#lucky if i could hug you i would

[lotusarchon]

OHMY GOODNESS HELLO??? THIS IS SO SWEET OMFG SHAHSJSJD AAAAAH ERLANGGGGGG

A drapple with BMW! Erlang Shen (～﹃～)~zZ @lotusarchon

To think you found yourself lucky enough to catch the attention of THE Erlang Shen is a miracle enough, but to be able to get yourself sat on his lap with his arms gently wrapped around your waist while you tell him about your day? Now that's something else.

To him, it doesn't matter what story he hears from you, bad or good; he just feels happy when he hears you talk to him or hears you complain to him. He loves to listen to them all with a smile as he has you so close to him. You fit perfectly in his arms, warm, alive, and his to adore.

He feels at peace when he's with you. You feel like home to him, and he sincerely cherishes you with every fibre of his existence, thanking his lucky stars for you to have stepped into his life.

You, little old you, mortal as you are, are the very person he wishes to spend his life with, and he will love you until the end of your life and find you in the next to be able to fall for you again.

So, whenever you ask him silly questions he hears many mortals in the current modern years asking their lover, for fun or for reassurance, like, "Will you still love me if I were a worm?" he would chuckle and kiss you on the cheek, muttering his answer.

"I can shapeshift to a worm to join you. So, if you end up as a worm, other worms will know that you are taken."

"Really? You would?"

"I have to keep my love mine, don't I?"

[missdynamighttt]

watching porn with bf! katsuki bakugo will somehow turn into a bet to see who will give in first.

when you ask him if you could watch porn together, how could he say no to you, his girl? more so when you basically riled him up to convince him.

"bub, can we watch porn together?" you look at him, your legs resting in his lap as the both of you lounged on the couch.

katsuki's eyes widen at your directness, his jaw slightly dropping at your question. he scoffs out of disbelief, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"you're real damn blunt, pervert," he grins at your pout, stroking your thighs with firm, gentle squeezes.

"i'm not doing it for weird reasons! just.." you shrugged. "curious to see what happens, i guess? i dunno how to explain.."

he sighs, shaking his head. his hand reaches out to ruffle your hair with a grin. "you're lucky you're adorable. fuck it, why not?"

you grin, leaning closer to him, giving his cheek a kiss. "knew you'd come around. come to think of it, i bet you will jerk off to it first."

his eyes narrow at you and he scoffs. "that confident, huh?"

"with how hot you think i am and all? totally."

"like you don't think i'm hot too. wanna bet, sweets?"

"definitely. ground rules: don't touch yourself. and no touching each other. and i mean holding hands, hugs, and kisses. not just feeling each other up."

"tch, fine," katsuki scoffs. "no looking away to calm down. only when we talk. winner gets braggin' rights and loser lives with the eternal knowledge that the winner is better."

"fine," you scoff back. "you're gonna give in first, 'nyway. since you can’t go a single morning without pulling me into bed again."

katsuki's eyes narrow at you again, this time pouting at you with his cheeks flushed. "says the brat clingier than a damn koala after sex."

"oh, you're so on."

but little did you know, this would be harder than you thought.

you've set up your laptop on the coffee table across the couch, scrolling through the mediocre home page porn in incognito as you sit next to your boyfriend.

you were almost reluctant to continue but knowing him, he would definitely egg you on about being a coward. because one thing about your boyfriend, katsuki, was that he really wanted to win at everything.

"wanna watch?" you look at katsuki with a grin, the video on display captioned: "I hope the NEIGHBOURS were pleased with WHAT THEY SAW!", the preview of the video showing a couple standing by the window, fucking. it wasn't really your thing but you wanted to see how he'd react.

katsuki glances at the laptop before giving you a skeptical look, his tone firm. "fuck no."

"why not? whats wrong with it?"

"just.. no," he shakes his head, a sly grin slowly creeping onto his face as he looks at you. "one second. technically haven't started yet, yeah?"

he leans in, his lips meeting your cheek in a soft, quick kiss before pulling back. his fingers linger, stroking your cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. "just pick somethin' else, sweets."

you roll your eyes while wearing a fond grin. you're almost tempted to call him out on how affectionate he was but you didn't want him to stop. you couldn't help but find it endearing and cute.

but after awhile, you and katsuki realize pornhub's terrible acting and weird angles wasn't really working.

"no, too weird. it looks awkward. and fake."

"no, the guy is givin' me the ick. looks homeless."

"no, it looks.. painful. why is it so stretched?"

"no. wait, you're into that? i'm not opposed to it, i just think it looks weird when they do it. just sayin', if you wanna try it.."

so, you go on twitter, looking for porn accounts and already finding better alternatives.

finally, your eyes settle on a compilation of video captioned: "breeding selection 🖤" , the previews of the videos showing various faceless girls getting fucked sloppily and creampied by their partner.

this was it. it wasn't exactly your best plan but you were depedent on him getting turned on by the video and your mere presence to win the bet. and if anything turned him on, it would be the thought of breeding his pretty little girlfriend.

you glance at him from the side, taking in his relaxed demeanor as he leans back with his arms crossed, eyes fixed on the laptop as if there wasn't porn on the screen.

"this good with you, boyfie?"

he looks at you and fuck, you can practically feel the heat radiating from his gaze. his eyes rake over you, taking in every curve and contour of your body with a hungry look, like he's undressing you with his eyes, imagining what he'd do to you.

"mhm, 'ts fine."

you nod, going back to the laptop to play the video, stupidly thinking: there was no way he'd be able to play dirty, especially when he can't touch you. but no.

the video plays, only a few seconds showing the girl's rear. the guy squeezes her ass, the cum dripping out of her pussy and in between her swollen folds, down to her thighs as he plays with her ass.

and you know what katsuki does? this man talks you through it, saying the most filthy, lewd shit with a cheeky grin. this man plays dirty by talking dirty.

"goddamn. see the cum, just drippin' out of her? bet you want me fill you up real bad now, don't you? wanna recreate that with me, sweets?"

your thighs clench involuntarily, your body betraying your inner desire. you stare back at him with a glare, feeling a familiar ache settle between your legs. "we do that on a daily basis, katsuki."

"'m just sayin'," katsuki grins, thinking: perfect. you're getting horny. "the idea of pumpin' you full, watchin' my cum drip out of you.."

he was just so desperate to see you rub your clit silly so that he can do it too without admitting defeat. his dick was huge but his pride could compete.

you clear your throat, glaring at his cheeky grin before quickly playing the next video. it's longer, around 8 minutes. it has a better angle, showing the guy's dick disappearing in and out of the girl's pussy, her doughy ass hitting his abdomen. he slams into her as she moans softly around his cock, sticky from their shared slick.

you feel hot and tight in your own skin, your throat going dry. you felt your sore nipples harden as you painfully clench down on nothing, tempted to just subtly grind against the couch for a second. fuck. it hasn't even been 5 minutes yet you were so, so wet.

your boyfriend noticed. and he certainly wasn't of any help.

"shit," katsuki leans down close enough to whisper in your ear, his breath hitting your skin, but far away enough so that he wasn't touching you. "you wet already, sweets?"

"i'm not. shut up and watch the damn porn."

"aww, don't be like that. look at my pants, baby, c'mon."

you bite your bottom lip before your eyes reluctantly dart down to his pants. fuck. his boner was so fucking obvious, it didn't help that he was wearing grey sweats. you were already picturing him naked, imagining how your cunny would look like taking in his dick.

"see? i'm so fuckin' hard for you, baby, it hurts," he sighs, looking at the tent in his pants before whispering in your ear. "don't you wanna take care of me, hm?"

a small sigh escapes your lips as you try to steady your breathing, your eyes darting everywhere but at katsuki. your thoughts consumed by the sight of him, despite your attempts to remain composed.

"you're mean," you huff.

"baby, c'mon. i'll take real good care of you, i promise," he grins at you. "just gotta touch me, yeah?"

you pout again before your eyes return to the screen, thinking your only solution was to ignore him.

although, it wasn't any help as you watched the cum drip out of the girl's pussy before he fucks it back into her, when you wanted nothing more than for him to do the same to you.

he put some distance, and you thought: okay. some time to calm yourself down. but just when you thought katsuki couldn't outdo himself, you hear the ruffling of pants, looking down to see him stripping himself of his clothes.

you look up at him as you feel your face get hot from embarrassment. "hey, what are yo-"

"hm?" he looks back at you, blinking innocently. he throws his clothes unceremoniously somewhere, leaving him in only his boxers as he holds his hands up in surrender. "what? it's hot, sweets. this doesn't count 'nyway, right? besides, 'm not touchin' anythin'."

you huff, pouting at him with a glare, trying not to admire his muscles. that's the game he wanted to play? you glanced down again, a clear fucking mistake. you almost felt drool down your chin as you admired his body, tempted to take his boxers off and just go wild—

you swallowed, looking back up at him. you get an idea. if you can't beat them, then... "you wanna play that game? fine."

you reach for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head, revealing your bare skin to his eyes. tossing the shirt aside, you slowly tug down on your shorts, sliding them down your legs until you're left standing in just your bra and panties.

katsuki's jaw tightens and his muscles tense the moment you started undressing. he clenched his fists, the effort it takes him not to pounce on you was almost physically painful. he takes in the sight of your nearly naked body, his mouth going dry at the sight of you in your bra and panties.

the porn playing on the laptop is long forgotten as he stares at you. because fuck porn when he has such a gorgeous girl right in front of him. his girl.

"the hell are you doin'?" his voice is strained, getting the courage to look away with flushed cheeks. his eyes dart back to the screen, focusing with his arms crossed.

"hm?" you look up at him, blinking innocently like he did. you put your clothes away somewhere and held your hands up in surrender, like he did. "relax. its hot for me too. besides, doesn't count, right?"

"damn it. doesn't count but it's damn well torture."

"what's stopping you from fucking me, hm?"

"you know damn well whats stoppin' me. quit testin' me or i swear to god, i'm gonna fuck you so hard after this."

you laugh, trying to ignore the ache in between your legs as a cheeky smile plays on your lips. "'m just saying. i bet it'd feel really good, y'know. having you inside of me..."

his teeth clench at your words, his hands clenching into fists to keep himself in check. "goddamn it. baby, you're killin' me here."

"bub... all you gotta do is touch me and i can make the pain go away."

"sweets... why are you torturing me?" he groans, his hands clenching onto the couch as he glares at you.

"i want you. fuck, i need you. damn it, you've seen how fuckin' hard i am. so why are you makin' me wait, hm?" his voice is low, almost whining about how much he craves you. how needy he is to be inside you.

"i wanna win too," you bite your bottom lip, almost tempted to fold.

"fuck," he grits out, his eyes closing briefly as he runs his hand through his hair. he looks at you again, his gaze filled with frustration and need. "sweetheart.. you're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

a sly smile spreads across your lips as you lean in closer to him, just close enough that your breath tickles his skin, but not touching him. you were getting there. on top of him not making eye contact, you could've sworn his boner twitched.

"i know. but... please take care of me, katsuki," you whispered, hearing his breath hitch as yours fans across his skin. "i know you wanna."

his eyes darken as he looks down at you, his resolve almost wavering. "oh, i do. i really do, sweets."

that's the last thing you hear before katsuki is finally on you, his movements quick and urgent as he slams his lips onto yours. he kisses you like he's starving, his lips hot and angry against yours, desperate to have his fill of you but take out his frustration on you too.

katsuki pulls away, glaring at you before helping you out of your soaked panties as you help him out of his boxers, his hard cock springing out and stood at his abdomen.

"wanna take care of me that badly, huh?" you grin, reaching for his cock, stroking it up as you thumb his throbbing tip leaking with pre.

his breath hitches, hissing before he reaches down your folds and rubs your swollen clit, your soft moans echoing in his ears. "shut the fuck up. you won't even be able to think, after i'm done with you."

katsuki grunts, aligning himself inside of you, gasping at the softness of your wet, velvet walls. and as he thrusts his cock into your dumb little cunny, he recreates exactly what happened in those videos.

"whats the matter?" he taunts in your ear as he folds your legs near your shoulders, fucking you into mating press. his body covers yours completely, you can feel his weight pressing down on you. "you fuckin' wanted this, right?"

"a-ah, i do..." you gasped, sore nipples feeling the skin of his pecs. "you're just.. mad i won.."

"hah? you callin' me a sore loser?"

"if— oh... if the condom... fits."

suddenly, you squealed from the sudden thrust, whimpering as he slams his cock deeper inside of you, almost kissing your cervix as you feel his balls slapping against your folds.

"won't fuckin' fit 'nyway cause i'm fuckin' you raw— shit," he gasps, desperately rutting himself into you, chasing your release and his. "feels so fuckin' tight, sweets, holy shit..."

"katsukiii," you moaned his name, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he fucks you dumb. "i-i can't, anymore, please—"

"shhh, you can take it," he huffs before leaning down to give you an affectionate, reassuring kiss. his lips soft and gentle against yours as you wrap your arms around his neck.

he draws back from the kiss, his lips leaving yours with a soft, wet pop. "you can take it, can't you, baby?"

you whine and squirm against him, a desperate, needy sound leaving your lips. you nod, the words failing you in that moment, silently begging him to keep going, to give you more of the pleasure that you need. he smiles at you, leaning down quickly to give your cheek a kiss.

"atta girl," he murmured with pride, kissing down your jawline. his mouth is hot against your skin as he peppers your collar bones and chest with open-mouthed kisses. "that's my girl."

"k-katsuki," you pant, your hips rolling against his as your body begs for the sweet, sweet release that only he can give you. "m-m' gonna.. c-cum.."

"yeah? you gonna cum for me?" he groaned. he wants to see you lose yourself in pleasure. he craves to be the one to bring you to your high. "you wanna cum for me, pretty girl?"

"please," you whimper, your voice shaky and needy as your eyes meet his pleadingly. "please, yeah, m' gonna cum for you, please just—"

your words cut off as you let out a soft cry, your head tilting back further into the couch as your body trembles with the need to let go, to give in to the pleasure that's threatening to overwhelm you.

"cum for me, sweets," he grunts, his hips rocking against yours. "show me how much you like it when i fuck you like this, c'mon."

and that's all it takes— clenching down on him and burying himself inside of you—and you're both gone.

your body tenses, a gasp of pleasure escaping your lips as you feel him cum inside of you, bodies shaking with the force of your release and his. your hips press against his as he relaxes into you, your nails digging onto his (glorious) back.

katsuki pants, taking a moment to admire you. the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, teetering on the edge from your high as you cling to him. like a koala.

"you did so good, sweets," katsuki murmured. he steadies himself beneath you and pulls his cock out, pressing the tip against your folds, waiting for the moment of his dreams. he almost has hearts in his eyes when he watches the cum drip out of you, going down his tip as he pushes it inside you again. "so damn good."

"i asked if you wanted to recreate those videos," he grins when he hears you gasp, feeling the tip of his cock rub your folds, squirming against him as you bit your lip. "i'll make sure i get all the details right by breeding the shit out of you."

and as the night wares on, you both collapse onto the couch, panting and exhausted, a tangle of limbs wrapped around each other, cuddled up close after having the most mind-numbing sex.

"so.." you look up at him with a lazy smile, laying your head on his chest. "loser lives with the eternal knowledge the winner is better, huh?"

he groaned, closing his eyes for a minute before staring at you as he runs his fingers through your hair. "sweets... you're real fuckin' lucky i love you. otherwise, i really would've went above and beyond and made sure i knocked you up."

"i wouldn't be opposed to that."

katsuki narrows his eyes at you, his fingers flicking your forehead. "don't tempt me, brat."

you rub your forehead with a pout, sticking your tongue out at him. "so mean."

he scoffs, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, gently but firmly pulling your hand away, hovering his lips to where he flicked earlier to give your forehead a soft kiss. "get some sleep, sweetheart."

"fine. i love you too, bub. goodnight."

"tch. love you more, dummy."

and honestly? katsuki doesn't need porn to get his dick hard. not when he has you. his personal porn star, his gorgeous girlfriend, and of course— his favorite person.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ inspired by my ex 🧍🏻‍♀️ hope this was to your liking and i hope you enjoyed, i apologize if it seems too.. lewd? nyways, i'll start working on these requests and the older brother's best friend/ best friend's older brother trope with katsuki (i cannot choose), comment if you wanna be tagged 💜💜

[unluckiestmember]

YAY, YOU'RE BACK TO WRITING FOR ARCANE. How would the arcane characters react (mainly vi, ekko, and jinx because i would marry, marry, and marry them all!!) to a reader who is sooo affectionate and finds every last thing they do so cute they get cuteness aggression and just jump at them like a cuddle bug often? thank you so much!!

Coming right up!

Arcane x Cuddle Bug! Reader

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Ekko, Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika and Ran.

Warning: None really. SFW.

A/N: Am I the only one who wants to snuggle into Caitlyn? Ugh, I love her so much.

Powder/Jinx

“Oh! Hey there, sugar! You want to cuddle? Don’t have to ask me twice! I’ll cuddle you so much that you get tired of me! But you’d never get tired of me, right?”

Jinx is a super clingy person, so for you to be as clingy as her it’s like you two are a match made in heaven. There’s barely any time that passes when you two are not touching each other and she lives for your cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you hug her out of nowhere or she sees you about to embrace her, she is stopping everything she is doing and pulling you into the tightest of hugs.

Most of the time if she isn’t causing mayhem in the streets of Zaun or busy with her inventions, she will spend her time just holding you so close and showering your face with the cutest but most childish of kisses. She doesn’t care if it’s in private or public, she will make it known that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. You are her cuddlebug and she is yours and that won’t ever change.

Violet “Vi”

“Woah there, cuddle bug! You’re gonna make me screw up my workout… Oh forget it. How can I say no to you?”

Because Violet is absolutely touch starved, she will never decline your cuddles, even if you take her by surprise a few times with how you hug her so suddenly. She finds it adorable how you fangirl around her and find everything she does to be awesome or cute. Granted she does wish you’d call her hot or sexy, but knows that isn’t really in tune with your personality.

Regardless, she tries to make sure you know how adorable you are, always telling you while you two are cuddled up together how lucky she is to have you and how you are so adorable. Even when you visit her at work, she’ll try to drop everything and have you run into her arms to pick you up. And every time she’s got time off work or is coming back from a job, she’s automatically looking for you so she could hook you in her arms and never let go.

Ekko

“Y/N, haha! You know we gotta keep this private, babe- The kids are gonna pounce on us any second now!”

Does Ekko love hugging you? Absolutely. The warmth of your arms around his body makes him stop everything he’s doing and just hug you while calling you his firelight or firefly. Unless he’s calling you an angel or lovebug, which never fails to make Scar either look at you two in awe or roll their eyes in mock annoyance. Unfortunately, Ekko does try his best to make sure you two don’t get super affectionate around the children, especially when it comes to hugs.

Why? Because as soon as you hug him, the children find this as an invitation to gather around him and have him nearly die under a cuteness overload of a group hug. It’s nice as a once in a while occurrence, but all the time? Maybe not. Outside of the reactions you two garnish and even the teasing of you being the firelight king/queen, Ekko lives for your cuddlebug energy, wanting to be in your arms after a long day’s work. It’s always the best way to end the night… 

Caitlyn Kiramman

“And that’s why if I am able to block this end of the road, I’ll- Oh!... Oh come here, sweetheart. If you wanted to cuddle so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Caitlyn has always been someone who was more subtle with her love, pulling you into brief kisses, cupping your cheek and holding you by your waist. She usually leaves the more out there gestures like hugging and cuddling for you to initiate. But when you do? It might be harder for you to get her off of you instead of the other way around. It can be at work, in her home, outside of work or at an event. As soon as she feels your arms wrap around her slender body, she’s stopping for a second to hold you back and kiss your forehead.

She will continue working if you interrupt her during a briefing or in the middle of cracking a case, but the entire time, she will have at least one arm around your body and make sure you are comfortable. Her comrades tease her about it and she’ll scowl a bit, but she doesn’t care. As far as she can tell, she’s extremely lucky to have you as a lover.

Viktor

“Ah! Oh, it is just you, zolotse. Remember, you have to warn me of these cute little hugs of yours.”

At first, Viktor wasn’t used to your physical affection and how you were in awe of everything he did. He actually thought you were mocking him at first or being silly. But after a while, especially when the two of you became a couple, he grew accustomed to your affections. He does get a bit startled when you hug him out of nowhere and he does have moments where you cheering him on does make him a bit bashful, but he enjoys your sweet gestures regardless.

He does find it difficult to be as outgoing with his love for you as you are with him, but he does try his best to make you realize he loves you, especially in the form of quality time and calling you by sweet pet names bound to make you blush. Viktor has a tendency to pass out from working too hard and waking up in your arms. And though he’d never say it out loud, you know based on the way he snuggles into you, he adores it and adores you.

Jayce Talis

“I know what you want and I want it too- So bring it in! I’ve waited all day to be in your arms!”

Because Jayce is always out at work, it’s kind of hard for you two to be around one another all the time. That’s why when he does reunite with you after hours or you two can be together on days off, he’s spending the majority of his free time with you or wrapped around you. He sort of craves for your praise and compliments as much as he craves your cuddles.

Many would compare the councilman to a needy dog wanting his owner’s undivided attention and he definitely gets that through you. Though he may try to act all cool or play coy, everyone knows that you mean so much to him and that he becomes putty around you. Even if they don’t, you’re not afraid to say it aloud. Just make sure Jayce isn’t around or that man will become redder than a beet.

Mel Medarda

“What’s wrong?... I know that look. You want to- Ah! Well looks like you beat me to the punch, darling. How about we take this to the bed, hmm?”

Mel wasn’t really given physical affection when she was younger. She was more someone who preferred verbal affection with words of affirmation. So when it came to you and how affectionate you are, she found herself adapting and loving physical affection as much as telling you how much she loved you.

Your cuddles and sweet gestures are her personal heaven she loves returning to after a long day’s work, especially if she can spend an evening with you platonically in your shared bed. In your arms, she feels she can air out anything that’s bothering her or interests her, especially when you admit how cute it is when she does. Though this kind of intimate affection is delegated to private quarters, anyone can know from the way Mel speaks of you outside of home and at events that you mean so much to her.

Sevika

“Yeah! So then I was like screw you, I can do whatever- Hold on. Uh, Y/N. I thought we agreed to not do this at work?”

Sevika is considered the Right Hand of Zaun, a woman who is feared if not respected by her peers. And she’d like to keep it that way. Which means that while you two are at work, she prefers it if you don’t cuddle her around co-workers and give them something to tease her about. You two can only flirt and kiss and even then, it has to be sexy…

But alone, when both of you are away from the public eye, Sevika is at your beck and call wishing for nothing else but to hear your sweet praises and melt into your arms and touch. Expect her to call you the cutest thing ever and tease you on occasion, but afterwards she’s basically a big needy cat, or as she prefers to be called, a panther. It’s moments like these where you can really consider yourself lucky to see a raw side of Sevika. And it was only preserved for you.

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[d1stalker]

This is Ours [Logan Howlett]

Summary: It's your first time back at your grandparents' farm in years, and while many things are the same, one thing is not: they've hired a new farmhand.

Warnings: fem!reader, SMUT, sexual tension, angst, fluff, lots of feelings WC: 18.8k - MASTERLIST

A/N: apologies for dropping another long fic but i literally could not stop writing the juices were flowing. i really hope you enjoy this! i think its my fave so far :)

----

For as long as you can remember, summers were synonymous with your grandparents' farm. It was a tradition, one you held close to your heart. To you, your time there embodied your entire childhood—days spent under the sun, where the air was thick with the scent of wildflowers and the soothing chorus of cicadas filling the long, golden afternoons.

Mornings began early, with you bounding downstairs to join your grandparents for breakfast. The kitchen was always filled with the comforting aroma of fresh coffee and pancakes. Your grandfather would be at the table, engrossed in his newspaper, while your grandmother hummed softly as she cooked, the sound of the morning radio playing faintly in the background. Your days were spent exploring the fields, helping with the chores and horses, or sitting on the porch with your grandmother, listening to stories from her youth.

It couldn’t get any more perfect than that. 

But as the years passed, things changed. After you graduated high school, the summer visits became less frequent. University took up more of your time, and you were always busy—first with classes, then with internships, and finally with starting your career. The farm, once the centre of your world, became a place you could only visit if you were lucky, and even then, it was never for long. 

You miss it.

This year, however, things were different. You found yourself in between jobs, with the first real break you’d had in what felt like forever. And when the moment the opportunity arose, you knew exactly where you wanted to go. 

—

The drive to your grandparents' farm is a journey into the past. The country road, lined with trees that stretched out like old friends, brings back a flood of memories from your childhood: where you’re sitting in the back of your parent’s car vibrating with excitement. You pass the same fields, still as vast and green as you remember, dotted with flowers swaying gently in the breeze, and the old oak tree where you used to swing as a child stands tall, its branches reaching up to the sky as if welcoming you back.

When you finally pull up to the farmhouse, the sight of it fills you with a deep sense of nostalgia. The white paint is more chipped than you remember, the porch sags a little more in the middle, and you can tell that it’s been a while since the grass was last trimmed. 

Stepping out of the car, the screen door squeaks open, and there’s your grandmother, standing on the porch, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s smaller than you remember, more fragile, but the smile on her face is the same—warm, welcoming, and full of love. “There’s my girl,” she calls out, rushing down the steps and into the driveway as fast as she can. 

“Grandma!” you exclaim, hurrying toward her to wrap her in a hug.

She pulls back to look at you, her eyes twinkling despite the lines of age etched on her face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful, but you look tired. We’ll fix that with some good meals, won’t we?”

You laugh, nodding. “I missed your cooking.”

“And I missed having someone to cook for,” she replies with a chuckle, patting your cheek. “Come inside. Your grandpa’s been counting down the days until you got here.”

You grab your suitcase from your car and follow her into the house, the familiar scents of fresh bread and old wood enveloping you the minute you step inside. It’s just as you remember—cozy, lived-in, filled with the glow of years worth of love and memories. Your grandfather sits at the kitchen table, a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads a book. He looks up as you enter, and the moment he sees you, his face breaks into a wide grin.

“There’s my favourite farmhand,” he jokes, letting out a grunt as he places one hand on the table, slowly pushes out of his chair. 

“Grandpa,” you say, meeting him halfway for a hug. 

“Got here just in time,” he says with a wink. “Plenty of work to do, you know.”

“I figured,” you reply, playfully nudging him. “I’m ready to get my hands dirty.”

“Good to hear,” he says, leaning back against the table for support. “This old back of mine isn’t what it used to be.”

Your grandmother sets a glass of lemonade in front of you and sits down, her eyes flicking toward the window. “We’ve had to make some changes around here, sweetheart,” she begins gently. “Your grandpa and I… well, we can’t do as much as we used to.”

You hum, listening carefully. Seeing your grandparents grow older is difficult—it's a constant reminder that time is slipping away, and the moments you have together are becoming more precious with each passing day.

“We’ve hired some help,” she continues. “A man named Logan. He’s been a blessing, really, taking care of the heavier work. But he’s… well, he’s not much of a talker.”

“Logan?” you ask, glancing out the window. 

That’s when you see him. Tall and broad-shouldered, he is out by the barn, carrying some hay. He’s wearing a worn-down flannel with jeans, and his dark hair is slightly tousled. Even from a distance, you can tell he’s strong—he looks like he knows what he’s doing. 

“Yeah, Logan,” your grandfather confirms. “Keeps to himself mostly, but he’s get’s the job done. Don’t mind his gruffness; he’s just not used to people fussing over him.”

“He’s been here since last spring,” your grandmother adds. “We needed the help, and he needed the work. It’s been good for both sides. You should go and introduce yourself after you unpack, dear. Maybe get in some work before we sit for dinner later.”

Nodding, you walk up the stairs in the house and make your way to your room. It looks exactly the same as the last time you saw it. Your old stuffed animals are organized neatly on the shelf above the bed, and the quilt your grandmother made for you, with patches of faded fabric from old dresses and curtains, is spread across the bed the exact same way it’s always been. 

The posters on the walls, the little knickknacks on the dresser—everything is a snapshot of your younger self, preserved in this room like a time capsule. It’s comforting, but also a little bittersweet, a reminder of how much time has passed since you had last visited.

After a few moments of reminiscing, you stand up and begin unpacking, carefully placing your clothes in the old wooden dresser. Each drawer creaks as you open it, the sound a part of this room’s charm. You smile as you come across some of the little treasures you left behind—a pressed flower between the pages of an old book, a seashell from a family trip to the coast, and last, a picture of you and your grandparents taken one summer when you were about ten.

You’re standing between them, beaming with a toothy grin, their arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace. The three of you are standing in front of the barn, with the sun setting behind you. You can almost hear your grandmother’s laugh as the camera clicked, your grandfather’s playful grumbling about having to pose for ‘just one more picture.’ The photo captures a moment of pure happiness, a snapshot of a simpler time.

Setting the photo down, you quickly begin to change into your designated farm clothes, and head out to meet the new face around here. 

The trek to the barn isn’t very long, just a few minutes away from the main house, and from the outside, you can hear the familiar sounds of work—footsteps crunching on the hay-strewn floor, the creak of wood as something heavy is moved. You pause at the doorway, taking a moment to observe him before stepping inside. He’s focused, his movements efficient as he lifts another bale of hay and stacks it with the others. 

You take a deep breath, and step into the barn. “Logan?” you call out softly.

He doesn’t stop what he’s doing, but with a slight pause and glance over his shoulder, his eyes, sharp and intense, meet yours, and there’s a moment where you’re not sure what to say. “I’m—”

“I already know who you are,” he grunts, cutting you off. 

His abruptness catches you off guard, but you quickly recover, nodding. “Right. I guess that makes sense.”

“If you wanna help, there’s a broom in the back shed,” he continues, going back to his work as if the conversation is already over. “You could sweep up the hay.”

You bristle, a little surprised at how quickly he dismissed you, but you’re determined not to let it rattle you. After all, your grandparents did warn you that he wasn’t much of a talker.  “Sure,” you say. “I can do that.”

As you turn to head toward the back shed, you find yourself lightly imitating his gruff tone under your breath, a flicker of irritation running through you. “There’s a broom in the back shed. Yeah, obviously, I know where the broom would be,” you mutter.

In the shed, the broom is in fact, exactly where you expected it to be, and you huff, grabbing it and walking back to the barn. When you return, Logan is still hard at work, stacking the hay, and doesn’t bother to acknowledge you yet again. You set to work sweeping, the rhythmic motion of the broom soon lulling you into a steady state. The barn is quiet, save for the soft shuffling of hay under your broom and the occasional grunt from Logan as he moves the heavy bales.

Time seems to pass slowly, the light outside growing softer as the sun dips lower in the sky. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely notice when Logan’s footsteps stop. It’s only when his voice breaks the silence that you’re pulled back to the present.

“Your grandma called for dinner,” he says, causing you to jump a bit at the unexpectedness of his voice in the silence. Before you can respond, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there with the broom still in hand. You let out a small sigh, feeling the tension in your shoulders. This is going to be a long few months, you think to yourself as you return the broom to its usual place and jog back to the farmhouse.

Inside, the kitchen smells like a warm hearty stew. The table is already set, the familiar blue-and-white checkered tablecloth in place, and your grandparents are seated, chatting quietly as they wait for you and Logan to join them.

You slide into the seat across from your grandmother just as Logan walks over from the sink, two glasses of water in his hands. He places one in front of you with a quick nod, and the other at his own seat, beside yours.

“So,” your grandmother says, her eyes shining with curiosity as she looks between the both of you. “I take it you’ve introduced yourselves to each other?”

You hesitate momentarily, your mind flashing back to your brief encounter in the barn. “Yeah, we have,” you reply, managing a smile, if you can call it that. 

Logan doesn’t say anything, his focus on the bowl of stew in front of him. He doesn’t seem interested in joining the conversation, which only adds to the growing sense of awkwardness you feel. You glance at him briefly, wondering if he’s always this closed off or if it’s just his way of dealing with new people.

“Well, that’s good,” your grandmother says, either oblivious to the tension or choosing to ignore it. “Logan’s been a big help around here. We’re so grateful to have him.”

Your grandfather hums in agreement, scooping a spoonful of stew into his mouth before adding, “He’s got a strong work ethic. Doesn’t shy away from the tough jobs, that’s for sure.”

Nodding along, you feel the pressure to say something positive. “That’s great. It’s good to know the farm’s in good hands.” Even thought the words are definitely a bit forced, you mean it. 

As the conversation continues, your grandparents shift the focus to you, asking about your job search and what you’ve been up to since you last visited. You give them a brief rundown of the interviews you’ve had, the options you’re considering, and the challenges you’ve faced. You try to keep it light, not wanting to worry them with your uncertainty, but you can’t help but notice the man’s presence beside you, still silent. 

At one point, when you’re talking about finding a new apartment, you hear him let out a quiet scoff, and you cast a look over, catching the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears, but it’s enough to make you pause. You want to ask him what that was about, to challenge him on whatever it is he’s thinking, but you bite your tongue. This isn’t the time or place, not in front of your grandparents who are just happy to have everyone around the table.

They continue to chat with you, asking more about your plans and offering their usual words of encouragement. When dinner finally wraps up, your grandmother insists on cleaning up, waving you off when you offer to help. “You’ve had a long day, dear. Why don’t you go relax? Logan can help me with the dishes.”

You smile. “Thanks, Grandma.”

He’s already started collecting the dishes by the time you stand up, but it’s like he refuses to recognize your existence, and that pisses you off. 

—

The next morning, you wake before dawn, the world still wrapped in the gentle embrace of night, and for a moment, you lie still, listening to the deep, pulsing of the house—the way the wooden floors creak slightly as they settle, the distant sound of the wind rustling through the trees outside. The comfort of knowing your grandparents are asleep down the hall brings a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Deciding to take advantage of the early hour, you slip out of bed, your feet brushing against the cool floor as you stretch, feeling the muscles in your body slowly wake. You dress quietly, pulling on a soft, worn sweater, and pad downstairs, careful to avoid the spots on the stairs that you know will creak.

You move through the kitchen as if on autopilot, your hands knowing exactly where everything is. You set the coffee to brew, and the rich aroma sills the room.

Reaching for the eggs, you crack a few of them into a bowl, and as you’re whisking, you let your mind wander, thinking about how to spend the day. The soft sizzle of butter in the pan gets your attention and you pour the eggs in, watching as they begin to set around the edges. 

You pour yourself a cup of coffee, the steam rising from the mug in delicate spirals, and you take a sip, savouring the warmth and flavour hitting your tongue, while your gaze drifts over to the window that faces the back of the farmhouse. 

Your grandparents’ own horses, and you recognize some of them from when you were younger. It makes you happy knowing that they’re still being well taken care of. The way the early light touches the land, and the morning dew covers the grass, you can’t help but smile into your mug. 

Slowly, you walk a bit closer to the window, eager to take in the view you had been missing all these years, when a figure standing over by the horses catches your eye. It’s Logan, a small surprise given the early hour—you didn’t hear him wake up—but he stands there, leaning casually against the fence, an apple in his hand. 

You watch as he holds out the apple to one of the horses, his rough hand moving gently over its neck as it eats. There’s something unexpectedly tender in the way he interacts with the animal, a patience and care that you didn’t expect to see from him, given how he acted yesterday. 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another apple, offering it to the second horse, who hungrily accepts it. You continue to stare at the sight outside. This side of him—so different from the unapproachable exterior he’s shown so far—stirs something inside you, a desire to connect with him, to see if there’s more to him than meets the eye.

On impulse, you quickly turn off the stove, grab a second cup of coffee and some toast you’ve just buttered, and without overthinking it, you head outside. The morning air is cool against your skin as you make your way over to Logan. 

As you approach, he keeps his attention focused on the horses. You take a moment, then clear your throat lightly, holding out the coffee with a tentative smile. “Thought you might want some breakfast,” you offer, trying to keep your tone light and friendly.

He finally glances at you, his eyes briefly meeting yours. His expression is just as unreadable his had been in the last sixteen hours you’ve known him, and then he grunts, “Already ate,” and turns his attention back to the animals in front of him.

His curt, and honestly rude rebuffals really frustrate you. It’s not like you’re asking him to wipe your ass after you go to the washroom, so you have absolutely no idea why he’s like this. 

“Alright,” you mutter, lips pressed together in a thin line, and turn to head back into the kitchen. 

Once inside, you set the untouched coffee and toast back on the counter with a sigh. This is so fucking awkward. You’re going to be spending the next however-many-months with him, and you would love it if you could at the very least, get along. His rough-around-the-edges personality is not making this enjoyable for you, and you’re sure that he probably just see’s you as an annoying nuisance. 

And it’s not like you’re ever going to pull this card on him or anything, but you have been here longer than him, despite the fact that he’s acting like he owns the place. You get it, he’s been here for a for a while, and it’s only been him doing the work, blah blah. But you’ve been helping and doing the work your entire childhood—missing a few years doesn’t take away that fact. 

With a heavy sigh, you open a cupboard and pull out a plate, scraping the eggs off the pan and setting them on it. Because your grandparents’ are still asleep, all you can do is eat in silence.

—

You’ve decided that today you are going to trim the grass. There’s always something to do around here, and since the long grass was one of the first things you noticed upon arrival, you think it’s best to just get that chore over with, considering how long you know it will take. 

Once you’ve finished cleaning the dishes and pan, you go back upstairs into your room and get changed. Today, you put on a long sleeve, and a small vest over top. Your pants are some hand-me-down working pants from one of your older cousins, and you snatch a baseball cap from your closet for when it begins to get hotter out. 

Walking to the back shed, you grab some tools for trimming the lawn. A lawn mower, a string trimmer, and a rake for after everything’s been cut. Moving over to the back section of the lawn, you set the trimmer and rake against the barn and start using the mower. It’s the same one your grandparents have used since you were a child, so it’s a reel lawn mower instead of those newer, more electrical ones you’ve seen around the city. 

You can’t really complain about it, so you just begin, the steady repetitive action of moving the tool back and forth being somewhat therapeutic. The smell of freshly cut grass begins to hit your senses, and you truly feel at peace. 

As the minutes pass, the sun rises higher, its warmth spreading across the fields. You’re completely absorbed in your work, the rhythm of mowing and the occasional chirp of birds the only sounds around you. You’ve missed this. The sounds of cars honking and early morning city traffic has nothing on the serenity of country life. 

You’re just completing the first half when you sense movement nearby. Glancing up, you see Logan walking up to you, having grabbed the trimmer. He doesn’t say anything, just starts up the machine and heads over to the next patch of grass within the area.

There’s a brief moment of eye-contact, like a subtle unspoken recognition to the effort you seem to be putting in. He gives you a small nod, and turns to focus on his task. The two of you work side by side, the hum of the machines, the scent of fresh-cut grass, and the warm sun overhead creating a strangely comforting atmosphere. 

When you finally finish, few hours have passed, and you walk back over to the barn and grab a lawn bag and the rake. And because Logan’s machine was electric, he seems to have finished his section as well, so you begin raking up all the stray pieces of grass. 

You quick to find out how awkward it is to hold the lawn bag open with one hand while trying to rake with the other—the grass keeps slipping out of the bag, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous as you fumble with the task. You scan around, hoping Logan won’t notice, but of course, he’s right there, watching as you flail around.

You feel a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck, but before you can say anything, he steps forward. Like usual it seems, he doesn’t say a word, just holds out his hand as if asking for the rake. You falter briefly, not wanting to seem like you need his help, but at the same time you understand how much more efficient it would be if he joined. 

Reluctantly, you hand it over, and he immediately starts working with the same steady efficiency he brought to trimming the grass. With both hands free, you manage the lawn bag more effectively, holding it open as Logan rakes the grass into neat piles.

The silence between you isn’t uncomfortable; instead, it feels like a natural extension of the morning’s work. The sound of the rake scraping against the ground, the rustle of grass being gathered, and the occasional whinny from a horse nearby. 

After the last of the grass is finally raked and bagged, you tie off the lawn bag and glance over at him. He leans the rake against the barn wall and meets your gaze. There’s something in the way he seems to stare at you head on this time, rather than just a quick look, that makes your chest fill with satisfaction. 

You nod. “Thanks.”

Logan dips his chin in return, then turns and heads back toward the barn. The heat of the sun really starts to hit you now, and you take a peak at your watch, noticing that it’s already lunch time. Knowing that even if you tried to invite him, he’s probably say no, you just walk back to the farmhouse alone. 

—

The next couple of weeks unfold in the same way, moving with an almost predictable rhythm. Each morning, you wake before the sun, quietly slipping out of bed while your grandparent’s are still asleep. As you prepare and eat breakfast, you take your usual place by the kitchen window, watching as Logan interacts with the horses. 

Then, as the sun rises higher, you head out to begin your chores around the farm. Sometimes, Logan joins you without a word—his presence now a familiar and abating part of your routine—or sometimes, you find yourself working alone, but even then, you know he’s never far away. 

You’ve learned to read his silences, to understand that his gruff demeanor isn’t necessarily unfriendliness, but rather his way of navigating the world. And though he doesn’t speak much, his actions have a way of communicating more than words ever could.

One morning, as you’re finishing up breakfast, your grandparents announce their plans to head into one of the nearby cities for the day. “We need to run some errands and pick up a few things,” your grandmother explains, her hands busy packing a small bag. “But we were thinking it might be nice for the horses to get out and see some different scenery too.”

“They haven’t been to the pond in a while. It’s good for them to stretch their legs and take in some new sights.” Your grandfather chimes in. 

You nod, smiling at the thought. The pond is a beautiful spot, a peaceful place where the water runs clear and cool, surrounded by tall trees and soft grass. It’s the perfect place to spend a day with the horses. “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll take them out there for the day.”

Your grandmother’s eyes light up as she hands you a basket. “I packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are also a couple of towels in case you want to swim. It’ll be a lovely day for it.”

“Thank you,” you say, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind the preparations. You take the basket and head upstairs to get ready, the idea of spending the day by the pond filling you with excitement. It’s been a long time since you’ve been there last. 

In your room, you change into your bathing suit, a simple bikini that you’ve always loved for its comfort and ease. You slip on a loose shirt and shorts over it, then grab a few essentials before heading back downstairs. Your grandparents have already left, so you make your way out to the barn to prepare the horses.

As you start saddling them up, you notice Logan nearby, focused on his usual tasks. His presence has become so customary to you that you hardly think twice before calling out to him. “Hey, Logan,” you say, catching his attention.

“I’m heading to the pond with the horses,” you tell him, nodding toward the saddled horses. “Grandma’s packed some food and a blanket for a picnic. There are even towels if you want to swim. You’re welcome to join us if you’d like.”

He hesitates, his gaze shifting to the horses, then back to you. After a moment, he mutters, “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

The admission takes you by surprise, and you raise an eyebrow. “Really? But you’ve been here for over a year. I just assumed—”

He shakes his head slightly, cutting you off. “I’ve always just walked alongside them. Holdin’ onto the reins is one thing, but I’ve never actually been on top of one.”

You can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “That’s okay,” you say gently. “You can still join us. You can walk alongside like you usually do, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Logan peers at you for a long moment, considering your words. Finally, he nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”

“Great,” you reply, your smile widening. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

With that settled, you both finish preparing for the trip. Logan helps you load the picnic basket, blanket, and towels onto one of the horses. You mount your favourite horse, and gently click your heels into its side, starting the trip as he begins walking, horses in tow, beside you. 

The journey to the pond is beautiful. The green trees that frame the pathway, the soft buzzing of nature, the sound of the horses’ hooves. You and Logan exchange a few words, but for the most part, it’s silent. 

When you reach the pond, the sight is just as picturesque as you remembered. The water sparkles under the sunlight, the tall trees casting dappled shadows across the grassy bank. You untie the horses, giving them plenty of room to graze and explore, before you grab the picnic basket, while he grabs the towels and blankets. Making your way over to the other side of the creek, you find a nice open patch of grass to set up on.

“I’m going for a quick dip,” you say as you go about stepping out of your shorts. Logan, who is sitting down, looks up, but his eyes seem to stop dead in their tracks when they settle on your body. You swear you can physically see his gaze darken as he takes in the sight of you stripping off your shirt. It’s subtle, but a small shiver runs down your spine at the attention nonetheless.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and and head toward the pond. The temperature is perfect: just cool enough to be refreshing without being cold.

You dive in, the reservoir embracing you as a much-needed relief from the heat. Everything feels perfect—the gentle current against your skin, the refreshing sensation of being submerged, and the weightlessness of floating just beneath the surface. 

But when you lift your head out of the water, you and Logan immediately lock eyes.

He’s lying back on the blanket, propped up on one elbow, and his focus is squarely on you. The intensity of his stare is like a physical force, pinning you in place. The world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you suspended in time. Your breath catches in your throat, and you can feel a heat build within you, starting in your chest and traveling down, deeper, and deeper…But then, just as suddenly as it began, he looks away, and if you were any closer, you may have been able to spot the red flush creeping up the back of his neck and to the tip of his ears.

The moment is over, but the enduring feeling of it stays with you as you swim back to the shore. Water drips from your body as you step out, and you reach for one of the towels your grandmother packed. Once you’ve dried off, you walk over to where Logan is sitting and drop down beside him on the blanket. 

You are aware of eyes on you again, though this time there’s a hesitation in the way they travel over your form, as if he’s trying to be discreet but can’t quite help himself. You pretend not to notice as you reach for the picnic basket.

“I’m starving,” you say, pulling out the sandwiches your grandmother packed. “Want one?”

He nods, sitting up a little straighter as you hand him a sandwich. After a few bites, curiosity gets the better of you, and you decide to break the ice. “So,” you start, glancing over at him, “how did you end up here, working on my grandparents’ farm?”

He takes his time chewing and swallowing before he answers, his eyes focused on the food in his hands. “I was passing through,” he says finally. “Didn’t plan on stayin’. But your grandparents… they’re good people. Needed help, so I stuck around.”

You nod, taking another bite. “They are good people,” you agree, thinking of how much they’ve done for you over the years. “But where were you headed before that? Where are you from?”

Logan pauses for a moment, then looks over at you. “Alberta,” he says. “Grew up there, mostly. Been a lot of places since, but Alberta’s home—or was.”

You smile, finding comfort in the fact that he’s sharing a bit more. “Alberta’s beautiful,” you say, remembering the few times you’d traveled through the province. “Why’d you leave?”

He shrugs, glancing out toward the creek. “Needed a change. Wanted to see what else was out there. Guess I got used to movin’ around, never really settlin’ anywhere.”

You nod thoughtfully, taking in his words. “Must have been hard, never really having a place to call home.”

His gaze meets yours, and there’s a hint of something softer in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admits, his voice quieter. “But your grandparents… they’ve made it easier. This farm… it’s good.”

You smile warmly at him. “I’m glad you’re here. You’ve been a huge help to them. And… well, I’ve liked having you around.”

He glances at you, his expression softening just a fraction. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” he mutters, a small, imperceptible smirk on his lips. You smile bashfully.

The next couple of hours pass by in a blur. Not much conversation happens, but rather, these weird periods of time where you feel as though your eyes are glued to him, and he you. It’s different—unexpected—and to put it frankly, you feel a bit shy underneath his gaze. 

Logan is attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but it really wasn’t just his face that pulled you in, it was him. The way he would silently help you with chores, his soft moments every morning with the horses, the way he subtly looks over your grandparents’ when he thinks they arent watching. All of it. You want to spend more time with him, learn more about who he is, what he likes… all of it.

Soon enough, you both begin to pack up the picnic supplies, load up the horses, and head back to the farm. The horses seem content, having had a fun day grazing and napping by the pond, and you ride beside him as he walks. Every now and then, you catch him peeking up at you from under his eyelashes, his eyes lingering just a bit longer each time. 

You can see your grandparent’s car in the driveway as you near the farm, meaning they’ve also returned from their day in the city. Leading the horses back into the barn, the two of you go through the motions of the familiar routine of unsaddling them, brushing them down, and making sure they’re comfortable for the night. 

Once they’re all settled for the night, Logan steps back, wiping his hands on his jeans as he looks at you. 

“So ‘bout tomorrow…” He begins, shifting slightly, as if unsure how to phrase what he wants to say. “You really think you can teach me to ride?”

You grin excitedly. “Of course. I’ll come out after I’ve eaten breakfast.”

“Alright then,” he says, pivoting toward the doors, his lips twitching just barely, but enough. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

Your fingers are twitching at your sides as you watch him leave. You wait a few moments, then head out as well, closing and locking up the barn for the night. When you step into the house, you find your grandparents in the living room, their faces lit by the soft glow of a lamp as they relax on the chesterfield. 

“How was your day?” your grandmother asks, looking up from her knitting with a bright smile.

“It was nice,” you reply. “The horses loved it, and the pond was as beautiful as ever. We had a picnic, and it was really peaceful.”

Your grandfather, who’s been quietly sipping his tea, sets down his cup and regards you with a knowing look. “And Logan? Did he go with you?”

You nod, feeling a bit of warmth rise to your cheeks at the mention of their helper. “Yeah, he came along. He’s never ridden a horse before, so he just walked with us. But I’m going to teach him tomorrow.”

Your grandparents exchange a look, and your grandmother’s eyes sparkle with amusement and something more tender as she smiles at you. “That’s good, dear. He’s a bit of a mystery, that one, but I can tell he’s got a good heart. Sometimes people just need a little time to open up.”

Chatting with your grandparent’s a bit longer, you listen intently as they fill you in on their activities. You can faintly hear the sound of Logan’s footsteps upstairs as he gets ready for bed. The memory of his gaze on you makes your heart beat a smidge faster. 

—

Logan is unsurprisingly already at the barn when you arrive the next morning. He’s leaning against it, arms crossed over his chest. 

“Morning,” you greet. “You ready to get started?”

Logan glances at the horses, then back at you. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

You lead him over to the horses, choosing one of the gentler ones for him to work with, and begin by showing him how to properly saddle the horse, explaining each step as you go. Logan watches intently, though you can see the slight furrow in his brow as he takes in all the information.

As soon as the horse is all saddled up, you hand him the reins. “Okay, now it’s your turn. Go ahead and mount up.”

He wavers for just a moment, his eyes on the horse as if weighing his options. But then, with a deep breath, he grabs the saddle and swings himself up with ease. He sits stiffly at first, his hands gripping the reins a bit too tightly, but he doesn’t look as uncomfortable as you would have expected. Definitely better than your first attempt.

“You’re doing great,” you reassure him, moving to stand beside the horse. “Just relax. The horse can sense if you’re tense, so try to loosen up a bit.”

He takes another breath, visibly trying to relax his posture. It’s clear that he’s out of his comfort zone, but he’s determined to push through. You walk him through the basics of steering and controlling the horse, keeping your tone calm and encouraging.

After a few minutes, you guide him around the paddock, walking alongside the horse to make sure he feels secure. Logan follows your instructions with serious concentration, his movements becoming more and more natural as he gets used to the rhythm of the horse’s steps.

“You’re doing really well,” you tell him, smiling up at him. “Want to try picking up the pace a little?”

He glances down at you warily at first, but then he nods. “Yeah. Let’s give it a shot.”

You guide him through a gentle trot, staying close enough to offer guidance but giving him enough space to figure things out on his own. The horse picks up speed, and you watch as he adjusts, his body moving in sync with the animal’s movements. There’s a moment when he looks down at you, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he realizes he’s actually getting the hang of it.

As the morning progresses, Logan becomes more comfortable in the saddle, his confidence growing with each passing minute. You spend the next hour practicing different techniques, guiding him through turns, stops, and even a slow canter. He’s a quick learner, and despite the initial awkwardness, you can tell he’s starting to enjoy himself.

Eventually, you lead him back to the paddock, bringing the horse to a stop. He dismounts, still a bit tense but clearly pleased with himself. He hands you the reins, his eyes meeting yours with a look that’s both grateful and slightly sheepish.

“Not bad for a first-timer,” you say with a grin, patting the horse’s neck.

He huffs a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well… you’re a good teacher.”

The compliment, simple as it is, makes your heart skip a beat. There’s something about the way he says it, the sincerity in his tone, that makes you feel a warm glow inside. He begins to walk toward the back shed, undoubtedly going to start on his morning chores, but you find yourself wanting to hold onto this moment just a bit longer. 

“Logan,” you call out, stopping him in his tracks.

He turns back, his eyes questioning.

“Thanks for this morning. I really enjoyed it.”

Logan studies you for a second, then he gives you a small smile. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

—

The days come and go, blending into one another as your first month at the farm passes by in what feels like the blink of an eye. The sun seems to rise earlier and set later with each passing day, stretching the hours out in a way that makes everything feel both languid and endless, and the heat only intensifies, something you didn’t think was possible. 

Despite the longer days and rising temperatures, you and Logan’s daily routines have now intertwined in a way that feels as natural as breathing. The once solitary moments you spent watching him out with the horses have now become something shared. Every morning, without fail, the two of you meet by the barn, where the horses greet you with soft nickers and eager eyes, ready for their daily ride.

He’s improved a lot. He no longer looks uncomfortable or stiff, and he’s able to guide his horse with an ease that surprises even him. You can see the subtle shift in his posture, the way he holds the reins with a sureness that wasn’t there before. 

And just like when you work on the farm together, sometimes, the two of you ride in a comfortable silence—the only sounds being the soft snorts of the horses and the creak of leather saddles. But more often than not, you chat about everything and nothing, your conversations easy and unforced. 

Logan, who once spoke only in short, clipped sentences, has begun to open up more, sharing bits and pieces of his past, his thoughts, and his observations about life on the farm. You learn that he has a sarcastic, dry sense of humor, one that often catches you off guard and leaves you laughing in spite of yourself. He even joins you for your usual morning breakfast of eggs and toast, something that started only a few days into your new morning ritual. 

Yet throughout all of this, there’s a something growing between you and Logan, simmering just beneath the surface. 

It manifests in the little moments, the stolen glances, and the accidental touches that don’t really seem to be as accidental as you may think. It’s in the way his eyes follow you when he thinks you’re not looking, how they intensify when you laugh, or how he seems to fixate on your hands as you work, as if he’s memorizing every movement. 

You’re not immune to it either. You find yourself hyper-aware of his presence, the way his proximity seems to alter the air around you. In one afternoon, you’re in the barn, and sorting through a pile of hay bales. It’s hard, sweaty work, but the it’s kind that leaves you with a satisfying ache in your muscles by the end of the day. Logan is beside you, lifting the heavy bales with ease, his shirt sticking to his back, outlining the broad expanse of his shoulders. You catch yourself staring, and quickly look away, but not before he flicks his eyes over to yours.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can see it in his eyes. It’s like they’re telling you that he knows exactly what you were thinking, where you were staring. 

And when you’re both tending to the horses, something happens again. You’re brushing one down, your fingers working through its mane, when Logan comes to stand beside you, so close that you can smell his natural musk. 

“Here, let me help,” he says lowly, not waiting for a response as he reaches out, his hand covering yours. You glance up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. You’re acutely aware of the feel of his hand over yours, the callousness of his skin against your own, and the way his thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles as if testing the waters.

Another time, while fixing the fence out in the field, you’re both working in tandem, passing tools back and forth. At one point, you reach for a hammer at the same time Logan does, and your fingers brush against his. It’s a fleeting touch, but it feels like a spark in the summer heat, and for a heartbeat, you both freeze, caught in that split second of contact.

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling your hand back, but the apology feels hollow in the face of what you’re actually feeling.

“No problem,” Logan replies, his voice gruffer than usual, as he hands you the tool. 

You can feel it. You’re not stupid. You know something is there, and you wonder how much longer you can resist it—how much longer you can pretend that everything is fine. But Logan is a hard man to read, and you’re not sure if what you’re feeling is reciprocated, or if it’s just wishful thinking on your part. So you stay silent, letting the tension simmer, hoping that one day, one of you will have the courage to break it.

—

You’re not the only who see’s it. 

“You know,” your grandmother says one afternoon, as you’re helping them with a puzzle. “Logan has really come out of his shell since you’ve been here.”

You blink, and glance over at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks up from the table, her eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” she says with a knowing smile. “He’s been here for over a year, and in all that time, we’ve never seen him quite like this. He’s always been polite, of course, but distant. Reserved. But now… well, it’s clear he’s become quite comfortable around you.”

Your grandfather places a piece in the board and nods in agreement. “She’s right, you know. Logan’s always been a bit of a mystery, keeps to himself mostly. But ever since you arrived, he’s been different. More… engaged, I suppose you could say.”

You feel a flush of heat rising to your cheeks, your heart skipping a beat at their words. “I-I don’t know about that,” you stammer, trying to brush it off. “We just… work together a lot. That’s all.”

Chuckling, your grandmother leans forward slightly. “Darling, don’t be modest. It’d be obvious to anyone that there’s something going on between the two of you. He’s practically a different man when he’s around you. Why, just the other day, I caught him actually smiling while you two were out riding. I nearly fainted!”

“You’ve managed to do in weeks what we couldn’t do in a year. Whatever it is, it’s good for him. And for you, too, I’d wager,” your grandfather pipes in, sending you a wink. 

Fidgeting with your hands, you feel like a deer caught in headlights, and you’re honestly not sure how to respond. “We’re… friends,” you say, though the words feel inadequate even as you say them. 

The woman across from you raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Hmm? Well, maybe so. But it seems to me that there’s potential for something more there, if you’re both willing to see it.”

“I… I don’t know,” you mumble, feeling flustered under their scrutiny. “He’s just… he’s a complicated person.”

“Everyone’s complicated, dear,” your grandfather says gently. “But that doesn’t mean they’re not worth the effort. Oftentimes, the best things in life are the ones that take the most time to understand.”

There’s a moment of silence as their words sink in, the weight of their observations leaving you feeling exposed and uncertain. You hadn’t fully allowed yourself to consider what you felt, let alone what Logan felt. But now, with your grandparents’ teasing remarks, it’s impossible to ignore the possibility that there might be something more between you and Logan than just a budding friendship.

Your grandmother reaches over and gives your hand a comforting squeeze. “Just take it one day at a time, sweetheart. Whatever happens, we’re here for you.”

—

The following week, you find yourself itching for something new—a change in scenery. While the farm has been everything you’ve wanted and more, you think it’d be nice to go on a drive, explore a small laketown you used to go to when you were younger. So, one morning, as you and Logan are unsaddling the horses, you muster the courage to extend an invitation that’s been on your mind for days.

“So…,” you begin, trying to keep your tone casual. “I was thinking… maybe we could take a break from the farm this weekend and go into town. You know, just to get out for a bit, see something different.”

He pauses in his work, his hand stilling on the brush as he peers over at you with a raised eyebrow. “The town?” he repeats, as if the idea is foreign to him.

“Yeah,” you say, turning to face him fully. “I need to pick up a few things, and I thought it might be nice to have some company. We could grab lunch, maybe do some exploring… It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. Just a change of pace.”

There’s a beat of silence as he considers your offer. His expression is guarded, as always, but you can see the wheels turning in his mind. It’s clear that the idea of leaving the farm, even for a day, is something he hasn’t done in a long time—if ever.

“I don’t know,” he eventually gets out, his tone uncertain. “Busy places are not really my thing.”

You feel a pang of disappointment at his hesitation, but you’re not ready to give up just yet. “I get that,” you say. “But it’s not about how many people are there, really. It’s about taking a break. You’ve been working so hard, and I think you deserve a day to relax. Plus, I could use your help carrying a few things,” you tease, hoping to coax him into agreeing.

Logan’s lips twitch as if he’s suppressing a smile, and for a split second you think he’s going to turn you down. But then he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Alright,” he says, the word coming out almost reluctantly. “I’ll go.”

You beam, unable to hide your enthusiasm. “We’ll leave early on Saturday, okay?”

“Saturday it is,” he confirms.

—

The rest of the week passes quickly, your anticipation for the trip into town growing with each passing day. You find yourself planning out the day in your head, imagining the places you might visit, the food you might try, and most of all, the chance to see Logan in a different environment—away from the farm and the routine that has defined your relationship so far.

So, when Saturday morning arrives, you’re up before the sun, too excited to sleep in. You dress in your favourite casual clothes—something comfortable but a bit more put-together than your usual farm attire—and head downstairs, where you find your grandparents surprisingly already up and about.

“Off to the city today, are you?” your grandmother asks with a smile as she hands you a thermos of coffee for the road.

“Yep,” you reply, unable to keep the grin off your face. “and I’m dragging Logan along with me.”

Your grandfather chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, that should be interesting. Don’t think he’s much of a city slicker.”

“Be patient with him, dear,” your grandmother adds, laughing. “He’s stepping out of his comfort zone for you.”

“I will,” you promise, taking the coffee and heading out the door.

Logan’s already waiting by the truck, and when you see him, you can’t help but falter in your steps. The shirt he’s wearing clings to his muscular frame in a way that draws your eyes, accentuating the strength that’s always been evident. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s an almost shy quality to the way he stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s not quite sure what to do with them.

You try to hide the fact that you were just checking him out as you ask, “Ready?” 

“‘Course,” he replies, climbing into the passenger seat as you slide behind the wheel.

The highways are empty and the sky is clear. You chat easily about the things you need to pick up, the cute boutiques you want to visit, and even a few memories of the last time you visited the place. Logan listens more than he talks, but you can tell he’s starting to relax, the tightness in his shoulders easing as the distance passes by.

When you finally reach the town, the energy along the streets is a stark contrast to the quiet calm of the farm. The buildings tower above you, and the sidewalks are crowded with people going about their day. 

Stepping out of the truck, you glance over at Logan. It’s clear that he’s out of his element, but there’s something cute about the way he takes it all in. “Where to first?” He questions. 

“Well,” you say, smiling at him, “I was thinking we could grab some breakfast at this little café I know, then hit a few shops. There’s a bookstore I love that I think you’d like too.”

He nods, his expression softening slightly at the mention of a bookstore. “Lead the way.”

You spend the morning wandering around, exploring the shops, and enjoying a nice breakfast together. At the bookstore, you lose track of time, browsing through the shelves and picking out a few titles that catch your eye. Logan surprises you by finding a book on woodworking, something he’s always been interested in but never had much time for. You can see the way his eyes light up as he flips through the pages, and it makes you smile, happy to see him enjoying something for himself.

After spending a few more hours of exploring, you suggest one last stop before heading back—a lookout point that offers a stunning view of the lake and the surrounding landscape. Logan agrees, and you drive up to the spot, parking the truck and leading him to a bench that overlooks the water.

The view is breathtaking. You both sit in silence for a while, just taking in the scenery, allowing the peacefulness of the moment to wash over you. He is staring out into the water with a thoughtful expression when you decide to interrupt his stupor.

“Logan,” you begin, the gentle breeze from the lake rustling through the trees, “what did you think of me when we first met?”

He turns his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting the question. Then he pauses for a moment, looking back out at the lake, as if gathering his thoughts.

“I thought you were different,” he says slowly, each word carefully chosen. “You didn’t act like you were above the work. You jumped right in, got your hands dirty. Most people wouldn’t do that.”

You smile at the memory, remembering how you started working together the moment you met. After all, you weren’t just a visitor—you were there to help, and you knew your way around the farm. “And now?” you ask, your heart beginning to beat just a little faster.

He remains quiet for a few moments, his focus still on the water. When he finally speaks, he’s timid, almost bashful, as if he’s revealing something he’s kept hidden for a long time. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he admits, his eyes flickering back to yours. “I thought that the first time I saw you, too. It was one of the first things that hit me. But it’s more than that. Now… now I think you’re perfect.”

The sincerity in his words catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Your mouth parts in surprise, and all you can do is gawk, trying to process the depth of what he’s just said.

Logan shifts slightly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he continues. “I was… cold at first,” he murmurs, “Didn’t know how else to act. You weren’t like anyone I’d ever met. I didn’t know how to handle it. But what really got to me was how you didn’t shy away from that—you didn’t let my attitude push you away. That changed somethin’ in me.”

You want to say something—you should say something—to acknowledge what he just said, bearing in mind that was probably the most amount of words to come out of his mouth in one go, but for some reason, you can’t. The only thought running through your head is that you want to reach out and touch him, to close the small distance between you.

“What about you?” His voice is slightly more tentative now, and he definitely just asked that to fill the silence that you were ungraciously leaving. “What was your first impression of me?”

His question snaps you out of your thoughts, and you gulp, now knowing that your first impression of him was very different to his of you. 

“Honestly? I thought you were rude as hell,” you say a bit nervously, watching as his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. “You were so gruff, so serious… I didn’t know what to make of you at first. But then I saw the way you took care of the horses, the way you looked after the farm, and… it didn’t take long for my opinion to change.”

He shifts, clearly caught off guard. You can see the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck as he takes in what you said, and it makes your smile widen. 

“And…You’re kind,” you continue. “There’s this gentleness about you that I wasn’t expecting.” You suck in a shaky breath. “I think you’re pretty perfect now too, if I’m being honest.”

The tint on his cheeks only deepens, and he looks away, flustered. It’s a rare sight—seeing him like this—and it makes you swoon. 

“I don’t know about that…” He mutters, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“I do,” you reply firmly. “You’re more than you think you are, Logan.”

The genuineness in your words makes him look back at you, his eyes searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or confirmation that what you’re saying is real. Slowly, almost unconsciously, you both lean in closer, locked in a stare, your breaths mingling as the space between you shrinks. You can see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips, and you feel the same pull, the undeniable urge to close the distance and see what it would feel like to kiss him overriding all your senses.

Your chest pounds as you inch closer, until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. But just as your lips are about to meet, a loud, piercing scream shatters the moment.

You both jerk back, startled, and whip your heads around to see a kid nearby, his face scrunched up in disgust as he frantically wipes at his shoulder. “Ew! A seagull just pooped on me!”

The kid’s parents rush over, trying to console him as they pull out napkins, and you can’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of the interruption. The sound of your laughter is contagious, and soon Logan is chuckling a bit too.

“Well, that’s one way to kill the mood,” he mumbles under is breath.

You’re still laughing, the remnants of your almost-kiss still in the back of your mind, but you know the moment has passed. “Yeah,” you agree, trying to catch your breath. “Guess we should be thankful it wasn’t us.”

Logan grins, warm and wide. “Yeah, maybe we should.”

—

Driving back to the farm, neither of you say a word about what almost transpired at the lookout point, and you’re fine with that. There’s no need to fill the silence with words, no need to dissect the moment or what it could have led to. You don’t want there to be any sort of pressure between you, any expectations. Even if, deep down, all you want is to climb him like a tree, to feel the solid strength of him beneath your hands, and to finally give in to the attraction that’s been building throughout your time together. 

Pulling into the driveway and shutting of the engine, you turn to him, and turns to you, his eyes meeting yours. “Thanks for today,” he says sincerely “I… liked it.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. “Me too,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees, his gaze holding yours a hint longer before he turns away, his hand reaching for the door handle. “We should.”

—

A few days later, as everyone sits around the kitchen table after dinner, the evening suddenly takes on a new tone when your grandmother clears her throat and shoots an exchanges a conspiratorial glance at your grandfather.

“We’ve got some news,” she begins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Your grandfather and I have been invited to spend a week at the Summers’ cottage by the lake.”

You smile, genuinely happy for them. The Summers are longtime friends of your grandparents, and the idea of them getting a little vacation away sounds perfect. “That sounds wonderful! You two deserve some time to relax.”

“Well, we thought so too,” your grandfather says. “But that means we’ll be leaving the farm in your capable hands.”

It takes a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. You and Logan… alone… for an entire week.

Your heart skips a beat and you glimpse over at Logan, who’s sitting across the table from you, his expression neutral as he listens to your grandparents. But there’s a quick flash of something that suggests he’s as aware of the situation as you are.

A voice brings you back to the moment. “Now, don’t worry,” she says with a reassuring smile. “There’s not much that needs doing, just the usual stuff. And we’ll be back before you know it.”

Your grandfather leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he scans between you and Logan. “We trust you both to keep everything running smoothly,” he says, before he drops his voice to an embarrassingly low tone. “And to keep an eye on each other.”

You can’t help but blush at his not-so-subtle innuendo, and you quickly drop your gaze to your hands, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your cheeks. The thought of spending an entire week alone with Logan is both thrilling and nerve-wracking. The lack of a buffer—your grandparents—means that literally anything could happen. 

“Don’t worry,” you finally manage to say. “We’ve got this. You two just enjoy your time away.”

Logan, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during the conversation, finally speaks up. “Yeah,” he agrees, “We’ll take care of everything.”

—

Over the next couple of days, your grandparents pack their bags and make sure everything is in order before they leave. You help them with the small details, ensuring that the house is stocked with food and that all the usual chores are delegated properly.

Finally, the morning of their departure arrives. You stand by the front door, watching as your grandparents load their bags into the car. Your grandmother gives you a warm hug, “Take care, dear,” she says, kissing your cheek before hopping into the passenger’s seat. 

Your grandfather shakes Logan’s hand, giving him a firm nod. “Take care of things.”

He hums. “I will. Enjoy yourselves.”

With that, your grandparents climb into the car, and after a final wave, they drive down the long, dusty road that leads away from the farm. 

There’s a pause. 

Suddenly, you’ve become extremely aware of how close you two are standing. 

“So,” you start, hoping to ease a bit of the electricity beginning to spark. “I guess it’s just us now.”

Logan swallows thickly, his adams apple bobbing up and down. “Yeah,” he replies a bit deeper than usual. “Just us.”

“What should we do first?” you ask as casually as possible. 

He shrugs slightly, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. “Same old, I guess. Can’t let everythin’ fall apart right when they leave..”

“True. Let’s start with that.”

The two of you move into that familiar routine of farm work. Mucking out the stalls, hauling bags of feed from the shed to the barn, tending to the vegetable garden, you do it all. But even though you’re busy with work, there’s an underlying jitter to everything you do, a heightened awareness of each other’s presence that just wasn’t there before. And it’s impossible to ignore. Each time you make eyecontact it feels charged, almost like a promise of what’s to come, and it has your heart racing with exhilaration. 

That evening, after the chores are done and the sun has dropped below the horizon, you’re in the kitchen, preparing dinner while Logan finishes up outside. The quiet of the farmhouse feels different without your grandparents there—emptier, yet somehow more intimate. Domestic. You can hear the soft creak of the floorboards as he enters the house, the sound of him washing up in the sink.

And as the evening wears on, you find yourself drawing out cleaning the dishes, not wanting to end the day just yet. Logan stays close, drying the plates and placing them back in the cupboards.

“Long day,” he grunts.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. “But it was nice. Peaceful.”

His eyes find yours. “Peaceful,” he echoes, though the word seems to hold a different meaning when he says it.

You both stay there, unmoving, until eventually, he takes a step back, as if sensing that the tension between you needs a moment to cool. “I’ll check on the barn,” he says gruffly. “Make sure everything’s locked up for the night.”

“Okay,” you reply, your voice softer than you intended.

Logan leaves to check on the barn, while he’s gone, your thoughts are a whirlwind of anticipation and nervous energy as you busy yourself with finishing up the remaining utensils. 

Finally, unable to stay inside any longer, you decide to step outside, hoping the cool evening air will help clear your mind. You sink down onto the old porch swing, and pull your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you observe the darkened landscape.

A few minutes later, you hear the soft crunch of gravel underfoot, and you glance over your shoulder to see Logan approaching the porch. He walks up the steps and pauses momentarily as if debating whether to join you. Then, with a soft sigh, he settles down beside you, his shoulder just barely brushing against yours.

It’s now or never, you think.  “We have the place to ourselves now,” you state. 

He turns his head slightly, giving you a sidelong look, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a small, knowing smirk. “Indeed we do,” he replies.

The simple acknowledgment—and the way he says it—makes your pulse quicken, and you can’t help the small huff of exasperation that escapes your lips. He’s always been so tame, so careful with his words, and while you appreciate the way he’s respected your space, you’re done with tiptoeing around.

“Do I need to spell it out for you, or—” But before you can finish the sentence, Logan moves. 

His hand reaches out, rough and warm, to cup the back of your head. Your eyes widen, and your heart thuds in your chest upon realizing what’s about to happen. And with a firm but gentle pull, he closes the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours.

You lose track of your surroundings—the night, the farm, everything—as you give yourself into feel of his lips against yours. It’s intense and claiming, a declaration of everything you’ve both been too afraid to say.

His hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as he deepens the kiss, his other hand coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if to ground yourself in the moment, to make sure this is real, that he’s really here, kissing you.

Moving your lips against his with equal fervor, you pour the longing you’ve been feeling all this time into it. The taste of him is intoxicating. It’s something that’s so uniquely him—so uniquely Logan—and you can’t get enough. You’ve imagined this moment in the dead of night, but nothing compares to the reality of it—to the way he kisses you like you’re the only thing that matters.

When you finally pull back, out of breath and a little dazed, Logan’s forehead rests against yours, his breath coming in heavy, uneven pants. His eyes are smoldering and intense and his smirk is gone, replaced by a deep look of yearning.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admits huskily. The way his voice has dropped three octaves isn’t missed on you. You can practically feel it vibrate down in your pu—

“You’re not the only one,” You whisper, interrupting your own thoughts. The connection between you has finally been acknowledged, and you feel a huge sense of relief.

He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and his hand slips from the back of your head to cup your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Good,” he murmurs. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.”

You lean in, pressing another kiss to his lips. “Then don’t,” you whisper against his mouth.

The spark that has been ignited between you flares up into a full blown fire, and the next kiss quickly becomes more heated. Without breaking it, Logan’s grip on your waist tightens and you let out a soft gasp as he effortlessly lifts you onto his lap. Your legs straddle his hips, and you can feel the beginning of something growing underneath you. 

The sensation is dizzying, and you instinctively press yourself closer, your fingers curling into his hair. The swing beneath you creaks softly with the movement, but neither of you pays it any mind, too lost in each other to care.

You shift slightly on his lap, grinding your hips against him, and the movement draws a deep, throaty groan from him. He pulls back just enough to catch his breath, “God, you drive me crazy,” and then he’s on you again. 

It’s wild. Hot, and heavy, and utterly consuming. His hands move from your hips to grip your ass, guiding you to move against him. It feels so good, you release a relieved sigh into his mouth, before dropping your head onto his shoulder, too caught up in the pleasure. 

The sounds of your moans fill the air as he continues grinding you against him, his own hips bucking up into your core. 

Biting your lip, you lift your head slightly, a teasing smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as your eyes dart toward the open door of the farmhouse. “You know,” you begin tilting forward to bite his ear, your voice low and playful, “as much as I’m enjoying being out here, I think we should take this inside.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a sexy smirk. “As you wish,” he murmurs.

As you stand up, your legs a little shaky from what just occured, you peek back at him, and see that he’s already risen to his feet. Stepping closer, you slip your hand into his as you guide him toward the door. But just as you reach the threshold, a thought crosses your mind, and you pause, turning to look up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“We gotta go to your room,” you say, running your hands up and down his arms, feeling them flex underneath your touch.“I don’t think I’m ready to defile my childhood bedroom just yet.”

He raises an eyebrow, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to what you’re implying. “Oh, is that so?” he asks, his tone filled with mock seriousness. You wink in return. grabbing one of his hands and dragging him inside. 

By the time you reach his door, you’re practically vibrating with excitement, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. The room is simple, and the bed, neatly made, sits in the center of the room. You can’t help but laugh at the thought of how different it will look in just a few moments.

You turn to face Logan, but he doesn’t give you time to say anything, his hand reaching out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a touch that is both tender and possessive. His thumb traces the line of your jaw as he cups your face, his eyes searching yours for any hint of hesitation.

But there’s none. You’ve never been more sure of anything in your life. The need for him, for this, is so overwhelming that it’s taking every ounce of strength in you to keep from throwing yourself onto him. 

His lips find yours once more, this time more urgent, more demanding than before. He pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours. “Are you sure about this?” he asks in between kisses.

“Absolutely,” you mumble breathlessly, your hands sliding up his chest to curl around the back of his neck. The word barely leaves your lips before Logan reacts, a low hum rumbling in his chest as if your answer has unleashed something primal within him.

He kicks the door shut behind him with a force that makes the room tremble slightly, and in the same fluid motion, he pins you against the wall, lips never leaving yours as his body cages you in.

One of his thighs nudges its way between yours, the rough fabric of his jeans brushing against the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction is maddening, electric, and it hits just right, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine that rips a moan from your throat.

The sound only spurs Logan on, his own need evident in the way he moves against you. He moves his mouth to your neck, trailing up and down it with hungrily. The feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his teeth graze your pulse point, causes you to arch against him, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support.

You can feel the warmth of his breath as he presses his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, as his hands explore your body. They’re everywhere—one gripping your hip, holding you steady against the wall, the other sliding up your side to brush against the curve of your breast. His fingers find the hem of your shirt, tugging it up, and you lift your arms to help him, the fabric sliding up and over your head before it’s tossed carelessly to the floor.

Bringing his lips back to yours, the kiss is fiery, stealing all the oxygen from your lungs as he pushes you even harder into against the wall, his thigh still working its magic. You can’t help the way your hips rock against him, the need for more—more pressure, more friction, more him.

Logan seems to sense your desperation, moaning when his hand slips down from your breast to the waistband of your jeans. He fumbles with the button for only a moment before he gets it open, his fingers slipping inside to brush against the soft skin of your lower belly. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze tempting and filled with a desire that matches your own. 

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he mutters, voice thick with want. “No idea why I waited so long.”

You can barely think, let alone form words, but you manage to breathe out, “Don’t need to wait any longer.”

The words seem to be all the encouragement he needs. In one swift motion, he slides your pants and underwear down your legs, his hands careful as he helps you step out of them. You’re left standing before him, bare and vulnerable, but the way he’s staring at you—like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen—makes you feel powerful, desired in a way you’ve never felt before.

He pulls you back into him, and this time, you can feel the hardness of his own desire against yours—bare— and it drives you insane. His grip finds you thighs as he lifts you off the ground and carries you the short distance to the bed. He lays you down gently on his bed, and breaks away long enough to strip off his own clothes. The sight of him—strong, muscular, yours—makes your breath catch in your throat. 

There’s a moment where he’s standing above you, just staring, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control himself. But then he’s on you again in an instant, his body pressing yours into the mattress, his lips claiming yours and leaving you dizzy.

You lean up into him, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin as he moves against you. The need for more builds up to a breaking point, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you, hard and insistent against your core.

“Logan,” you breathe out. “Please.”

His name on your lips seems to break the last of his control, a desperate groan ripping out of him. He begins travelling down your body, taking his time, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path, each kiss leaving a burning trail in its wake. His hands follow the curve of your waist, your hips, his fingers digging into your skin with just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. Your body is practically begging for him, and you know that you’re on the verge of begging too.

Once he makes it down to your thighs, he nudges them apart, giving him better access to you. He nips and bites at them, moaning along with you. And then, with a deep, almost possessive growl, he finally lowers his mouth to you, his tongue flicking out to taste you. You react immediately, a wave of pleasure coming over you, your hands fly into his hair, tugging at the strands as you try to pull him closer.

Logan’s hands tightening their grip on your thighs as he delves deeper. You’re lost in the sensations, the pleasure growing and growing until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending alight with desire, and the only thing that matters is the way he is making you feel, the way he’s driving you toward a release that you know will be earth-shattering.

And then, just as you think you can’t take any more, he pulls back slightly, his lips still hovering over you as he looks up at you, eyes black. “Tell me what you want,” he commands.

You can barely think, let alone form coherent words, but you manage to breathe out, “You. I want–I need you.”

That seems to be wanted he wanted to hear, so with a final kiss to your inner thigh, he moves back up your body, connecting his lips to yours again. You can taste yourself on his tongue as his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you slightly to position himself at your entrance.

The anticipation is almost too much, the need for him so immense that you can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your lips as begins to push, the tip of him just barely inside you, teasing, testing your patience.

“Oh god,” you moan. “I need you. Please.”

And then, finally, Logan gives you what you’ve been wanting since that time at the pond. With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushes inside you, filling you up completely. 

Everything seems to stop for a moment, the only sound the ragged gasps of breath between you, the only feeling the overwhelming pleasure of being joined together like this, of finally having what you’ve both wanted for so long.

He pauses, lowering his head in the crook of your neck as he lets you adjust to the feeling, his breath hot and heavy against your collarbone. And then he begins to move, slow and steady at first, each thrust driving you closer to the edge, the coil inside you tightening with every stroke. The feel of him inside you, the way he moves against you, is everything you’ve been dreaming of and more, and you can’t help the way your body responds to him, your hips lifting to meet his every movement.

The gentle, deliberate pace soon gives way to something more urgent, more desperate, as the need for release takes over. Each thrust drives you higher, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level, until teetering on the edge.

And then, he sends you over it. The orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your entire body shuddering with the intensity of it, your voice lost in the cry of pure ecstasy that escapes your lips. Logan follows you a moment later, his own release crashing into him hard, his body trembling against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his breath hot and ragged against your neck as a loud, deep, groan reverberates in his throat. 

Neither of you can move, lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, your bodies still entwined, as you come down from the high. He tightens his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tries to catch his breath. And when he does, he pulls back just enough to look into your eyes.

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, your thumbs gently brushing over the rough stubble on his cheeks. “I’m more than okay,” you whisper back, voice full of emotion. “That was… everything.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of Logan’s lips, and he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yeah, it was,” he agrees.

Eventually, he eases out of you with a tenderness that makes you sigh softly. He walks out into the washroom, and gets a warm towel, wiping you and himself down. After, he settles beside you on the bed, his arm draped over your waist, holding you close. The two of you stay like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s arms, until the exhaustion of the day begins to catch up with you, and you feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Get some rest,” you hear, “We’ve got plenty of time… no need to rush.”

You nod sleepily, snuggling closer to him as you let your eyes drift shut, the steady pulse of his heart lulling you into a peaceful sleep. 

—

You wake to the feeling of warmth and security, Logan’s breathing against your ear, his arm still clinging possessively over your waist. The events of the previous night come rushing back, and a satisfied smile curves your lips as you snuggle closer to him.

But it isn’t long before that peaceful contentment becomes something more. As you move around, the feel of his skin against yours, the warmth of his breath on your neck, and the memory of the passion ignites a familiar heat low in your belly

He stirs beside you, his hand tightening around your waist as if sensing your thoughts. Pulling you closer, his nose nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin there. 

His voice is rough with sleep as he murmurs against your skin, “Morning…”

The simple word, spoken in that deep, gravelly tone, is enough to make you ache for him all over again. You turn in his arms, meeting his gaze, and the look in his eyes—dark and hungry—tells you that he feels the same way. 

The morning starts in the best way possible, the both of you breathless, spent, and with the knowledge that this isn’t a one-time thing. The connection between you is too strong, too consuming to be satisfied with just one night or even one morning. And as the day stretches out before you, the realization hits that this hunger, this need, will follow you both everywhere you go.

Throughout the week, the two of you are completely insatiable for each other. It’s like the floodgates have opened and have no intention of closing. Every moment you’re together becomes an opportunity. 

It starts innocently enough—just a kiss in the barn when you’re supposed to be checking on the horses. But that kiss quickly spirals and before you know it, Logan has you pressed up against the wooden wall, his lips on your neck, his hands roaming your body. The scent of hay and leather mixes with the heady scent of him as he takes you right there, the barn filled with the sound of your moans and the creak of the old wooden beams.

Or when you’re in the back shed, ostensibly looking for some tools to finish up some chores, the moment the door closes behind you, and you both know there’s no point in pretending. Logan’s hands are on you before you can even say a word, lifting you onto the workbench with ease as he claims your lips in a searing kiss. 

At the pond too, the tranquil, secluded spot now holds an entirely different kind of allure to what it had before. One afternoon, you find yourselves there again, the cool water calling your name. But as you strip down to swim, the sight of him watching you is enough to make it seem less inviting than the feel of his hands on your skin. You pull him in with you, the rippling water doing nothing to muffle the sounds of your shared pleasure.

By the end of the week, you’re exhausted but in the best possible way, your body and soul both filled with the kind of satisfaction that comes from truly giving in to what you want, to who you are together. And as the sun sets on the final day of your week alone together, you find yourselves back in Logan’s room, the place where it all began. 

The bed, once neat and tidy, is now a tangle of sheets and pillows, the evidence of your shared moments of bliss scattered around the room. Logan lies beside you, his hand gently stroking your hair as you rest your head on his chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“This week… it’s been more than I ever expected,” he admits quietly, his fingers brushing gently over your skin. “I don’t want it to end.”

You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his, and you can see the same emotion reflected there—the same desire to hold on to what you’ve found together. “It doesn’t have to,” you reply. “We don’t have to go back to the way things were before.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, a small, almost imperceptible smile curving his lips. “No, we don’t,” he concurs. 

—

The morning your grandparents arrive, you and Logan are in the kitchen, finishing up lunch. Your grandmother is the first to step through the door, her face lighting up as she sees the two of you. “We’re back!” she announces, her voice cheerful as she sets her bag down by the door.

You rise to greet her, giving her a warm hug. “How was the trip?”

“Oh, it was lovely,” she replies, her eyes twinkling as she pulls back to look at you. “The cottage was just as beautiful as ever. And the Summers send their love.”

Your grandfather enters next, a gleeful smile on his face as he takes in the sight of you and Logan in the kitchen, together. “Everything go smoothly while we were gone?” he asks.

You blush. “Yes, everything was fine.”

Then they do that thing they’ve been doing the whole time you’ve been with them, where they exchange a glance—and share a look that speaks volumes. It’s the kind of look that only comes from years of understanding each other without words, and you can tell they knew exactly what they were doing when they left you and Logan alone for the week. 

“Well, that’s good to hear,” your grandmother says with a mischievous smile, her eyes flicking between you two in a way that makes you wonder just how much they’ve guessed.

“Seems like you two managed just fine without us.” Your grandfather says, patting Logan on the shoulder. 

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you steal a look at Logan, who meets your eyes with a small smirk. It’s a way to tell you that he’s just as aware as you are of what your grandparents are thinking. But there’s no embarrassment on his face, only a quiet confidence, a certainty that whatever happened between you was exactly what was meant to be.

—

The next month flies by, the routine of everything staying largely the same except for one thing. You and Logan are inseparable, drawn to each other like magnets, and with each passing day, it seems like that attraction only grows stronger. 

It’s not just the passion that binds you, though that spark is always there, and most often times doesn’t go ignored. It’s the little moments that fill your days—the way his hand brushes yours as you walk side by side, the way he rests a gentle hand on the small of your back when you’re working together in the barn, or the way his fingers grip your waist as he helps you mount your horse (even though you don’t need it). 

The work on the farm continues to get done, but there’s a new layer to everything you do—a sense of shared purpose, of partnership. And even though the days are long and tiring, you find yourself looking forward to each task, knowing that Logan will be there beside you, sharing the load, offering his quiet support and his easy, comforting presence.

As the sun begins to rise one breakfast, you grandfather announces that he needs to run into town to pick up some tools for a repair project. He’s heading out the door, and as he grabs his keys from the hook, he turns to Logan with a nod.

“Logan, why don’t you come along? Could use an extra pair of hands,” he suggests, his tone casual.

Your man agrees without hesitation, always ready to lend a hand. But as he follows your grandfather out the door, he pauses for just a moment, whirling back to look at you, and what you see on his face is insane—there’s a deep yearning, a longing that tugs on your heartstrings. It’s almost as if to say that he wishes he could stay, he doesn’t want to be apart from you, even for the short trip into town. 

You have half a mind to join them. 

The intensity of that look lingers in the air long after he’s turned away and stepped out the door, and your grandmother doesn’t miss a thing. Once the men are in the truck and begin to drive off the property, she turns to you with a teasing smile, one eyebrow raised in amusment. 

“He’s really got it bad for you, doesn’t he?” she says affectionately. “I’ve never seen a man look at a woman the way he looks at you.”

Your heart blooms in your chest. “I guess he does,” you reply, your voice soft,  breathless as the weight of your feelings for him wash over you. 

Your grandmother chuckles, stepping closer to place her hand on your arm “And you’ve got it bad for him too, I’d say.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I do.”

—

Several weeks later, it’s raining. That should have been the first sign that this day wasn’t going to go to plan. You’re sitting inside, curled up next to Logan on the old chesterfield, his arm wrapped around you as you both enjoy the warmth and quiet of the afternoon. 

But then you decide to go through some emails—just a quick check, nothing more, to clear out any lingering notifications. You unlock your phone and start scrolling through your inbox, Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles on your shoulder as you do. Most of the emails are routine—newsletters, updates, the usual clutter—but then you see it, nestled among the others like a tiny, unexpected bombshell.

It’s an email from the company you applied to months ago, the one you almost forgot about in the blissful haze of farm life. The subject line makes your heart skip a beat: Congratulations! Offer of Employment.

Your breath catches, and you sit up a little straighter, your heart pounding in your chest as you open the email. The words leap off the screen: We are pleased to offer you the position, starting in two months.

You stare at the email, a mixture of shock and elation washing over you. This is it—your dream job, the opportunity you’ve been working toward for years. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, the kind of position that could set the course for your entire career. But as the initial wave of excitement begins to ebb, a heavy weight settles in your chest, pulling you back down to earth.

You glance over at Logan, who’s still relaxed beside you. His eyes are closed, his head resting back against the couch. The sight of him, so content, makes your heart ache, because with this job offer comes a harsh reality: accepting it means leaving him, leaving this life you’ve built together, at least for a while. And you don’t know when—or even if—you’ll be back.

Suddenly, his eyes flutter open in response to your shifting, and he looks over at you, concern flickering across his features. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I… I just got an email,” you begin shakily as you turn the screen toward him so he can read it for himself.

He takes the phone from your hand, his eyes scanning the email. You watch his expression carefully, searching for any sign of what he’s feeling. At first, there’s no reaction, just the steady, focused way he reads the words. Yet as he reaches the end, you see it—the subtle tightening of his jaw, the pinching together of his eyebrows. 

He hands the phone back to you wordlessly.

Then, “This is what you’ve been waiting for.” His voice is steady, but there’s a sadness there too, a heaviness that you can’t ignore.

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a long stretch of nothing, the sound of the rain outside filling the silence between you. Logan looks away, his gaze fixed on the fire as if trying to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, measured. “You have to take it.”

You swallow hard. “But what about us? I don’t know when I’ll be back… or if I’ll even be able to come back.”

Logan’s hand tightens around yours, his grip firm, grounding. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, though you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he’s trying to hold back his own emotions for your sake. “You’ve worked too hard for this to pass it up.”

His words are supportive, encouraging, but you can see the the way he’s starting to close in on himself, as if already bracing himself for your departure. The thought of being apart from him is unbearable.

You lean into his touch, your head resting on his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “I don’t want to leave you,” you whisper as the tears finally spill over.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to convey all the things he can’t bring himself to say. “I don’t want you to leave either,” he admits. “But I’ll be here when you get back. However long it takes.”

And so begins the countdown to your departure. You always knew it was going to come, always knew you were going to have to leave your grandparents again, but you didn’t expect to find the love of your life here, and that makes it so much harder.

—

The remaining two months become a bittersweet blend of cherished moments and a looming sense of inevitability. Each day feels both precious and fleeting, a constant reminder that your time together is running out, and it shapes every decision, every action, every word between you. 

In the past, your days had been filled with the rhythm of farm life—early mornings, long hours of work, and evenings spent in each other’s arms, exhausted but content. But now, there’s a conscious effort to carve out time just for you two, time that’s not dictated by chores or routine. You start taking more trips to the pond or into town, something you hadn’t quite as often before. 

These dates are different from the intense, passionate moments you’ve shared on the farm—they’re softer, more tender, as if you’re both trying to imprint each other’s presence into your memories. You hold hands as you walk on the streets, your fingers intertwined, and every now and then, Logan will pull you close, pressing a kiss to your temple or your lips, as if he needs to reassure himself that you’re still there with him.

Even the way you make love changes during these months. The hunger and desire that had once defined your physical relationship are still there, of course—Logan’s touch still ignites a fire in you, and the need for each other still burns as hot as ever—but now, there’s a new dimension to your intimacy, a slow, sensual depth that hadn’t been there before. 

Your grandparents, upon hearing the news, immediately noticed the change too. While they were so extremely happy for your new job opportunity, they also knew what it meant. They’ve seen the way you and Logan have grown closer, the way your connection has deepened, and there’s a quiet sadness in their eyes whenever they see you together. 

It’s not a sadness for themselves, but for the both of you. 

They don’t say much, but their understanding is palpable. They seem to give you more grace when it comes to doing work around the farm, trying to volunteer and do as much as they can so you two can spend time alone. No matter how much you refuse, they insist, pushing you two out the door with picnic basket and blankets. 

Sitting on the porch one evening after a long day, your grandmother comes out to join you. She sits beside you, Logan’s arm is draped around your shoulders, and for a brief second, the three of you just sit in silence, watching the sunset.

“You know,” your grandmother begins, her voice soft and filled with emotion, “I see the way you two look at each other. It reminds me of your grandfather and me when we were young.”

You smile, leaning into Logan’s side as you listen to her. “You two have always been such an inspiration,” you say, meaning every word.

She chuckles, a wistful sound. “It wasn’t always easy, you know. There were times when we had to be apart, times when I wasn’t sure if we’d make it through. But we did. And looking at you two now… I know you’ll find a way.”

Logan squeezes your shoulder gently.. “We’ll figure it out,” he says, echoing the promise he made when you first told him about the job.

Your grandmother nods, reaching out to pat your knee. “I believe you will. But just know… it’s okay to be sad, to be scared. That’s part of loving someone.”

The words resonate with you, and you feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

She smiles, a small, sad smile that holds a lifetime of wisdom. “You’ll be alright, my dear. Both of you.”

The days continue to slip by, and as the final weeks approach, your chest constantly feels tight. You try to make yourself feel better by lying in each other’s arms at night, whispering about the future, about the dreams you have, and the plans you’ll make when you’re together again. But still, it’s sad. 

—

Your last day creeps up on you like a shadow at dusk—inevitable, inescapable, and suddenly there, looming over everything. You wake up with a rock on your heart, the realization that this is it—your final day on the farm, your last full day with Logan before everything changes.

He is still asleep beside you, holding you close, his face peaceful in the early morning quiet. For a moment, you just watch him, memorizing the lines of his face, the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his hair falls across his forehead. You want to remember everything, to carry this image of him with you when you leave.

With a soft sigh, you carefully slip out of his embrace, trying not to wake him. You pad quietly to the window, staring out at the familiar landscape that has become so dear to you. The fields, the barn, the trees swaying gently in the breeze—it’s all so beautiful, so full of memories.

You don’t realize you’re crying until you feel the wetness on your cheeks, and you quickly wipe the tears away, not wanting to start the day with sadness. But as you turn back to the bed, you see that Logan is awake, his eyes open and watching you. He doesn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes says it all—he knows what today means, and he feels it just as deeply as you do.

Wordlessly, you crawl back into bed, curling up against him, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, grounding you in the moment.

“Morning,” he murmurs.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as you press your face into his chest, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall..

You just lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the day pressing down on you both. Eventually, Logan pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your face as he looks into your eyes. “Let’s go to the pond,” he says delicately. “Just you and me.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. The pond has always been your special place, a sanctuary where you’ve shared so many intimate moments, where it feels like it all began, and so it’s only right that would spend your last day there, away from everything else, just the two of you.

You decide to walk to the pond. Logan’s hand is warm and solid in yours, and you hold on to it tightly, physically unable to tear yourself from his touch. And when you reach it, a fresh wave of emotion crashes over you. 

You and Logan stand at the water’s edge, just staring out into the pond. Then, you turn to him, your eyes filled with tears, and without hesitation, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

The kiss that follows is desperate, full of the need to feel connected, to hold on to each other for as long as you can. It’s not like the slow, sensual lovemaking of the past weeks—this is something desperate. Stumbling back toward the soft grass by the water’s edge, Logan gently lays you down, his hands trembling slightly as he undresses you, tears stinging behind his eyelids. As he moves over you, his body pressing against yours, there’s only this moment. 

With his skin against yours, his breath on your neck, your bodies move together. Tears spill from your eyes as you hold him tight, your hands unable to stay still, running over every part of him you can touch, needing to feel him, to anchor yourself. His lips find yours again, and the kiss is deep, full of all the love, all the emotion that neither of you can put into words. 

It’s a kiss that says goodbye, that says I love you, that says I’ll wait for you.

After reaching the peak of pleasure, you cling to each other, the tears flowing freely now, a mix of sorrow and love and everything in between.

Logan holds you close, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged, his eyes wet with tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

“I love you too,” you choke out. “More than anything.”

—

Driving away from the farm was probably the hardest thing you've ever had to do in your entire life. Harder than moving away for university, harder than securing your first full-time job, harder than living alone in a city where you knew no one. This was different—this was leaving behind a piece of your heart, a part of your soul that you knew would never be whole until you returned.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles white as you try to focus on the road ahead, but it’s impossible to shake the image that’s burned into your mind—the image of Logan and your grandparents standing on the porch as you drove away. The sight of them, standing there side by side, watching you leave, is something that will haunt you for a long time. 

Logan, his stoic expression barely masking the pain in his eyes, his hands clenched at his sides as if holding himself back from running after you. Your grandmother, her face a mixture of sadness and pride, eyes glistening with unshed tears. And your grandfather, standing tall and strong, but with a heaviness in his gaze that spoke of understanding, of experience, of knowing just how hard this had to be.

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally break free, streaming down your face as you drive, blurring your vision and making it hard to see the road ahead. You swipe at them angrily, frustrated with yourself for breaking down like this, but it’s no use. The emotions are too strong, too overwhelming, and soon you’re bawling your eyes out, the sound of your own crying filling the car. 

You can barely catch your breath, each sob wracking your body with a force that leaves you feeling drained, exhausted, and utterly broken.

—

The time apart is worse than you ever imagined it would be. In the beginning, you and Logan make every effort to stay in touch. The calls and texts are your lifeline, little threads that keep you connected to the farm, to him, to the life you left behind. 

At first, you talk every day. his voice a comfort, a reminder that you’re not alone, that he’s still there, waiting for you. He tells you about his days, about how he still rides the horses every morning, just like he used to when you were there. 

But as time goes on, the time between each call grows. Your demanding work schedule, and the unreliable service in the countryside, make it harder and harder to find moments when you’re both free to talk. The texts, once long and filled with details about your lives, become shorter, more practical. You try to stay connected, but the distance feels like a growing chasm between you, one that neither of you can quite figure out how to bridge.

Years pass by in a blur. You have no time to spend at the farm, with it being too far away for just a weekend trip, and other commitments seem to always get in the way. 

Then, one day, the call comes—the call you’ve dreaded but somehow always knew would happen. It’s your grandmother, her voice trembling as she tells you that your grandfather has passed away. 

You take leave from work immediately, making arrangements to drive back to the farm and spend a night. The funeral is simple, attended by a few close friends and neighbours, but the absence of your grandfather is felt deeply by everyone.

And he’s there too—Logan. He’s standing off to the side, his broad shoulders slightly hunched, his face etched with grief. When your eyes meet, it’s as if no time has passed at all. You walk over to him, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go. 

The few years apart, the pain of the distance, all of it melts away in that embrace. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him that you’ve missed so much, and the tears you thought you had run out of begin to fall. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, everything hitting you at once—the loss of your grandfather, the years you’ve spent apart, the life you could have had together.

He hugs you tighter, his hand gently stroking your hair. “I miss you,” he murmurs thickly. “Every damn day, I miss you.”

You spend the rest of the day together, holding each other, talking, catching up, and remembering your grandfather. Logan tells you about the farm, about how he’s kept things going, but you can hear the weariness in his voice, the toll that time and loneliness have taken on him. It’s clear that the farm hasn’t been the same without you, just as your life hasn’t been the same without him.

Later that evening, after the guests have left and the house has grown quiet, your grandmother pulls you aside. Her eyes are tired, full of sorrow, but there’s a calm acceptance in her expression. “I’ve made a decision,” she says softly, her voice steady. “I’m going to sell the farm.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, but before you can protest, she continues. “Not to just anyone,” she adds quickly. “To Logan. He’s been more than just a farmhand, you know that. This place is as much his as it was ours. But… I need to move into permanent care. I can’t manage on my own anymore.”

You nod, understanding but feeling a deep sadness all the same. The farm has been a part of your life for so long, and the thought of it changing hands, even to Logan, feels like another loss. But there’s also a sense of relief, knowing that it will be in good hands, that it will stay in the family, in a way.

That night, you’re tangled in Logan’s arms. Leaving him the next morning is just as hard the second time as it was the first.

—

Five years since that fateful summer have passed, and in that time, your life changes in ways you never expected. You’ve built a successful career, made some amazing friends, travelled the world, but the hustle and bustle of city life has taken its toll. The stress, the strain, the dissatisfaction—it begins to weigh on you more and more. 

So, you make a decision.

You quit your job, find something remote, something that allows you to work from anywhere, as long as you can drive into the city every few weeks to drop off documents. It’s a drastic change, but it’s one you need. You realize that the life you want, the life you’ve been yearning for, isn’t in the city. 

It’s back at the farm.

As you step out of your car, you see him. He’s by the paddock, feeding the horses apples, just like he used to. His back is to you at first, but then he turns, and his eyes meet yours, and time stops. 

There’s a lifetime of emotions in that look—love, longing, hope. Most of all, there’s recognition, as if both of you know that this is it, that this is the moment you’ve been waiting for all these years.

And when you’re finally standing in front of him again, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek the same way it did all those years ago. 

----

[chuluoyi]

✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?”

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

[writersdrug]

Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it 😫 (This is gonna be a 2 parter)

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism

But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"

Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?

Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.

Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.

After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.

Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.

"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"

Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.

"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"

"Simon!!"

Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?

You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."

Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.

"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.

He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.

"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."

Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.

"You can take it off." You whisper.

He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.

He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.

He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.

His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"

You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.

"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.

You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.

He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"

He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “… Aye…” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.

“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“

“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”

The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you… poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.

“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.

“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.

“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”

Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.

“Yes sir.”

Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.

“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ snuggles for hire

summary: first years try helping you out with your touch-starved problem type of post: short fics (blurbs?) characters: leona, floyd, jade, vil additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

"Really? That's it?" Ace scoffs.

"So, they haven't been hugged in a while. Okay? Neither has Deuce,"

Deuce glares. It's almost menacing. "That's not true, and you know it! I get lots of hugs every time I visit home!"

"I do, too. But that's just the thing, though, ain't it?" Epel says. "They don't have no home to get hugs from."

The huddle of first years goes quiet. Some days, you become such a part of their world, they forget you're really not from it.

"...Okay, point taken," Ace sighs. "But they have Grim! And he only stinks like, half the time!"

"If memory serves, Grim usually sleeps on the floor..." Epel says. "Poor prefect, all lonely. Now even their sleep is suffering 'cause of it!"

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "It must be tough, not having anything to look forward to,"

Another melancholy silence. Finally, Ace stands, hands on his hips.

"Well, let's do something about it, then. There are tons of boys at this school- one of them should be willing to help,"

It's eight in the morning after another disappointing attempt at rest, and now you can't even sleep in. Damn visitors.

You throw open the front door.

"What? What could you possibly- wh- Leona?"

The housewarden smirks. He looks a little too proud of himself for this early in the morning...

"A little wolfie told me you weren't sleeping well. Lucky for you, that's my specialty. Now, are you gonna let me in, or what?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, letting himself in and making himself comfortable on the couch in the foyer.

He pats the spot next to him.

"Listen..." you say. "I don't know what you heard, but I'm fine."

"Don't be proud. I don't pity you, I just... owe you. Now get your butt over here, yeah?"

Leona isn't so scary when he's asleep. He's more like... the world's largest pillow. Of course, you're at risk of being smothered until you crawl into a better position, but once you're on top, he's surprisingly warm and comfortable.

You can tell you're being watched before you hear anything.

And you think you might just know wh-

"Shrimpyyy!"

For two boys so tall, the tweels are awfully quiet. Especially when it comes to "surprising" you in random places. This time: the hall.

Floyd pulls you into a bone-crushing hug while Jade watches from behind, smiling subtly.

When he finally lets you down, you're dizzy. (Though, at this point, you'll take whatever physical touch you can get).

"Shrimpyyy, why didn't you tell us you were lonely? We had to squeeze it outta Spade," Floyd pouts.

"His face makes fascinating expressions when he's afraid," Jade says, merrily.

Before you can answer, Floyd's already got you under his arm (seriously? Where do they find the strength?) and is heading straight towards the hall of mirrors.

You already know there's no getting out of this one...

Floyd is, unsurprisingly, all over, from leaning his whole body weight against you to lying across your lap, to biting your shoulder (in his sleep...?) Oh, and he drools, too.

Jade sits on your other side, one hand holding yours, the other leafing through an almanac from twenty years ago.

You're almost hesitant to admit just how nice it really is.

"And nothing else has worked?" Vil says, throwing open the door to your bedroom with no regard for a "hello" or, "how are you?"

You blink. "...Hello to you, too. May I ask what you're talking about?"

He storms inside, standing over you with his hands on his hips.

"Just that I overheard Epel Felmier asking my vice housewarden if he would be willing to satisfy your need for physical affection. You've been struggling? With sleep? And you didn't think to come to me, first?"

He almost sounds... offended that you didn't.

"...Well... I wasn't making a big deal about it,"

"So, no teas, no vitamins, no pills- nothing has helped?"

You shake your head. He sighs.

"Perhaps it is purely psychological... very well. Get up. I hope you don't toss and turn much, I'm a light sleeper,"

Vil is completely still when he sleeps. No tossing, no turning, no drooling, no snoring. He also insists on sleeping on his back, you, clinging to his side, and a single arm around you. Just as elegant as when he's awake. He'd be a true sleeping beauty if not for the mumbles of nonsense that come from him every few minutes. You swear you can make out your own name, once or twice or three times...

He is warm nonetheless, and his mumbles and idle stroking of his fingers on your waist is enough to satisfy you for a night of good sleep.

[foolinafable]

family matters

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader Synopsis: You and Five return after seven years away in a different timeline- but you don’t return alone Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Fluff, No Lila and Five, Pregnancy, Children, Season 4 fix it (kinda) Note: Got so much love on the last one I wrote this! Try to ignore spelling mistakes it's currently 3am.

Stuck with only your irritable CIA colleague Five Hargreeves was anything but a good time. You both got lost at the godforsaken subway station he mistakenly teleported you both to. Travelling for a year by his side certainly mellowed you out. His personality slowly making you feel comforted as you both explored multiple timelines together trying to find your way home.

Surprisingly, the idea he possessed powers was the easiest thing for you to come to terms with, probably due to your job at the CIA making it seem plausible to you that the government does hide a lot- they’re even hiding the whole science of separate timelines.  After around a year of trying and failing to find your way home, you and Five decided to ease off the vigorous schedule you unwittingly created, finding a timeline safe enough to stay in for a while allowing you both to rest and brainstorm ideas of how you could both find a way home to your families. 

You both made a mistake. Falling to know how long a while would be you find yourselves still in the timeline you chose as your ‘temporary’ home six years later. Finding each other a lot less frustrating than at the start of this. You suppose that’s an understatement as you watched Five play with your child, a girl who possessed brown hair and green eyes not too dissimilar to her father’s. It almost wasn’t fair how much her features favoured his. But, seeing his beauty reflected upon her features could never be something you would complain about. 

“Maybe if we get lucky the next one will resemble you more,” you remember his words from a few days earlier when you started to show a hand placed under your abdomen smiling as if this was the greatest gift he could ever receive. But you don’t think it would matter if this one ended up looking like their older sibling and their father. If anything you would prefer it- not that you would ever admit it.

Picking another fresh strawberry from the greenhouse of the abandoned home you now called your own. You placed it into the basket plans to make jam and jelly already filling your mind when you felt yourself begin to flush from the sweltering heat of the sun beating down upon the glass. Your skin heating up to a point of large discomfort, sweat beginning to gather at your temples. You sighed knowing that you couldn't continue to harvest anything else unless you wanted to face Five’s rath over you overheating again. 

“Mom!” Maxine ran towards you eagerly hands encircling your legs as she got close enough for a welcoming hug. She quickly looked up towards you big green eyes staring at you prettily 

“Hiya munchkin” You stroked the top of her hair as she smiled up at you with glee

“What doing?” the three-year-old questioned head titling as she waited for your response 

“Strawberries” was all you replied grabbing the basket to show her 

“Have one?” she asked pointing at the basket, batting her eyes to try to sway your decision. You simply plucked one out of the basket and gave it to her relishing in the delighted smile she sent your way before biting into the sweet fruit. You smiled at her before looking up to meet the other pair of green eyes that had made their way into the greenhouse. Five watched the interaction of his favourite girls softly only moving closer once you looked at him.

“Everything alright mumma?” he questioned noticing your flustered expression from the moment he and Maxine stepped foot in the conservatory

“A bit hot” you admitted with a shrug of your shoulders as he drew closer, trapping Maxine in between the two of you as the back of his hand touched your forehead he hummed in agreement with your words

“Let’s get you inside the house, don’t need you getting heatstroke” You forced down the urge to roll your eyes at his dramatics and simply nodded in agreement

“Some cold water and a sit down would be nice.”

He grabbed one of your hands and Maxine’s with the other leading you both back towards the house. After placing the basket of strawberries in the kitchen you quickly sat down on the couch feeling a slight ache in your feet while Five grabbed you a glass of water with more icecubes than you could even count, you smiled in thanks as he passed it to you while Maxine sat next to you, a small children book in hands that she was determined to read to you and her younger sibling as she wanted them to be just as smart as her. 

You could hear Five pattering around the house, tidying up before you could even think about it. Maxine had quickly given up on trying to read, getting bored after two pages and was instead sitting playing with some wooden blocks by your feet. You furrowed your eyebrows when you couldn’t hear Five moving around anymore a stark silence surrounding you now.

“Everything alright?” you shouted trying to figure out where he had gotten to, heart fluttering when there was no reply. Setting your glass down on the table in front of you as you rose from your rather comfortable spot on the couch, you walked into the other room where your lover was his body was stick straight, eyes not daring to leave the notebook in his hand. “What?” you questioned softly walking towards him, eyeing the words on the book as you got close enough.

“This” he began astounded “Is our way home, it’s written by me but I didn’t write this. Another me did.” you simply nodded before smiling  

“Looks like we’re going home.”

── ✧

You and Five found yourselves outside of what he assured you was his brother Diego’s house. Maxine who was resting her head on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his middle looked astounded by the snow while nerves filled you- the last time you saw any of his family was when you were put on the case that got you lost in the timelines to begin with and even then you barely saw his brothers and sister-in-law as they were quickly taken to hq for a show round to get them out of the way. You didn’t even want to think how you would explain this to them let alone to your own family but you guess this is the easier of the two as they all had powers and also been to multiple different timelines. Five set Maxine down next to you as he rapped on the door you quickly grabbed her hand before she could run off into the snow when the door opened 

“You back!” the man, Diego you assumed, smiled as he looked at Five 

“I am” he stared at his brother almost in shock that he had seen him for the first time for him in seven years

“Good” the man confirmed “We were all starting to get worried.” his eyes then turned towards you and the brunette-haired little girl who was trying to hide behind you “And you are?” he questioned and you quickly gave him your name his eyes sparking in recognition for some reason as he crouched to the ground to greet your daughter “And who is this little princess?” he asked quietly as Maxine started at him 

“This is Maxine” is all you said feeling Five’s eyes on you knowing he wanted to wait until you got inside to drop the bomb you could see Diego begin to connect the dots as he introduced himself to you but he was clearly confused because he would know if Five had a child in the last three years in this timeline at least.

“I will explain everything once we get inside- can’t let the missus get cold” is all he said to Diego as the man allowed you into his home. 

He quickly led you to the living room where to sat on the sofa, Maxine being picked up by Five and placed on his lap when she tried to climb onto yours, you turned towards him to complain but quickly stopped when you met his glower instead choosing to put a comforting hand on your tummy a habit you kept from your first pregnancy. Diego called for his wife Lila to come to sit with him when the door opened revealing more of Five’s family he whispered their names to you as they walked in all choosing to sit down when Diego told them that Five was going to explain where he’s been and why his colleague, a word you hadn’t been referred to as in a long time, was here. With most of his family here excluding Ben and Viktor, he cleared his throat to get their attention

“As you all know the marigold has made our powers a little different to what we are used to” They all made sounds of agreement “My blinking takes only to a tube station where each stop is a new timeline and we” gesturing to you “got stuck, unable to find our way back until now. We were away for seven years but for you has only been a few hours” he took their silence as a sign to continue “This is my wife” he spoke your name “And our daughter Maxine.” you sat in silence for a moment.

“Wait! This is the colleague he was always telling us about?” Luther asked excitedly you turned to the larger man confused when Klaus and Allison quickly agreed with him

“I thought he was joking when he said there was a cute girl who he worked cases with” Claire, Alison’s daughter, announced making her mother and uncles laugh

“I can’t believe you have a child” Lila spoke eyes wide

“Well he is going to have another one in a couple of months,” you told the already shocked woman who quickly smiled at the revelation while the others called out congratulations to their brother 

“How far along are you?” Allison asked as she came up to you silently questioning if she could touch the small bump you simply nodded “We think around thirteen weeks” looking to Five who simply nodded

“She only started showing a few days ago”

“I can’t believe it” Luther called out while pulling funny faces making Maxine laugh as she got a little less shy around her family.

You smiled as you watched Maxine get up and walk towards Lilas’ children playing with them as Five’s hand found its way to yours stroking your knuckles. You never thought you could ever get home let alone come back home happier than you had left it. You suppose a thanks was due to your rather irritable husband and his wacky powers.

[urmum-lovesme]

Dad!Rafe and baby fever...

Y/N could barely contain her excitement, practically bouncing on her feet as she waited for the door to open. In one hand, she clutched a pastel gift bag, stuffed with little baby essentials- tiny onesies, soft blankets, and a plush bunny that she knew would be a favourite. In the other, Rafe stood beside her, holding a bouquet of fresh white carnations, his fingers idly twirling the stems while he watched his girl practically vibrate with anticipation. When the door finally swung open, revealing Lena with tired eyes but a glowing smile, Y/N squealed.

"Oh my God!"

She gushed, immediately diving in for a hug. Lena laughed, squeezing her back.

"Y/N, I literally saw you two weeks ago—"

"Yesss," Y/N cut in, pulling back just enough to beam at her.

"But you're officially a momma now!"

She gripped her cousin’s arms, eyes gleaming with pride. Lena chuckled, shaking her head.

"I know, I know"

Rafe, who had been standing back watching the interaction with a smirk, finally stepped forward, holding out the flowers. He spoke with a lopsided smile.

“Congrats on the baby, Len”

"Thanks Cameron"

Lena smiled warmly, taking the bouquet as she teased lightly. Y/N handed over the gift bag, grinning as her cousin took it, eyes trying to peek through the tissue paper covering the top.

"We got you some stuff for the baby! We may have gone a little overboard-"

"We?"

Rafe let out a short laugh, arching a brow as he repeated, glancing at her with amusement.

“I think you mean you, baby.”

“Whatever.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. Lena peeked inside the bag pushing the covering to the side and let out a breathy laugh as her eyes widened.

“A little?”

Y/N just shrugged innocently as Rafe bumped his shoulder into her own. Lena shook her head to herself as she spoke, stepping aside to let them in.

"Come in, come in"

Y/N didn’t have to be told twice. She all but rushed inside, her eyes immediately scanning the living room for the main event. The second she spotted the bassinet in the corner, her heart melted. She barely heard Rafe and Lena talking behind her, too mesmerised by the tiny bundle nestled in the bassinet. Her chest clenched as she squatted down beside it, her eyes going all soft and dreamy at the sight of little Charlie, wrapped up snugly in a white blanket, her tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. With the gentlest touch, her hand came out to brush over the baby's little tummy, barely pressing, just enough to feel the warmth of her.

"Hi Charlie"

She murmured softly, voice dripping with adoration. The baby stirred just a little, her nose scrunching up in her sleep, and Y/N was surprised she didn't start crying on the spot at the precious sight. Behind her, Rafe and Lena were still talking, but then she felt a warm hand settle onto her shoulder, rubbing slow and affectionate.

Rafe.

He had come to stand beside her, looking down at Charlie with an expression that was almost as soft as hers.

“She’s perfect, Lena,” he said, voice full of sincerity as he glanced over at her cousin.

“Lucky to have you as her mom.”

“Thanks Rafe.”

Lena smiled, touched by his words. Y/N barely even registered the conversation, too busy getting lost in baby Charlie’s tiny fingers and impossibly soft cheeks. She felt something stir deep in her chest, something that only grew stronger when Rafe’s thumb swept lightly over her shoulder.

She should’ve known.

The moment they stepped into the cozy little living room, the scent of baby powder lingering in the air, and she saw that tiny bundle wrapped up in white, something inside her chest tugged. But the real problem?

Rafe

Rafe, sitting on the couch now, cradling the newborn in his arms, looking so effortless with her. Y/N sat beside him, watching as he carefully adjusted his hold, his large hands so gentle as they supported the baby’s tiny body. He was so focused, yet he seemed so relaxed- so natural.

“She likes you”

Her cousin teased softly, watching how the baby had nestled into Rafe’s chest, her tiny fingers curling slightly around his finger which he held out for her. Rafe chuckled, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah? She’s a pretty girl, huh?”

And oh.

Y/N felt her stomach flip.

Because Rafe was smiling down at the baby like she was the most precious thing in the world. And the way he spoke- soft, affectionate, careful- like he already adored her, like he’d do anything for her?

Y/N swore her heart skipped a beat.

She couldn't stop staring. Couldn’t stop thinking about how good he looked like that- holding something so small, being so gentle. Couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like if that was their baby...

And that thought?

That was dangerous.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to blink, to breathe, to not let the sudden urge consume her. But it was hard. So hard. Especially when the baby let out a tiny noise, and Rafe instinctively rocked her, swaying slightly, murmuring a quiet, 

“Shh, I got you, pretty girl.”

Y/N was done for.

The sun had started to set by the time they were driving back, the sky fading into warm hues of orange and pink, casting soft, golden light through the car windows. Y/N sat quietly in the passenger seat, as she gazed out at the passing scenery. Her teeth pressed lightly into her bottom lip, eyes distant, deep in thought. Rafe noticed. His grip on the wheel tightened slightly as he glanced at her, flicking his gaze between her and the road every few seconds.

Y/N's thoughts drifted back to the little bundle of joy they’d just met. She couldn’t help it. Her mind flickered to the pills resting in her bedside drawer. She knew she was on birth control- had been for years now, ever since her and Rafe had started dating. She had a plan. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about babies, not yet anyway. But today, with everything- seeing Rafe with Lena’s baby, how effortlessly sweet he was with her- it was like something inside her clicked. It wasn’t a new thought, but it was the first time in a while that it felt... real.

There was something about the way Rafe had kissed her earlier before they went in to see the baby, the way he always cared for her without a second thought, that made her realise that when the time came there was no one else she'd want by her side. She imagined, maybe one day, their own little baby Cameron. A small smile tugged at her lips, though she tried to hide it. Before she could process the thought fully, Rafe's voice cut through her thoughts.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes soft, like he could already tell she was so deeply lost in her thoughts. Her heart skipped, but she turned her face to the window again, her smile betraying her as she muttered,

“Nothing”

It wasn’t nothing.

"C'mon, tell me" 

He asked, his voice curious. One hand left the wheel, coming down to rest warm and steady on her thigh, the cool feeling of his signet ring grounding her. She hesitated, just for a second. Then she looked at him momentarily, voice quiet but sure.

"I think I wanna have a baby."

Rafe choked.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw going slightly slack as he turned to look at her.

“A- what?”

“A baby,”

She repeated, her voice softer now as she turned her head towards him and continued to speak.

“I think I want us to have a baby.”

Silence.

Rafe was... thinking- evidently in slight shock. He was just looking at her, his lips parted slightly like his brain was working overtime.

“Like… our baby?”

“Yeah Rafe. Our baby.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, nodding. Rafe exhaled, running a hand over his hair. Instead of words, he just let out a low hum- like he was still letting it sink in. His head nodded slightly, and he attempted to speak, but no full sentence came out. And Y/N was watching him so closely. Because she knew him. She knew every little expression, every little movement- and she could see it. That spark in his eyes. That little twitch of his lips like he was trying not to smile too hard.

“…You sure?”

He asked after a beat, voice quieter now, more serious. Y/N looked at him, heart thudding in her chest. And she nodded.

“I’m sure.”

And that’s all it took.

Rafe let out a breath- almost like he’d been holding it in- and suddenly, his grip on her thigh tightened, his fingers curling against her smooth skin as his lips finally broke into a grin.

“Yeah?”

He murmured, glancing at her again, like he needed to see it in her eyes too. And when she nodded again a wide smile creeping onto her lips, he was all in. Y/N’s heart fluttered at the way he asked, at the way his eyes practically burned with the unspoken promise in his words.

“Mhmm”

She hummed her voice trembling slightly with anticipation. Rafe’s grin deepened, and before she could even process the moment, he steered the car off the main road, guiding it towards a small, empty parking lot in the distance. Y/N blinked, a little confused, her brow furrowing as she leaned forward slightly.

“What are you doing?”

She asked, glancing at him as the car slowed to a stop. Rafe didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shifted in his seat undoing his seatbelt his eyes gleaming as he turned to face her. A playful yet look settling on his face as he reached over to undo her seatbelt also “Well,” he said his tone low and confident,

“we gotta start practicing, don’t we?”

They're so cute it makes me sick 🤭

[sivyera]

nsfw headcanons and kinks of harry potter characters

ft. harry, ron, cedric, fred, george, draco, blaise, theodore, tom, hermione, pansy

a/n: well there is obviously a lot of SMUT, also it's a female reader

༺☆༻

⤷ Harry - lingerie

harry for sure loves when you wear some nice pair of lingerie, he finds it so hot when the nice lace hugs your body so perfectly. every time when he's out, he looks for some new pair of lingerie that he would buy you. oh yeah he buys you every single pair but one time, you surprised him on his b-day with red pair of lingerie (like gryffindor theme lingerie) and he was hard within seconds.

"oh- oh my fucking god, you look amazing sweetheart. do a spin for me please- slowly, i wanna see how pretty you look in this" harry hummed while he sat on his bed with you slowly turning in front of him. he could feel his hard dick pressing against his pants, pre-cum already making his boxers dirty. he brushed his hand over his erection before he hummed again. "come closer baby, i wanna touch you..."

⤷ Ron - body worship

ron was very unexperienced at the start, you were basically his first everything, first girlfriend, first kiss, first lover. so when was the first time you two had sex, he was just so mesmerized by your whole body that he had to watch himself for not cumming into his pants just from the sight of your naked body. you are gorgeous in his eyes, more than that! from that time it kinda sticked with him, every time you two have sex now, he has to worship you before anything, he wants you to know how beautiful you are on his eyes...

you could feel ron's hands tracing soft patterns over your sides while his eyes were glued to your boobs. "bloody hell, baby you are so beautiful.. " he mumbled while he moved his big palms over your boobs, squeezing them lightly. "i can't belive how lucky i'm to have you, now let me make you feel good." he added before he took off your panties and kissed his way down to your pretty cunt.

⤷ Cedric - praise kink

cedric is overall very vocal when you two have sex, he either growls, hums, groans, breaths heavily or he's mumbling praises to you. he really cannot help himself when he sees you all spread under him; your legs wrapped around him, your hands scratching his back while he holds your hips and is thrusting into you, mercilessly. he always makes sure that you can hear him properly so he usually leans closer to you, brushing his lips over your ear in soft kisses, whispering praise right into your ear.

"you're doing so good princess, taking all of me like this..." he whispers into your ear, his hips are crushing against yours, his dick hitting every right spot while you're a moaning mess under him. "you feel so good, i can't get enough of you, my sweet girl.." he groans again into your ear while his tempo isn't slowing down.

⤷ Fred - public sex

fred is thrilled with the idea of getting caught, it's the adrenaline and the possessivness from him screaming, i mean he wants people to know that you're his, that you chose him and that only HE makes you feel this good. so you two usually have sex somewhere around hogwarts. empty classroom, broom closet, empty gryffindor common room, bathroom, you name it.

"shh baby, be quiet you don't want anybody to catch us, do you?" he smirks while he has you seated on a desk in empty potion class. both of you are skipping class so it's pretty quiet outside on the hallways, anyone who will walk past can hear you. he doesn't care how loud you are because he doesn't care if you two get caught, he just wants to tease you. even tho you try to be quiet, you can't help yourself and moan again. "naughty girl yeah, let everybody know how good i make you feel..."

⤷ George - orgasm denial

george loves the face you make when he pushes you to the edge but just seconds before you're about to cum, he slows down his moves or stops completely, kissing your skin instead. he also loves teasing you but the way you get all pouty and squeeze around him when he denies you your orgasm is just something he can never get tired of. but eventually he'll let you cum and it's always the best orgasm ever.

he was thrusting into you in the perfect rhythm when you felt the familiar knot forming inside your belly, but just when the knot was about to release, he stopped. instead he immediately pressed his lips against your chest, kissing you around your boobs. "i know baby, i know... i'll give you what you want but god- when you squeeze around me like this, i can't help myself."

⤷ Draco - daddy kink

draco has big daddy issues so many of you could say that he'd hate being called daddy but he actually loves it. it makes him feel good, powerful and in control which he never was while being back home so... when you started calling him like this, he didn't let you stop. he sees you as his blessing and he wants to protect you with everything he has, like a good daddy should protect his precious baby.

"you're such a good girl for daddy, princess..." draco huffed while he was buried deep inside you. his hands were pressing your knees to your chest which made you ass go little up, letting him hit the perfect spot inside you. "yes, tell me who's your daddy? mhmf-..." he continues while you're mumbling under him. he loves when those sweet words leave your pretty mouth, it almost always makes him cum in seconds.

⤷ Blaise - bondage

blaise loves seeing how your flesh presses under the bondage, making your thighs and boobs look even more soft and squishy than they already are. he either bondages your whole body or only ankles and wrists so you can't move, but he loves both equaly. he always takes his time when he's wrapping the rope around your body but he also always makes sure that everything he does is comfortable to you, it could be dangerous for you and he doesn't wanna hurt you.

"you feelin' good, babe?" he speaks while his long fingers are brushing over your inner thighs, his eyes basically glued to the plush of them. he could feel his hard dick twitching in his boxers, leaving a small wet mark over the fabric so he quickly strokes himself before he continues. "you look so pretty like this, all just for me... take a deep breath, babe, just like this..."

⤷ Theodore - deep throat

there is nothing more theo loves more than when you are on your knees, your glassy looking up at him with tears falling down your cheeks while he hears how you are gagging on his dick. he doesn't care if you have good or bad gagging reflex, you can take it for him. if it's very serious and you just have to take a quick pause, he'll let you rest for like 30s before pushing you down on his dick again, this time little deeper than before. and when you let him cum into your mouth, you got yourself "bonus" orgasm.

"ngh- fuck baby-... your tongue feels so good around me, mhmm..." he hums while his head falls down between his shoulder blades with his fingers being tangled in your hair, pushing your head lower on his dick. his groans and moans are non-stopping while he can feel himself getting closer and closer. when he looks down at you and sees your pretty, bambi eyes already staring at him, he can feel himself cum. "oh dio-... now swallow for me, amore."

⤷ Tom - choking

choking makes feel tom in control, in control of your life while he brings you the best pleasure of your life. he can feel your pulse point under his thumb while you make this incredibly fuckable face, it drives him wild and incredibly horny. he can feel your heartbeat while he also makes you feel so good, it makes him feel powerful and he's hungry for power, any kind of power. but he'd never let you pass out, that's a big no for him.

he thrusted inside and out of you, mercilessly, while he had his hand firmly wrapped around you neck, perfectly feeling how was your heart beating through your pulse point. "oh are you about to cum? yeah, cum for me, my love..." he growled when his grip got tighter, making your eyes close in pleasure. you were still moaning under him which made him go little faster. with all of this, he came as well.

⤷ Hermione - thigh riding

hermione loves when she can multitask, it's somehow comforting to her. so one time when you found her in the library, learning for some up coming test, writing into her books; you sat on her thigh, wanting to distract her, she was hooked. she loved the feeling of you on her thigh, pleasuring yourself while she could write some notes into her textbook. from that time, she loved it and she often pulls you onto her lap with her thigh in perfect position for your pussy.

she wrote the last words into her book before her hands grabbed your hips, making you move faster, making your pussy spread over her thigh. "mhm you feel good like this? yes, you do? oh i know... come on, little faster." she mumbled into your ear, kissing you all the way down to your neck while her nails dug into your soft hips making you moan.

⤷ Pansy - face-sitting

pansy is literally obsessed with your pussy and all the noises you make when her tongue is buried deep inside you. she loves to explore all your folds because every time her tongue presses against a new spot, you squeeze your thighs around her head which makes her rub her thighs against each other. her eyes are glued on you the whole time while she presses her nose against your clit.

"mhmh come on-..." she quickly mumbles before she pushes your hips more onto her mouth while her tongue pushes deep inside you. her hands helped your hips slowly move back and forth while her tongue was licking each of your folds, swallowing each of your juice that she got on her tongue. your moans filled her ears and she could see you were getting closer which made her tongue work even faster.

[preqwells]

imagining simon with a reader that's extremely awkward since it's their first serious relationship.

simon was practically yearning for your touch, ready to burst at the seams and teeter over while you hesitantly refrained. you two had been dating for at least eight months and had known each other for longer around this point, so he was well-adjusted and within his comfort zone with you; he trusts you. you’ve had flings here and there, all of which lasted more than a month if you were lucky— not your fault these assholes did a complete 180 once you officially put a title on things. for a long time, you convinced yourself that it was your fault since the only common factor in all of those relationships was you until simon was practically desperate to prove you wrong— although his poker face and lack of flowery words would ever allow him to do so.

every time simon would try to get closer to you at night? you didn’t know what to do. cheek kisses? you’d just press your lips into a tight-lipped smile, managing a small “thanks” and averted your gaze. if simon tried to hold your hand? it was almost like you’d find a way to wiggle out of it. it was almost like you weren’t used to affection— how could you of all people not be used to affection, he wondered.

he started to eventually get discouraged at one point. he wasn’t one for affection often, but you didn’t seem to want to get closer to him— why didn’t you want to get closer to him? he’d try to brush it off, but he wasn’t good with words and touch was all he had left.

it was abruptly brought up when you two were seated on the couch, his eyes mindlessly mapping out how your hair framed the side of your face, assuming it began to tickle you from the way you raised your hand and began to gently scratch the softness of your cheek. “why do you move away from me when i try to touch you?” he suddenly asked, his voice vibrating in his chest. he caught onto the way your jaw undulated at the question which only fueled his curiosity. were you aware you had been doing this to him? were you dangling your affection above his head? what a cruel game if you were, honestly. “um…” you began, a silence ensuing between you two. you didn’t know what to say— what could you say? your reasoning felt silly the more you thought about it— you didn’t want to push simon away of all people.

“i don’t know what to do or where to put my hands… and im afraid i’ll get clingy. its not that i dont like it… i do…. i just…” you mumbled, your eyes flickering between his and the tv.

…that was it?

you didn’t know where to put your hands and you thought you’d be clingy just after giving him a small hug? small kiss? he stifled a laugh which you caught onto, prompting a small pout to form on your plush lips. “why’re you laughing? i’m being serious!” you groaned, slightly frustrated at the feeling of simon not taking this seriously. simon took your frustration in stride, the roughness of his hands grazing across your cheeks as he gingerly cupped the sides of your face. “s’nothin— nothin a’ all…” he mumbled, secretly on cloud nine as he silenced you with a kiss, feeling you tense up to which he elicited a throaty chuckle. “it’s not— s’not funny!” you attempted to reprimand him which failed, seeing as how you were holding back your laugh at simon’s smile and at how ridiculous the situation was now that you thought about it.

“you’re right. i’m afraid you’ll be like a leech if you get used to me.” he mumbled against your lips. he was pleasantly surprised at the feeling of your hands returning the gesture and cupping his face, your thumbs grazing the stubble which pricked and prodded needles into the soft pads of your fingers. “shut up.” you mumbled back, pulling him down onto the couch with you as he landed on your chest. he tried to ignore the rapid beating of your heart and how it hammered in your chest, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think it was cute.

if you weren’t used to affection, he’d have to change that.

[lunaekalenda]

"sweetie, i might die"

you roll your eyes, before standing up and getting him another box of tissues, right from the pile in his desk, and you leave it quietly near his hand, on the bed. He tangles your fingers with his as soon as you let go the box. he caresses the side of your hand before speaking, hoarse voice in low tone. "you'll take care of the kids? mephisto? do that for me, kitten." his voice is weak when he speaks, exaggerated. he closes his red eyes dramatically, his thumb still circling over your skin. He coughs.

"first, Luke and Kieran are adults. second, i told you not to go on a ride while it was raining." Sylus pouts cutely, before pulling you towards him, making you fall on his big bed, exactly by his side. he coughs again. the tea you made him earlier remains smoky on his side table, and he turns his red eyes towards you.

"i needed to. who was gonna save you if not me?" he whispers. your body searches his, getting comfortably close to him, to his warmth. his fever went down after the pill, so now you can cuddle up against him. you sigh.

"i didn't need anyone saving me. it was a silly stumble. i don't even have a bruise." he smiles, tugging both of you more under the covers, spooning you from behind.

"that's because i kissed the spot. bruises don't appear." you roll your eyes again, but a silly smile appears on your lips. "you should kiss me too. my head hurts. my eyes sting. my back feels sore. i have so many spots that could get fixed with a kiss, sweetie." his lips make their way towards your neck, one hand wrapped aroud your waist, while the other finds your pulse on your neck. your heartbeat raises, and he feels it, humming in approval.

"you're sick, Sylus. you should rest." his lips part from your body, and he sighs strongly. his pout is back. he coughs stronger, one hand covering his mouth, the other giving pressure to the point that hurts on his body. you get closer to him and leave a kiss in the middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin against your lips. "are you feeling better?" his face switches, softening the playful grin and showing tenderness on his eyes.

"i am, my darling. and it's all because of you. thank you."

he tangles his legs on yours before sighing, right into your hair. "what would you do without me." you tease him. he chuckles, hugging you tighter. he caresses your sides with his fingertips.

"we're lucky we have each other, darling."

[sweetinsaniiity]

can you write something for soft turned hard dom san? i don't have a full idea yet but he asks reader if he'll let her do whatever he wants to her and when she responds yes he says aww thank you baby and then proceeds to ruin her

I'm very, very picky when fulfilling requests, but this one caught my eye immediately. You should be very proud of yourself, sweetheart.

Plug In, Baby

genre/au: soft!Sannie, he's too soft tbh, very respectful (we love a man who respects boundaries), established relationship, falling in love rating/warning: PG-18+ so MDNI!!! (you know how it is), this is pure smut without any sort of plot or whatnot, really just pure filth with a side of creampie, scratching, degradation, dacryphilia, bruises, biting, dom!San, no protection (do NOT do this!) word count: 8.2K words (genuinely enjoyed writing this)

Today marked three months of being with San and you were getting ready for the special dinner he said he'd take you. You already felt giddy thinking about it as you paced in front of the mirror to check your outfit. You met San through a mutual friend of yours, Wooyoung, and the connection was undeniable. You two formed a relationship within the week, and the first time he held your hand, you didn't even notice. He was so hesitant, so careful.

In fact, he still is. Granted, you two weren't together for long, still learning each other day by day, but sometimes, San was a little too careful for your liking. Like right now.

"My goodness, you scared me," you giggled, savouring the way San's arms wrapped at you from behind.

He smiled tenderly at you, giving you a quick kiss on your temple. You couldn't but frown slightly when the hug didn't last. "You look beautiful, baby," he murmured. "How did I get so lucky?" You hummed, tilting your head when he leaned in, kissing you softly on the lips, that air of hesitancy still there like this was the first time you had kissed. He treated you like fine glass, but that was fine. You heard him yelp behind his throat when you licked his lips open.

"O-Oh, uhm, wow," he pulled away, blushing beet red from his neck all the way up to the tips of his ears.

"What, you didn't like it?" You teased.

His eyes widened comically. "N-No! I mean, I d-did," San stammered.

You laughed out loud at his predicament. Cute, you thought. Every time you smiled at him, he looked away, cheeks pink, like he wasn’t sure how to handle the attention. All San could do was stare at you as your laughter filled the air, smiling as well.

He loved you a lot, though he hasn't said it before. He just gets extremely nervous around you. You might give him a heart attack one day, that's how much he feels about you.

And it wasn't like you didn't know this. San was naturally shy and meek, something you found extremely endearing on him.

"You sure you don't regret being with me yet?" San mumbled, refusing to look at you, pretending to fix his collar as he cleared his throat.

You frowned, confused. "Now, why would you say that?"

San sighed. "Baby, I don't know if you noticed, but you're way out of my league. I'm still surprised to this day when you said you liked me back. I probably had a mini attack."

It was always like this, and so, you reassured your boyfriend once more that he was fine the way he was, that you genuinely liked him for him despite his reservations about himself. You would never get tired of doing it because you were telling the truth.

He made another small, flustered noise, but this time, after a moment of hesitation, he did something that made your heart stutter.

He leaned in—just slightly, just enough for his shoulder to press against yours. And even if he didn’t say anything, you knew what it meant.

“Uhm,” he cleared his throat again. “Can I ask you something?”

“You know you can, Sannie,” you smiled, tilting your head curiously at him.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, visibly struggling. His nervous energy was practically vibrating off him. You bit your lip to stop yourself from smiling widely at how cute your boyfriend was.

You smiled softly. “Hey,” you murmured, lifting your free hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind his ear. He practically melted at the touch, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. “Take your time.”

He nodded quickly, swallowing hard, before finally forcing the words out.

“Do you...wanna do it tonight?”

Oh, God. He was so painfully endearing.

“You really want to?” You asked gently, running your thumbs over the heat of his cheeks.

His breath hitched, and after a long moment of hesitation, he nodded. “Y-Yeah,” he whispered, voice barely there. “Sorry, baby. I just want to make sure. You know I love the way your body feels with mine.”

It was your turn to blush. “Me too. I want everything with you...”

You were pretty sure you were falling slowly for this man, if you haven't yet. You had never met a man who was such a gentleman, someone who respected you and your boundaries but never failed to make you happy. You just hoped you made San happy, too.

Sex with him was what you'd describe as making love. Slow, soft love making. It was filled with gentle touches and passionate, deep, long kisses that always set your insides on fire. San had the body of a Greek god and it always fascinated you that he was just a sweetheart.

Everything about him was soft, and you loved it.

As you both walked in the restaurant towards the entrance, the way he opened the car door for you and the way he offered his arms for you to link with his made your heart flutter. "I'll give you a good time, yeah?" San smiled.

"I believe it," you giggled.

He shook his head at you with a small chuckle, like he couldn't believe you were real to begin with.

He directed his smile at the receptionist ahead, albeit more respectful and polite this time. "Hi," he began, keeping his voice quiet like he didn’t want to impose. "Reservation for Choi San, please?"

True to his words, he took you to a really nice place, a seaside nighttime restaurant. You were a bit surprised, you mentioned in passing a couple of weeks back while all your mutual friends were over that you've never been to one and you would love to experience it at least once in your life.

"Wow," you grinned, leaning on the railing that overlooked the sunset that reflected over the sea. "Sannie, this place is gorgeous."

He leaned towards the railing as well, a small smile plastered on his face as he stared at your face. "Yeah," he said, not looking away. "Gorgeous."

The way he snaked his arms around you as he guided you to your seat was gentle, like he was always second-guessing himself. The way he moved, careful and deliberate, never the type to rush. These were the things that made you want to be with him, you just hoped San understood that.

You gave the waiter a small 'thank you' as they walked away after handing you your dinner. The night went on better than you imagined, not that you doubted it in the first place. Anywhere with San was a guaranteed enjoyment for you, not because of where he would bring you, definitely not because of what he can offer you, but because you wanted to spend time with San.

You couldn't help but stare at him from across the table as he peacefully ate his food. You wanted to shake your head, how could this man think that he was out of your league? He had poise and grace that you didn't have, and he was genuinely the kindest man you've ever been with.

Your cheeks reddened when his eyes fleeted up and met yours. "You're staring, baby," he smirked, not breaking eye contact as he put the fork in his mouth and chewed on his steak slowly.

You bit your lip subconsciously. It doesn't escape San's attention. Something passes in his eyes that you couldn't really read before it goes away. As shy as San can be, sometimes he didn't know how deadly he could act. What makes it worse is that you know that he's not doing it on purpose.

You chuckled, then winked. "Am I not allowed to stare at my boyfriend?"

That seemed to bring him down to Earth and you can physically see his mind short-circuit. Without thinking, you held his delicate hands to press a quick kiss to his knuckles.

You could swear that you could feel the heat radiating off his face. He made a tiny, helpless sound - something between a squeak and a whimper - then hid his face in his sleeve.

“Baby,” San whined, grabbing onto your hand and caressing his thumb over it despite his flustered state. “Y-You can’t just do that.”

“Do you want me to do it again?” You teased, watching his ears turn an even deeper shade of red.

He pouted, and it took you everything not to combust where you were seated, nodding his head slightly before looking around hesitantly. "Here?"

You shrugged, grinning widely at him while you got up from your seat to lean across the table and give San a sweet peck on the tip of the nose. When you sat back down, he blinked owlishly at you as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly. His face was effectively the reddest you've ever seen.

Oh my God, you thought. Did you finally break your boyfriend?

Dinner ended without any hijinks. He got up before you and shyly offered his hand. "Walk with me, precious?" San smiled, his dimples convincing you like you ever even needed it. "The night is young. I wanted to spend more time with you before I take you home."

San and you lived separately. It was too soon to live together for the both of you, but as you walked side by side by the sea shore, maybe you could bring it up to him. You liked him enough to do so.

The moonlight illuminated his facial features as he stared on. San was beautiful, that you couldn't deny, but he wasn't the only shy one. Sometimes, you wish you could just tell him how much he meant to you.

Then, just as you were about to say something, you felt the lightest touch against your hands. When you glanced at San, he still wasn't looking at you, but you couldn't miss the nervousness in his gait.

His head was tilted down, hair falling over his eyes, as if he was bracing himself for rejection before he’d even really tried. Your heart clenched.

Slowly, carefully, you turned your palm outward, offering an unspoken invitation. "Baby," you whispered. "I appreciate you being careful with me since we're both basically new to this relationship, but I'd like it if you can hold my hand whenever you want next time."

His fingers curled around yours, and you smiled, giving his warm hand the smallest squeeze. “Okay,” his voice was barely above a whisper.

A beat of silence. Then, slowly, so slowly, his grip tightened, just a little. His face was still turned away, but you could see the way he pressed his lips together like he was trying to fight back a smile.

God, he was cute.

And somehow, the simple weight of his hand in yours felt more important than anything else in the world.

The drive home was tense, though. At least, on your end. San wanted to have sex with you the moment you stepped inside your house. You pressed your thighs together in an attempt to soothe the burning arousal that crept up your wettened core.

It was definitely an unspoken spark, the anticipation of what you both knew was going to happen later. The tension was delicious, and you couldn't wait.

"Did you want to stay the night?" You asked, trying to break the sparked silence in the car.

He hummed, it was deep and it vibrated down to your core, not responding with words. He side-eyed you once, one hand leaning against the car window, covering his mouth while his other hand held the steering wheel, before he turned back to the road.

It would have been odd behaviour from him if it didn't turn you on.

It didn't really escape your attention at how rigid San sat. You could see the way his chest rose and fell too quickly, his breath uneven. He looked like he was currently struggling to hold back as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down every single time he swallowed.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, jaw tense as his eyes flicked to you again. "Did you want me to stay the night?" San exhaled, the sound low, controlled.

Oh?

That was interesting. You turned your head to the side, opting to stare at the window so San couldn't see the pleased expression on your face. He was a lot more turned on than you thought he was. You preened, happy that you had this effect on him.

By the time we pulled into your apartment, he was practically out of breath as he turned off the engine. When you looked at you, you wanted nothing but to jump at him, barely holding yourself back.

You smirked, reaching for his hand, letting your fingers lace through his, slow and deliberate. Teasing him was your favourite thing to do, you loved seeing his reactions. “Everything okay?" You asked innocently.

He nodded quickly. “Y-Yeah,” his voice cracked.

You smiled, tilting your head. "Shall we go inside?"

His lips parted slightly like he was about to talk, his fingers twitched against his thigh like he was debating something. You smirked when he wordlessly got out of the car and started walking inside your apartment, his hand subtly adjusting his pants. Oh, you were going to have fun teasing him.

But you frowned, confused, when San didn't make a move on you like you thought he would when you both walked in. Instead, he stared at you, shifting his weight from foot to foot, before he walked to your room to presumably change his clothes.

"San, wait," you stopped him, your heart beating fast, as you walked towards him slowly.

He freezes in his steps, looking back at you with vulnerable eyes. You stepped closer, using your free hand to cup his cheek, tilting his face.

“We don't have to do anything tonight,” you said softly. “I know you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just being with you is enough. We have all the time in the world.”

And you meant it. Your heart broke when his eyes shone with sadness. He turned his head to kiss your palms. "I'm sorry, baby. I don't know why I'm like this."

You giggled, opting to pinch his cheeks, much to his chagrin, to break the tension and change the scenario. "Let's watch a movie. You can pick."

His eyes lightened up significantly. If there was something better than the sex you thought would happen tonight, it was cuddles with San. Your fluffy boyfriend was the perfect cuddle material, his arms always felt perfect whenever they would wrap around you.

"Comfy?" he murmured, said arms tightening their hold on you as you both curled up on your bed with the laptop placed in front of you.

Your smiled, eyes still on the screen. "Mhm. You’re warm."

San chuckled, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. "Human heater, at your service."

The movie was good, but the warmth of San’s arms, the way his heartbeat was a steady rhythm, made it all the better. Yeah, you could stay like this forever.

However, you couldn't concentrate on the movie. Occasionally, San would shift, pressing his body against yours, his body heat transferring to you. His head leaned down, and at first, you thought that he was just going to lean on your shoulders.

Imagine your surprise when he pressed a hot kiss to the crook of your neck. He pulled away like nothing happened. You froze, not thinking anything of it. San loved skinship, this was nothing new to him.

But when his fingers started tracing slow, absentminded circles against your bare shoulders, shivers traveled down your spine. The first time, you passed it as a passing thought on his end. The second, you started to doubt it, but by the third, you couldn't help but surrender to his little touches.

You swallowed audibly when his nimble fingers held the thin strap of your top, lifting it slightly before letting go and letting it snap against your skin. You couldn't move, not even bothering to concentrate on the movie. Certainly not bothering to turn around to look at his face. For all you know, he could just be fidgeting like he always did when he was nervous.

It was difficult to even breathe. You held back a squeak when San snaked his arm around your waist, slightly lifting your top up, his fingers barely brushing against your bare skin as if he had all the time in the world to explore you.

You sucked in a breath, but he didn’t stop. His fingertips trailed along the dip of your waist, tracing the curve with agonizing patience. It was your turn to be nervous now. This has never happened before.

"You okay, baby?" San's husky voice asked from behind you. He sounded strained, though you knew that he knew what he was doing.

You swallowed, but before you could answer, his other hand moved, but this time, it landed on your thigh. He squeezed ever so slightly while his thumb brushed slow, hypnotic circles against your waist, slipping a little higher with each pass.

His fingers pinch a part of your skin that you didn't even know was sensitive and you jerked, your thighs subconsciously spreading wider. Your cheeks burned for two reasons - the position was almost lewd, and San's low groan sent wetness pooling down there.

"Tilt your head up, baby," he commanded softly. There was no hesitation on your end. "Hmm. A little bit sideways---good."

A small, breathy moan escapes from your lips when his lips automatically latch on your neck, barely just touching you, but enough for you to feel everything, especially when he nipped your teeth before sucking the sensitive skin.

"Sannie," you whined, your eyes fluttering close.

"Shh," his voice was deeper now, rougher. His grip tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The desire was slowly clouding your mind, though at the back of your mind, you were thoroughly confused at what was currently happening. Not that you were complaining - your body did all the work for you. And so did San's lips.

You mewled when you felt him smile against your skin as his hand started to lift your shirt a bit above your tummy. To say you were surprised would be an understatement, the San you knew would be too shy to even make a move. It was one of his best qualities and you can't help but fall for him for it.

But this? You didn't even know what to do.

Your hand moves by itself, placing it on top of San's hand that was making abstract shapes on your tummy while he gives your neck little kitten kisses.

"You’re so soft," he murmured, lifting your leg slightly to shift you closer.

"S-San, what are you d-doing," your breathy voice couldn't even properly formulate a question.

His movements slow down, but not completely stop. He lifted his lips from your neck, and you had to stop the urge to pout at the sudden loss of contact. You let out a little gasp when you looked at him - his eyes were so dark, that the intensity of it had you reeling.

This wasn't the San you, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit to yourself that you didn't mind knowing who this was.

His grip on your waist tightened, his thumb pressing firmly into your skin as he studied you, his breathing heavy, controlled, but barely.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured, voice rough, almost strained.

It sent a shiver down your spine, an ache pooling low in your stomach. "And what exactly do I do to you?"

For a second, a hint of hesitation flashes into his eyes, but when you darted your tongue slowly across your lips, it disappears entirely. You could tell that he was still nervous, that he was testing the waters here to see how far he'd go and how far you'd let him.

You held your breath when he gently held your shoulders to guide you down your couch, effectively splaying your body for him to crawl on top of. He tenderly tucks the strays hairs that made their way in front of your face, ignoring the way your eyes slightly widened and the way your mouth opened to say something, though no words ever did come out.

For a moment, all you did was stare at each other. If only San knew how nervous you were. Initiation was lost on San most of the time, if not all the time, so this was new - a totally uncharted territory.

"You look so pretty, baby," he whispered, eyes raking all over your form, rounded with such innocence that you couldn't help but sputter at the unexpected statement.

"Uh, thank you?" You questioned rather than answered.

He giggled, and your heart almost burst out of your chest. It was the type where his eyes disappeared as they crinkled upwards, where his dimples deepened impossibly so. Truly, you knew you were drowning then and there.

"You want this, right?" San leaned down, his face mere inches away from yours, his huge arms trapping your head in between. "Would you let me do what I want to you if I asked?"

"Y-Yeah," you stammered.

Your head grew weary with dizzy. A subtle nod from you was enough for his lips to twitch with anticipation. San's brow quirked upwards.

"Anything?"

Between you and San, you would consider yourself to be the more outgoing one; the type who was always sure of themself, the one who would usually take the lead because you had no problem getting the things you wanted for yourself.

So, why were you getting wet at the prospect of San just taking whatever the hell he wanted from you?

This was your sweet, sweet Sannie. It would be criminal of you to deny him anything. When you nodded again, your heart fluttered dangerously when those dimples of his showed up again.

"Aww," he cooed, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Thank you, baby."

Your brows furrowed a bit. The way he said it, it settled heavily down your stomach. You couldn't help the sharp hiss that escaped your mouth when you realized how mocking it sounded.

It was too late, though. San leaned away, his wide, dark eyes were hazy with something you couldn’t quite place - not just nervousness, but something darker. You knew you were in for a wild ride when he yanked your hair, almost painfully, upwards to crash your lips onto his.

Your stifled moans get swallowed by San's rough claim on your lips, his primal growls echoing your arousal. The kiss was no less than filthy, the wet sounds of lips smacking with each other were all you could hear in the wide expanse of your living room.

You've never felt like this before. There was fire coiling in your tummy at San's roughness. You had half the mind to wonder where your sweet San went, but if you were being honest with yourself, this was a long time coming, anyway.

And as if he read your mind, he leaned away, an evil smirk plastered on his face as he pressed your swollen lips with his thumb while his other hand tightened its hold on your hair, the pain making you groan lewdly. "S-San---"

"I'm going to ruin you," he said flatly, something borderline demonic passing through his face as he spoke further. "All you have to do is say yes, darling."

Darling. That was new. Shivers made their way up your spine, and San had the gall to chuckle darkly when he felt the way you spasmed in his hold. "Y-Yes," you whined.

You were fully shaking at this point, resembling a wet, trembling kitten in front of a waiting predator. And that San was - a predator. A ravening grin slowly stretches his mouth. It honestly terrifies you, you've never seen such expression on him.

Shame creeps all over you - you were a hypocrite because you were getting so turned on from how different San was acting. You weren't privy to all the times you did imagine how it would be like if San snapped one day and just manhandled you. Not that you didn't like your lovemaking session, because you genuinely did, but there was something about how animalistic he was slowly becoming right in front of you.

"Fuck," he huffed an ominous laugh, his eyes completely shrouded with lust as he peered down at you. More rounds of shivers went through you.

This might sound unbelievable to other people, but to those who knew San, he was never one to curse. Even when you had sex with him, he never really did.

You yelped when he pushed your head down as his free hand cupped your clothed breast brutally. Your hands automatically flew to his muscular arm, hoping to ease the pressure he used to pin your forehead down the couch, but all that did was make him pinch your nipple through your lace bra.

"Aww, does that hurt, darling?" San chuckled maliciously.

"A l-little," you mewled, the pain traveling straight down there.

"Nah," he drawled out, a sinister grin still displayed on his face. Your instincts told you to scoot away when he started to lean down your face with fake, mocking concern. "You know what does hurt, though?"

Before you could answer, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, lapping and biting the sensitive parts of your flesh. White, searing pain commands your mouth open with a silent scream. He bit hard enough to draw blood, but not enough to pierce your skin.

A diabolical cackle sounds through the air as you thrash from his hold. All San did was to push his hips down, his hardening cock pulsing against your core to keep you down. Soon enough, the pain becomes pleasure. A soft moan involuntarily slips from your mouth, letting San know that you were enjoying this.

You felt him smile against your skin when he let your skin go from his teeth and planted a loving kiss on the bite mark, letting you know this time that he'd actually never hurt you.

That didn't mean he wouldn't inflict a little bit of it, though.

"So," he began, his hands finding their place on either side of your hips, holding you flush underneath him as he rolled his hips teasingly against you. "How does being my dirty little slut for tonight sound to you?"

You blinked owlishly at him, your mouth opening and closing repeatedly as your brain malfunctioned then and there. Behind the predatory look was amusement that danced in his eyes as he watched you practically melt at the indication.

"Ow, Sannie, h-hurts," you gasped as you felt his nails digging on your hips, but if that didn't turn you on, you didn't know what.

"Good," he barked, his nails now dragging up your sides deeply until they reached your chest. You yelped in response. It hurt, but it hurt so good.

You almost whined when he got off of you, but not for long. He grabbed your trembling body and made his way to your bedroom, unceremoniously slamming you onto your bed, where he tore your clothes off of you, haphazardly throwing them in random spots of your room without care.

"Come here," he growled, pulling on your feet until you were at the edge of the bed, your ass plush against his thighs.

He was about to dive down to explore your body but you panicked mildly, quickly jutting your hand out to push his head away gently from you. You swallowed and, oh, he did not like that at all. San's eyes narrowed dangerously, one brow raised, giving you a pointed look.

"I-I haven't showered yet," you stammered pathetically. "I'm g-gross and yucky---"

"Shut up," he hissed fiercely, effectively stopping you before you even continued that line of thought.

A whine escaped you when he spread your legs wide before he started kissing and biting everywhere his lips touched. You couldn't help but pull his hair every single time he would bite a sensitive part, something you didn't even think possible since you had no idea those parts were sensitive to begin with.

"God, you taste so fucking sweet, darling," he bit the soft expanse of your breasts, back and forth to make them even, before squeezing them painfully hard. "I've always wanted to do this, you know? Watch you writhe like this against my hold, scared to death waiting and anticipating at how hard I'd fuck you."

"S-San, t-that h-hurts---"

"I don't care," he snapped, sucking a brand new bruise in your inner thighs, holding you down harshly as he swirled his tongue on the sensitive flesh. "Besides," he chuckled. "You love this. Don't be a lying whore."

"Oh, fuck," you whined involuntarily, thoroughly turned on at being degraded. Your eyes widened as you quickly covered your mouth. You hadn't meant for that to come out the way it did.

Your skin was marked with multiple scratches, bite marks, and love bites. You knew you would regret it the next day since you had to go to work, but frankly, you didn't give a fuck. You'd wear them proudly for the world to see. It wasn't difficult to see that San was marking his territory with you, and by God, you loved it.

You felt his hand caress your inner thigh, waiting no more as his finger lightly grazed your sopping wetness. You couldn't help but whine at the delicious sensation.

"Such a dirty, little whore you are, my darling," he laughed. He wasted no time dipping two fingers inside you. "You like that, beautiful?"

You almost blacked out at the pleasure that automatically rendered your body into jelly. "Oh, God, San, shit," you rambled, bucking your hips unintentionally.

San wasn't your first, but you sincerely hoped that he was your last. He was the only one to genuinely care for you like he did. He was the only one to make you shudder and moan like this, the only you let in and gave yourself fully.

And he was the only one you'd ever let rough you up like this.

"Yes, just like that, darling, give it to me," he said through gritted teeth as his fingers drove into you roughly, the wet, squelching sounds from your pussy lewdly filling up the room.

"S-San, please," you practically cried, fisting the blankets around you until your knuckles were white. "I-I wanna come on your c-cock--"

"No," he snarled, flicking his wrist in an angle that had you screaming loudly. "You're going to come right now. Come on, love, give it to me."

His fingers demanded an orgasm, forcing pleasure out of your body that enticed you to surrender. And that, he'll get.

You've never really come from just fingering, alone, and San knew that, so when you started to scream and thrash around from the force of your orgasm, you didn't want to come down from your high. But San had different plans.

You hadn't noticed him taking all of his clothes off. You certainly hadn't noticed him hike your legs up to prop them on his wide shoulders before sliding inside you in one go.

"Oh, fucking hell," he hissed through gritted teeth. He thrust once, groaning lowly from within his chest at the feel of you.

Goosebumps formed on your skin and you couldn't help the small scream that erupted from you. "Fuck---"

You couldn't even finish it, not when San began pounding away at you like never before. "Oh, Sannie---"

He chuckled at how your eyes rolled behind your head at the unrelenting pace of his thrusts, and by God, you loved every second of how animalistic and how uncaring San seemed even though you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

"I should've done this from the very beginning," he trapped his tongue between his teeth cockily before grabbing your chin and squeezing it tight. "You like this, slut?"

You whined when he squeezed your face even tighter, the pain blooming in your brain, mixing with the heady pleasure San offered you. "You're going to let me use this slutty pussy," he sneered, diving down to claim your lips.

You wrapped your arms around him, parting your lips naturally to receive his sinful tongue. You weren't going to last long at all. Whenever San's cock entered you, he usually took it slow and sensual as he loved the look on your face whenever your bodies would connect as one.

"Ngh, you feel so b-big," you groaned, not even thinking about it.

Blush crept up your cheeks. Just because you were more outgoing, doesn't mean you didn't have your shy moments. You've always wanted to tell San that fact, but you were too afraid that he wouldn't receive it well because of how reserved he was.

He raised a mocking brow at you as he chuckled lowly - maliciously, even. "I know," he said.

His callous way of saying it made you squeeze around his cock on reflex, your hips bucking up in response. San hissed, and for a split second, his hips stuttered at how impossibly tight you felt around him.

"Do that again," he barked out, bending down to suck the sensitive flesh of your shoulder, your legs getting folded in half as he went in deeper on you, hitting you in places you didn't think possible.

"Like this?" You squeezed on command, a surge of pride going through you when San shuddered, his body shaking with ecstasy . It was a physical manifestation of what you do to him.

He didn't let up, his hips drove into you over and over again without rest or fail, the sound of skin slapping against skin prevalent, the lewdness of it turning the both of you on even more. Every time San's hips hit your behind, you couldn't help your moans that turned into a staccato mess.

You gasped when he suddenly yanked your arms away from his shoulders, growling under his breath as he roughly pinned your hands on top of your head as he took your deep and hard, cursing over and over again and making you scream.

"S-San, fuck, s-so good," you panted heavily, not expecting the restraint to make you feel this good.

"You're mine," he growled, pushing into your body viciously. "Mine."

"Yours, yours, f-fuck, ah, y-yours," you cried out.

Oh, he loved that. He took a small moment to stare at your panting form, tears forming on the corners of your eyes as your glossy eyes stared into nothing. Fuck, he thought. You were a vision like this. He digs his fingers into your wrists.

"Tell me," he began. "Is that too tight?"

You shook your head vigorously, stray tears landing on the sheets, your red-rimmed eyes widened. "N-No," you stuttered. "L-Love it."

"Of course, you do," he scoffed, pushing down on your hands more, enough to temporarily cut blood off. There would be bruises tomorrow, and they would haunt him badly, but right now, he couldn't find any fucks about it. You were completely his tonight, both body and soul.

Even when you whined because your legs were starting to get numb, he still didn't lift the pressure from your wrists as you changed position. It was the psychological aspect of it; you trusted San not to exert too much power on you and he dominated you just enough for him to show you how much he cared about your pleasure even though every drag of his cock against your velvety walls defined how much he also used you for his pleasure as if you were a ragdoll only made for his cum.

"Wrap your legs around me, baby," he ordered. You wasted no time doing so with San pulling you to him at the same time as he held deep within you. He pauses, composing himself. "Kiss me."

His free hand frames your face, angling his head to immediately slip his tongue inside your mouth, coaxing yours to dance with his in a filthy battle for dominance. San pulls away, kissing the corner of your mouth to resume fucking into you, but he gets caught off guard when he makes eye contact with you.

You looked deeply into his eyes. For a moment, all was forgotten - your nakedness, the bruises forming on your wrists, the beads of sweat forming on his forehead, his panting breaths, everything. It was just the two of you conveying everything you both couldn't say at the moment with just your eyes.

You swallowed audibly, mustering the courage to keep staring into San's eyes despite you wanting to do nothing but hide away. It was intense, it burned through you, it made you feel special.

"Fuck me, San," you whined - begged - buckling your hips to meet his.

Darkness covered his entire features. He didn't need to be told twice. He gave you a quick kiss before pounding back into you with so much force, your bed began squeaking obnoxiously, the headboards knocking over the walls repeatedly.

He lets your wrists go to grabs the sides of your hips, pulling you to meet his cock with a loud, prolonged growl. "Not gonna last long, baby, fuck," he slams your hips over and over again so roughly, your hipbones began to hurt, but you could care less.

His fingers makes their way to your clit, rubbing it fast in tandem with his maddening thrusts. Electricity made their way through your spine, your body thrashing. "N-No, Sannie, baby, I-I can't," your hips bucked higher. "San!"

You were shaking violently against his hold, overstimulation messing with your brain at all the different onslaughts San was doing to your body. "It's too much, please," you begged, voice wavering

"I don't give a fuck," San roared, the brashness of his voice surprising you, the fire in his eyes as he glared at you spurring your pleasure to different heights. "You told me you'd do anything," he kept rubbing your clit, pinching it for effect. "Well, you better take what I fucking give you. Even if I force it out of you."

"San, please, please!" You screamed pitifully, sobbing with full force at the domineering pain that overtook your entire core.

"You're mine, Y/N. End of story. Shut up and take my cock."

He was stretching you to your limits, and it was almost unbearable, but you couldn't find it in you to tell him to stop. This was different, there was no easing into it like he usually did before he even started, and there were absolutely no words of affirmation from him to let your orgasm take over you. This was pure fucking on his end, a mission to ruin you like he promised, and you'd welcome it with open arms.

"A-Ah, ngh, S-San! I really c-can't, please," you sobbed, the overstimulation alternating between unbearable pain and toe-curling pleasure.

Fresh tears made their way down your face all the way down to your sweaty neck as your body shook violently. You were close, that much you can tell. San could tell. You gasped when he pressed his muscular arm on your neck with little pressure, enough to just keep you in place, but the dominant gesture literally made your vision go black.

He leaned down to lick a stripe from your neck to your ear, collecting your tears lewdly. You cried when he bit your earlobe. "You will," he whispered vehemently. "You fucking will. You're going to come hard on my fucking cock, and you're going to scream my name."

You gurgled on your spit when he pressed his arms on your windpipe, the cutoff of the blood elevating your pleasure. He bared his teeth at the erotic sight. "You hear me, darling? My fucking name. Come for me, right fucking," he lets out a primal scream as he pummels his cock with bruising effort like his life depended on it. "Now."

He releases your neck to bury his face on the crook of your neck, and with a loud gasp, you completely let go as you screamed San's name so hard, your voice started cracking towards the end. The aftershocks of your orgasm shook you underneath his body. It was enough for San to let himself go.

He rammed into you a couple of times before he sank into you one last time, his release devastatingly strong that his legs almost gave out on him. It took a bit of effort on his end to not collapse on top of you and crush you with his weight.

Heavy pants filled your ears as you gasped to catch your own breath. You realized too late that you had both forgotten and forgone the use of protection, but if you were being honest to yourself, you couldn't even begin to care, let alone regret it, and you knew you never will.

You must've passed out shortly afterwards and the next time you came to, you were clean and already dressed in one of your favourite pyjamas, laying down comfortably on a San's chest as your body pressed against his sides, his hand wrapped loosely on your shoulders.

San didn't notice when you stirred awake. His other hand held a book, one that you knew he'd been binge-reading for a while now, his face relaxed lest you count his furrowed brows as he concentrated. If you weren't tired, you would've cooed at the endearing sight.

He looked good, especially with the black-rimmed glasses perched up his straight nose. Your heart skipped a beat - you had this wild urge to kiss him dizzy as if the both of you didn't just have the most mind-blowing sex.

Finally, he notices you and he does a comical double take when he makes eye contact with you. A soft smile tugged at your lips as he fumbled with his book, dropping it like he was caught doing something he wasn't supposed to be doing.

"H-Hey, baby," he laughed nervously, trying to pry off his glasses with both hands, whining in embarrassment when he realized that both of his hands were occupied. "I, uh, didn't want to disturb you. You, uhm, looked so peaceful, I just..."

You bit your lip to stop yourself from giggling when he put his book down on his lap to take the glasses off, but his clammy hands prevented him from doing so and it kept slipping off of his fingers.

"I got it, don't worry," you breathed out, lifting your hand to hold onto his, guiding it so he'd have a better grip, but his hand was shaking a bit too much that the glasses ended up slipping once more, only this time, they tumbled off of the bed.

He froze. "Oh crap, oh my God, uhm."

San was a cute bundle of nervous energy. Long gone was the man who dominated you like he did it everyday. He muttered something to himself, his cheeks burning bright. You wanted to give him some reprieve - mercy, if you will.

"it's alright, Sannie, relax," you chuckled, adjusting yourself to try and put his book away, yourself, so he could grab his glasses back from the floor. "Here, let me---"

But he seemed to have the same idea. The moment you lifted your head, was the moment he tilted his head down, causing your foreheads to knock off of each other. You both groaned in surprise, and before you could help it, you laughed out loud, the absurdity of it all getting to you. Oh, this man was cute.

"Please, don't laugh," he whined, more embarrassed than ever. "A-Are you okay? I am so sorry, I swear I'm not usually this clumsy!"

You were still laughing, it was uncontrollable at this point, and then you let out the loudest snort you've ever heard yourself do.

Your eyes went wide in mortification, clamping your hand over your mouth in shock. San froze, not knowing what to say at first, but then, he surprised you when he started laughing so hard, his entire body shook yours and he even let out a loud snort, himself.

"Oh, God, we're such a m-mess," you laughed even harder, wiping the lone tear from your eye.

"I'll say," he shook his head amusingly.

Your heart skipped a beat at the warmth in his voice. The awkwardness, the snorts, the blunders, it didn’t matter. You were laughing together, and somehow, in that moment, it felt perfect.

"You're adorable," he whispered, pulling you to him to plant the softest kiss on your forehead. Suddenly, he pulled away, as if disbelieving that he just did that.

Just like that, the laughter died down. The air simmered with a light tension, not the awkward kind, only the type that came from someone who didn't want to overstep their boundaries.

He lifted your hands, touching the bruises that were beginning to form on your wrists with such gentleness that it actually hurt you to see him this way. "I'm sorry," he croaked, his finger lingering on the bruises as if he was trying to erase them.

"San," you spoke with conviction, cupping his face firmly. "It's okay, I, uhm, I liked it."

You flushed crimson at the admission. He didn't say anything, the grief in his eyes still visible, but lessened as you assured him that it was okay.

"How long was I out?" You asked, breaking the ice lightly.

"A little more than an hour," he hummed, clearing his throat before turning to you. "Listen, I- I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I know we've never really spent the night before, but I didn't want to leave you. It didn't feel right to me."

That made your heart soar, but it also almost struck a pang in your chest, his uncertainty was palpable. "Did I hurt you?" San asked, his voice quiet. "I was too rough, wasn't I? I'm worried I might have crossed some lines with you."

You softened at the concern in his eyes. You could tell he was genuinely troubled, his usual confidence now replaced with hesitation. You shook your head with a reassuring smile. "You didn't, not even close," you gave him a small peck on the cheek to make your point across. "I'm glad you stayed."

His brows lifted in surprise as you pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours to search for any signs of discomfort. "I don't know what came over me," he admitted, voice strained. "You just looked so damn good, I-I couldn't resist."

You stayed silent, letting him continue. San fidgeted with his finger to find the right things to say to you without overthinking too much. "What I'm trying to say is," he sighed. "I just want it to be perfect for you."

You hadn't expected him to be this open. Something warm coats your chest. it felt serene, calming even. "I don't want perfection, San," you shook your head. "But you are perfect for me."

His eyes widened, mouth hanging slightly at your admission. "Really?" San asked, as if he weren't expecting you to say anything of the like.

His expression softened, and he reached out, gently brushing his fingers against yours. The simple touch felt electric, as if everything until now had shifted into something more open, more real.

Everything seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you with a quiet understanding. No more uncertainty, no more hesitation. Just the simple truth of what was there all along.

"This is what I want," you said. "You're very kind, San. You listen, and you care. When I'm with you, I'm not pressured to be someone I'm not. I don't even have to because I know you'll be there for me."

He didn't speak, his gaze just lingering on you as if he was seeing you for the very first time. There was something in the way he looked at you, something unspoken, that made everything feel so clear. The depth of his affection was almost suffocating, but if that was the case, you'd drown in it willingly.

And San knew that you could feel it. He tucked the strays of your hair behind your ears before settling on your face. He smiled softly, still as shy as ever, and in between the knowing looks you both shared, he just hoped that his sincerity was enough.

"I think I want to love you one day," he murmured, heart beating wildly in his chest at the confession. "I would love to fall madly for you."

There were no words need to be said. The connotation was there, and you both knew it. You closed your eyes, a split second of imagination playing in your head. It was too soon, you two basically just met and you were still at that stage where you were still learning about each other, but you could almost see it then and there.

Still, the revelation left you reeling. Breathless, even.

"I think I want to love you one day, too," you confessed with a smile. "I can honestly see myself falling in love with you, San."

And if his smile wasn't an indicator of how happy he was, you didn't know what. You were happy, too.

Dividers by : @dollywons Like my work? Click here to view my previous story.

[luveline]

Pls reader who’s always wanted a baby but is too scared to ask hotch to have one with her — he’s his usual understanding self and also whipped and nearly cries cos he gets all emotional?

—you and Aaron misunderstand one another. fem, 2k

You debate yourself for weeks, on and off, alone or with company, and aided by the internet. 

Is it okay to want a baby when you have a step kid? Does really wanting a baby mean I don’t like the first one? Your search engine spits out forums and web articles alike that say the same things —of course it’s okay. Wanting another kid doesn’t mean you don’t love your first; craving to be a mom to a baby doesn’t mean you don’t love Jack, even though he had his own mom when he was a youngster. 

You read a little about it. Books recommended by the articles, and stories from women who became step-moms to children with mothers who had heartbreakingly passed away. It’s a guilty thing to be the mom or stepmom to a child who’s natural mom has died. You might always feel cruel for stealing her moments, for loving her ex husband, and raising her baby. But Jack isn't just someone’s baby, he’s Jack, and you don’t think you could’ve helped yourself. You would’ve loved him no matter what. 

Once you’ve worked past two different types of guilt, you’re crushed by your reality. Jack is nearly nine years old. Your husband isn’t exactly spry. Like, there’s nothing wrong with him (besides a stomach full of scar tissue and partial deafness in one ear), but he’s not a spring chicken, either, and he seems content with your life. In what world would he want to change diapers again? 

The same world where he gets to kiss a little cheek, you think hopefully. Where you get to make it together. Maybe… he loves you enough to try, even if it’s not something he’s pictured. 

You settle, and you decide to be brave. You’ll ask Aaron to have a baby with you, and you won’t feel guilty. 

You realise you can’t face the answer, is all. If he says no it’s gonna break your heart. If you never ask you’ll never get one, unless it’s an accident, and that’s not a good idea, either, you’d never purposefully want a baby to find out later on that the dad doesn’t want them, even if you’d be enough. You know you’d be a good mom, and that you could deal with things alone. There’s an avenue you could take where you have your baby no matter what, it’s your life. 

If only you didn’t love Aaron as much as you do. The idea of being without him is a horror you don’t want to contend with. 

Aaron can sense your constant mental back-and-forth, though he hasn’t guessed what it’s about yet. If you give him time he might get there on his own. He watches you thinking and he wraps a hand around your leg. Weird thing to do, but he’s not normal. He’s a gentleman mostly. Rare moments like this betray his character, how he loves you, pulling your leg toward him and hugging it to his chest despite a strange angle.

“Honey,” he begins softly. 

“Not tonight, I have a headache.” 

“That’s not funny,” he says, smiling, “you know you don’t have to say anything else besides no.” 

“Can’t imagine being with someone who needs a reason,” you say, softly as he had as you lay back against a minky cushion, “‘m lucky my love’s such a gentleman.” 

“You can’t deflect all night.” 

“I was only kidding. Take my pants off and we’ll–” You gasp a laugh as he squeezes your thigh. “Shit, don’t do that!” 

“You don’t have to be so crass about everything,” he says, joking. And people would tell you he has no sense of humour. “I’m trying to ask if you’re okay. I know you’re dodging the question, but I was gonna persuade you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” you ask, letting your knees tip apart, punished by another awful squeeze. 

“Honey.” He kisses your knee. Your heart is pressed on from all sides. “I just want to know what’s upsetting you lately. I can tell it’s important, but I can’t work out what it is.” 

“It’s not. Not important, I mean.” 

“I’ve been putting my mind to it. There aren’t many things that could take up this much of your attention. I worried you might’ve been chafing with Jack, but you’re as sweet on him as usual. I worried you might be having second thoughts about us, but you’re not. You’re too careful with your wedding ring to have me think you don’t love me, and–” He rubs at your leg. “You’re as tactile as ever. You aren’t drawing away from us. I don’t want to think about it, but I’m worried you’re sick or something similar and you aren’t telling me.” 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you say, startling you both, “please don’t worry, I’m not sick.“ 

“You’re alright?” he asks. 

“I’m about as healthy as I usually am.” 

“But?” 

You can’t not tell him. You’re married. He loves you. While you’ve driven yourself crazy wondering how much, he’s been worrying you’re poorly. It’s unfair, and you can’t do it much longer. 

“I have been thinking about something for a while,” you confess. 

“And a lot.” 

“Yeah. I think about it every day.” 

Aaron turns your face to his. You’d have to change positions to kiss, your leg firmly locked in his grasp. He doesn’t lean in, holding your eye with a seriousness rarely given at home. He looks as though he’s had a long day. “I can’t think of anything you could say to me that I wouldn’t still love you by the end,” he says quietly. 

“It’s not about love.” 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“Because there are things we won’t agree on.” 

“I can’t agree if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking,” he says. 

“I know. I’m not not telling you because you aren’t allowed to disagree with me, I’m just scared.” 

“Scared?” he asks, frowning now, that square wrinkle at his brow deeply carved. 

You have to build yourself up for a long time before you can say what you want to say out loud. He waits in the quiet, his expression impossible to read. 

“You know how much I love Jack.” 

Aaron’s hands are still on your leg. “Of course.”

“And how much I love you.” 

His lips part, but he doesn’t speak. There’s a dawning understanding on his face as he stops touching you, his hands falling to his lap resoundingly. “What’s going on?” he asks. 

You aren’t encouraged by his response. 

He doesn’t want a baby. Saying it is admitting to a difference between you both, one that might make him angry. You’ve never had him angry with you.

Usually, if he noticed your flicker of fear, he’d have rushed to correct it, but Aaron does nothing now. He simply waits. 

“I wanted to ask you to have a baby with me,” you say quietly, watching him for an emotion and finding him with a blankness he’s practised over years. You’ve no hope of discerning him. “But I don’t think you’ll say yes. I’m sorry. I just want it.” 

He swallows roughly. “Oh.” 

“I know it’s not something we’ve talked about much.” 

His hands return. His fingers slip up your calf until it’s trapped in the hinge of your knee, pulling your thigh to his chest. Hip to hip as you are, you’d think it would be uncomfortable, but he’s gentle. He leans down to rest his cheek against your knee. For a moment, you’re his to look at, squirming with nerves and depressed to have disappointed him. You fight the urge to run. 

“For a second I thought you were about to tell me you’d cheated on me,” he says under his breath. 

You startle. “What?” 

“You looked so sorry, my mind went straight to the worst. You looked like you knew you were about to hurt me.” 

His sincerity is aching. 

“I could never do that.”

“I know, I’m sorry for entertaining it…” He picks up his head. “I never thought you’d be scared to talk to me about anything. It was the only thing I could think of that you might’ve done wrong.” 

“I thought you were angry about the baby.” 

“Is there… a baby?” he asks tentatively. 

“No.” You rub the painful throb between your eyes. “No, there isn’t a baby. I just meant you’d be angry at me for asking. Disrupting our life.” 

“You think you’re disrupting us by expressing what you want?” 

“It’s a big thing.” 

“Can I put you out of your misery?” He turns to take your face into his hand. “I would never be angry with you for wanting something, especially a baby. And I can tell how much this has worried you, so while I can’t promise the answer is uncomplicated, I’m happy to say yes to you. If you want a baby and you want that with me, of course I’ll say yes.” 

“Jack–”

“Honey, you’re thinking too much about Jack. Children have siblings. It doesn’t mean you don’t love them. Is that why you brought him up first?” 

You look away, ashamed to be read. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t know everything.” 

“Honey, I don’t.” 

Your smile is unbidden and somehow deeply felt at the same time, chancing a happy look at him. He’s smiling too. “You’re serious? You’d have a baby with me?” 

He turns into you even more, raising his remaining hand to your opposite cheek, holding you sweetly, putting you nose to nose. “I wish you’d asked me before you worried yourself sick. I would love to have a baby with you, sweetheart. I didn’t realise it was something you wanted already.” 

“I want it with you,” you say, matching his low tone. 

“And I want it with you. How couldn’t I?” 

You fight the sudden heat of tears, your heart pounding in your ears. ”I figured Jack is growing up, you’re so busy, and things have only now calmed down–” 

“Who cares?” he asks, laughing. 

“I thought you might.” 

“I’m sure I will, but not right now. You want a baby?” He gives your head the gentlest squeeze between his hands. “Sweetheart. You want to have a baby?” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“Then let’s have a baby.” Aaron’s shaking his head, pulling you in, his lips glancing off of your cheek as he hugs you tighter than he ever has. You lose all the breath in your lungs. 

“Don’t hurt me,” you tease, relaxing for the first time in weeks in his arms, “or I won’t be able to have one.” 

“I could never hurt you like that,” he says easily. “Oh, sweetheart.” He says your name. He says it again. 

All that fuss for nothing. You confess on a high, “I want one so bad I don’t know what to do with myself half the time, I– I went to the mall a few days ago to look at the baby stuff, just to look, and I wanted to ask you when I got home but I lost my nerve.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I even picked up this little babygrow with flowers on the feet but–” You fluster at the memory. “Sorry, that’s so weird.” 

“It’s not weird.” He encourages you away with another rough swallow and scares you half to death —if he cries, you’re gonna sob. His eyes are definitely glassy. “We should go, you can show me.” 

“Really?” 

“We have to start preparing at some point, right?” 

You climb onto your knees and vault on top of him, arms around his neck, no chance he can get away. He takes it like a champ, returning your ecstatic laughter with a more content chuckle, a big hand spreading out protectively over your shoulder.

A baby, you think, unaware that Aaron’s thinking the exact same thing, with the same reverent warmth growing in his chest. A baby. 

[ari-ana-bel-la]

I love Dad Lando! I wonder if you could do one where his little girl has a crush on Max Verstappen and runs away to the Red Bull garage, and Max has a lot of fun with her.

Tiny Crush

Lando had always loved bringing his three-year-old daughter, Yn, to race weekends. Ever since she was old enough to babble excitedly about cars, she had been his little shadow in the paddock, clinging to his hand and absorbing everything he told her. It made his heart swell every time he saw her wide-eyed wonder as she watched the cars zoom by.

But lately, he had noticed something—Yn was spending more and more time at the Red Bull garage. And not just anywhere in Red Bull, but specifically with Max.

At first, Lando had shrugged it off. Max had always been good with kids, and Yn had known him since she was a baby. But when, for the third race in a row, Yn asked to see Max before even stepping foot in the McLaren hospitality, Lando started to wonder. Was she mad at him? Had he done something wrong?

So, naturally, he did what any slightly panicked father would do—he called his mother.

"Mad at you?" His mum had laughed down the phone. "Lando, sweetheart, she’s three. She’s not mad at you."

"Then why does she keep running off to see Max first? It used to be me," Lando had huffed, pacing around his hotel room.

His mother chuckled again, and he could practically hear the amusement in her voice. "Oh, Lando. She probably just has a tiny crush on Max."

"A crush?" Lando nearly dropped his phone.

"Yes, darling. It happens. Little girls get their first crushes on nice, safe adults they feel comfortable with. It’s harmless."

Lando had groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "So she’s not replacing me?"

"Of course not. You’ll always be her number one, but sometimes, little girls like feeling special around someone new. Just enjoy it. And maybe tease Max a little while you're at it."

Now, sitting on the edge of the bed in their hotel suite, Lando gently brushed Yn’s long, slightly tangled hair. She sat in his lap, her tiny hands resting against his arm as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

"Papa?" Her voice was small, hesitant.

"Hmm?" Lando carefully worked out a knot, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

"Can we see Max today?"

Lando had to fight down his grin. He knew it. He knew it.

"Yeah, princess, we can see Max," he promised, pressing another kiss to her temple.

Yn giggled, her little feet kicking happily against his legs. "Yay!"

Lando shook his head fondly. "You’re lucky I like Max."

Yn turned in his lap, blinking up at him with her big, innocent eyes. "You love Max."

Lando sighed dramatically. "Yeah, yeah, I do. But not as much as I love you."

She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Love you too, Papa."

When they arrived at the paddock, Lando automatically reached down to pick Yn up, but she huffed, swatting at his hands.

"Papa, I’m big," she reminded him. "No carry."

Lando smothered a laugh. "Alright, alright. No carrying. Hand?"

Yn considered it for a moment before nodding, slipping her tiny fingers into his. Together, they walked through the paddock, greeting a few people along the way. But the second the Red Bull garage came into view, Yn dropped his hand and took off running.

"Yn—!" Lando started, but it was no use. She was already weaving through the crowd like she owned the place.

Lando jogged after her, arriving just in time to see her tug on the shirt of one of the Red Bull mechanics. The man turned, grinning when he saw who it was.

"Hey, sweetheart," the mechanic greeted. "Looking for Max?"

Yn nodded eagerly. "Is he here?"

The mechanic chuckled, pointing toward the back of the garage. "Right over there."

Yn wasted no time. She darted toward Max, who was leaning against a workbench, chatting with one of his engineers. The second he saw Yn running toward him, he crouched down, opening his arms just in time for her to launch herself at him.

"Max!" she squealed.

Max laughed, catching her easily. "Hey, kleine prinses," he greeted, using the Dutch nickname he had given her. "Missed me already?"

Yn nodded, her small hands clutching at his race suit. "Missed you lots."

Max grinned, shooting Lando an amused glance. Lando, now leaning against the garage wall with his arms crossed, rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You’re stealing my child."

Yn turned her head, frowning at Lando. "Papa, no stealing. I still love you."

Max snickered. "See? She still loves you."

Lando sighed dramatically. "Barely."

Yn giggled, then turned back to Max, her voice suddenly shy. "Max?"

"Hmm?" Max adjusted her slightly in his arms, giving her his full attention.

"Can we go on a track walk today?"

Lando watched as Max’s expression softened completely.

"A track walk?" Max repeated. "With me?"

Yn nodded eagerly.

Max glanced at Lando. "That okay?"

Lando sighed but smiled. "Yeah, go ahead. Just make sure she doesn’t run onto the track."

Max grinned. "Deal."

Before they left, Max grabbed a spare Red Bull cap, adjusting it on Yn’s head. It was far too big, practically swallowing her whole, but she beamed up at him like he had just given her the best gift in the world.

Lando groaned. "Great. Now she’s Red Bull-branded."

Max just smirked. "She has good taste."

Yn reached for Max’s hand, gripping his fingers tightly as they made their way toward the track entrance. Lando followed a few steps behind, watching as Max slowed his pace to match Yn’s tiny steps.

"Max, how fast do you go here?" Yn asked as they reached the main straight.

"Really fast," Max replied. "More than 300 kilometers per hour."

Yn’s eyes widened. "That’s so fast."

Max chuckled. "It is. But don’t worry, I’m very good at driving."

Yn nodded seriously. "I know. That’s why I like you."

Lando bit his lip, trying so hard not to laugh. Max, on the other hand, grinned.

"You like me, huh?" Max teased. "More than Papa?"

Yn gasped dramatically, spinning around to face Lando. "No! Papa is best! But Max is second best."

Lando feigned offense, clutching his chest. "Second?!"

Max smirked. "I’ll take it."

They continued their walk, Yn firing off questions about everything—the corners, the tire marks, the pit lane. Max answered each one patiently, even demonstrating a few racing lines by jogging ahead and showing her where to brake.

By the time they made it back to the paddock, Yn was yawning, rubbing her eyes sleepily. Max handed her back to Lando, who hoisted her up despite her earlier protests about being "too big to be carried."

"Thanks for entertaining her," Lando said, adjusting Yn on his hip.

Max smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Yn’s forehead. "Anytime."

Yn wrapped her arms around Lando’s neck but peeked over at Max, her voice soft. "Can we do it again?"

Max grinned. "Of course, kleine prinses."

Lando groaned. "Great. Now I have to share my daughter with you."

Yn giggled sleepily. "Love you, Papa. Love you, Max."

Max patted her back gently. "Love you too, little one."

And despite his teasing, Lando couldn’t help but smile. Maybe sharing wasn’t so bad after all.

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Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed this story. My requests are always open for you.

-💙🦋

[yameoto]

caitvi x free-use reader

tw: free-use (duhhh)

for caitlyn, it wouldn’t even occur to her that she wouldn’t do this. her whole life, she’s had everything she could ever want, at her fingertips. only a whisper of a surname, and she could breeze right through and take, and take, and take. with you? she needn't even do that. she already has you. you’re hers—is it not a given? why wouldn’t she beckon you by the fingers, head bowed over some documents at her desk. orders, “sit, here.” and you don’t even realise where she’s guiding you til’ her arm is hooked around your waist and slipping her fingers up your gown to tug away your panties, sliding you upon her erect cock. doesn’t even thrust. though she does, smile, at the sharp inhale that she can feel along your back, flush against her own chest. twitches, inside of you. your walls tighten around her.

“what? i was cold.” her tone doesn’t shift an inch, not so much as a quiver as she continues writing away. her eloquent cursive is blurry in your vision, for you’re too busy trying not to urgently rut up against her member because caitlyn will drag you over to sit on her cock, yet, refuse to fuck you. she’s cruel, like that.

vi would be a different matter. a product of her supreme lack of self-restraint. she’s just so enamoured with you; so in awe at how a pretty thing like you could be all, all hers—that she can’t help but want to bask it in a little. hugs you from behind and you feel her rub her bulge against your ass, panting softly in your ear. can’t stop herself until she’s yanking your skirt down and burying herself inside. she can’t help it. just wants to feel you. loves the way you always whine, clenching in surprise and choking her cock—whenever she does it like this. murmurs, “god, baby. m’so lucky to have you.” as she nips your ear and groans like a needy thing with each buck of her hips. you can’t even find it in yourself to be mad, when she forgets to pull-out when she cums.

secretly, she’s glad. she’ll lick it out of you, later.