stands supporting a friend or a loved one. You also just liked to watch him play, as witnessing the passion and ferocity he had out on the court was extremely entertaining, and even at times, mildly arousing.

With their break ending, Patrick went back out on the court and played just as well as you expected him to, crushing his competition, and looking up into the stands at you to celebrate once he’d scored the winning point.

At first, it was surprising how proud his wins made you feel of him, a feeling that you explained to yourself by arguing that if he wasn’t giving his absolute all to tennis, then your marriage had basically been all for nothing. Although that did still ring slightly true, the truth was that you were simply proud of Patrick. Whether you liked it or not, the two of you were a unit now, which meant that his wins were your wins and vice versa. In some ways, it was kind of nice to be part of a team. Or at least his team.

You met Patrick down on the court, where he paused from packing his bag to immediately greet you with a kiss to the forehead, a small act of intimacy that was typically reserved for situations far different from the one you were currently in.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming!” he exclaimed, pulling you in for a half-hug.

“I didn’t know I was coming either,” you instinctually wrapped your arm around him in response to his half-hug. “Great job out there. You kinda demolished him!”

“I did, didn’t I,” he said just loud enough for you to hear, still wanting to appear like a good sport. “I have to go get ready for the press conference. Do you want to meet me at my hotel?”

“Of course. You don’t mind me staying for the night?” you probed, despite knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have asked you to go to his hotel in the first place if he’d minded.

“You know I never mind you staying for the night,” he gave you a cheeky wink.

“You’re so sleazy,” you commented with fake disgust.

“You started it,” he replied, reluctantly pulling away from you and reaching into his bag to grab his hotel keycard. “I’ll text you when I’m heading back.”

The moment you received a message about him being on his way to the hotel, you made a very lengthy phone call and request to the restaurant in the building. Technically, he shouldn’t be eating any of what you ordered, on account of him being on a strict diet plan, but you figured that he deserved it after playing the way that he did. Besides, Patrick liked thoughtful acts of service, and you figured that this would count as one.

“You know me so well,” he practically gasped as he stepped into the room, taking in the platters of food you’d laid out for him.

“What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t?” you teased, though your sentiment was somewhat accurate, and it was clear that the two of you had grown to know each other far better over the past few months, you hoped that your friend wasn’t interpreting your words in too serious of a way.

The two of you laid out on the pristine hotel bed, eating the feast that you’d ordered without much dialogue between you, other than a comment on how good something was, or a request to pass an item to one another. It felt oddly domestic, and oddly enough, you liked it. Maybe you liked it even more than you’d been willing to admit.

“I’m gonna go shower,” he announced after tossing his napkin onto a cleared off plate.

“Want some company?” you offered, raising your brows at him in a playfully suggestive manner.

“Is that what this is all about?” he feigned offense.

“Maybe,” you trailed off. “Or maybe I just wanted to celebrate the greatest tennis player of all time,” you purred.

“Come on. You and I both know that is far from the truth.”

“Well you’re the greatest player in my heart,” you praised, much to his chagrin.

“Ugh. Shut up and come shower with me.”

As you sleepily ran your fingers through his damp hair, you were surprised when he broke his silence with a comment seemingly out of the blue. It was more of a mumble than anything else, but you’d grown accustomed to his muffled words over the course of your marriage.

“You’re so beautiful,” he randomly complimented you.

“You know you don’t have to compliment me to get into my pants, right?” you asked with a hint of laughter in your tone.

“I’m not trying to,” he pecked your arm–the limb he had the easiest access to at the moment–as if he was trying to emphasize his point, though all it did was bring heat to your cheeks at the reminder of the way he’d pressed slow and meaningful kisses along your calves and inner thighs while the two of you were in the shower. “You just looked so good today, I couldn’t not comment.”

“I don’t look good every day?” you asked facetiously, trying to deflect from the warm and fuzzy feeling his compliments and affection were making you feel.

“Of course you always look good,” he reassured you rather than playing along with your game of joking instead of addressing your feelings. “I just don’t tell you that enough.”

You weren’t even sure how you could respond to that. Clearly, he wasn’t in the mood to mince words tonight, but you couldn’t bear to match his genuinity with cheap jokes. The only real, genuine thought to pop into your head were three ridiculous words that you immediately batted away. You couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing than randomly declaring your love to a husband who wasn’t really your husband in a marriage that wasn’t really a marriage.

Out of ideas, you hit the lamp on your side of the bed. “I appreciate it. Goodnight.”

“Night,” he parroted back to you, remaining snug against your chest, despite the fact that your hands had stopped threading through his hair.

Deep down, you knew that those three words had been on the tip of Patrick’s tongue, too.

——

Being in the social circles of filthily rich people meant you often found yourself at random charity events, hosted by the nonprofits of families and business owners looking for a particularly large tax break for the year. Over the years, you’d felt that you’d seen and participated in it all: marathons raising awareness for a serious, but extremely rare disease, date auctions to raise money for a cause that certainly didn’t justify you having to go on a date with a man almost forty years your senior, or galas for nearly-extinct sea creatures that were essentially used as an excuse to stand around and network while drinking expensive alcohol and eating hor d'oeuvres.

You seemed to find yourself at a lot of events like the latter, including the one you were standing at now. The gala, which took place in the art exhibit it was raising money for, was a rather standard one, filled with the typical suspects who regularly attended those events.

It was slightly ironic to be at the event with Patrick as your plus one, as this was the exact type of event he would’ve texted you about an hour before it began to ask if you would play his concerned partner for the night who told everyone a flimsy excuse about him being under the weather.

It also served as somewhat of a reminder to you of the massive growth that your friend had undergone since the two of you became legally bound to one another. It finally felt like Patrick saw you as a true friend, instead of a reliable person who would do his dirty work. It finally felt like he cared. In some ways, your marriage was the best thing to happen to your friendship.

Patrick returned to where you were standing, this time with two flutes of champagne and a delicious looking appetizer in his hand.

“You’re too kind,” you said as he passed you your drink.

“Anything for my wife,” he mockingly bowed in front of you and you chuckled and shook your head. Over the past year, the two of you slowly became slightly more comfortable with referencing each other as husband and wife, but only really as a joke. You guessed that in a lot of ways, that’s what your marriage was—a ridiculous inside joke.

He was just about to feed you a hor d'oeuvre when you were approached by a wildly unwelcome figure: the man who had purchased a date with you a few years ago. Despite your one very awkward, stilted date, he never really seemed to get over you–which he made a point to prove at every event you both happened to be at. And unfortunately for you, his generous donations landed him on the guest list for the majority of these events.

You were used to fighting him off on your own, as he seemed to come and flirt with you regardless of how inappropriate it was for the setting of the event, or even when he already had a beautiful young bombshell hanging on his arm. At this point, you’d learned to just tune his every word out and flee as soon as you possibly could. He was annoying, but he wasn’t dangerous.

“Hey, honey,” he greeted you way too comfortably. You’d given up on asking him to call you by your name a very long time ago.

“Hi, John,” you reached out to shake his hand and cringed internally when he kissed the back of your hand.

“Oh honey, who is this?” Patrick immediately lept in, surprising you with his unsubtle passive aggressive tone and ridiculous use of a pet name.

“You don’t remember me? I swear, we’ve met a few times.” John asked, trying to smile despite clearly being agitated by the presence of competition.

“Some people are more forgettable than others,” he said with a shrug. “How do you know my wife?” He emphasized the word and you pushed down the small inkling of pride you were feeling. Whether it was from watching Patrick try to scare this annoying man away from you, or being so proudly referred to as his wife, you couldn’t be sure.

“Finally settling down, eh?” he directed at you, then directed his next statement to Patrick. “We went on a date back in the day.”

“It was for that one date auction thing,” you quickly added context, but paused when you took in John’s less than pleased look. He was a large donor at your own family’s nonprofit, and you were sure that your parents wouldn’t be too pleased with you if they found out he pulled out over you hurting his feelings. “We had a lot of fun, though.”

“We definitely did,” he chuckled and smirked. You wanted to punch him in the mouth. “We should definitely do it again sometime.”

It was clear that Patrick was not taking kindly to seeing you be flirted with so brazenly in front of him. Part of you wondered why he would be possessive, since part of your initial deal was that you could see whoever you wanted, even if that happened to be a creepy old man with a lot of money. The other part of you was enjoying seeing him so fired up. Particularly, seeing him fired up over you.

“Our schedule is just so busy. Between work and us trying to start a family, I just don’t know when we’ll have time to see you again.”

Trying to start a family? That was definitely news to you. Although, the idea didn’t sound awful. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to start a family with their closest, most dear friend?

“Well, she knows where to find me, right, honey?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, looking into your glass like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Now if you don’t mind, my wife and I are going to go check out the exhibit,” Patrick announced, grabbing your hand and taking a step away from John.

“You two have fun,” he said before clapping Patrick’s shoulder and leaning in to begin a stage whisper. “Make sure you treat her right and cherish her. If you don’t, I might have to swoop in and do so myself.”

He winked at you and you bit back a gag.

“Don't you worry your wrinkly little head. Nobody lov- cherishes her more than I do,” he theatrically patted his back much like he’d initially done to him. “See you around.”

Did he almost say what you think he almost said? Surely you misheard him, or he was just playing up your relationship to scare away that creepy man. It really wasn’t anything to think twice about.

Once the two of you had walked away far enough to be out of earshot, you finally addressed what had just happened. “Thank you, bodyguard. You don’t even know how much I despise that man.”

“He seems like he’s the worst,” he agreed with you, looking back over his shoulder.

“That’s because he is,” you emphasized. “This is so random, but did you mean what you said earlier?”

Patrick suddenly paused, his face going pale like he’d just seen a ghost. You were a little confused by this reaction, as he’d said nothing to warrant that level of fear.

“Do you actually want to start a family? Obviously not now, while you’re still playing tennis, but maybe eventually? I know we don’t have the most traditional marriage, but, I don’t know. Neither of us are getting any younger, and it might be fun to co-parent with my best friend,” you were clearly rambling now, but luckily, Patrick came in to rescue you for the second time that night. He looked far less aghast now.

“I would love that,” he said to you with a genuine smile. You matched his with one of your own.

———

“Do you have any big plans for retirement?” a reporter asked for the final question of the press conference.

“Mostly just eating a lot of burgers. And maybe learning how to play pickleball,” Patrick responded, never one to give a serious answer to questions that weren’t explicitly about tennis.

It was a ridiculous note to end on, but it felt right. You’d found that to be the case with most things in your life that pertained to him–most notably your marriage, which ended up being far more than you ever expected it to be.

After the press conference had come to a close, Patrick met you outside by the car, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, then leaning down to peck your baby bump.

“How does it feel to be retired?” you asked, ruffling his hair while he was still bending down.

“It feels like you might divorce me,” he joked. Obviously your marriage deal was only meant to cover the time that he was still playing tennis, but after years of a complicated marriage that suddenly became significantly less complicated once you finally confronted the fact that the two of you very obviously loved each other, it seemed unlikely that your union would end any time soon.

You glanced down at your baby bump, then back up to him skeptically. “I hope you’re not being serious.”

“Come on, I never know with you. You’re the one who friendzoned me the entire first year of our marriage!” he exclaimed.

“That was a lifetime ago,” you countered before taking his hands in yours. “If you’re really worried, I have zero intentions of ending our marriage.”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he grinned, stepping away from you. “Let’s get going. I don’t want us to miss our reservation.”

You nodded and obliged, passing him the keys before heading to the passenger side of the car.

Once you sat down, you were overcome with the urge to say something. You had spent so much time bottling up and pressing down your own feelings, that it was now hard to resist letting things out when they came to you.

“I’m so proud of you,” you blurted. “And I love you. So much.”

Patrick smiled at you genuinely, before his look turned into a slightly more devious one. “I love you so much, too. One might even say I love you more.”

“Don’t even start with that,” you laughed, not in the mood to have the kind of back and forth with him that you had at least once a week. Considering that you were carrying his child, you were pretty sure that you were the winner of the love competition.

“Fine. We love each other equally,” he conceded.

“That’s more like it.”

You tried to think back to one specific moment where your marriage had crossed over from being one of convenience, into a union with genuine feelings attached, and realized that you weren’t exactly sure. It could’ve been the first night you spent together, when you’d finally allowed yourself to consider what your relationship might look like beyond a simple friendship, or maybe it was even earlier than that, when you gazed into Patrick’s eyes as you read off your vows. The look of pure adoration he gave you was one that you had grown familiar with throughout the course of your marriage, but you hadn’t realized at the time just how genuine he had been. Or maybe even the moment Patrick asked you in the living room of your apartment, when you’d been the first person he thought of to carry out his ridiculous scheme, and you’d said yes despite every logical part of your brain that screamed at you to say no.

Whenever it began didn’t particularly matter. What mattered now was that the two of you fully intended to spend the rest of your lives together.

#patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig imagine #art donaldson x reader #challengers #challengers fanfic #challengers fic #josh o'connor x reader

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yoitsjay · 1 month ago

Note

This is more cause the Epic musical ended, but can you do like Jason x Reader based on the final song “Would you fall in love with me again” like Jason returns to reader after Jokers gone, he’s fought to return to her while feeling like he’s no longer human, reader arguing how long shes missed him and he obviously still cares. You can add smut if you want but i feel like Jason needs an Odysseus ending.

EPIC THE MUSCICAL MENTION?

Your Still Human

Summary: throughout everything she waited. He fought for her, she waited for the moment he returned to her side. Now he was home, and he didn't believe that she still loved him, despite all he's done. But she can make him believe.

Warnings: slight angst, Jason todd backstory shit, arguing, reader slaps him into reality (literally), light smut, not really descriptive.

Word Count: 1931

A/n: I feel like whenever anyone says "you can write smut if you want" is a very passive aggressive way to say they want to fuck the character they requested. LMAO, if u want smut, ASK FOR IT, and be specific if u want smth special. 😃

Gotham City never sleeps, not even under the weight of snowflakes that dust the cracked pavement and the jagged rooftops. The air was sharp tonight, biting against your cheeks as you tightened your scarf, shivering in the dim glow of a flickering streetlamp. Winter in Gotham had always felt heavy, oppressive even, but this one weighed on you differently.

Two years. Two years since the night Jason died.

The thought lingered, as unwelcome as the gusts of wind that snuck through the gaps in your coat. The Joker had taken him—your best friend, your love, your anchor. And while the world had kept turning, the city humming along with its chaos and crime, your own clock had stopped that night.

You stood at the edge of the East End, the skyline swallowed by a curtain of falling snow. Somewhere out there, Bruce was probably brooding in the shadows, and Dick might be chasing down a lead. But you? You couldn’t bring yourself to move. This corner of the city felt quieter, like even Gotham’s perpetual noise knew better than to intrude on your grief.

In your pocket, your gloved fingers curled around a worn photograph. The edges were frayed from how many times you’d unfolded it, staring at Jason’s crooked grin, the light in his eyes that had always seemed so unshakable. You could almost hear his voice in the silence, teasing you for standing out in the cold without gloves—though, this time, you were wearing them.

A crack in the snow behind you startled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply, heart thudding, but it was only the wind sweeping an empty soda can across the ground. Still, the moment reminded you of where you were—Gotham wasn’t safe, not even for someone who had loved a Robin.

You sighed and tucked the photo back into your pocket, pulling your hood up against the cold. Jason would’ve told you to keep moving, to stay sharp. And though your grief threatened to anchor you in place, you took a step forward.

The city was still alive, and so were you. For now, that would have to be enough.

you made your way from the side of the building and back to the door that leads to the staircase. You took your time walking down, keeping one earbud in, one out so that you could still listen to the music you enjoyed, while staying vigilant to the dangers.

The Wayne’s were your family, through and through, especially after that night, you knew they would always have some form of eye on you, whether it was Oracle through city surveillance cameras, or one of Bruce's adopted menagerie of children making sure you got home safe in the evening.

You finally arrived at your apartment building, though as you approached your door, you quickly realized something was off. The door was ajar, but there was no sign of forced entry, no cracked, splintered or broken door frame or handle, no scratches.

Tentatively, you pulled out the pocket knife that alwaysat heavy in your left pocket. It was a silvered blade, short but deadly sharp, and the handle was red, polished wood and resin. A goft from Jason, before he had died. he made you promise to use it if your life was ever in danger, to fuck bruces no killing rule if it meant you stayed alive.

you promised you would.

You approached the apartment, knife gripped tightly in your dominant hand as you slowly pushed open the door, glancing around the darkness of your loft. It was a very open concept, but you loved it. You could easily see up the stairs to where your bedroom was, and from the loft you could see below to the living room and kitchen.

The large windows provided bright moonlight, which illuminated the apartment. At least it wasnt pitch black.

Cautiously, you moved further into the appartment, checking the corners, sticking close to the wall as you studyied the living area, seeing nothing out of place, nothing turned over or destroyed. Alright, not a robbery. But that didnt mean it was any less dangerous.

You heard some shuffling, coming from above, on the lofted area where your bedroom was. You narrowed your eyes. You should be smart, and leave the appartment and call Dick, Tim or Bruce to come investigate, and make sure it was safe…

but then an oddly familiar scent hit your nose as you crept up the staircase, keeping the knife firmly gripped as you slowly poked your head over the last step on the staircase, keeping low as you spotted a shadowed figure seated on your bed, looking through an album.

your private album with polaroid pictures you took of \jason, and yourself, when you were both kids and he was alive.

Slowly you rose up, and you flicked on the bedroom light.

then your knife clattered to the ground.

Familiar eyes stared up at you, though once a deep blue, they now shone almost tealish green in color, though, perhaps that suited him more.

“Jason”.

Your voice flooded the area first, breath stolen away as a diffrent, but familiar man slowly rosr to his feet, already towering over you, even from a few feet away.

“You didnt move out.”

he voiced observantly, glancing around the loft apartment. “new furniture though, i like it.” He added, his gaze falling back to you, and your dumbfound expression.

“Your dead.”

“Lazerus pit.”

“ah…”

Silence once more, until he took a step forward, you flinched, but didnt moce back as he slowly, cautiously approached, before crouching down and grabbing the knife that had fallen from your hands.

“Have you used it?”

He asked, and you shook your head.

“Only to peel an apple. don’t think that counts.” you muttered softly, eyes following his movements as he stood back up, closing the knife before handing it back to you… tentitively you reached out, though rather than grabbing the knife, you grased his hand.

He was real, here, standing right in front of you.

You let out a sob, and your knees began to buckle, but his arms were quickly wrapped around you, and he was holding you close, his face, scarred, older, buried into your hair, the scent not changed since he saw you last.

“Y/n…” He trailed off, his voice cracking as he squeezed you gently in his arms. “i tried to come sooner, you were the only thing on my mind- im so sorry.” Jason whispered, feeling you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, hands sliding into his soft, black, and now white streaked hair.

“is it really you?” You asked, voice cracking as you pilled back, looking into his teal green eyes, moving your hand down to his chee, thumb brushing over the J shaped scar in his cheek, causing you to from as he flinched slightly, though didnt pull back.

“You look diffrent, older… broken”

Jason frowned, his eyes searching yours before he removed his arms from around you and he pulled back, looking out of the large windows, the moonlight illuninating the haunted look in his eyes.

“Ill be honest Princess… im not the man you fell in love with.”

He breathed out in a chuckle, slipping his hands into his pockets as his eyebrows furrowed.

“im not kind, gentle or- any of that bullshit you knew…”

He trailed off, trying not to notice the way your frown deepend, and how tears glistened your cheeks.

“Ive done so many bad things… trying to get back to you, to my world… things i- i cant take back…”

His worlds trailed off, and he glanced in your direction as you approached, sliding your hand up his arm, to his bicep.

“what have you done?”

you asked, voice soft, quiet. you were afraid it would break if you spoke up any louder.

“i-”

Jason paused, frowning as he looked away, balling his hands into fists within his pockets.

“I’ve killed people darlin’- a lot of people. i was so angry, i left a trail of blood everywhere i went… but my goal was always you, princess.” He replied, his voice cracking slightly as he looked down at you.

“If that's true.” you spoke up tentatively, “Then take your knife back, and slit my throat.”

you demanded it so sternly, and his eyes flew wide open as he took a step back.

“What?” he barked out, glaring down at you. “Why the fuck would you say something like that Y/n? i would never hurt you, i love-”

His words were cut off as your hands grabbed his face, and you pulled him down, smashing your lips against his.

Jason quickly melted into it, his muscular arms wrapping around you, holding you firmly against him as he relished in the feeling of your lips against his.

Fuck, he whined when you pulled away.

“Only the Jason Todd I knew would say that, would love me so unconditionally that he killed anyone in his path just to get back to me.”

You breathed out brushing some white strands of hair from his eyes, so you could take in all the trauma, the sadness locked away behind them.

“I love you, i missed you- and don’t you dare call yourself a monster, Jason Todd, i'm not Bruce, i don't care how many you’ve killed, it just means there's one less criminal in the world. I know damn well you still care about me.” you stated sternly.

he was silent for a little, holding you, taking your words in, before he chuckled, and his eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to yours. Muttering an ‘im sorry’

“Theres nothing to be sorry about.”

You replied, smiling when he simply snorted, and said nothing else… until he did.

“I need you.”

He whispered, and you raised an eyebrow, studying his facial features, the way his bottom lip quivered slightly.

“You have me me Jas-”

“No Y/n- i need you.”

He whimpered.

he fucking whimpered.

Your face heated up significantly, though he made no sudden movements as you continued running your fingers through his soft black locks.

“Oka-”

You couldn't even finish your sentence because his lips were already locked against yours, his arms under your ass as he hoisted you up with ease and spun you around before placing you on the bed, stealing your breath away with every kiss he stole from you, his own soft, needy grunts already filling the room as you felt him grind his massive bulge into the plushness of your thigh, one arm wrapped around said thigh to keep it secured as he rutted against you.

“Jason-” You managed to grunt out between every kiss, letting out a soft moan as he nipped at the skin of your neck.

“You're mine.” He growled out, like he was fucking feral.

“m’ never gunna leave you again princess, never- fuck- will you let me use that pretty pussy? yeah? Let me claim you?” he grunted with each particularly rough grind against your thigh.

Words and sounds mingled into one as the night progressed, the open apartment door left forgotten as he all but consumed you.

In the end you laid in his arms, letting him hold you as tightly as he needed to as cum leaked from between your legs, bruises littered all across your skin. But Jason was back, your prince of gotham was home. safe in your arms.

if it were you who died, and crawled back to life…

you would have destroyed the whole world just to see him again.

Tag list:

All: @francesfarhadi

Batfam tag:

Jason Todd tag:

Jason todd smut tag:

#fanfiction #batfam fanfic #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #fem reader #smut #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd smut #red hood x reader smut #red hood #red hood smut

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