#moments later he's a lovesick puppy

[kaizsche]

ben: eyes on the road TWISTERS (2024)

[lqveharrington]

The Alchemy | D.M.

summary: Although Draco promised that he would keep your relationship a secret just for you, he can’t contain himself after winning the Hogwarts quidditch cup.

pairing: draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader

includes: FLUFF, established relationship (and a last name of Evergreen for the reader)

a/n: inspired by the olympics recently ❤️

When Draco asked you out in fourth year, you thought it was a joke. Sure, you were both acquainted due to your pure wizardry bloodline, but you were in Hufflepuff. The only time the other houses thought you were useful was when they wanted to sneak into the kitchen. So when he came up and sat down beside you when you were studying potions, you were disheartened.

“Malfoy, please don’t do this.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead. You were just starting to understand what ingredients made a truth serum.

“Do what? I’m asking you if you want to go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” He spun the Malfoy signet ring adorning his hand.

You look up at him with tired eyes, “Did someone put you up to this?”

“What? No no, I—“ He cleared his throat, feeling his cheeks warm at how you were able to fluster him with even a small glance. “I’m really asking you to go on a date with me.”

You search his face for any indication of a lie, before biting your lip softly and looking down at your parchment. “Are you really?”

“I am.” Draco dropped his hand onto yours to stop your fidgeting with the quill.

You felt your own face heat up at the notion. He thumbed your palm softly as you stayed quiet, not minding his closeness. Finally, you looked up at him, “You have yourself a date, Malfoy.” He sent you a soft smile but before he could say anything else, you interrupted. “Please don’t let me down.”

Draco never let you down. Despite your earlier doubts, you saw how kind and thoughtful the Malfoy heir was underneath his hardened shell his father had built around him. In private, he was always attentive, loving, clingy — there wasn’t a moment where he was separated from you. In public, he had to rein in those feelings just for you.

Even when you started your seventh year at Hogwarts, you were still terrified what others at school would say about a Hufflepuff dating the Slytherin Prince. Sure, his parents and your parents knew, but not the entirety of Hogwarts. You had asked Draco to keep your relationship private until you were ready to face the reality of your relationship to the rest of the world. He begrudgingly agreed, respecting your wishes; but the need to kiss you in front of the entire student body to rightly claim that you were his was wavering.

Especially when it had been three years since you first started dating. And right now, you were currently hiding below the stands together as you greeted him with good luck kisses for his final quidditch match as a student in Hogwarts.

“I.” Kiss. “Love.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. You say softly as he holds you close by your hips — smiling into all your kisses. “Good.” Kiss. “Luck.” Kiss.

“You’re killing me here, love.” Draco murmurs against your lips. He pulls away gently to look at your ever so loving gaze. He draws small hearts on you hip, “You done?”

“Never.” You kiss him again, hands cupping his jaw. “I want you to be stuck with me forever.”

He hums into the kiss as you thumb his cheeks softly, “I will after I win this game, my love.”

You separate again, grinning like a lovesick puppy. “Good luck, Dray. I’ll see you later.” You press one last kiss to his lips before leaving his arms and running up the Hufflepuff stands to cheer. You couldn’t deny that even after all these years he still made you giddy and red.

Draco shook his head with a soft smile only you could coax out of him. He walked out from the stands and hopped on his broom, ready in the air for his final match as Slytherin’s seeker. Cheers filled the stadium as the players took their place, captains shaking hands.

The final match for Slytherin and Gryffindor was probably the most anticipated all year round. Since it was also Harry Potter’s last game as seeker, and the two seekers were known as rivals, it was hyped up to be one of the best end matches of the season.

As the game progressed, Slytherin and Gryffindor were constantly tied. It was really up to the seekers to find the golden snitch to determine the winner. There were bets taking place in the house stands, mind fixated on earning a few galleons for the last time. For the Hufflepuff stands, they were a house divided. Many cheered for scarlet and gold while the other half cheered for green and silver.

You didn’t mind the division between your house. After all, you only watched the games for Draco. Your friends were cheering for the Gryffindors whilst you carried the small Slytherin flag in your hands — eyes trained on the blonde high above the game itself. The second you blinked from the blazing sun, Draco was soaring after the golden snitch, Harry close behind and eventually flying right next to him.

The shouts from the stands only fueled the seekers’ attention to the flying gold. Draco and Harry were chasing in circles after the snitch, attention focused on nothing else even as the bludger zoomed past them.

You held your breath as they both reach out for the snitch. Your friend held your shoulder in anticipation, watching the two closely. Before you could register what happened, she gasped and shook your shoulders in frustration.

“I lost ten galleons to that!” She sighed heavily as Draco flashed the golden snitch in the air.

The rush of the win made you scream happily with the other Hufflepuffs and houses cheering for the Slytherin team. You wear clapping your hands as the team began flying around in victory. You watched as Draco flew around the stands more as the rest of the Slytherin team settled on the grounds. His eyes scanned the stadium until they lit up when they saw you at the very front of the Hufflepuff stands — waving your Slytherin flag with pride.

“Seems like Malfoy is off showing the last snitch he’ll catch for the Slytherin quidditch team! But we all want to know where the trophy is!” The third year announcer spoke, voice casted across the stadium.

You smiled at Draco softly when you finally met his eyes. And before you knew it, he flew right over to you and cupped your face, kissing you senselessly. You grinned into the kiss as you held his cheeks, the shouts and screams from your housemates blending in your ears.

“Aw, quite a beautiful way to celebrate the win. Don’t you think so, McGonagall? Honestly, I wasn’t expecting Malfoy and Evergreen— Ow, sorry.” The third year announcer spoke once more, rubbing the spot the professor lightly hit them with a newspaper.

You part from Draco with a blinding smile, “I think I agree, this is a beautiful way to celebrate.” You say quietly only for him to hear, pressing quick kisses to his lips.

“I’m proud of you, love.” Draco nudges your nose with his to gently stop your kisses for a second — even though he did want more.

“Me? You just won the quidditch cup for your house!” You laugh while wrapping your arms behind his neck, careful in trying not to pull him off his broom.

He rubbed the apples of your cheeks, “You just let me kiss you in front of the entire student body… I think that’s more important.” He pulled you in for another mind searing kiss, making you smile helplessly.

“AGAIN?” The third year announcer shouted into the microphone once more. “Is there—“

“Alright, we’re done announcing, boys and girls.” Professor McGonagall spoke and shut the speakers off; although she was quite happy for the couple.

You giggled as he pulled you into a hug. “I love you.”

Draco pressed kisses to your cheek repeatedly, “I love you more.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[strwbrychffoncke]

"ah, ah, you're obsessed.. ah, ah, you're obsessed!,, 1.8k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: sometimes caleb just wishes to devour you whole contains: nsfw! lnds caleb x afab!reader ,obsessed!caleb but whats new ,soft?dom caleb ,pipsqueak/baby/princess used as petnames ,kissing ,praise ,slight body worship ,teasing ,facesitting ,cunnilingus ,caleb eats u out through ur panties (later they come off) ,edging ,orgasm ,overstim but barely ,implied u keep going ,i think thats it note: (edited!) releasing this late just for it to be a new concept to play with :p editing this was so hard for no reason sigh

-

if someone asked him, caleb would say, in a roundabout way, that he was utterly obsessed with you.

though honestly, it wasn't hard for anyone to decipher that on their own given the way he takes any opportunity to mention you, much less if anyone were to catch sight of him with you— the little lovesick eyes he'd be staring at you with resembled a puppy, trailing after and following your every whim (not without some of his own teasing). furthermore, the shift in his eyes that he'd give to anyone that recognized you was usually enough to demand them not to interrupt your time together.

if you were to ask him, he might even confess that you were the very air that he breathed.

maybe thats why he's kissing you with so much fervor now, stealing your breath from your lungs to fuel and burn into his, but even then its not enough, not really.

he has you caged against his bedroom door— he didn't let a second pass after it clicked closed when he tugged your arm lightly to pull you against it, back hitting the wood with a light thud— arms coming up on either side of your head to trap you against him as he devours your lips.

your hands are clutching at the front of his shirt, left with no space to fight back as caleb's kisses grow almost desperate, borderline trying to consume you. after several minutes of this, you start tugging at his thin shirt, trying your best to push him back just enough to fill your lungs with oxygen.

"cale— mmph— caleb!"

he gets the message, breaking the kiss and watching as your eyes flutter open, one of your arms coming up, back of your hand hovering over your mouth almost acting as a barrier against any more subsequent kiss attacks as you gasp for much needed air.

you're looking up at him through your lashes, eyes wide and holding a mix of shock and... shyness?

caleb thinks the flustered look is the cutest on you.

his hands come let go of the wall in favor of holding your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks for a moment before his touch goes lower, hands sliding down your neck and down your shoulders and further, rubbing up and down your sides before settling on your waist.

he feels the way you shiver at his touch, and he can't help the satisfied and pleased curl of his lips.

he leans in close, lips hovering right above your ear.

"i think i could just eat you up, pipsqueak."

expecting to fluster you further, his eyes widen in slight shock when he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to plant a soft kiss against his jawline.

"then do it."

your whisper of encouragement is all that he needs.

-

he takes his time feeling your skin under his fingers, unintentionally teasing you, not realizing until you whine and tell him to hurry up, already! coaxing a fond chuckle from his lips before he's on his knees before you, his fingers ghosting over your shorts, tugging them down your legs and helping you step out of them, tossing them to the side.

he rubs his hands over your thighs back and forth, looking up at you with a fond look in his eyes.

he begins to nip at the fat, unable to suppress the need to squeeze at the plush flesh as he leaves loving marks (ones that you'll look back at and probably reprimand him for later).

but he couldn't help it. he wanted, needed to plant his lips on you, on anywhere he was able to reach.

"take them off already!"

when you squirm under his touches, body slumping against the door and head thrown back in frustration, whining again at the feel of his mouth so close yet so far to where you need him the most, he suddenly pulls back, patting your thighs as he moves to stand up.

"get up, baby," he mutters, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and slipping it over his head, tossing it to a corner of the room. you watch as he then makes his way towards his bed, laying on his back before beckoning you over.

"come and sit on my face."

your eyes widen in shock at the demand while a lazy grin is spread on his face.

"b-but, caleb—"

"c'mere already," his voice is soft but the demand within it is firm.

you take a deep breath, taking slow steps towards the bed. caleb's eyes are on you the entire way, feeling how the mattress dips under your weight and watching you crawl to sit over his lap.

his hands reach out for you, grabbing hold of your hips and pulling you towards him, dragging you up over his abs and onto his chest.

"caleb, wait—"

your hands shoot out to grab onto him but he ignores your protest, lifting you up with ease right over his mouth.

"been waitin' all day to do this, baby," he breathes, hastily lowering your core closer and closer to his awaiting mouth.

"but caleb, i still have my—"

"keep them on, ill eat you out through them," he murmurs against the thin barrier, sticking his tongue out to lap at the spot of arousal as he sits you completely on him, licking and sucking at your heat through your panties.

you moan at the sensation of his tongue through the thin barrier, pleasure teetering between being not enough and a little too much as he licks and sucks at you as if he were starved.

it seems these panties in particular are doing something to him. you feel the way he's groaning against your core as his movements grow faster, tongue curling around where your entrance would be, ears red from the sounds and small begs you breathe out into the cool room.

when you notice his face going a little red, you lift yourself off of him just slightly, looking down at him concerned.

"caleb! are you okay?"

a displeased growl escapes his throat, his eyes stern as they meet yours, hands gripping your hips just a little bit harsher— you wince under the increased pressure.

"'m just fine, pipsqueak, but i can't promise you'll be if you get up again."

"but i—"

"i don't care if it looks like suffocating," he tugs at your hips, sly smirk curling up his lips.

"you know how much i hate when my mealtime gets interrupted."

with that, you're planted firmly back over his mouth, a moan ripped from your throat as he immediately gets back to work. you can't help the involuntary jerk of your hips against his mouth, seeking further friction in the pleasure with the barrier in place.

you're not sure how long has passed but you feel your core begin to tighten, your release steadily approaching.

"caleb, close," you pant, fingers tugging at his hair, practically riding his face at this point to increase the pressure enough to cum.

"yeah? gonna cum, baby?"

the thin fabric of your panties is practically soaked at this point, and caleb seems to be going a little crazier at the feel while at the same time, desperate to be tasting you properly.

with a single finger he moves the fabric to the side, slipping two long fingers into your leaking entrance as he laps at your folds. you throw your head back at the full sensation— no longer deterred from the barrier— moans increasing in volume as you continue riding his face.

his mouth is desperate as he slips his tongue in and out of you, curling his fingers just right and when he uses a thumb to play with your clit at the same time, it all feels like too much, and you tell him so, lifting your hips ever so slightly—

but caleb notices, and he's not happy.

his eyes rake up to your almost-gone expression, wondering if you've even realized what you did.

without saying anything, you feel yourself sit completely and firmly against caleb once again. when he begins the onslaught of pleasure once more, your body shaking from the sensations, you feel yourself being held down.

your eyes shoot to his narrowed ones, looking right back at you.

he's using his evol so you can't get away again.

you cry out, overwhelmed with pleasure and with a few more thrusts from his tongue and presses against your clit, you're coming all over his tongue and fingers, hips bucking against his face and satisfied hums and moans escaping your lips.

this is how it should be.

caleb keeps working his fingers inside of you, groaning and chest rumbling in satisfaction at the way your release spills into his mouth and down the bottom half of his face, welcoming the way your thighs squeeze around his head, letting you ride out your high against him.

he feels the way your body trembles above him, weak hands tugging at his short hair as he continue lapping at you, fingers still alternating their curling motions within you, albeit slower.

"too... m-much, too much caleb—"

he decides to be nice.

he slowly pulls his fingers from you, grabbing your hips steady and setting you down on his chest.

you watch each other catch your breaths, and take a look at the state the other is in.

caleb loves the dazed expression you're sporting, panting out into the air, looking absolutely spent already.

meanwhile, in the midst of your hazy high you're slowly coming down from, embarrassment begins to crawl up your system at the sight of caleb's messy hair and drenched face, no thanks to you.

you scoot back further, sitting on his abs as your hands lay flat against his pecks.

"sorry about—"

"nuh-uh, this is exactly what i wanted," he interrupts you, grinning in satisfaction.

"though..."

his voice trails off as his eyes drift down to your soaked panties.

"these," he hooks a finger through the twisted portion of it, "might be ruined."

you only laugh, sitting up on your knees. he watches you make quick work of taking them off before planting yourself back down on top of him. you lean forward, a little daringly, sly smile making its way onto your face as you rub your hands over his chest.

"those were new," you feign a pout, one hand curling into itself, index finger pointed out to drag your touch over his heart.

"you'll have to make it up to me," you lean back slightly, hands withdrawing to trail over the hem of your top.

caleb's eyes are glued to you.

"oh, do i, now?"

"yeah," you meet his teasing yet curious gaze, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it carelessly on the floor, leaning forward again, hands flat on the pilot's chest.

you tilt your head innocently.

"how will you do it?"

in a swift motion, he grips your hips again, lifting you back up , holding you just before his lips.

"sit back down and you'll find out, princess."

-

a/n: would he be in to this? i cant tell ,but i can see it

-

[nicholasluvbot]

ㅤㅤㅤMY FIRST AND LAST,ㅤㅤ𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 !

𝖫𝖨𝖡𝖱𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖮 ੭୧ ────── 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂'𝗆 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

( 사랑 )ㅤ 𓈒ㅤ𝖿𝖾𝗆 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ✴ 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇𝖻𝖺𝖽 ! 𝖻𝗇𝖽 1400ㅤ◞ ◟ㅤ𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ❜ㅤㅤ🍸ㅤㅤ𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅

notes.ㅤ 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝗇𝗁𝖺𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝖾𝖽. 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾, 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 !

JAEHYUN

jaehyun is snuggled against your side, legs draped over your lap, a ridiculous smile tugging at his lips as he fidgets with your fingers, trying to braid them together with his own.

“what are you doing?” you ask fondly, endeared by your boyfriend’s drunk antics.

“Trying to figure out the best way to never let go of you,” he mumbles, eyebrows pulled together as he continues to tangle your fingers with his.

“before we started dating, i used to practice kissing my hand and pretend it was you,” he confesses suddenly, red blooming on his cheeks. “in, like, the most respectful way.”

you laugh. “you what?”

“i liked you so much, it made me nervous,” he whines. “you still make me nervous, but in a good way.”

he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, the faint taste of alcohol mingling on your tongue. when he pulls away, he presses your hand to his chest. “feel that? that’s how nervous you make me.”

and sure enough, you feel his heart racing under your touch.

jaehyun yawns, sleepily snuggling closer, hand still holding yours. “don’t leave after i fall asleep,” he murmurs against your skin.

“never,” you whisper back, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

SUNGHO

sungho is pretending he’s sober. sitting upright on the kitchen stool, watching you fill up a glass of water with a straight face—like he wasn’t stumbling over his own feet and slurring his words just a few minutes ago.

“i’m completely fine. i only had, like, half a drink.”

“sure, you are.”

he opens his mouth to argue, but you hand him the glass of water. “just drink.”

he brings the glass to his lips with a small frown, and you get down on your knees, slipping his shoes off his feet.

when you stand back up, sungho’s stern expression has softened into something more like a kicked puppy. his eyes are teary, lips pulled together in a wobbling pout.

“sungho, what’s wrong?”

his lower lip trembles as he sets the glass down on the counter, then gently pulls you closer by the waist until you’re standing between his legs.

“you always do this. you always take care of me without complaining.”

your heart softens at his words, thumb swiping against his cheek to wipe a stray tear. “because i love you.”

“but it’s not fair,” he pouts harder, giving you a little shake. “you always look out for me. and you always save me the last cookie. every time. even when it’s the good one with the chocolate chunk.”

you blink. “i—what?”

“you don’t think i notice, but i do.”

you bite back a laugh when more tears slip down his cheeks. he looks so genuinely heartbroken over your small acts of love, it’s actually kind of adorable.

“are you crying?”

“i’m emotional because i love you so bad,” he whines. “let me be.”

later, after he’s done crying over your love, he ends up curled up by your side, hand clasped tightly in yours, muttering something about marrying you in a cookie shop.

RIWOO

riwoo is giggling. a lot. at nothing in particular. he keeps brushing against your hand and smiling like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

“you’re so soft,” he says, squeezing your fingers. “and you’re so cute. like, insanely cute.”

you poke his cheek. “look who’s talking.”

and just like that, soft giggles spill from his lips again as he buries his face in his hands. “don’t say that, i’ll combust.”

then suddenly, he sobers up a little, eyes glossy and a lovesick smile still plastered to his lips. “i don’t think you understand,” he says, voice soft and dreamy, “how many times i imagined this. us. this exact moment. you in your pajamas, me in love with you.”

you smile, brushing his hair from his eyes. “you’re drunk.”

“i’m honest,” he counters, followed by a contented sigh. “i think i loved you before i even realized i did. and i just keep loving you more and more every day.”

“good, because you’re stuck with me forever.”

he nods, snuggling in. “i’ll love you even more when i’m old and wrinkly and can’t even remember my own name.”

your heart softens. “but you’ll remember mine?”

he smiles against your skin. “always.”

TAESAN

“dance with me,” taesan says, swaying slightly as he pulls you into the living room.

“there’s no music,” you point out.

“you’re the music,” he says instantly, spinning you around with all the grace of a sleep-deprived giraffe.

you giggle, “you’re stumbling.”

“exactly,” he grins, tugging you closer. “all the more reason for you to hold me.”

so you do. arms loosely wrapped around his neck as he sways both of your bodies clumsily, barefoot on the living room floor.

it’s sweet. perfect. until his elbow knocks into the lamp, sending it crashing to the ground.

you both freeze.

a beat passes—then laughter erupts out of both of you, loud and helpless, as you double over, clutching each other, tears welling in your eyes from how hard you’re laughing.

he flops onto the couch, dragging you down with him, limbs tangled, laughter still bubbling as he stretches himself across you like a warm, giggling blanket.

“i should be mad,” you mumble, fingers threading gently through his hair.

taesan hums sleepily, nose brushing your collarbone. “be in love instead.”

LEEHAN

leehan hasn’t left your side since the moment he got home—not even for a second. even when he’s trying to drink water, your pinkies are still linked.

right now, you’re lying on the couch and he’s halfway on top of you, arms loosely wrapped around your waist, head tucked under your chin like he’s trying to become one with your heartbeat.

“i’m so happy,” he mumbles sleepily.

you smile. “yeah?”

he nods into your neck. “i have you. you’re warm. and you let me ramble about fish.”

that makes you laugh, and he immediately lifts his head to pout at you. “don’t laugh! you’re like—” hiccup “you’re like my coral reef.”

“your what now?”

“my coral. fish have their coral, right? like a little home they hide in when the ocean’s too scary. somewhere soft and safe.” he rubs his nose against your cheek. “that’s you. my pretty little coral reef.”

your heart aches with affection. he closes his eyes again, murmuring, “you’re so lovely. sometimes i look at you and forget what i was saying. just think, wow, i’m so lucky she’s mine.”

then he adds, lips brushing against your collarbone, “you’d be the prettiest reef in the sea. and i’d be your fish boyfriend.”

you chuckle. “you’re mad.”

“madly in love with you?” he kisses your jaw. “absolutely.”

WOONHAK

woonhak is sitting next to you on the floor, legs crossed, fingers playing with the frayed edge of the blanket draped over your knees. he keeps glancing at you, then looking away, then glancing again—like he’s trying to gather courage from the ceiling.

finally, in the softest voice, he says, “can i tell you a secret?”

you look at him, smiling. “always.”

he hesitates, then scoots an inch closer. there's a faint blush high on his cheeks, and he smells faintly of whatever fruity drink he had earlier. “i have the biggest crush on you.”

you blink. “woonhak—”

“wait,” he interrupts quickly, eyes wide. “no, actually, don’t listen to that. forget i said anything. pretend i didn’t. i was supposed to do it properly. sober and with flowers. not like this.” he gestures vaguely to the room.

you try not to laugh. “woonhak.”

he groans, hiding his face in your shoulder, voice muffled. “no, i ruined it, didn’t i?”

you pat his head gently, fingers combing through his hair. “baby?”

he peeks up at you, eyes a little glassy, lips in a soft pout. “yeah?”

“we’ve been dating for months.”

his head snaps up. “we—what?”

“you asked me out. remember? at the arcade. you won me that giant plushie and everything.”

he blinks at you for a long moment. “i thought that was a dream.”

you laugh and lean in, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “well, it wasn’t.”

when you pull back, he just stares at you, dazed. “can you do that again? just to be sure?”

so you do. and then again, when he asks. and one more time, just because he looks too happy not to.

“holy shit,” he mutters, dazed and smiling. “this is the best day of my life.”

ㅤnetworks ˊᯅˋ @kstrucknet @k-films @sgz-net

[fixingtheon]

Ateez getting caught when steeling your panties

bf!ateezx gn!reader

warnings - suggestive?, iron know

Hongjoong

He’s just trying to be helpful, folding laundry with you while chatting about song ideas. But you notice him suddenly pocketing something. You narrow your eyes.

You: “Did you just steal my underwear?”

Hongjoong: visibly panicked but trying to look innocent “It’s—uh—it’s for my new outfit?”

You: “Joong.”

Hongjoong: embarrassed “pffft who would want these anyway…”

He tosses the panties back on the laundry pile. After he told you to relax he secretly hid them back in his pocket.

Seonghwa

You walk in on him standing by the dryer, holding one of your lacy pairs with a soft, unreadable look. He jumps when he hears the door.

You: “You good there, Hwa?”

Seonghwa: clearly flustered “I—I was just making sure it was… clean?”

You: smirking “Uh-huh. Sure. Need a moment alone with it?”

He’s red for a full hour after that.

Yunho

You catch him walking down the hall, suspiciously tucking something behind his back. You raise a brow.

You: “What’s behind your back?”

Yunho: laughing nervously “Nothing! Just… definitely not your underwear.”

You: “So it is my underwear?”

Yunho: “I missed you! It still smells like you!”

You burst out laughing because somehow it’s endearing, in a mildly unhinged boyfriend way.

Yeosang

This man thought he was slick. Too slick. You find him sitting on the couch, flipping through his phone… with your underwear on his lap like a little trophy.

You: “You forgot to hide the evidence.”

Yeosang: “whaaaattt… who put these here”

He pinches the fabric picking them up as if he’s disgusted. Then he points with his other hand to the wall behind you, after turning back to him the colourful fabric was gone.

Yeosang: “what the heck just happened?”

He acted clueless scratching his head.

San

You see him sprint past the hallway like a child who just stole cookies—except you spot the fabric peeking out of his hoodie pocket.

You: “SAN!”

San: yelling from down the hall “I HAVE NO REGRETS!”

He comes back later with them folded, apologizing… but also asks if he can keep a pair “for when he misses you.”

Mingi

Caught red-handed, literally holding them with a lovesick smile.

You: “You gonna put those back or?”

Mingi: pouting like a giant guilty puppy “They smell like you…”

You: trying not to laugh “you have the smell of me right here” shoves her arm to his nose.

He just grins and hugs you — underwear still in hand then shoving them in his pocket shamelessly.

Wooyoung

This man wants to get caught. He holds them up like a prize and smirks.

Wooyoung: “to save you struggle looking for them. Their mine now”

You: “Put them down.”

Wooyoung: still holding them “Come take them then.”

…and now it’s a flirty chase around the apartment. Well that’s until you tackle him and he’s screeching for you to let go of his hair (you weren’t playing)

Jongho

He’s the least subtle. He literally walks up and asks:

Jongho: “Can I keep this one?”

You: laughing in shock “You’re supposed to be the normal one!”

Jongho: “Exactly. That’s why I asked. See? Respectful underwear theft.”

You: rolling your eyes and nodding “fine… but only for a week.”

He walks away in triumph

You: “I want them back In one pice.”

Jongho: “freak!”

[fushiguruuzzzz]

Thinking about camp counsellor!Kuroo

Camp counsellor!Kuroo who is constantly being teased by his campers about you, to which he responds with an overly defensive order for them to get back to work.

“You’re staring at her again…” they giggled.

“Don’t you have a plate to clear?” he bit back, eyes narrowing. No real heat lied in his tone, any form of sternness he’d attempted to hold washed away by flustered defence.

The kid mumbled under their breath, mocking him as they turned back to their food. They had to bite back a snigger as his eyes drifted back to you almost instantly, as if he was annoyed he had to look away at all.

Camp counsellor!Kuroo who consistently snatches you up whenever the cabins have to go in pairs, claiming that you were the “pick of the litter” for reasons other than the way you drew him in.

The two of you walked a few paces behind the bunch of kids, where you could keep a better eye on everyone (as well as be alone). The not-so-subtle glances and giggles of various campers were pretty hard to miss, they seemed to grow louder every time you were alone with him. And as your hand brushed over his, the pink dusting the bridge of his nose was pretty hard to miss, too. He’d never hear the end of it when he returned to his cabin, he was sure.

Camp counsellor!Kuroo whose friends are sick of him. They’re sick of the way he’s distracted from every conversation the moment you walk in, his expression turning to that of a lovesick puppy.

One time, all of the counsellors snuck to the lake after dark and went swimming. One minute Kuroo was telling a funny story, and the next he was doing a backflip off of the dock. Sure, Bokuto had as well, but… that was Bokuto.

When he came back up for air, he didn’t waste a second in swimming back to the array of wooden planks that you were perched on.

“You see that? You think it was cool? Yeah? You think I’m cool, dontchya?”

Kenma’s scoff could be heard from the cabins.

Camp counsellor!Kuroo who is really just a big loser. He’d tell cheesy jokes and makes subtle jabs at his friends under his breath, though the curl of his lips tells you it’s all fun and games. He’d save you a seat in the cafeteria and offer to wash dishes for you so that you didn’t have to. There were times when he hadn’t noticed you, and the sight of him giggling heartily with his campers as they (attempted) to make bracelets, the rise and fall of his chest with every chuckle.

Conveniently, you found one of those very same bracelets left on your bunk bed later that night.

He claimed it was from one of the kids.

General tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniya

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ rekindling

chapter summary: You and Logan celebrate your 5th wedding anniversary.

word count: 6.1k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this chapter might be one of my favorite scenes

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, mention of sickness (not reader), fluff, logan is a lovesick puppy, gala mission, star wars reference

series masterlist - chapter 8 → chapter 10

Some years ago, right after the two of you got engaged, you tried making and fermenting your own beer for Logan. Turns out, beer doesn’t need to and shouldn’t ferment for more than a few months at the most.

So, you pivoted, and made homemade whiskey, which had been sitting in a secret part of your lab for the better part of 5 years.

And now, after Logan had taken you out on a date to an Italian place and a nearby observatory which he booked for the two of you, you dragged him to your lab, where you had the bottle of homemade whiskey.

You pulled out a drawer and grabbed the small, but hefty, gift bag. Its weight made your arm dip slightly as you turned to face Logan, who was leaning against the counter in your lab with a quizzical but amused expression. His hair was still slightly tousled from the wind at the observatory, his sleeves rolled up casually from dinner.

"What's this, sweetheart?" he asked, nodding toward the bag. "Another one of your science experiments?"

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your glasses as you handed him the bag. "Just open it. And no, it’s not radioactive or alive. This one’s safe, I promise."

Logan smirked as he pulled the tissue paper out, revealing a dark amber glass bottle sealed with a simple cork. His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he held it up, reading the handwritten label: “Logan’s Reserve – 5-Year Aged Whiskey.”

"Wait a second…" His eyes narrowed, a grin spreading across his face as he looked at you. "Is this what I think it is?"

You nodded, clasping your hands behind your back nervously. "Yeah. Remember when I tried making beer for you right after we got engaged? And it… well, it exploded in the basement?"

Logan chuckled, the sound warm and rich. "How could I forget? Smelled like a brewery down there for weeks."

"Exactly. So, I switched gears and decided to try something a little more… sophisticated." You gestured to the bottle. "I distilled it, let it age, and hoped for the best. Five years later, here we are."

Logan stared at the bottle for a moment, then at you. His expression softened, the teasing glint in his eyes replaced by something deeper. "You did this… for me?"

You shrugged, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks. "Of course. I wanted to give you something special. Something that lasts, you know? Like… us."

For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint hum of the lab equipment. Logan set the bottle down carefully on the counter, then stepped toward you. His hands rested gently on your waist, pulling you closer.

"You’re somethin’ else, darlin’," he said, his voice low and full of affection. "Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me before."

You smiled up at him, your shyness melting away under his gaze. "Well, there’s a first time for everything."

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that was soft but full of unspoken gratitude. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

"Let’s crack it open," he said with a grin. "I’ve waited five years for this, after all."

You laughed, grabbing two small glasses from a nearby shelf. As Logan uncorked the bottle, the rich aroma of aged whiskey filled the room. He poured a small amount into each glass, the amber liquid catching the light.

"To us," you said, raising your glass.

Logan clinked his glass against yours. "To five years… and many more."

You both took a sip, and Logan’s eyes widened slightly as he savored the taste. "Damn, sweetheart. You’ve outdone yourself. This is better than anything I’ve had in a bar."

You beamed. "Really?"

"Really." He leaned in and kissed you again, the whiskey still warm on his lips. "Best anniversary gift ever."

As you stood there, sharing the moment and the whiskey you’d poured your heart into, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life hadn’t been easy—especially the past few years—but moments like this made it all worth it.

---

You were making chicken noodle soup for Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee, who all somehow caught the same stomach bug at the same time.

The three girls sat at the table in the corner of the kitchen, after being asked by Logan to “move, or else you’re gonna get her sick.”

Now, while the three waited, they also watched. Rogue, Kitty, and Jubilee sat bundled in sweaters with mugs of tea that Logan had insisted they use instead of touching anything else in the kitchen. The soup was still simmering on the stove, and Logan leaned casually against the counter near you, your perpetual shadow.

Jubilee nudged Rogue with her elbow and whispered, “Look at him. He follows her like a freakin’ lost puppy.”

Rogue, pale but still managing an amused smirk, turned her attention to Logan, who was wordlessly following you as you shuffled over to the pantry. All you had done was mutter, "need a new bottle of parsley," and Logan had immediately fallen in line, watching you like you hung the moon.

“He does,” Rogue said, shaking her head. “I swear, I’ve never seen him this whipped.”

"Right? Like, what does she do to him?" Kitty chimed in, half-giggling despite her queasiness. “The man’s basically walking PDA.”

The three of them stared openly now, watching how Logan stood slightly behind you, his hand instinctively brushing the small of your back as you reached up for the spice jar.

“See that?” Kitty whispered, her voice thick with poorly stifled laughter. “His hand is always on her. Shoulder, back, waist—doesn’t matter where, just as long as he’s touching.”

“Bet he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it,” Rogue murmured, propping her chin on her palm.

You turned back toward the counter, glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of your nose as you set the parsley down near the cutting board. Logan was immediately there, adjusting the spice rack for you, though it wasn’t even askew.

“Thanks,” you murmured softly, giving him a small, shy smile.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replied without hesitation, his voice laced with warmth.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound that…” Jubilee paused, wrinkling her nose in thought, “...soft.”

Logan shifted closer, his hand brushing against your waist as he leaned in and glanced at the soup. “Need anythin’ else, darlin’?”

You glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. “No, I think I’ve got it. Maybe grab a loaf of bread from the fridge for dipping?”

He nodded and moved toward the fridge like it was his life’s mission. Jubilee blinked slowly.

“He cooks now?” she whispered.

“Logan,” Rogue called across the room, “do you even know how to make soup?”

Logan didn’t even glance back as he grabbed the bread. “Nope. I just carry the bread. Y/N handles the rest.”

The three girls stared at each other, jaws slightly agape.

“He’s domesticated,” Kitty said in awe. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

You didn’t seem to hear any of this, far too focused on stirring the soup and rambling softly about the science of cooking. “The steam comes from the water molecules vibrating faster with the heat. They spread out, break apart from the surface tension…”

Logan’s low hum of acknowledgment interrupted you, his hand returning to rest lightly against the curve of your back. You leaned into the touch without thinking, comfortable in his presence.

Kitty let out a mock-dramatic sigh, dropping her head onto the table. “I can’t watch this anymore. It’s too cute, and I feel like death.”

Jubilee grinned slyly, glancing at Rogue. “What if we pointed it out to him?”

“Don’t you dare,” Rogue warned with a half-laugh. “Man’s happier than I’ve ever seen him. Leave ‘em be.”

The three shared a conspiratorial smirk but kept their remarks low enough to remain unnoticed. Even if Logan somehow picked up on their teasing with his hyper-sensitive senses, he showed no sign of it.

You turned back to the girls, smiling softly. “It’ll be ready soon. How’re you all feeling?”

“Like crap,” Jubilee said with zero hesitation.

“Marginally better,” Rogue offered, though it was mostly for your benefit.

“It helps watching Logan act like a lovesick Labrador,” Kitty muttered with a grin. Rogue elbowed her.

You glanced at Logan, eyebrows raised slightly. “What are they whispering about?”

“Not a clue,” he lied smoothly, focusing on slicing the bread.

You didn’t push it, simply chuckling and going back to your task. Logan leaned in closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re good at takin’ care of everyone,” he murmured. “Never stops amazin’ me.”

You flushed under the quiet praise, your heart flipping in your chest. It wasn’t much—just one of his usual tender comments—but coming from Logan, it felt monumental every single time.

---

You paused walking again in the hall, adjusting your liner socks for your heels. Just a few months ago it was your birthday, and Scott got you the pair of heels you’d been wanting, probably only knowing about them from Jean.

It was too cold back then, but now it was warming up and you could finally wear them.

Other than the fact that blisters are probably forming on your feet from them fitting improperly. It wasn’t Scott’s fault; they were the right size and everything, they just didn’t fit your feet.

While you were bent down adjusting your heels in the hallway, Logan walked up behind you silently, his hand brushing gently against your back.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and concerned.

You looked up briefly before going back to fiddling with the strap on your shoe. “The heels Scott got me for my birthday—they don’t fit as well as I’d hoped. They’re a little tight, and I think I might’ve miscalculated how much walking I’d have to do today.”

Logan let out a soft, knowing grunt. Without warning, he scooped you up in his arms effortlessly, one arm around your shoulders and the other under your legs. He shifted your heels into his hand with the same movement, holding them beneath you like an afterthought.

“Logan!” you exclaimed, instinctively gripping his shoulders. “What are you doing?!”

“What does it look like?” he replied, already walking. “If the shoes are botherin’ you, you’re not gonna wear ‘em.”

You sighed, flustered. “I can walk perfectly fine! It’s not that bad, I promise.”

Logan didn’t even slow down. “Yeah, sure. Tell that to the blisters you’re about to get. Don’t argue, darlin’—you’re stuck with me now.”

Your protest was drowned out when Logan rounded a corner and found Scott mid-lecture in one of the training rooms. The students turned toward the two of you with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Logan, come on,” you whispered, mortified, but Logan only tightened his grip.

“Hey, Summers!” Logan barked, his voice cutting through the room.

Scott paused, looking up with an annoyed but inquisitive frown. Before he could say a word, Logan tossed the pair of heels directly at him. They smacked him square in the chest before falling into his hands.

“Next time, get the right size,” Logan said flatly, turning back toward the door.

“Logan!” you gasped, half-horrified and half-apologetic, your face heating up. “I’m so sorry, Scott!”

Scott was still standing there, stunned, holding the shoes as his class erupted into barely stifled laughter. “What—” he started, but Logan didn’t stick around long enough to let him finish.

Logan carried you straight to the common room, ignoring your continued protests. He set you down gently on the couch, crouching in front of you. “Stay put,” he commanded, already moving toward the med kit nearby.

“Logan, seriously, I’m fine—”

“You’ll be fine when I say you’re fine.” He popped open the first aid kit and returned to kneel in front of you. “Now, lemme see.”

You sighed, defeated, as Logan gingerly took your foot in his hand, inspecting the reddened spots on your heels. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he applied adhesive bandages to the forming blisters.

“I don’t even feel it that much,” you muttered.

“Uh-huh,” Logan said dryly, not buying a word of it.

When he finished bandaging the other foot, he paused, still crouched with one of your feet resting on his knee. Instead of moving back, he began to gently knead the arch of your foot, his fingers deft and soothing.

“Logan…” You blinked, taken aback.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said softly, not looking up. “You’re always takin’ care of everyone else. Lemme do somethin’ for you for once.”

The words, combined with the warmth in his tone, sent a wave of unexpected emotion through you. You leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. His touch was firm yet tender, every movement speaking volumes about how much he cared.

As his thumbs worked over a particularly sore spot, you bit back a laugh. “When did you learn how to do this?”

Logan glanced up with a hint of a smirk. “Long life. Picked up a few tricks here and there.”

“Pretty sure you’re better at this than a licensed professional.”

“Damn right I am,” he said with mock seriousness, though his smile softened.

When he finally set your foot down, he stayed kneeling for a moment longer, his hands lingering on your legs. “Feel better now?”

You smiled down at him, your cheeks warm. “Yeah. Thanks, Logan.”

He nodded, pushing himself to his feet and bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Good. Now you just sit here and relax for a bit. I’ll grab you some tea or somethin’.”

As he walked away, you couldn’t help the affectionate smile that spread across your face. Moments like this reminded you that, despite his gruff exterior, Logan had a heart bigger than anyone you’d ever known.

---

You realized you should’ve told Logan this before he found out for himself.

For the past 4—5 years?—you hadn’t worn your cherry lip gloss, only because you couldn’t find it anywhere once you ran out. Turns out, it was discontinued. So, you pivoted to regular nude lip glosses or chapstick.

But this past weekend when you, Jean, and Ororo went on a girl’s shopping trip to the mall to hang out, you found a cherry lip oil that in your opinion had a better texture, and a less artificial flavor, than your original discontinued one.

The hallways of the mansion were buzzing with the usual mid-morning energy: students rushing to classes, a few sparring matches audible from the training rooms, and the faint hum of voices echoing off the walls. You adjusted the strap of your satchel, balancing it against your side, and smoothed the hem of your cardigan as you made your way toward your classroom.

As you turned a corner, Logan appeared from the opposite direction, walking toward his next class. He spotted you instantly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes softened. This was routine by now—a quick kiss or two between classes, a quiet moment to ground yourselves in a sea of chaos.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, his voice low and rough in the way that made your heart flutter.

“Hey,” you smiled back, the warmth in his tone settling over you like a blanket.

He leaned in for the usual kiss, his hand brushing against your lower back as you tilted your face up to meet him. But instead of the brief, customary peck, Logan lingered. His lips pressed against yours with a sudden, deliberate intensity, and his other hand rose to cradle the back of your head.

You stiffened in surprise at first, but quickly melted into it, your hands lightly gripping the fabric of his flannel shirt. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, with Logan angling your head slightly for better access. He tasted faintly of coffee, and the familiar warmth of him flooded your senses.

“Logan,” you managed to breathe out between kisses, your voice breaking the silence in short bursts. “We need—” kiss “to get—” kiss “to our—” kiss “classes.”

“Fuck, I missed that,” Logan murmured, his voice rough and filled with a longing you didn’t quite understand. Before you could respond, his lips captured yours again, his hold on you firm but careful, as though he was memorizing the moment.

The sound of a throat clearing broke through the haze, and you both froze. Turning your heads, you found Charles sitting in his wheelchair a few feet away, a bemused but patient expression on his face.

“I do hate to interrupt, but I believe there are a few dozen students waiting for their teachers at the moment,” Charles remarked, his tone light but pointed.

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you stepped back, adjusting your glasses and smoothing your hair. Logan, unfazed as ever, gave a small shrug, though you could see the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Right,” you stammered, gripping your satchel strap tightly. “Sorry, Charles. We were just—uh—”

“Testing the laws of attraction?” Charles quipped, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Logan grunted, his hand still lingering on your back. “We’re goin’. Don’t get your wheels in a spin.”

Charles merely chuckled and rolled past, leaving you to shoot Logan a flustered glare.

“You could at least pretend to be embarrassed,” you muttered, adjusting your satchel again.

“Why?” Logan asked, his voice tinged with amusement. “You look cute when you’re all flustered.” He leaned in close, brushing a final kiss against your temple before stepping back. “See you later, darlin’.”

As he turned to walk away, you shook your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. You brushed your fingers over your lips, still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

---

Logan adjusted the cufflinks of his tux, muttering under his breath about how "these damn things are more trouble than they’re worth." The sound of his grumbling carried through the slightly ajar bathroom door, making you smile as you finished touching up your lipstick. Jean’s red shade was bold, but it worked, complementing your minimalist black dress.

You capped the tube and gave your reflection a once-over. The dress fit perfectly, the sleek design emphasizing your figure without feeling over the top. You adjusted your glasses and smoothed a hand down the fabric before stepping out into the bedroom.

Logan was by the dresser, still fidgeting with his cufflinks, but the moment his eyes landed on you, his hands stilled. His lips parted slightly, the earlier irritation on his face melting into something softer, something almost reverent.

“You clean up nice,” he said, voice lower than usual. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the curve of your waist before meeting your eyes. “Real nice.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, feeling a heat creep up your cheeks under his scrutiny. You crossed the room, and as you did, Logan closed the distance between you in two strides. His hand found your waist, warm and steady, before moving to rest gently against your stomach.

“Turn around for me,” he said, his voice a mix of request and command. His fingers pressed lightly, guiding you into a slow spin. As you moved, his hand never left you, sliding from your waist to the small of your back, then back to your waist again when you completed the turn.

“You’re somethin’ else, darlin’,” he said, his words filled with quiet admiration. “Should’ve made you wear this dress sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not exactly standard mission gear.”

His other hand came up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Maybe not, but you wear it better than anyone at that gala’s gonna.” His thumb grazed your jaw, and for a moment, the mission faded from your mind entirely. It was just you, Logan, and the soft pull of his presence.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself back to reality. “We should get going. The sooner we get in, the sooner we can find what we’re looking for.”

Logan smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “You’re the brains of this operation, sweetheart. Lead the way.”

---

The gala was held in a grand hotel in the heart of the city, the kind of place that practically dripped with wealth and excess. Chandeliers sparkled overhead, and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses. You and Logan entered arm-in-arm, blending seamlessly into the crowd of well-dressed elites.

The two of you moved with purpose, your fingers lightly resting against Logan’s arm as he guided you through the throng. You kept your movements casual, your faces relaxed, though beneath the surface, the tension of the mission buzzed like static. The target was somewhere in this room—or at least someone who knew how to access the server room where the sensitive information was being stored.

“Keep your eyes open,” Logan muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Always,” you replied, offering a soft smile for the benefit of onlookers as you tilted your head toward him. “You see anything yet?”

“Just a bunch of rich assholes,” Logan said, his tone gruff. “No sign of the guy.”

You nodded subtly, letting your gaze sweep across the room. The gala attendees were exactly as you’d expected—wealthy, polished, and exuding an air of untouchable arrogance. The kind of people who could fund black-market experiments on mutants and still sleep soundly at night.

Jean’s voice crackled softly in your hidden earpiece. “Remember, the server room is two floors down, heavily guarded, and keycard access only. If you can get the host’s card, it’ll save us a lot of trouble.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” Logan grunted, briefly touching his ear to acknowledge the message.

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll figure it out. Just follow my lead.”

Logan shot you a skeptical look, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “You’re the brains, sweetheart. I’m just here to look good in a tux.”

“And to punch people if necessary,” you teased, your voice light despite the weight of the mission.

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “That too.”

As you approached the bar, you caught sight of the host—a tall, broad-shouldered man with slicked-back hair and a predatory smile. He was surrounded by a small group of sycophants, his laugh too loud and his gestures exaggerated. On his lapel was the small, telltale glint of a security badge.

“There he is,” you murmured, leaning slightly into Logan as though sharing a private moment.

Logan followed your gaze and grunted in acknowledgment. “What’s the plan?”

You considered for a moment before replying. “We split up. I’ll distract him and see if I can get the keycard. You keep an eye on the exits in case things get messy.”

Logan’s hand tightened slightly on your waist. “Don’t get too close, darlin’.”

You smiled, the expression meant to reassure him. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“I always do,” he said, his voice softer now.

With that, you slipped away from him, weaving through the crowd with ease. You approached the host with a disarming smile, your movements graceful and deliberate.

“Excuse me,” you said, your voice carrying just the right mix of politeness and charm. “This is my first time at one of these events. You wouldn’t happen to be the host, would you?”

The man’s eyes lit up as he turned his attention to you, his smile widening. “Indeed, I am. Samuel Kane, at your service.” He extended a hand, and you shook it lightly, careful not to show any hesitation.

“Y/N,” you introduced yourself, tilting your head slightly. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man behind all of this.”

Kane laughed, clearly pleased by the flattery. “Well, I do my best to keep things interesting. And you, my dear, are an absolute vision. Your husband must be a lucky man.”

You felt a flicker of unease at the comment but maintained your composure. “He’s around here somewhere,” you said with a laugh. “But he’s not much for mingling.”

As you engaged Kane in conversation, you subtly shifted closer, angling yourself to get a better look at his security badge. The clip was loose, the badge slightly askew—a small detail, but one that worked in your favor.

Behind you, Logan lingered near the edge of the room, his sharp eyes never leaving you. He sipped his drink, outwardly relaxed, but you knew better. His tension was palpable, even from across the room.

Kane was still talking, his voice smooth and practiced, but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you focused on the timing, waiting for the perfect moment to make your move. When Kane turned slightly to greet another guest, you acted quickly, brushing against him just enough to unclip the badge without drawing attention.

“Oops,” you said, feigning a stumble as you steadied yourself against his arm. “Sorry about that. These heels aren’t the most practical.”

Kane laughed, clearly oblivious. “No harm done.”

You smiled apologetically before excusing yourself, slipping the badge into your clutch as you made your way back to Logan. He raised an eyebrow when you returned, his expression a mix of amusement and approval.

“Got it,” you whispered, holding up the badge for him to see.

Logan smirked. “That’s my girl.”

He slipped the badge into his jacket pocket, and the two of you began weaving through the crowd toward the hallway that led to the restricted areas. You kept a pleasant smile on your face, casually nodding at attendees as you passed. Beside you, Logan's body was tense, ready for a fight if it came to that.

Reaching the hallway, you slipped through the door labeled Authorized Personnel Only. Logan glanced back to make sure no one was following before pulling the door shut behind you.

The ambiance changed immediately, the buzz of the gala replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional beep of security monitors. The luxurious carpet was gone, replaced by plain industrial tile.

“Where to, sweetheart?” Logan asked in a low voice.

“The server room’s at the end of the hall, on the left,” you whispered, nodding ahead.

Logan led the way, his posture relaxed but his hands loosely curled at his sides. You reached the server room without incident, and Logan swiped the badge through the reader. It flashed green with a soft beep, and the door clicked open.

Inside, the room was dimly lit, racks of servers glowing faintly with green and blue lights. You stepped in first, your eyes scanning for the console you needed. Logan followed, closing the door quietly behind him and planting himself by it.

“You do your thing. I’ll keep watch,” he said, his voice steady.

“Got it,” you replied, already making your way to the terminal in the corner.

Sitting down, you pulled a flash drive from your clutch and inserted it into the port. Typing quickly, you navigated through the system, bypassing firewalls and locating the files you needed. Jean’s earlier instructions echoed in your mind—what to look for, how to find it, how to pull it without alerting any alarms.

Logan’s voice broke the silence. “How’s it goin’, darlin’?”

“Almost there,” you murmured, biting your lip as a particularly stubborn firewall slowed your progress. After a few more keystrokes, the file began to download.

“I’m in,” you said softly. “Just need a few more seconds.”

Logan didn’t reply, but you could feel his sharp gaze fixed on the hallway outside, ready for anything.

The download finished with a soft ping, and you quickly ejected the flash drive, slipping it back into your clutch. As you stood and turned to Logan, his head jerked up slightly, his ears picking up on something you couldn’t hear.

“Guards,” he muttered. “Two of ’em, comin’ this way.”

Your mind raced. “Okay, uh… we can do what they did in that movie we watched the other night. You know, the spy one!”

Logan frowned, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

“Logan,” you hissed, stepping closer to him. “We have to pretend we’re—” Before you could finish, you reached up, gripped his shirt, and tugged him down into a kiss.

Logan tensed for a split second before relaxing, his arms instinctively sliding around your waist. The kiss deepened quickly, his lips pressing against yours with a mixture of surprise and intensity. One of his hands rested at the small of your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.

The sound of footsteps stopped just outside the server room.

“Hey!” one of the guards called out, his voice sharp.

You and Logan broke apart abruptly, panting softly as you both turned to face the guards. The red lipstick you’d meticulously applied was now smeared—not just on your face but faintly on Logan’s lips as well. One of the guards squinted, clearly caught off guard.

“This area’s off-limits,” the other guard barked.

Logan’s arm was still around your waist, and he stepped forward slightly, putting himself between you and the guards. “Sorry ’bout that. Thought we were sneakin’ off for some privacy. Didn’t realize we weren’t supposed to be here.” His voice was gravelly but calm, carrying just enough irritation to make the act believable.

The guards exchanged looks, then groaned in unison. “Just—get out of here,” the first one said. “Go back to the gala before we have to call someone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Logan grumbled, steering you back down the hallway. He kept his hand at your back, a silent reassurance.

You stayed quiet until you were back near the main gala floor. When Logan finally looked down at you, his lips quirked into a sly grin.

“You’ve got some guts, darlin’,” he said, his voice filled with approval.

You laughed softly, still catching your breath. “You’ve got lipstick on your face.”

His grin widened as he rubbed his thumb against his mouth. “You sayin’ it’s not my color?”

“Not exactly,” you teased. “But it definitely makes a statement.”

He chuckled, slipping his hand into yours as the two of you rejoined the party, the flash drive safely tucked away.

---

Logan had given in, allowing you to finally trim his beard. You sat perched on the bathroom counter, knees brushing against his sides as he stood in front of you. His rugged face was in your hands, the razor gliding carefully over his jawline.

As you worked, you started rambling, like always when you were focused on something. “Did you know razors date back to the Bronze Age? They found tools that were basically sharp stones or metals people used to shave with. Imagine that—scraping your face with a rock.”

Logan gave a quiet, non-committal grunt, his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance.

You weren’t deterred, though. “Then in the 18th century, straight razors became popular. Those were sharp as hell, like something out of a horror movie. Then King Camp Gillette comes in and invents the safety razor in—Logan?”

You suddenly paused, pulling back the razor to wave your hand in front of his face. His eyes snapped up to yours, startled.

“What?” he rumbled.

“You weren’t listening,” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I was listening,” he argued, his voice dipping into a softer tone, almost playful. “Just… got distracted.”

You arched a brow. “By what?”

His gaze dropped, just slightly. His focus lingered for a second too long, and then it dawned on you. You glanced down and realized the problem. Since you were sitting on the counter, your chest was right at eye level for him.

“Oh my God,” you blurted, rolling your eyes as heat crept into your face. “Is that the only reason you agreed to let me do this?”

Logan’s lips curled into a small smirk, one that almost made you drop the razor. “Maybe,” he drawled, voice low and teasing. “I had a good view. Figured I’d let you have your fun.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, swatting at him lightly.

His chuckle was a quiet rumble in his chest, and for a moment, you couldn’t decide if you were more annoyed or charmed. Maybe both.

“Finish up, darlin’,” he said, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Can’t have half a beard. Not a good look for me.”

Shaking your head, you returned to your task, though the edges of your mouth tugged upward in a reluctant smile.

---

Later that day the two of you decided to watch a movie in the common room. The bowl of popcorn was already empty, thanks to Logan, but you were more than content to watch the new DVD Scott got you to replace the heels.

It was Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Season One, with director’s cut episodes, behind-the-scenes featurettes, and a few other things.

By the time the fifth episode came on, Logan had fallen asleep. His head rested face down against your stomach, his arm draped lazily over your waist, hanging off the edge of the couch. The quiet sound of his breathing filled the room, his broad shoulders rising and falling steadily.

You smiled down at him, your hands gently weaving through his hair. You couldn’t help but feel a certain tenderness as you sat there, watching the animated battle play out on the screen while he snored faintly against you. This was rare—Logan being so unguarded, so completely relaxed. It was a stark contrast to the usual gruff, sharp-witted man you saw most days.

For once, you were grateful he’d conked out. Not that you didn’t love spending time with him, but movie nights with Logan usually involved endless questions.

"Wait, who’s the green guy again?"

"What kind of idiot jumps into a fight with no backup?"

"So these clones just follow orders without asking questions? Sounds like bad programming."

Sometimes it was cute; other times, it was infuriating. Now, though? Peace. No commentary about Yoda’s battle strategies or sarcastic remarks about Anakin's life choices.

You shifted slightly to readjust, trying not to disturb him, though the weight of his head made it tricky. When you moved, he let out a small, contented grunt, his grip on your waist tightening just a little.

The scene switched to an intense lightsaber duel, and you caught yourself absently stroking Logan’s hair again. He groaned softly and nuzzled his face further into your stomach.

"Mm, warm," he mumbled, his voice gravelly, not quite awake.

"Logan," you whispered, shaking your head with an amused smile. "Are you seriously sleep-talking?"

"Not talkin'," he grunted, burying himself further against you like a sleepy dog finding the perfect napping spot.

"Uh-huh," you said, unable to suppress a laugh. Your fingers stilled for a moment, then continued combing gently through his thick hair. His faint snoring resumed, the small hitch in his breathing telling you he’d sunk back into whatever dreamland had him so quiet.

This—this was your Logan. The Logan who melted around you, softened in ways no one else ever saw. It made all the challenges—the struggles, the years of trying for a baby, the losses—feel worth enduring. You might not have everything you'd once wished for, but you had this. A quiet moment of contentment, wrapped in an old blanket on a threadbare couch, Logan safe and completely at ease in your arms.

For the first time in a long while, your heart didn’t ache for what could’ve been. Instead, you closed your eyes briefly and focused on the gentle weight of him, the comfort of his presence, and the sound of his steady breath.

When you opened them again, the episode was winding down. You grabbed the remote carefully, switching to the next before setting it down. Logan shifted again, his arm curling tighter around you.

“Y’can keep playing it,” he murmured groggily, not lifting his head.

"Thought you were asleep."

"I am," he muttered, eyes still closed.

"You mean you were," you teased.

"Same difference," he rumbled, the corner of his mouth tugging into a tiny smirk before he pressed closer. "Now stop talkin’. I’m comfortable."

You chuckled and let him settle again, absentmindedly tracing circles at the base of his neck. If this was Logan at peace, you couldn’t bring yourself to disturb him, not even for a galaxy far, far away.

that was 2010!

and i can't help but make a star wars reference whenever i can! especially a clone wars reference cause i'm a prequel girly... which is only because of anakin but-

if you don't like star wars literally just imagine anything else (no need to leave rude comments!)

[shybluebirdninja]

Feral Obssession

Summary: Logan's animal instincts go wild when Deadpool casually mentions how often you pass by his place—now Logan needs to see for himself.

Pairing            : Worst-Wolverine!Logan Howlett x Prostitute!Fem-reader

Note                : smut, cum play, very rough sex

WORD COUNT: 3k

Logan’s been living with Wade Wilson for a while now, something that would usually drive him to stab something—or someone—on a good day. Between Wade's non-stop mouth and Blind Al’s random pranks, Logan’s patience had worn thin. But lately, it’s not Wade's annoying chatter or Blind Al’s sarcastic remarks keeping him on edge. It’s you.

Wade had mentioned you in passing more than once. Apparently, you walked past their place all the time—coming home late at night, dressed to kill, a body that turned heads wherever you went. And yeah, Wade had made some dirty joke about what you did for a living. But Logan… he couldn’t shake the image from his head. He had to see for himself.

One night, it finally happened. You walked by just as Logan was outside, smoking a cigar on the fire escape. His eyes tracked your movements automatically, almost like a predator on the hunt, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were in tight jeans that hugged every curve, your top clinging to your body like a second skin. Goddamn, you were something.

And the worst part? You glanced up at him, just for a second, a sly smile teasing your lips before you disappeared into your apartment across the hall. That smile. It stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in a long time—something primal, something dangerous.

Days passed, and every time you passed by, Logan’s instincts got sharper. It was like he could smell you in the air, a heady mix of perfume and something uniquely you. He tried to ignore it, to push it aside. He’d been down this road before, and it never ended well. But damn it, he couldn’t.

One evening, as Logan sat brooding with a whiskey in hand, Wade strolled in, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

“Hey, Peanut,” Wade started, flipping onto the couch with all the grace of a drunk cat. “You know that smokin’ hot neighbor of ours? The one with the legs for days? She asked about you today.”

Logan’s brow furrowed. “The hell’re you talking about, Wade?”

“I’m serious, man! Said she’d noticed you staring like a lovesick puppy. Thought you might want to… you know… get to know her better.” Wade waggled his eyebrows obnoxiously. “You into that kinda thing? ‘Cause I might’ve, uh… mentioned you.”

Logan felt his jaw tighten. He didn’t say anything, just shot Wade a look that could’ve peeled paint. But inside, his mind was racing. You noticed him?

“Come on, man,” Wade continued. “She’s into you. And trust me, with a body like that, she could break you in half.”

Logan grunted, trying to keep his cool. He didn’t want to talk to Wade about this, but something stirred inside him, something he couldn’t shake. Maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

Later that night, Logan found himself standing outside your door, hesitating for the briefest moment. Then, with a deep breath, he knocked.

The door swung open, and there you were. That same teasing smile played on your lips as your eyes met his.

“Logan,” you greeted smoothly, leaning against the doorframe, your voice a sultry purr. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well… Wade’s a pain in the ass,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “But he wasn’t wrong about you.”

You chuckled, the sound low and throaty. “So, you’ve been watching me, huh? Thought I’d noticed those eyes of yours burning a hole through my clothes.”

Logan’s gaze darkened, and for the first time, he stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Can’t help it, darlin’. You make it hard not to look.”

You bit your lip, the air thick with heat. “Wanna come in?”

The door closed behind him with a soft click. Inside, it was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, but the atmosphere was anything but quiet. Logan could feel it in the air, thick with lust, desire coursing through his veins like a drug. He didn’t need to think. He didn’t need to talk. His instincts took over.

“Logan,” you whispered, stepping closer, your hands trailing up his chest. His muscles were solid beneath your touch, his breath catching just slightly. He was so controlled, so contained… but you could feel the raw power beneath the surface.

His hand caught your wrist, gentle but firm. “You sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, dangerous but full of need.

You smirked, eyes gleaming with challenge. “I’ve been sure since I first saw you on that fire escape.”

That was all it took. In a blur of motion, Logan’s lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping your waist and pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was overwhelming, your bodies pressed together, every touch igniting something deeper, something feral.

His hands roamed over your body, rough but skilled, like he knew exactly how to touch you. You gasped as his fingers trailed down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the tension in his body, the restraint, like he was holding himself back from just tearing your clothes off.

“Logan,” you breathed, your voice thick with desire. “Don’t hold back.”

That was all he needed to hear. In one swift motion, he had you against the wall, his mouth hot against your neck, his breath heavy and ragged. His hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, his lips trailing down your chest, leaving a burning path in their wake.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed and bit his way across your skin, his body pressing harder against yours. You could feel the hunger in him, the need, and it mirrored your own. It was like you were feeding off each other, every kiss, every touch building the tension higher and higher.

Before you knew it, you were on the bed, Logan above you, his eyes dark and wild with lust. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, like he needed you to breathe.

And then, with a growl, he gave in.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself inside you with one deep, slow thrust. The feeling was electric, your body arching against him as you gasped for air. He didn’t move at first, just stayed there, holding you close, his forehead resting against yours as he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice thick with need.

You couldn’t respond. You could barely think. All you could feel was him—inside you, around you, filling you completely.

Logan's body moved with precision, each thrust deep and slow, making your breath hitch with every movement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, grounding him as he pressed into you, his rough palms hot against your skin. You could feel the restrained power beneath his muscles, the tension winding tighter and tighter with every second. The air was thick with lust, and you could barely focus on anything except the feeling of him inside you, your body arching up to meet his, desperate for more.

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath heavy and ragged, filled with low growls that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re gonna be the death of me, darlin’,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly, but it was clear he was losing control too. His restraint was unraveling fast, and you wanted to see him give in completely.

You gasped his name, nails digging into his back as his hips moved faster, the slow burn turning into something more desperate. The feeling was overwhelming, your mind fogging over as pleasure coursed through you, and you could barely form words. But then, he stopped—just for a moment, pulling back, his breath harsh in the silence of the room.

Before you could ask what he was doing, Logan gripped your hips tighter and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift, effortless move. You gasped, bracing yourself on your hands and knees, and before you could fully adjust, you felt his hands slide down your back, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. The heat of his body hovered over yours, close but not quite touching, teasing you with his proximity.

Without warning, he thrust back into you, deep and rough this time, making you moan out loud. Your hands gripped the sheets as he set a rhythm, pounding into you from behind, each movement powerful and deliberate. Logan's growls became more primal, echoing in the room as his hips slapped against yours. His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back slightly so you could hear the rumble in his voice, feel his breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his words dripping with lust, each syllable punctuated by another hard thrust. The angle was deeper, rougher, and you could barely catch your breath as the pleasure intensified, building in waves that made your whole body tremble.

“Logan,” you moaned his name, unable to hold back the sounds escaping your lips. The sensation of his cock filling you over and over, the way he moved, every part of him screamed dominance, but there was something more behind it—something raw and hungry. It was like he needed you, couldn’t get enough of you, and you fed off that need.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled out suddenly, flipping you onto your back. You barely had time to register the change before he was on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress as his lips found yours again in a heated, desperate kiss. His hands roamed your body, gripping your thighs, pulling your legs up around his waist as he positioned himself over you.

Logan’s eyes locked with yours, dark and wild, filled with a kind of intensity that made your heart race. “I want you to look at me when you come,” he growled, voice thick with lust. And then, with one powerful thrust, he was inside you again, filling you completely.

This time, it was missionary, and his movements were slower, more deliberate again, but every thrust hit deeper, the angle perfect. You could feel every inch of him, the heat between your bodies overwhelming as he moved inside you. His lips found your neck, kissing and biting at the sensitive skin there, making you gasp and arch into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“You like that, don’t ya?” he muttered against your skin, his voice a low rumble. “Tell me.”

“Yes, Logan… God, yes,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as the pleasure built again, even more intense than before.

Logan grinned against your neck, his lips trailing down to your chest, his mouth hot against your skin as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you harder now. The angle was perfect, every thrust hitting just right, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His body moved like a machine, powerful and relentless, but there was something deeply intimate about the way he looked at you, the way his hands gripped your hips, holding you close as he took you over the edge.

“Fuck, I can feel you,” he groaned, his eyes dark and locked on yours. “Come for me.”

That was all it took. Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as the orgasm hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, leaving you gasping for breath. Logan’s movements didn’t slow down, his hips still driving into you, prolonging your climax until you were trembling beneath him, completely spent.

Before you could catch your breath, he moved again, shifting you onto your side, your legs tangled together as he pressed against you from behind, his cock still buried deep inside you. His hand slid down your body, gripping your thigh and pulling it over his hip as he thrust into you again, this time slower, deeper, more intimate.

You moaned softly, the sensation overwhelming as he moved inside you from this new angle, his body pressed tightly against yours. His hand slid up your stomach, over your chest, fingers brushing your breasts as he held you close, his breath hot against your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled, his voice rough and filled with need. “I could do this all night.”

Logan’s hand slid down your body again, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles as he thrust into you, his pace picking up again. The sensation was too much, and before you knew it, the pressure was building again, another orgasm rising up inside you, ready to explode.

“Logan… I’m gonna…”

“I know,” he growled, his voice low and commanding. “Come for me again. I wanna feel you.”

And with one last thrust, you did.

Logan’s grip on your thigh tightened as you trembled beneath him, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. His pace hadn’t slowed at all, if anything, it was faster now, more primal, more needy. You could feel it in the way he grunted, the way his hands dug into your skin, like he was barely holding himself back.

“Fuck… you’re gonna make me lose it,” Logan growled, his voice so rough it almost vibrated through your body. He thrust harder, deeper, as if he was trying to pull every ounce of pleasure from you, driving you into a state where you were too lost to even think.

His hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, almost possessive in the way he gripped you. His chest was slick with sweat against your back, his breath hot in your ear, and the sheer power radiating off him made you feel small in his arms—but in the best way.

“Goddamn it…,” he muttered, and you could feel the tension in his whole body. The muscles in his arms were flexed, veins popping out as he held onto you, like you were the only thing keeping him from coming undone.

His lips brushed against your neck, biting down softly as he pushed into you one last time, deep and hard, holding himself there as a deep growl rumbled from his chest. You could feel the moment he finally gave in, the way his whole body shuddered against yours as he came, the heat of his release filling you, spilling out in hot waves.

Logan’s growl turned into a soft groan, his hips jerking slightly as the last of his control slipped away. For a moment, he didn’t move, just held you there, buried deep inside you, his breath heavy and rough in your ear. You could feel his heartbeat against your back, erratic and wild.

Slowly, his grip on you loosened, his body relaxing as the intensity of the moment began to fade. His lips found the back of your neck again, this time softer, more tender, as he let out a deep sigh, still holding you close.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “That was… fuckin' intense.”

You smiled, still trying to catch your breath, your body trembling with aftershocks. Logan finally pulled out of you, rolling onto his back beside you, his chest still rising and falling with deep, heavy breaths. His hand reached over, resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles on your skin as the two of you lay there, tangled in the sheets.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was comfortable, the room still thick with the heat of what just happened. You could feel Logan’s eyes on you, but when you glanced over, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful.

You turned to him, smiling lazily, still feeling the afterglow of everything. “Guess Wade was right, huh?” you teased, your voice playful, but Logan just grunted, rolling his eyes.

“Fuckin' Wade,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Bastard won’t shut up about this, will he?”

You laughed, the sound light in the quiet room, and Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk. There was a softness in his expression now, the rough edges smoothed out by the aftermath of it all, but even so, there was still that unmistakable Logan—fierce, untamed, and completely irresistible.

Logan shifted beside you, pulling you closer into his chest, wrapping his arm around you like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet. His warmth was comforting, and for once, you could feel the tension in him ease, as if, for now, he could just be in the moment with you.

You were still catching your breath, body limp against the sheets, when you felt Logan shift beside you.

And then, with a low, deep growl, Logan dipped his fingers into the wet heat where his cum was still dripping from you.

You shuddered, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, overwhelmed, but then you felt him lift his hand, slick with the evidence of what he’d left inside you.

He smirked, his fingers glistening with his release, and before you could say anything, he pressed them against your chest—right between your breasts. Slowly, deliberately, he smeared it across your skin, leaving a hot, wet trail in his wake. His touch was rough, teasing, and the way his eyes followed every movement made it even hotter.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his voice husky and low, almost like he was admiring his own handiwork. His hand slid higher, spreading the warmth across your chest, smearing his cum all over your skin, marking you with it. “Fuckin' perfect.”

Your breath hitched as he dragged his fingers down again, leaving no inch untouched. The way he moved was deliberate, slow, making sure you felt every second of it. The heat of his release mixed with the sweat already clinging to your skin, and the sight of Logan watching you, his gaze dark and possessive, only made you ache for more.

He leaned down, his mouth just barely brushing against your ear. “Mine,” he growled softly, his voice rough with need. “You’re mine.”

[lovebugism]

hi bug! can I please request the dialogue prompt “Hold up, she said what?” with steve and shy!reader? maybe she is robin’s friend and robin tells steve something reader said (maybe that she thinks steve is cute or nice or something of the sort), and it leads to a cute conversation between the two?

ty for requesting angel!! — steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love (shy!fem!reader, friends to lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, 2.3k)

blurbcember ⋆⁺₊⋆ ❄ ⁺₊⋆ ❄

“Wait, wait, wait,” Steve interjects suddenly, a metal scoop in his hand and a wild look in his eye. “She said what?”

Robin fumbles with the metal tub of Peppermint-Chip ice cream she’s refilling. It clangs when she drops it into place with haphazard care. The shop goes unusually silent without her rambling to fill the dead air. Holly, Jolly Christmas crackles quietly from the broken speakers overhead.

The girl blinks at him with a wide ocean gaze. Her rogue-tinted mouth falls softly agape. She knows she’s said the wrong thing, but she can’t remember what.

“...Huh?”

“What’d you just say?”

Her doe eyes flit to the left for a moment. It takes her a second or more to recall the words she’d only just said. She does this thing sometimes where she rambles on and on about nothing, and Steve was the first person in the whole world to let her. So it’s way too easy for her to tell him a billion things at once and forget about all of them a second later.

“That the music store just got new cassettes in?” Robin answers, her gritty voice a few octaves higher than usual.

Steve nods slow and with a crooked grin that pulls at the corners of his mouth. He rests his elbow on the glass case above the ice cream and eggs her on. “After that?”

“…That you and the pretty new girl that works there have the same taste in music?”

“Before that.”

“That she said she wanted to show you the new tapes,” she says, wincing with the realization that she had, in fact, said the wrong thing. A secret she swore not to tell has just spilled from her lips without her even knowing it.

“And?” Steve lilts with a wider, rosier smile.

“Because she likes you…” Robin confesses (or rather, re-confesses) with her teeth gritted.

Even though Steve had heard her perfectly the first time, hearing it the second makes his heart skip a beat. The pulsing organ lurches into his throat. He almost forgets how to breathe.

“She likes me?” he repeats, mostly whispering, with an incredulous gape of shock. His bushy brows raise until his forehead wrinkles. His eyes go wide until the honey of them starts to glimmer.

Despite her best friend’s lovesick disposition, Robin’s freckled face hardens. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she rumbles like a storm cloud, knocking her shoulder against his when she walks by him.

“Why?” Steve retorts like a child, following behind her just the same. 

He nearly bumps into her when she stops short at the deep freezer. She returns the cloth mits she carried the ice cream in with after spending her whole break organizing the case by color. Steve could never even be bothered to put the damn things back where they belonged in the first place.

“Because I swore to her I wouldn’t,” Robin agonizes, then whips around to face him again. Her features are twisted like a hurt puppy as she pleads. “Don’t tell her I said anything either, okay? She’ll hate me.”

Steve wasn’t planning on it. Not because he thought it might make you hate her, though. He’s not entirely sure you’re capable of that. 

He’s only known you for a few months — ever since the leaves started changing color and people traded their ice cream cones for cool music at the new record store. He spent half that time admiring you across the landing, but you’ve never been anything but gentle with him. You were soft, with a soul of sunshine. 

He didn’t know it was possible to be made of sunlight until he met you.

“Well, did you tell her I liked her back?” he presses, hoping Robin might’ve done some of the hard work for him.

Her face screws up like she’s tasted something sour. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised you I wouldn’t.”

Steve shoots her a deadpanned look.

Robin caves. 

“It’s not like I meant to tell you she liked you just now, okay? It just came out!” she explains, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Maybe next time I stick my foot in my mouth around the new girl, I’ll tell her that you’re obsessed with her, and the two of you can finally start dating instead of making sex eyes at each other all the time.”

He wouldn’t put that past her. Robin the Mastermind, Robin the Blabbermouth, Robin the Matchmaker. But his fluttering heart is pumping with too much adrenaline now. He feels like he could move mountains with the knowledge of your affections — knowing that all his own big, fuzzy, suffocating feelings have been reciprocated all this time.

If he doesn’t talk to you now, he’s scared he’ll never work up this kind of courage again.

“No. Screw that,” he concludes with a shake of his head. He’s in King Steve mode now — feeling half as suave as he used to back when the whole town was falling at his feet — chest puffed and ego reeling. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Robin watches, dumbfounded, as he dumps a scoop of their best-selling ice cream into a paper bowl. Another tub she’ll have to refill. Steve ducks under the counter door and heads for the exit. “Wait— what am I supposed to do?” the girl shouts across the empty store.

Now out in the bustling Starcourt mall and taking short strides towards the music store, Steve spins on his heel to face her. He shrugs and readjusts the sailor’s cap on his head. “Wait for me to get back.”

—————

You’ve been banished to the back of the store.

Not exactly. But that’s what it feels like.

You got a bit too overwhelmed working the front counter, and since Eddie’s crazy soft on you, he let you put up all the Christmas decorations he’d been putting off instead. It’s a win-win situation, really. 

You’re stringing up sparkling tinsel over the rows of records when a deep blue sailor’s uniform catches your eye. Looking over your shoulder, you find Steve in all his glorysauntering towards you. He’s wearing shorts even though it’s basically winter now in Indiana. He’s beaming at you like sunshine anyway.

Beneath the amber glow of the dimly lit store, he looks borderline angelic. Almost unfairly ethereal.

“What’s that?” you wonder with a smile you don’t even know is there, nodding to the Scoops Ahoy brandedcup in his hand. 

You can almost smell the syrup-cinnamon concoction of the ice cream he holds in his palm. Or maybe that’s just Steve, and the sugary sweetness is radiating from his pores after working in a confectionary shop during the holidays.

He looks at you even sweeter.

“New flavor,” he answers vaguely, smirking as he leans against the metal shelves. He stumbles slightly when it rocks beneath his weight. “Oops. Sorry. It’s, uh— It’s pancake chunks with maple syrup swirl. I call it Wake and Bake.” 

A giggle tumbles from your lips when he hands it to you. “Eddie’s gonna love that,” you murmur.

“Well, it’s actually called Breakfast in Bed, but— I don’t know— I thought my idea was better.”

“Way better,” you concur with a nod and a pretty smile.

Steve watches with attentive honey eyes as you spoon a bite into your mouth. He feels a bit like it’ll be his fault if you hate it. His irrational need to impress you always makes him feel hopelessly inadequate. 

“Woah,” you hum without your mouth still a little full. The cream melts softly on your tongue, tasting of a sweet and early morning. “This is really good.”

His brows raise, and his eyes widen. “Yeah?” he wonders. Your words wash over him like a compliment for a reason he can’t name. It feels good to make you feel good.

“Mhmm. I might have to come by after work and buy the rest of it, actually,” you joke with a curt shrug. It’s a feeble confession — your way of telling him that you want to see him more because you could never say the real thing out loud.

Your heart sinks when Steve shakes his head. Then swells when he smiles.

“No way,” he scoffs, lips curling into a lopsided grin. “I’m not gonna let you pay for it— that’s crazy.”

“You can’t keep giving me free ice cream, Steve—”

“What my manager doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he lilts lowly and with a cool shrug that makes you melt. He goes very distinctly soft when he looks at you, all scruffy-faced and sweet-eyed. 

It’s suffocatingly beautiful. You crack under the pressure of it. 

“Well, uh— Thanks for the— ice cream,” you stammer and motion the bowl back to him. Thanks for stopping by and keeping me company, but you’re too pretty and I’m not sure how much longer I can take it, you don’t say.

“You don’t want the rest?” he asks with pinched brows.

“I just… should probably get back to work, you know?”

“Eddie doesn’t let you take breaks?”

“No, he does,” you answer quickly, shifting your weight on your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to meet his gaze. “Just not with…”

Steve’s brows raise when you trail off. “Not with me?” he finishes with a laugh.

“Well, not with the… pretty-boy-ice-cream-slinger in the sailor’s uniform,” you correct, then quickly follow. “His words. Not mine.”

In all honesty, Steve couldn’t care less about what Eddie Munson has to say about him. If Hawkins’s local freak is the only thing standing between him and the pretty girl at the music store, he’s down to break a couple of dumb rules.

He takes a small step towards you. His pink smirk widens. You swear your heart stops when he looks at you with it. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” he teases with a twinkle in his squinted eye.

Suddenly, there’s a frog in your throat and you’re fourteen all over again. You’re flustered and drowning and totally unsure of yourself. “I didn’t say that,” you mutter, gaze flittering and smile wavering.

Steve goes to rest his elbow on the shelf again, then remembers its unsteadiness and decides against it. His arm rests awkwardly in the air for half a moment before he crosses both of them over his chest. 

“Well, I mean, you didn’t not say it, so…”

You squint up at him, busying your clammy hands with the melting ice cream in your palm. You know what he’s fishing for. Your pride urges you to stay silent even though your heart sings the sweetest songs for him. 

“You know you’re pretty, Steve,” you murmur matter of factly.

“But do you think I’m pretty?”

Your thundering heart lurches into your throat when Steve takes another small step closer. He smells like wintertime — like Christmas and nostalgia and boy. You don’t trust your voice to answer him verbally, so you nod, slow and sheepish.

“Good,” he hums with a beam he couldn’t hide if he tried. “‘Cause I think you’re pretty, too.”

Your chest gets all sparkly at his admission — the affirmation that all your girlish feelings are being reciprocated by a boy you never dreamed you could have. You don’t feel hardly deserving of the fondness dripping from his features, but you pray he never stops looking at you with it.

You grow warm with the irrational hope that he might kiss you. You think he might actually kiss you until your boss’s voice pierces the golden bubble of puppy love the both of you are basking in.

“How’s the decorating going?” Eddie announces himself, appearing suddenly between the two aisles.

Robin idles at his side. She’s in the feminine version of Steve’s sailor outfit — with silver chains around her neck and bandaids on her knees. Effortlessly endearing and totally unaware of it all.

You push Steve away from you without thinking, all but shoving the softening ice cream into his chest. Some of it smears white against the scarlet tie around his chest. “Sorry!” you exclaim in your moment of fleeting panic, then turn to Eddie with the same apologetic wince. “Sorry…” you repeat quieter.

“Robin?” Steve gapes at the sight of his best friend — apparently the second thing standing in his way, right beside the freak. “What the hell are you doing here— did you tattle on me? What are you, four?”

“I got lonely,” the brunette answers plainly. “And I knew you were around here somewhere, so I asked Eddie where you were—” She waves a pale hand your way, fingers painted with chipping maroon polish.  “—And now I’m here.”

Eddie grins wide and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. “Yeah. Can’t believe you’re trying to taint my one good employee, Steven.”

“I’m not tainting anybody, Munson,” he bites back like a bickering brother, then screws up his face and turns to Robin. “Wait. If you’re here, who’s manning the counter?”

Her freckled face falls like a child caught in a fib. Her deep blue eyes widen when she blinks at him. In a mousier voice, she confesses, “Dustin came by… And I told him he could eat all the ice cream he wanted as long as he made sure no one stole anything.”

The four of you fall silent. The soft rock of Christmas Wrapping plays weakly from the radio at the front of the store. Eddie breaks first. ‘Cause he can’t ever be serious about anything. 

The boyish sound of his laughter sends a giggle sputtering from your lips. The pretty noise makes Steve smile despite his baffled disbelief.

He turns to you with a dumbfounded grin. “You’re still stopping by after work, right?”

“Yeah,” you answer softly, nodding as your smiling face grows hot.

Eddie scoffs when Steve walks by him. “If you still have a job by then.”

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ his favourite scent

with jude bellingham ⭐︎ this was a request by @mariejuli ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ ⭐︎ loove this!!! - inbox is open

⭐︎⭐︎

Jude Bellingham was addicted. Completely, hopelessly, undeniably addicted—to the scent of your hair. He didn’t know when it started, but it was like a switch flipped, and now he couldn’t get enough.

Maybe it was the first time you stayed over, curled up against his chest, the faint scent of vanilla and something warm and sweet tickling his nose maybe strawberry. Or maybe it was the lazy Sunday mornings when he’d wake up to find you sprawled out, hair wild and untamed, a halo of curls around your face. He swore you looked like a lioness.

And he loved it.

“Babe, you’re doing it again,” you murmured sleepily, voice muffled against the pillow. Jude had buried his face in your curls, inhaling deeply, arms wrapped tight around your waist.

“Hmm?” he hummed innocently, though he didn’t stop. If anything, he nuzzled even closer, his lips brushing against your temple.

“You’re obsessed with my hair,” you teased, turning onto your back to look at him. Your curls fanned out on the pillow, a gorgeous mess that had him completely captivated.

He grinned, unashamed. “Can you blame me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your cheeks warmed at the way he stared at you—like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His fingers gently played with a curl, wrapping it around his finger before letting it bounce back.

“It’s just so soft,” he murmured. “And it smells so good.”

Your heart melted. You reached up, threading your fingers through his short curls in return, making him sigh in contentment.

“You’re such a softie,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jude chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Only for you, baby.”

And as he drifted back to sleep, face buried in your curls once again, you couldn’t help but smile. Because if this was an addiction, neither of you ever wanted a cure.

Later that morning, you found yourself curled up on the couch, Jude’s head resting in your lap while he played with the ends of your curls absentmindedly. You scrolled through your phone, but his constant fiddling with your hair made it hard to focus.

“Jude,” you laughed softly, looking down at him. “Are you ever gonna stop?”

He tilted his head up to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Nahh.”

You shook your head, fingers threading through his own short curls in retaliation. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love,” he corrected, pressing a kiss to your wrist before gently tugging on a curl and watching it bounce back into place. “I love all of you, but your hair? It’s just... part of you. It’s wild ,soft and smells like heaven.”

Your face heated up at his words, and he grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. “I swear, if I could bottle up the smell of your hair, I would.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”

Jude grinned. “I am a lovesick puppy.” He nuzzled his face into your curls again, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Just accept your fate.”

Shaking your head, you playfully flicked his forehead. “My fate, huh?”

“Mhm.” He peeked up at you with those big brown eyes. “Stuck with me forever.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I think I can live with that.”

His smile was blinding as he pulled you down into another kiss, his hands tangled in your hair like he never wanted to let go. And honestly? You didn’t either.

⭐︎⭐︎

[yazmarina]

meddle about

for hit play, a drabble event.

—"we only met each other just the other day, but you already got me feeling some type of way" (meddle about by chase atlantic)

ollie bearman (f2) x afab!reader

warnings/notes: smut, fingering, unprotected sex, clothed sex, semi-public sex, creampie, office romance-ish

a/n: ollie does seem like the type to meddle about with you...enjoy!

"Oh, hey. It's you."

Goosebumps rise all over your skin as you realize whose voice you just heard. You swallow, trying to portray nonchalance as best as you can.

"Hey, Ollie."

The driver smiles, sidling up closer to you, hands gently resting on your waist as he wiggles past you in the cramped kitchenette. The Prema trailer is empty, save for you, painstakingly pouring cups of coffee to give out to everyone at the paddock tent. And, obviously, Ollie is here, too.

Ollie's hands leave a burning imprint on your skin as he moves away and settles on the couch in the corner. You try to ignore it, but you know Ollie's staring. He stares at you all the time, doesn't even attempt to hide it.

You're not even sure what it means. Or if it means anything at all.

You've only been employed with the team for a month, barely knowing anyone yet, save for your friend who referred you to this job. She made it sound enticing enough. You'd help her handle the comms for the whole team, film some social media content, attend press stuff. And at least you could do it together. And the company parties are fun. A good time all around.

She didn't warn you that part of the job was having one of the drivers follow you around like a lovesick puppy, his fluffy hair and big brown eyes melting the last of your resolve.

"What are you doing later tonight?" Ollie asks casually. You remain unmoving, refusing to look at him.

"Just going back to the hotel to rest," you respond plainly. "Got a lot of work to do for socials."

Ollie hums in acknowledgment. It's silent for a while and the urge to look back at him claws its way up within you. You beg yourself to not give Ollie the satisfaction, to not give yourself the satisfaction. God knows all your restraint goes out the window whenever Ollie's close.

With a sigh, you give in, looking over your shoulder at Ollie.

He's leaning back against the couch, arms spread on the backrest, his whole demeanor as relaxed as one can be.

"Need help with those?" Ollie asks, gesturing to the tray of coffee in front of you.

You wave him off. "Later."

You face him full-on, leaning against the counter. He looks back, eyebrows raised.

"Do you need something?" You ask, trying to add some bite to your tone. Not that you wanted to purposely offend Ollie, but you're not quite sure how else to go about this.

"No...?" Ollie begins, looking at you, puzzled.

"Then why do you–"

You stop cold. What are you even going to ask?

Why is he staring? What if he's not and you're just imagining all of it?

Why does he touch you out of nowhere? What if he's that way with everyone?

Why do you like it so much when he touches you?

...Well.

You huff, a hand smoothing through your hair. You practically march over to where he's seated, hesitating for a moment before sliding in beside him. He adjusts his posture, keeping his arm behind you on the couch. He smiles, almost smug in the look of satisfaction that washes over his face.

"Yes?" Ollie asks, tilting his head closer.

"This is bad. Illegal. Breaks about a dozen clauses in both of our contracts," you recite, hands wringing in your lap. Ollie watches you fidget, his hand resting behind you slowly reaching over to steady your movements.

His hand covers both of yours, big enough to wrap around your wrists if he wanted to.

"What are you talking about?" Ollie asks once more, the weight on his hand heavy in your lap.

"Tell me."

You gulp, having never heard Ollie's voice take on such a commanding tone. You turn to look at him straight in the eye. With a final prayer to whatever god is listening, you decide to just spit it out.

"You're staring. You stare all the time. You're touchy, too touchy for someone who I'm supposed to just be coworkers with. How about you tell me what it is you want?"

Ollie's expression falls and he withdraws his hand back. He stutters for a few seconds, unable to find the words.

"Did I do something wrong?" Ollie begins. "I thought–I mean, after Austria, at the club, after my win, you grabbed my ass–"

"Oh my god, Ollie, I was drunk!" Came your panicked reply. "And you were inches away from my face telling me something I had no intention of understanding because I wanted to make out with you right then and there if I'm being honest."

The two of you stare at each other, both stunned into silence.

A beat. A second. A breath.

"Come here," Ollie commands, hands already wrapping around your hips. You're happy to oblige as you clamber onto his lap, straddling his thick thighs on both sides.

You couldn't have been any more eager to get your lips on his, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kiss, rough and frenzied. Ollie groans against your mouth, pressing you down on his rapidly hardening cock. You can feel it through his jeans, thick and heavy.

"Hurry," you implore, hiking your work skirt up around your waist. Ollie reaches down and yanks your underwear to the side, fingers swiping through your arousal.

"All wet for me, love?" Ollie asks, peppering kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You whimper, his fingers expertly working at your clit.

"God, you're so pretty," he mutters, latching onto a spot just above your collar. You shiver, feeling him tease at your hole next.

Ollie plunges two fingers in, bottom lip caught in his teeth as he watches you immediately grind against his fingers, your wetness coating his hand.

You'd known that Ollie was somewhat adept with his hands, being a racing driver and all, but the way he's curling his fingers in you has you seeing stars. If you had the time to cum on his fingers alone, you would.

"Come on," Ollie urges, pulling his hand away, only just managing to stop yourself from whimpering at the loss of contact. You watch impatiently as he fumbles with his belt and zipper, anticipation thick in the air, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. He finally gets his bottoms open, pulling his underwear down enough to let his cock free.

He gives it a few cursory strokes, pulling you in for another searing kiss.

"Spit on it," Ollie says, voice pitching lower. You obey, letting a drop of saliva loose on his red-tipped length. He coats it all over, tapping you on the thigh.

You don't have to be told twice as you position yourself over him, quickly sinking down in one fell swoop. Both of you gasp, unfamiliar with each other's sensations. Ollie squeezes his eyes shut, mouth agape. You're panting, the stretch of his cock making your head spin.

You anchor yourself to him, bracing your thighs against the couch. You start out slow, trying to get a feel of just how big Ollie fits inside of you. He squeezes at your waist, watching as you ride him.

Picking up the pace, you start to bounce a little harder, the sound reverberating through the whole trailer. It dawns on you now that anyone can walk in and see you like this. The thought spurs you on to go even faster, ignoring the burn in your legs.

"Oh god, oh fuck," Ollie curses, eyes glued to the image of him disappearing inside of you. You reach down to rub at your clit, an action that has Ollie groaning.

"You're so hot," he praises, one hand reaching out to squeeze at your chest through your shirt. Your Prema shirt, the work uniform that reminded you both exactly what you are and where you are at this moment.

"Ollie," you mewl. "Ollie, I need you to cum. Cum inside me. Don't make a mess."

Ollie manages to laugh in disbelief but is quickly silenced when you clench around him, your own fingers speeding up against your sensitive nub.

You gasp, feeling the telltale signs of your release. Ollie practically pins you in place, fucking up into you instead. You're both making more noise than what's deemed safe in such a public place surrounded by activity, but neither of you care. The tip of his cock brushes that one spot deep inside you, again and again, harder each time.

Before you know it, your orgasm rips through you, your nails digging into Ollie's shoulders. He grunts as he's trapped between your squeezing walls, his cock twitching as he, too, reaches his release.

Your labored breaths are the only things that can be heard now, your figure slumped against his. Ollie wraps his arms around you, planting a tender kiss to your temple.

You hear a vague vibrating sound coming from somewhere in the vicinity and you frantically search around before spotting your phone on the floor. You immediately recognize the caller ID as your friend.

Wincing, you get off of Ollie, grabbing your phone.

"Yeah?"

"Where are you? And the coffee? Look, I'm coming by the trailer if you need help."

You give Ollie a panicked look. He understands immediately.

"Also," your friend continues. "Have you seen Ollie?"

[writinandcrying]

How does the 2003 turtles react to crushes - part 1

Just a little thing cuz I miss writing, i miss tmnt and I haven’t got the time to do a full one shot or mashup in MONTHS 😔, I’m still on season 1-2 so if anything is a bit too ooc, I apologize! I love reading about crushes, first kisses, first loves, so this is for my puppy love stage lovers out there!! p.s: there's a poll for the next turtle by the end of the headcanon, make sure to vote your favorite! <3

(English is not my first language and I have dyslexia, I try to check everything before posting but sometimes grammar mistakes still happen, I apologize in advance if you find one!)

Leo

That’s some deeply repressed, effortless devotion energy right there, Leo is a pro at pretending that everything is fine, keeping it cool, but on the inside? so freaking nervous it’s not even funny

it's almost creepy how quiet he suddenly gets near you on your first visits, he acts in such a secluded but... odd way that everyone know something is up with him, but no one really knows what.

His younger brothers are all 🤨 over how he’s acting, at first, they noticed tiny shifts in his behaviors, they weren’t big enough to raise a red flag of such change, but when Leo shows how inpatient and careless he has become in training or meditating, then they KNOW something was really off . he has been careless for the silliest things as well, breaking the toaster more than once a week, forgetting to nag them about the open toothpaste, stuff he usually wouldn't miss it, but suddenly he doesn't mind it anymore.

None of them have the guts to ask him (Raph and Mikey might tease here and there, but you know, it’s Raph and Mikey) Don might find himself studying his brother from time to time, interested to why his older brother is being way more introspective than before, he wonders if maybe he’s going through a natural turtle process of some sort April is the only one who truly leaves him be, but as your visits become more frequent, it all clicks when you randomly stop by to deliver some groceries by Master Splinter request.

The pure lovesick look he glances at you when you first enter... you caught him completely off guard as he was leaving the dojo with Master Splinter, his dementor shifted back rapidly to stoic, but April noticed it, her eyes widened slightly as it all made sense, softening right after. Leo helps you with the groceries with agility, as Master Splinter excuses himself after he thanks you, he even dares to make small talk after an extremely long and awkward moment of silence (which he researched his possible lines in his head several times, made up several scenarios in which topic it could lead into, I might add) We have seen how Leo reacts to Usagi in the series (he has a fat crush on each other and I’m right) so you know even if he is indeed nervous, Leo is so dedicated to your well-being, attentive to your needs and inputs to missions or even movie debates, it’s heartwarming to see how inclusive he can be of you. He notices everything – Not in an obvious way, or a loud way, but in a way that means you’ll never have to ask him twice about something important to you. You mention offhand that you like a certain type of tea? He remembers. You’re shivering? He’s already handing you his jacket before you can say a word. The exact moment you get tired even before you admit it.

One day at training after sparring, you absentmindedly rubbed your wrist. You didn’t say anything, didn’t complain at the pain you might have felt, but later that night, you find a perfectly wrapped bandage roll left on top of your bag. No note. No explanation. You glance at Leo, and he’s just calmly cleaning his takana, pretending like he has no idea what you’re looking at. He’s not the type to shower you with words, but his actions speak volumes. He makes sure you always walk on the safe path while coming back from a mission or scorting you back home, he picks whatever condiment out of your food because he remembers you don’t like them. He’ll “coincidentally” be around when you need help, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. He's gentle, kind, and a true gentleman, he makes sure his presence is there. He effortlessly puts so much thought into you, it’s just how his mind works.

He disliked how nervous he first got around you, but after a while, he didn’t even realize how he had grown used to thinking about you. He grabs an extra bottle of water without thinking because you might be thirsty later. His brothers joke that he’s got favorites, and he just denies it, but deep down? Yeah. It’s you. Eventually, he has to talk to someone, and he chooses to confide in April about… well, everything? regarding feelings, about how to be sure, what does it feel like to love someone and how should he react to it? wait, did he say love? How can he stop his hands from getting so sweaty? this is ridiculous, should he feel anxious and at ease around you all at the same time? From time to time, he tells himself he doesn’t like you like that, that he’s just looking out for you because you’re part of the team, part of the family. that's just him being a leader, That’s all it is.

his train of thought is broken as he hears Mikey chuckle “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Leo stiffens, cleaning his throat as he turns he page of his book a bit too slow “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you SO do.” Mikey grins. “The ‘eyes-follow-them-every-time-they-leave-the-room’ thing? The ‘silent-knight-hovering’ thing? classic move, real smooth.”

Leo exhales through his nose, forcing himself to focus on back his book. It’s not like that. It can’t be. "Maybe you should tell them, who knows, they might be looking back right at ya" Mikey winks at him, biting on this apple as he sits on the couch, turning on the tv. Maybe he was looking at you too long, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was, or his brothers just, unfortunately, know him too well and finally caught up. He prided himself and his control, his calm exterior, carefully managed. but maybe you slip through the cracks. He can't help but to continue notice how eyes shine brighter when you smile, remembering every little thing about you, doing things that only you get to see. Deep down, he knows. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

[justcruisingaroundrevived]

Okay obviously I love yan bill but think about bill with a reader who's obsessed with him like. Absolutely pathetic for him, would do anything for him like a sad little stray puppy and he knows it. Like obviously he would be a little creeped out but like at the same time he could take advantage of that and it would feed his ego so good

I Can’t Care About Anything But You

Summary: Bill Dickey x Loser! Reader

TW/CW: Manipulation, toxic relationship, co dependency

A/N: Anon…are you my lost twin?/POS

Reblogs are appreciated!

* And Bill thought he was pathetic

* It’s strange how you’re always near him whenever possible. From the cafeteria, to his classes, to even his locker. You keep giving him this lovesick expression and act so embarrassed when he even acknowledges your existence

* He complains about this to the club, and the rest of the members are thinking “Business opportunity”

* Cause let’s be honest; a person who’s THIS obsessed with Bill must mean they’re also willing to do anything for the club, right?

* Bill’s scoffs at them (��Like I want a creepy stalker”) and avoids you like the plague. Changing his route, sitting as far away from you as possible, openly complaining about you to the club

* Doesn’t work cause you were smitten the moment you laid eyes on him

* It isn’t until you hear Bill complain about an “online bully” that you decide to take action

* You spent nights figuring out who this online bully was, and even found some personal information about that

* One folder containing 5 pages of their identity later…”Maybe you aren’t so bad”

* Bill’s not the PDA type of guy, but secretly loves quality time.

* He’ll take you to his basement when there’s no club meeting and make you watch an old Superman episode while he rants about why this Superman was better than that Superman (you, of course, get giddy over this)

* Absolutely brags to you to the club. They’re pissed (like they didn’t set Bill up) and are tired of hearing about him and you

* You can’t stop talking about him to your friends, and they’re really concern that Bill’s taking advantage of you

* And he is. You’re his ego boost. Every time he needs to complain about the club members, you’re right there, eagerly awaiting him

* If he needs a rare collectible, you’re armoring up and ready to beat a little kid who DARED steal from Bill (you’ve gotten in trouble for that)

* Fuck, he probably doesn’t even spend a lot on gifts, considering you get excited when he buys you a gift card or something

* However, despite all of this, a part of me thinks he does care for you (as much as he allows himself to)

* He’ll remember your birthday and anniversaries and would try to put some effort into his gifts eventually

* It’s nice to have someone he can talk to that won’t immediately judge him.

* Your public affections can get annoying to him, but the way his face goes red and his eyes having a twinkle in them, he’s eating this up so much

* If he really liked you, I can honestly see him pushing you to be more confident in yourself and actually stand up to people (read: yelling at them and insulting them)

* This relationship would honestly not last long. Especially considering this is Bill we’re talking about, he’ll probably dump you the moment your usefulness have drained up

* However, if you managed to get past that, there are two options for this relationship

* If you stay the same pathetic puppy like now, Bill would absolutely thrive off of it.

* Especially considering he feels like a failure (he would never admit to it, though), it’s nice to know someone’s whose in his corner

* He will still manipulate you to do his bidding, though, and you, of course, do it because you’re that in love with him and will forever want his approval

* If you gained some confidence in yourself, it may heal him

* Just give him the whole shebang and he’ll realize he has to straighten up

* Bill honestly needs some direction in his life, and would appreciate (secretly) some direction in his life

* Good luck out there, solider

[gracie-eilish]

your girl💋

summary: you and billie are hanging with friends and she’s feeling a little flirty and confident😉

an: i got my nails done today so i typed this with long nails for the first time in forever. so please excuse any typos my nails may have caused and i missed🤦‍♀️🫠

💋✨❤️🫧

The party buzzed with warmth and laughter as I arrived, shaking off the cold from outside. I tossed my coat onto the pile on the couch in the front room and made my way down the hall toward the chatter and music. “Hellooooo!” I called, announcing my arrival.

A wave of greetings rippled through the room, faces lighting up as they saw me. “Finally!” Kayleigh exclaimed, rushing over to hand me a drink. “We were about to send a search party!”

“Studio ran late, and then, of course, traffic,” I explained, taking a grateful sip. “But I’m here now!”

Kayleigh looped her arm through mine, dragging me into the kitchen. Taylor, Gracie, and Claudia were huddled there, laughing over some snacks. “Look who finally decided to join us!” Kayleigh announced dramatically.

Gracie grinned, tossing a pretzel into her mouth. “About time, Y/N. We were starting to think Billie was gonna pout all night without you.”

“Pouting?” I laughed, grabbing a piece of chocolate from the counter. “What does she have to pout about? I’m here now.”

“She literally sighed and stared at the door every five minutes,” Taylor chimed in with a smirk.

“Like a lovesick puppy,” Claudia added, feigning dreamy eyes.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “She’s ridiculous,” I muttered, warmth blooming in my chest at the thought.

Gracie leaned in conspiratorially. “You know she’s been winning Uno just to take out her frustration, right?”

“Oh no,” I groaned, laughing. “I better go save everyone before she gets too competitive.”

“Please do,” Taylor begged. “She’s one step away from flipping the table.”

Leaving the girls behind, I made my way into the living room. Billie was mid-game, her brow furrowed in concentration as she slapped down a card with force. “Reverse!” she announced triumphantly, earning a groan from Ava.

“You’re evil,” Ava muttered, glaring at her dwindling deck.

“Evil? No, I’m strategic,” Billie shot back, grinning smugly.

Finneas shook his head. “You can’t call it strategic when it’s pure luck, Billie.”

“Luck?” Billie gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? This is pure skill, Finneas.”

“Skill, my ass,” Zoe interjected, slapping a Draw Four card on the pile. “That’s for earlier, Billie. Enjoy.”

The room erupted in laughter as Billie let out an exaggerated, “Nooooo!” clutching her chest as if mortally wounded.

“Play it, loser,” Jane teased. “Let’s keep it moving.”

Moments later, Billie redeemed herself with a Wild card, and the room exploded in protests as she yelled, “Uno! And… game!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sabrina groaned, tossing her cards onto the pile.

Billie stood up, arms raised in victory. “That’s right, bow down to your champion!”

“Sit down,” Finneas said flatly, though he couldn’t hide his grin.

As Billie did a playful victory lap, her eyes landed on me. Her smug grin softened into something more playful as she called out, “Baby!”

All heads turned toward me, and before I could respond, Billie smirked and added, “Come give your girl a kiss, mama.”

The room erupted in whistles and teasing laughter. My jaw dropped, a mix of laughter and embarrassment bubbling up as my cheeks turned bright red. “Oh my God,” I muttered, making my way over to her.

Billie met me halfway, wrapping her arms around my waist and pulling me in for a deep kiss. My giggle was muffled against her lips as the room whooped and hollered.

“Get a room!” Zoe yelled playfully.

“You’re just jealous,” Billie shot back, pulling away just enough to smirk at her.

“That I don’t have to put up with your Uno tyranny? Not really,” Zoe quipped.

Ignoring the banter, Billie looked back at me, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m her girl,” she declared proudly, her arm tightening around my waist. “See that? Hers. Me. I’m her girl.”

“Literally the most obnoxious winner I’ve ever seen,” Finneas muttered.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Billie replied, guiding me back to the couch.

We settled in, her arm draped over my shoulders as I nestled into her side. Someone suggested putting on a Christmas movie, and the group began debating between classics and modern options.

When the drinks ran low, Billie stood, tugging me along. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go grab more drinks.”

In the kitchen, she turned soft, her teasing arrogance melting away. “How was your day, baby?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

“Busy,” I admitted. “But good. The song’s coming together.”

She smiled, her fingers grazing mine as she handed me a glass. “I’m proud of you, you know that?”

I softened under her gaze, squeezing her hand. “I know. Thank you.”

As we headed back to the living room, Billie stopped abruptly, her eyes darting upward. I followed her gaze to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway.

“C’mere, girly,” she said, wiggling her fingers for me to come closer. “I want another kissy.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out as I wrapped my arms around her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The group’s cheers echoed around us, Zoe yelling, “Again? Seriously?”

“Get used to it,” Billie shot back, kissing my cheek. “She’s mine, remember?”

“Tragic for us,” Jane teased.

We rejoined the group on the couch, Billie pulling me close again. “I love showing you off,” she whispered against my temple.

I smiled, resting my head on her shoulder. “And I love that you’re mine.”

The movie began, but I barely noticed. Being wrapped up in Billie’s arms felt like the only place I wanted to be.

💋✨❤️🫧

an: hope you enjoyed! i think i decided im a fluff girly, but i have no aversion to smut if i ever really learn to write it lol! send in requests! love you!💋💋💋💋

[letsyapthenightaway]

more luke hughes please i think I neeeeeddd him

Luke Hughes x Plus size!Reader

Luke is like the last Hughes standing right now, right? Poor dude is probably so stressed.

I can imagine him needing so many cuddles. Luke just seems like a big cuddler to me! I think I've said this like a million times.

I can imagine him pacing around the room over thinking until he's being pulled into your arms. He relaxes so quickly and the biggest sigh leaves him. Literally melts into your hold. Little spoon Luke moment, you have your arms wrapped around him and his face is either in your boobs or neck.

Quite literally stuffed himself there, can he breathe? Probably not but he's comfortable and is wrapped around you. He will talk but it's all mumbled just nod along and play with his curls.

If he has to stand up for any reason he will whine. No question asked he's grumbling about not being done with cuddles. Once he's back he is curled up again but this time his face is in your belly and half his body on your lap. He will 100% fall asleep like that and will notice if you dare to stop playing with his hair.

If someone walks in on y'all he is getting teased but after he wakes up. I feel like while he's asleep whoever walked in would drop a simple "is he serious right now?" With a laugh, shake their head, and walk away. Later you'd get a message from him asking why you didn't tell him someone had seen and that now he's getting chirped.

Talking about people seeing I can imagine Luke to always have an arm wrapped around you. He's always holding you close or keeping an eye on you. "Dude she's not going anywhere chill" but it's all lighthearted teasing. I can also see him be calm but suddenly you're getting a cuteness aggression kiss on the cheek. One that you cannot escape from you are just stuck there. It leaves you both laughing and blushing, totally lovesick for each other.

I can also see Luke always admiring you. Silently observing and looking as you do whatever. Often finds himself watching you do your makeup. When you blush and question him his answer is always kinda the same "you're just so pretty..." With a bashful smile.

Luke also gives me the vibe that he is soft kisses. I don't think he does aggressive kisses often only when cuteness aggression hits like I mentioned before. He pecks your lips multiple times and his smile grows wider for each one. He loves your chubby cheeks, I don't think he notices when he's leaning in and nuzzling into you. He definitely has bitten your cheek before and thighs, he can't help it.

Definitely feeds you. "Babe, try this!" As he holds something up to your mouth. I'm tempted to say he did this before even dating. He always thinks of you when he's trying new things. "I need to bring some of this back to her so she can try!" I'm also tempted to say that Luke was a big cuddler even before dating. He was always wrapped around you either physically or he had something of yours like a blanket. Just when you two actually started to date it got more intimate.

I feel like he does his little laugh while wrapping his arms around you. Squeezes you tightly, you can literally feel the love. The puppy love phase lasts forever between you two.

[xoxoch3rry]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕌𝕤 | 𝔽𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕪

@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.

ᴳᴵᶠ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ~

Word count: 1,453

────

Fred Weasley x fem!Malfoy reader

Warnings: Unrequited love, Angst.

Summary: Fred refuses to give up, determined to prove that love can transcend their families' hatred—even if it means facing heartbreak along the way.

────⊹ ࣪ ˖⋆˖ ࣪⊹────

The Hogwarts corridors were quieter than usual. Most students were at dinner, the Great Hall alive with chatter and clinking cutlery. You, however, found solace in the emptiness of the castle. You didn’t feel like sitting through another evening surrounded by the icy stares and cutting remarks of your housemates in Slytherin. The weight of your last name—Malfoy—was one you carried silently, its expectations heavy on your shoulders.

You turned a corner, your robes brushing against the stone walls, only to come face-to-face with Fred Weasley. His fiery red hair was unmistakable, even in the dim light of the torches lining the hall. His face lit up when he saw you, a grin spreading across his freckled face.

“Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy,” he said, leaning casually against the wall as if he hadn’t deliberately waited for you.

You sighed, your grip tightening on the book in your hands. “What do you want, Weasley?”

Fred’s grin faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, his brown eyes sparkling with something between mischief and longing. “Just wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

“Yes,” you said curtly, though your voice lacked the venom you wished it carried. You stepped around him, your pace quickening, but you weren’t surprised when he fell into step beside you.

“You can’t keep avoiding me forever, you know,” he said, his tone lighter than the conversation warranted.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you muttered, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Fred shot back, his voice softening. “You’ve been avoiding me since last week. Since—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, coming to an abrupt stop. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. “Don’t bring that up.”

He frowned, his usual confidence faltering. “Y/N, I meant what I said.”

You clenched your jaw, the memory of his confession playing in your mind. Fred Weasley, the Gryffindor prankster, the boy with an infectious laugh and a heart far too kind for someone like you, had told you he loved you. And you had turned him away.

────

Later that night, you sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room, absently stroking Draco’s white owl as it perched on the arm of your chair. Across from you, Draco slouched on the couch, one leg draped over the other, his silver eyes watching you intently.

“You’re brooding again,” Draco said, his voice cutting through the silence.

“I’m not brooding,” you snapped, though you both knew it was a lie.

Draco smirked, his trademark arrogance shining through. “You only sit in that chair when you’re thinking about him.”

You glared at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Fred Weasley,” Draco said, his tone dripping with disdain. “That one twin who seems to think following you around like a lovesick puppy is charming.”

“He’s not following me,” you muttered, though you knew it wasn’t entirely true. “And he’s not… he’s not a bad person, Draco.”

“He’s a Weasley,” Draco said sharply. “That’s bad enough.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Try me.”

For all his faults—and there were many—Draco was still your brother, the one person you could confide in without fear of judgment. You hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“He… he told me he loved me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in irritation. “And you didn’t hex him?”

“Draco,” you said warningly.

“What?” he said, throwing his hands up. “You can’t seriously be considering—”

“I’m not,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. We can’t be together.”

Draco studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he said finally. “Because if Father found out—”

“I know,” you said, cutting him off. “I know, Draco.”

He nodded, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “Just make sure it stays that way.”

────

But it didn’t stay that way. Fred didn’t give up.

The next day, you found a note tucked into your Potions textbook. The handwriting was unmistakably Fred’s, the letters slightly slanted and playful.

Meet me by the Astronomy Tower after class. Please.

You crumpled the note in your fist, your stomach twisting. You told yourself you wouldn’t go, that it was better to stay away. But as the day wore on, your resolve faltered. By the time night fell, you found yourself climbing the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.

Fred was waiting for you, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the railing. When he saw you, his face lit up with that familiar grin, though it quickly faded into something softer.

“You came,” he said, his voice tinged with surprise.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you replied, though there was no real bite to your words.

Fred stepped closer, his brown eyes searching yours. “Y/N, I meant what I said. I love you. And I know you feel something too.”

You turned away, your hands gripping the cold stone railing. “It doesn’t matter how I feel, Fred. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Because of our families? Because of some stupid rivalry that’s been going on for centuries?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice trembling. “Because of that. Because my family would never accept this. Because your family would never accept me.”

Fred stepped closer, his hand brushing yours. “My family would love you, Y/N. If they knew you the way I do, they’d love you.”

You pulled your hand away, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t understand, Fred. You don’t understand what it’s like to be a Malfoy. The expectations, the pressure… I can’t just walk away from that.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice soft but desperate. “I’m not asking you to give up your family. I’m just asking you to give us a chance.”

You turned to face him, your heartbreaking at the look in his eyes. “Fred, I can’t.”

“Won’t,” he corrected, his voice bitter. “You won’t.”

“Call it whatever you want,” you said, stepping back. “But this… this has to stop.”

Fred stared at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re wrong,” he said finally, his voice trembling with emotion. “This doesn’t have to stop. I won’t give up on you, Y/N. I can’t.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the cold night air.

────

The following weeks were torture. Fred didn’t give up, no matter how much distance you tried to put between you. He left notes in your books, charmed enchanted paper planes to find you in the library, and even sent you a bouquet of enchanted flowers that bloomed in Slytherin green and silver.

Your housemates teased you mercilessly, though none of them knew the truth. Only Draco knew, and he made sure to remind you of the consequences every chance he got.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said one evening, his voice low and sharp. “If Father finds out…”

“He won’t,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

Draco scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t keep this up, Y/N. He’s not going to stop.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to.

────

It all came to a head one evening in the library. You were sitting alone, trying to focus on your Potions essay, when Fred appeared, soaked from the rain. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his usually mischievous grin was replaced with a look of pure determination.

“Fred,” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. “What are you doing here?”

“Talking to you,” he said, sitting across from you. “You’ve been avoiding me again.”

“For good reason,” you said, your voice tight. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

“Because it’s worth it,” he said firmly. “Because you’re worth it.”

Your resolve cracked, tears welling in your eyes. “Fred, please…”

“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you, Y/N. And I think you love me too, even if you won’t admit it. So tell me—tell me right now that you don’t feel anything for me, and I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Because you couldn’t. Because it wasn’t true.

Fred leaned forward, his brown eyes locked onto yours. “Say it, Y/N. Say you don’t love me.”

At that moment, you realized that no matter how hard you tried to fight it, Fred Weasley had already claimed a piece of your heart.

“I love you.”