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yieldtotemptation · 4 months ago

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ALWAYS ft. Hanni

hanni x male reader smut

9k words

This used to be your least favourite part of the day.

Waking up alone, to nothing but an alarm that’s far too loud, a bed that’s way too firm, a dorm room that mocks your financial instability with its harsh coldness.

And that somehow, was the best-case scenario.

Beating getting kicked out of a library after passing out face first in a textbook, or booted off your best friend’s mouldy couch when his girlfriend wanted some alone time.

Or even, in your worst moment, getting yelled at by some stranger when you’re discovered on their bathroom floor in a pool of what you prayed to God was your own vomit.

All things of the past, since her.

Since Hanni—waking up was everything.

It starts, like it always does, in a tangle of limbs.

Most mornings, with Hanni’s face buried in your chest, cradled in your embrace, small puffs of breath tickling your neck. Others, with her back to you; pulling your arms around her, using the heat of your body like her coziest blanket.

One time on top of you; an exhausted smile plastered on her face, still basking in the afterglow of the night before.

She wrapped herself around you, refused to let go. Like there was a possibility that if she held you tight enough, she could bring you into her dreams.

That was the first day you truly saw her.

You talked about your pasts, your futures, shared your deepest vulnerabilities, made a million quiet confessions.

And when Hanni whispered: “I never want to go back.”

You pulled her closer, kissed her, and answered: “You’ll never have to.”

Since then, every morning always started with you holding her. Feeling her softness, her warmth, the calm rise and fall of her chest, as her exhales became your inhales and your breaths mixed together and synchronised.

This is how it had to be—how you both needed it to be.

So—now:

Nights and mornings since that promise; the sound of a guitar slipping into your ears.

It’s a recording she made for you, setting it as your alarm to make waking up a little more pleasant, to make sure the first thing you thought of when you opened your eyes was her.

Unnecessary, ultimately, seeing as the first thing you see when you wake up is her. Or, to be precise, her arm poking out from under the blankets, flailing about blindly.

“Off,” Hanni mumbles, fumbling around the bed, the nightstand, your face, seeking the offending device.

You stretch over her, a blanket on top of her blanket, and hunt down the invisible enemy that dared to interrupt your girlfriend’s peaceful slumber.

A muffled “thanks”, and she takes the opportunity to snuggle even closer.

There’s the smile quirking at the corner of her lips. Her nose, nuzzling closer into your chest, searching for your heartbeat. That pleased hum she’s making, letting you know there’s no place she’d rather be, like she’s completely content to stay all cozied up and warm for as long as you’ll let her (forever, if possible, please).

It’s hardly a tough sell—face the cold shower, the crowded buses and trains, the boring lectures that the rest of the day holds.

Or, stay wrapped up in the sanctuary of your (Hanni’s) bed. In fitted silk sheets, weighted duvets, plush pillows. Wrapped up in Hanni; in her very soft, very warm, very naked body.

It’s a no-brainer, really.

The rest of you, the more honest part of you that’s resting somewhere between her belly button and her thighs, seems to agree. It’s got a mind of its own, stirring to life, responding to the heat of her skin and the gentle pressure of her body; the familiar lines of her curves and the lavender scent of her hair.

She notices, of course.

It’s hard not to feel it, nudging against her, steadily growing with each passing beat, saying, ‘Hey, remember me?’

A kiss over your heart, a giggle into your sternum, and she’s up—sort of. She rolls onto her side, still in your embrace, but enough so that you can see the wry smile gracing her face, her sleepy eyes fluttering open to meet yours.

Chalk it up to whatever you want—relationship goggles, the honeymoon phase, or just the sheer joy of finding someone who actually cares about you—but when Hanni's looking like this, it's hard to believe you’re not dreaming.

The morning light kissing her rosy cheeks. The gentle pink of her full lips. Midnight silk hair curtaining her face. Her eyes.

A sweet, completely innocent question: “Having a good morning?”

She shifts, slightly.

An oh-so-incidental move that has the blanket sliding off her shoulder, down to her waist. It’s an invitation that you take, a proper wake-up call, from her collarbone to the curve of her hip. Softness and warmth, a stark contrast to the cold that whispers from the edges of the bed.

Hanni—your Hanni—leaving you with the implication: ‘Can I make it better?’

“Classes,” is all you say, because you have to at least acknowledge the responsibility, play the farce that you would actually abandon your (again—very warm, very naked) girlfriend for the sake of academia.

“It’s cold outside,” is her astute observation.

“Mhm.”

“It’s warm in here.”

“Right,” you nod.

“So,” she starts, bringing her hand up to your cheek, walking you through the incredibly simple, blatantly obvious logic. “Do you need any other reason?”

“Are you offering me one?”

Lips purse then pouts in that endearingly cute, Hanni way. “Does it help that I’m naked?”

“One would think that more clothes would be appropriate, considering the weather,” you posit, like you weren't already convinced long before she even opened her mouth. But, it’s still fun to pretend that her persistence doesn’t melt you every time.

“One would be wrong.” Hanni edges closer, her bare skin gliding over yours, so you can properly assess the merits of her argument. The tip of her nose brushing against your own, the softness of her breasts passing along your chest, and her hand at your cheek, then your neck, your stomach, and moving lower, and lower. “Body heat, you know?”

Her hand gets lower still. You swallow. “Yeah.”

“Like when it’s freezing and people get lost in a snowstorm.” She finds you, reaches into the waistband of your sweatpants, wraps her fingers around you, wakes you up.

“Or when girlfriends are trying to convince their boyfriends to stay in bed all day long,” you groan out. “Again.”

“Exactly,” Hanni says, a breezy air of finality, proud of herself for making you see reason—or rather, feel it.

You kiss her forehead, conceding the victory to her, and she scrunches her nose; preens. It’s a subtle movement, the kind that you’ve come to recognise as her victory dance. She squeezes your body closer to hers, her cheek squishing into your chest, her other hand wrapping around your neck, her legs curling up around your calves. It’s like she’s absorbing your affection, turning it into warmth she’ll keep with her for the rest of the day.

Her hand winds up and down, these long, lazy motions. Smooth and tender, stroking the length of you, her thumb tracing the vein that pulses along the side. She’s not in a hurry; not anymore anyway. Just, enjoying the moment, enjoying being with you, enjoying how obvious you are with your sighs and shivers.

“‘sides,” Hanni adds, taking a break to kiss around your jawline, your neck, your shoulder. “You deserve it. A perfect day of nothing.” She sounds so hopeful, so earnest, and there’s a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the friction of her hand on your skin. “We can order junk food, watch awful horror movies, and…”

“Just us.” A finger under her chin to tilt her head up, to capture those half-moon eyes with yours, to kiss her sweetly, deeply, remind her that she’s all you need to make a perfect day. “I wonder what I’ve done to earn this.”

“Not what you’ve done,” Hanni says in the breaths between your kisses. “What you’re going to do.”

With that, she uses all her weight to push you, rolling you onto your back, climbing over you with a grace that leaves you breathless.

She straddles you, legs draped over your hips, small breasts bouncing just a little with the motion. There’s mischief lighting up her eyes, that playful glint that precedes all good things. The blankets fall completely off her with a dramatic flourish, leaving her bare and exposed for your eyes to drink in.

A pause to appreciate her—to really look at her. From her flushed cheeks to the tips of her toes. Every curve, every darkened freckle, every soft, sweet inch of her—yours to adore, to touch, to explore.

And then, she winks.

You can’t help but laugh.

Hanni joins you, giggling in uncontrollable fits.

It’s the ridiculousness of it all, of Hanni—the girl who blushes when you hold her hand in public—straddling you with a wink and a promise of a day of pure carnal indulgence.

You both laugh until your cheeks hurt, until the tension breaks and you’re just two people in the cozy bubble of her bed, sharing a stupid, silly moment.

It takes a beat, but you both somehow recover, gasping for air between giggles. She settles herself, placing her hands on either side of your face, looking down at you with all the adoration in the world. Her touch grounds you, brings you back to the present.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” You ask, when you’re finally able to speak. “This is what you really want to do all day?”

“Well…” Hanni muses, sinking down to your waist, running her fingers over your t-shirt, stopping when she has the hem in her clutches. “A bit of this.”

She starts rolling your shirt up, sliding the cotton over your stomach. The cold air of the room kisses your skin before the warmth of her mouth replaces it. Her soft, plump lips meet your body, the small indent of your belly button.

Simple, innocent, playful. Hanni.

“A bit of that,” she continues, her hands keep moving, lifting the shirt higher, tugging it up and up, exposing your chest to her eyes, her lips.

She finds her target, a tongue over your nipple, paying you back for what you’re no doubt going to be doing to her later; flicking over your chest to make you hiss.

“A bit of me,” she adds, words vibrating against your chest, leaving goosebumps as she rises higher.

You lift your arms, allowing her to pull your shirt off your body, trapping you for a moment so she can suck at your neck, mark you as hers, and hers only. As if you didn’t already wear it on your face whenever she’s around.

“Doing a lot of you.”

Her eyes rake over you—your chest, your stomach, your abs. Lingering a touch too long, making her cheeks warm; colouring them with a soft blush that spreads from her neck up to her ears, hinting at the thoughts racing through her mind.

And then you're kissing her.

It’s gentle (your kisses always are) but that doesn’t make it any less passionate, any less intense.

She kisses you back, lips sliding over yours, the softness of her tongue tracing the line of your teeth, moaning your name in short stutters into your mouth.

It feels so right, so natural. The way she fits against you, feels on top of you, the perfect puzzle piece you’ve been desperate to find in a world full of mismatches.

It’s far too early to say it, but you know it—have known it.

You love her. Love how she lives in the moment; how even when you’re worried about the future, about deadlines and tomorrows, she can bring you back to the present and make things simple. In the least selfish way possible, she makes it about her.

(And that’s all you need).

It builds and builds; these slow, dragging kisses, these admissions of things that you’re not quite ready to say. Until you’re both well and truly needy for a touch more heat, as much of each other as you can possibly get.

You can’t hold it anymore, so you don’t bother trying.

With a firm grasp, you take Hanni’s hips in your hands, your thumbs pressing into vanilla skin as you pull her upward. It’s strategic, pull the best parts of her (which could be any part, really) closer, prove her earlier guess right by introducing her breast to your lips, her nipple to your tongue.

A million times you’ve repeated it and it won’t be enough—she’s so soft. Melting at your touch already, so responsive, letting you know she’s feeling it with every hushed gasp and shiver of her tight body.

One hand is filled by her other breast, a supple handful, spilling between your fingers, carelessly massaging as your mouth latches onto its twin. Her heart races, hammers against your palm, quickening with every passing flick, with each chaste suck between your lips.

Your other hand snakes lower, caressing the smooth plane of her stomach. You drag your fingertips over the ridges and valleys of her abs, down towards the juncture of her thighs.

She squirms.

Moans a little louder.

Scrapes the back of your scalp and pulls you in.

You’re insistent, your touch feather light as it grazes over the whispers of hair; trailing all the way down, down, where you ghost over her mound, tease her clit to make her gasp.

“Like that,” Hanni moans her approval, answers you with hips rocking against your hand. “So, so… nice.”

Your hand dips down further, parting her folds, sliding through her slick, greeted with the warmth and wetness of her opening. Soaking your hand, inviting you to delve deeper.

“Hanni,” you mouth around her nipple, “you’re so wet.”

“O-of course,” she manages, shuddering as you dare to ease a finger inside, pushing into her and pushing out a cry that fills the room. “It’s you.”

“It definitely is,” you confirm, stroking her walls with slow, deliberate care, feeling her tense around you with each movement. “And I’m just getting started.”

Her body arches, curves into you, tilting her head back and feeding you more of her; her breast into your mouth, her pussy on your fingers. You look up at her, feel her, memorise every little noise she makes, every twitch of her body as you touch her. Her breath skips as you start to move your finger in and out, a quiet pace to make her hips dance.

“This is a good idea.“ You’re pushing in deeper, adding a second digit to the mix, stretching her just so. She’s tight around you, always so tight, enveloping you in her heat, and there’s the urge to go even slower, to savour every moment. “Staying in all day. Making you feel good.”

Her legs tense, toned thighs flex as you curl your fingers up, pulling towards you just right to hit that spot that makes her mouth hang open, that makes her whine. There’s a plea in there, a silent request for more, for everything.

And you give it to her, because it’s what she deserves, because it’s what she’s asking for, because she’s yours.

She’s getting tighter around you, walls squeezing in. A prelude to something beautiful, something only you know how to give her, a skill you’ve picked up in this very same bed.

“God,” Hanni’s breaths are turning into short gasps, she’s so needy for it, for you. A slight tug of your hair, pulling you off her breast, forcing her nipple to ‘pop’ from your lips. She sinks down, further down onto your hand, her breasts dragging against your chest, her skin sticking to yours. “You’re such a tease.”

Her lips hang in front of yours, pillowy cushions begging for its partner—needing you to kiss her, now. You claim her mouth, let her be as loud as she wants on your lips; these delightful sounds when your hand moves faster, more insistent.

Arms hold you, wrap around your back, hugging you tighter, needing you to be as close as humanly possible. Hands everywhere—massaging your back, gripping in your shoulders, tangled in your hair, grabbing at your biceps—no matter how much of you she has, it’s just not enough.

Pliant is the other word to describe Hanni; so easy in your hands, like clay waiting for your touch. Waiting for you to mould her into whatever you want, even though you prefer her as she just is—all her perfect imperfections, beautifully flawed, wonderfully Hanni.

Another finger pushes into her; three now, moving in a steady rhythm, that slow, cautious manoeuvre that’s become so familiar. Sure, you could do it with your eyes closed, bring her to the brink and back with touch alone, but you’d miss the way she looks at you—the tears at the corners of her eyes, the tremble in her lips; like you’re her saviour, her everything.

“Hanni, you’re so—” you can’t put it into exact words—gorgeous, pretty, lovely—you test them out, but they all fall short, leaving you hanging until—

“Yours,” Hanni finishes, and that’s all you need, all you need to hear to make a vow to do everything in your power to keep her happy, to keep her here, to keep her—“always yours.”

She’s rocking on your fingers now, taking charge of her own pleasure, setting the pace that you so willingly match. It’s a give and take, and you take the chance to kiss at her neck, to nibble on the shell of her ear, to whisper to her all the things that create these little tremors in her thighs, that make her grip you tighter and tighter with each stroke.

She feels so good, so warm, so wet. Your hand is soaked, knuckles coated in her, making these noises. The muffled pop of skin on skin; the soft, sticky sound of wetness being parted; that satisfying squelch as you go in deep.

Hanni’s so close. So, so close.

Unwinding, melting in your palm; and that look. The way she smiles when she’s on that edge, because she’s so happy to be there, so happy that it's you that has her to be feeling this good.

But then—it’s the suddenness that gets you—she goes rigid, stops moving, begs, “Wait, wait, wait.”

It’s so unexpected, but you still do stop, fingers lodged inside her, pulsating with the urgency of her orgasm that’s just a heartbeat away.

She needs to hang onto you, to hold onto something as the world starts to spin again. Her pupils are blown wide, her cheeks a rosy pink that makes her look like she’s been running a marathon, sweat glistening over her, bathing her in this glow.

You look up at her, a soothing kiss on her cheek. “Problem?”

“No,” Hanni manages a gasp, reassuring you with a shaky smile, still doing her best to catch her breath. “I mean yes. I mean… It feels too good.”

You tilt your head. You smirk. “That’s a problem?”

“You always do this, you know?” Hanni chooses her words carefully, trying to break out of the haze of having almost been there, so she can properly articulate. “Make it about me when it’s supposed to be about you.”

You stifle your laughter against her neck, letting it vibrate through her skin. It’s her earnestness, really, that gets you sometimes; her concern for you, even now is too much, almost comical.

“I’m serious!” Hanni protests, though she’s betrayed by the wobble in her voice, that part of her begging to just let you do your thing and push her past the precipice. Her eyes flutter shut as she breathes in deep, trying to compose herself. “I want to make you feel as good as you always make me feel.”

Logic that you can’t argue with, not when it’s wrapped up in that sweet, sweet smile. You still attempt, though, “Hanni, making you feel good—”

“Makes me feel good—yeah, I know how it goes,” she finishes the line for you. “But, just. We have all day, so—"

There’s a point that’s finished by her kiss, specific in its tenderness, stealing whatever witty reply you had ready from your mouth.

“Let me start by taking care of you.”

It’s like you said—Hanni Pham, making it all about her, in the least selfish way possible.

You relent, bowing out to her whims.

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing,” Hanni nods, satisfied with your compliance. She takes your wrists into her hands, guides them away from her body to keep them at your sides. “Just relax.”

It’s a strange feeling, letting go, letting her be the one to dictate the pace, the rhythm of your morning. You watch her, watch the way her eyes wander over you. She’s fascinated, like she can’t make up her mind of where to start.

But she does, eventually.

Her gaze settles on your arousal, standing proud and waiting underneath your sweatpants.

“How about I start—” a light kiss on your lips, and she’s slinking down to your waist, tugging at the string of your pants, “right here?”

A kiss on your stomach, just above your navel, her fingers slipping between your waistband and your skin. They pull at the fabric, dragging it down with care until it’s pooled around your thighs. Your cock springs free, and there’s this gasp she makes—like she hasn’t seen it a hundred times before.

“You’re so big.” Hanni’s in awe, her voice hushed, reverent almost. It’s always been something she says, something that makes you blush—swells the ego that you like to pretend you don’t have. “I still have no idea how this fits inside me.”

“It fits perfectly, remember?”

“Mm, I know, but—" she can’t find the words, so she settles for the next best thing, “damn.”

She’s smiling—always smiling—and you can feel her breath on you, light and sugary, these little pulses of anticipation tingling through your skin.

You hold your breath, waiting for her touch, waiting for her lips, waiting for her to finally take you in.

But she doesn’t. She’s just looking.

“Hanni,” you say, giving your cock a teasing flex, brushing it against her cheek. It’s a light prod to break the spell, to remind her of the task at hand.

“Oh!”

It’s getting unbearable, your cock just inches from her mouth, straining to reach her lips. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good.“ She presses another kiss to your skin, a little nibble to your inner thigh that makes you jolt. Her hands skim over your legs, pushing your sweatpants down further and further, down your thighs, over your knees right until it’s stuck at your ankles, thwarting her attempted sensual seduction.

She makes this frustrated 'argh!’ at the minor struggle. Very cute. Also a little ridiculous.

"Help, please?” She looks up at you, expectantly.

You acquiesce.

“Aha!” Hanni cheers, slightly louder than she may have intended, having won her battle against your pants. She catches herself, blushing, flashing a cheeky smile.

God, you’re going to fall in love with her all over again.

“Oh right. I mean, are you ready?”

So casual in how she says it, covering for her fumble. It makes you want to laugh—except you can’t, because before you can even open your mouth, she’s already leaned in, pressing her plush lips against the tip of your cock.

Lightly, so light it makes your hairs stand on end. A calculated tease, right hand around your cock, stroking your length. Her left reaches up, laces her fingers with yours. A squeeze, a preview of what’s to come.

You can’t help but twitch under her.

It's her lips, mapping a trail of kisses down your shaft, leaving a warm, sticky mess of pre-cum that she’s quick to lick away. It’s how she’s looking at you—so focused, like she’s been learning, been studying you, creating a personal database of everything that makes you tick.

But above all else it’s just the simple fact that she’s doing this for you, because she cares about you. Because she wants to make you feel good.

It’s all of it and it’s working.

“This is much nicer, isn’t it?” She asks, not really expecting an answer, because she knows it’ll be a resounding yes.

She’s playing with you, not giving you exactly what you want, but just enough. Her hand wrapped around the base of your cock, stroking you from root to tip, thumb circling your head with enough pressure to drive you insane.

It’s pain and pleasure wrapped up into one perfect package, and you’re not sure which one you prefer.

You let her know as such: “Actually quite torturous, to be honest.”

“But it’s the good kind of torture, right?”

“There’s a good kind?”

“We’ve got all day to find out,” Hanni teases, taking a fistful of her own hair in her hand, looping it into a tight, messy bun; preparing herself—giving you a final chance to do the same.

Hanni takes you into her mouth.

It’s not a sudden plunge, not a surprise attack bringing you straight to the back of her throat—it’s a slow, slow descent that has you gritting your teeth and biting back a groan.

It’s hot. Wet. Heavenly. You can feel every inch of your cock being coated in her saliva, her tongue dancing around your shaft, her cheeks hollowing out, her lips creating the most exquisite suction.

When she reaches as far as she can go, fills her mouth with as much of you as she can take, she starts to move back up. Slowly, so you can feel every little bump of her tongue, every little drag of her teeth.

Her hand joins in, moving in tandem with her mouth, stroking the parts of you she can’t reach. She’s trying to find the perfect balance, trying to find that sweet spot between too much and not enough.

Hanni’s no pro at this, her technique is in no way perfect—but she’s so willing, so keen to please. She takes her time, getting used to the feel of you in her mouth, her eyes peeking up at you every so often to gauge your reaction; studying your face for any sign that she’s doing it right, that she’s doing it well.

It’s adorable, really.

And oh, so hot.

You give it to her again, reassure her, “So good, baby,” because it is—your hips buck involuntarily, pushing deeper into her mouth.

It takes her off guard, but she does her best to adapt; she’s trying not to gag, trying to take it all in. She’s a fast learner, your Hanni.

Your compliment serves its purpose—she’s getting more confident now, her tongue gliding along the underside of your cock, tentative, exploratory. It’s clumsy, yes, but it’s cute, and most importantly—it feels good.

She’s concentrating, her attention entirely on your cock; her lips sealed tight. Each time her head bobs down, she takes you in deeper, millimetres, but still, deeper and deeper.

And it’s the sound of her sucking you in, getting sloppier, filling the room with those noises, the soundtrack to your morning. She’s getting bolder, finding her rhythm, building her pace. It’s not precise in any way, shape or form—sometimes she’s a little too rough, sometimes she misses the beat—but the effort.

A harsh suck has your cock popping out of Hanni’s lips, strings of her saliva still connecting her mouth to you. She looks up at you, wanting to check in, still needing that hit of validation, “Is this—is this good?"

You stroke her hair, let her lean into your touch. "Unbelievably. You’re doing great.”

“But I can make it even better, can’t I?” She asks, the determination setting in her features, and she’s staring straight into your eyes, hopeful, “Tell me. Tell me how you want it.”

It’s not a demand—it’s a question, a plea for guidance; she’ll do whatever it takes (whatever you want) to get you there. And it’s the sight of her, straddling your thighs, kneeling before you; those full lips hovering just about your cock, her hand lazily pumping away, keeping you there.

Somehow, you manage to get the words out, a rough whisper, “Take me deep, Hanni. As far as you can go. Take me all in. Show me how much you want it.”

It’s the instruction she’s been waiting for; she’s nodding before you’ve finished, so willing to oblige. It’s that part of her that you’ve discovered, the part she might not even know herself. But it explains so much.

(Hanni: the teacher’s pet, always needing to excel. Competitive, desperate for the highest grades in school, the top evaluations in training; desperate for you to tell her that it’s her and only her.

That’s what makes her successful. That’s what makes her eager.

And now that you’ve put the challenge before her, she can’t wait to prove herself.)

She takes a deep breath, swirls her tongue around the tip of your cock, dipping her toe into the water before she dives right in. It’s like she’s playing it out in her head, memorising the taste of you, the smell of you, the feel of you; mapping out the best way to take you all the way in right before she breaks you.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

And she goes for it.

Her mouth opens wide, eyes locked on yours, and she takes you in again.

Deeper, throat tighter.

Her eyes water a little, and she coughs, retreating. But she’s unfazed—still smiling, still eager.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s okay.”

You stroke her cheek, act like it’s not already far more than you can handle. “Take your time, baby. No need to rush.”

A deep inhale, and she's trying again.

It’s a process, her getting used to you, your size, your taste, the way you make her throat bulge. She’s slow, tentative, but with every stroke, with every gulp, she’s getting closer. Her cheeks hollow out more, her eyes water a little less, and she moans.

You can feel the anticipation building in your chest, your balls, the sweet ache of your orgasm just around the corner. And she can feel it too, your body tensing under hers, your breaths turning shorter, sharper.

The fifth time, she hits the back of her throat, and she stops—holds herself there, panting. It’s a moment of victory, a declaration that she’s got it right, that she can take all of you, just like you asked. Your cock is nestled at the back of her throat, there’s more tears now, but she’s smiling with her eyes, looking up at you through her lashes.

It’s so intense. You groan. Your hips jerk. “Good, baby, so good—don’t move.”

The look on her face, the satisfaction, the pride.

She swallows around you, working the muscles in her throat, pressing her tongue flat against the underside of your cock; it’s too much.

“Ha-Hanni—keep doing that—keep swallowing—it’s perfect—so perfect—”

It’s a struggle, but she does it, takes it all in, holds it there—just for you.

Her hands are at your thighs, grasping—not enough to hurt, but enough to let you know she’s there, that she’s with you. She coughs, gags, sputters bits of drool down your cock, but she keeps going.

And then, she pulls herself up, needing the air, pulling back with a long gasp; leaving a mess. Your cock slides out of her mouth, springing from her lips; her cheeks a vivid shade of red, glistening with lines of tears—beautiful, just indescribably beautiful.

“Was I good?” She’s asking out of courtesy, really. You’re sure whatever dumb look you’re wearing on your face is more than enough to confirm it.

But you nod and choke a ’Yes’ anyway, because you’re a gentleman, and words of affirmation are just as sweet as the act itself.

“I can do better.”

And before your mind can even catch up to what she’s saying, she’s sucking you back into her mouth. Now that she’s proven herself, she just has to push it even further, show you just what she’s capable of.

This time, she’s more assured, more confident. Her hands are at your hips now, holding you still, like she’s worried you’ll get away.

You won’t, of course. You couldn’t even if you tried.

Hanni’s bobbing her head; these long, deep sucks that have your fingers tangling in her hair, have you urging your hips to meet her mouth. Her eyes are watering more, she’s gagging more often than not, but she doesn’t stop, she just keeps moaning around you, keeps going and going.

She takes her hands off your hips, sliding one down to the base of your cock, holding it steady as she works you over and over. The other finds your balls, balancing them on her fingertips, rolling them around her palm. She’s figuring it out, figuring you out far too quickly, and it nearly has you coming undone.

And through it all, she’s grinning.

It’s a twisted, slightly pained grin, but it’s a grin nonetheless. She’s found her new favourite hobby, and she’s determined to show you just how much she enjoys it.

“I love this,” Hanni slurs against your cock, not really to you, not really to herself, just saying it out loud because it’s true. “I love being able to do this to you, making you feel so good.”

She’s saying these things, these simple words like they’re not dangerous at all, like whispering them against your cock is so harmless, like they don’t have the power to completely destroy your resolve.

“I love that it’s me,” Hanni keeps going, even when her tongue is occupied with licking you, lapping up your balls, the underside of your shaft. “I love that I’m the one who makes you feel this way.”

Gone is the shyness—she’s so smug now, so proud of herself, so in love with the fact that she has you exactly where she wants you: in her mouth, at her mercy.

It’s in the way she’s sucking you, her eyes closing, her hums of pleasure every time she takes you in—as deep as she can. She’s getting hotter on top of you, just from having you in her mouth, from taking you into her lips again and again.

Grinding herself into the mattress, needing a bit of friction, needing more. And that’s when she pulls away, panting for breath.

“Hanni?” You ask, finding your voice, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“It’s too much,” she admits, breathless, her hand still wrapped around your cock, stroking you gently, almost apologetically. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s too much.”

There’s a shift in the air—in Hanni. Usually, typically, soft. Now wild, desperate.

She’s climbing up you, back on your hips, her wetness smearing onto your skin, her thighs trembling on either side of yours.

"I need it, I can’t wait anymore. I just can’t.”

The suddenness, the urgency in her voice (in her body). Hanni, flushed, practically shaking with need.

“I need you—now.”

It’s so tempting—you could give in easily. And yet, there’s something in how she’s asking you, how she’s using innuendo in place of propriety, dancing around saying what she really wants in plain, explicit terms.

It’s not enough.

She’s already got you on the edge, so close you can almost taste it. But you need to hear it from her. Your sweet, adorable girlfriend, saying something so dirty it’ll make your knees buckle.

So, you sit up, shifting slightly so she’s still straddling you, face to face. Cradling her cheek with one hand, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes; so you can look at her—take in all the tiny beautiful inflections that make her your Hanni.

“What do you need?”

Always with the blushes, but she holds your gaze, not breaking it even when you run your hand back down south, reaching to slip a finger through her folds, finding her still so wet and swollen. She gasps, but she doesn’t look away.

“Tell me, Hanni,” you coax, your finger moving in gentle circles, watching her face, watching the way her pupils dilate, the way her breath catches.

Hanni stutters, “You—I want you—need you—". But you just chuckle, slow down the pace of your finger, giving her a taste of the frustration she’s unintentionally been dishing out.

“Not quite specific enough. What part of me do you want?”

She’s biting her lip, squirming under your touch—she’s not used to this. Not used to anything outside of the usual playfulness, the sweetness; the gentle strokes and soft whispers. But something has you feeling different today.

Maybe it’s the excitement of trying something new. Maybe it’s how unusually forward she’s being. Or maybe, just maybe, part of you has always wanted to hear her beg.

She blurts it out: “Your—your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?” You press, stroking her clit now; her chest heaving, these tiny whines escaping her, and the way she’s looking at you. Like she’s getting ready to pounce.

“Please—just—please, I need—”

“Need me to slide it in slow?” You suggest, kissing her neck, her perfect, porcelain skin. “Give it to you nice and deep?“

Hanni’s rolling her hips on you, grinding herself against your hand, trying to get through to your cock, trying to will it to enter her.

“Go ahead, be honest.”

She’s bothered. Annoyed—almost angry, if that’s even possible for her. Like how could you? How could her kind, loving boyfriend go out of his way to put her in such agony.

“Tell me, baby. What does Hanni want?”

“I—I need your cock inside me—I want you to—” Hanni swallows takes a deep breath.

A final push: “Say it.”

“Fuck me, hold me and fuck me. Deep, hard, slow—however you want just fuck me now.”

The words come out in a rush, spilling out of her lips. Even she’s surprised as she’s saying them, in disbelief that she’s even capable of saying something so filthy out loud.

But she’s not taking it back, she’s not apologising.

No, she’s taking hold of your hand, moving it out from between her legs, and replacing it with your cock, daring you to stop her.

Like you could ever.

You push in, inch by delicious inch, watching her face contort, features twist, feeling her stretch around you.

It’s the same every time—it feels like the first time all over again.

Her eyes squeeze shut, mouth parted in a wordless plea, and you’re moving so slow. So slow that she’s whimpering, begging, hips trying to push you deeper. But you keep it steady, setting the tempo, let her get used to the feeling of being made whole by you again.

“Oh, oh, oh—” Hanni pants, trying to keep her voice down, but it’s pointless. She’s failing already, loosening a strained 'fuck' when you bottom out, when your cock is finally, completely inside her.

You hold her like that; your arms around her, hugging her tight, her breasts squished against your chest. She’s so small in your arms, so soft, so warm; her pulse racing against your own, lapping it twice over.

“You okay?” You ask, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

“More than okay,” she sighs, holding onto you, moulding her body onto yours. “More than okay—just need a minute to adjust. Don’t worry about me—you can—you can make me feel good.”

So, you do.

Lifting her body off you, unsheathing your cock from her warm embrace, until only the tip is trapped in her wetness. Then: guiding her back down, a touch quicker, harder, deeper. And there’s that gasp as she takes you back in, as you fill her.

You’re moving with purpose now, her walls tight and wet and hot around you, clenching and releasing in time with your slow, deliberate thrusts.

Hanni’s breasts bounce in front of you, up and down with every pump, small peaks begging for attention. You’re kissing them again, sucking one into your mouth, suckling on the pink tips.

“So beautiful,” you’re repeating it, speaking it into her skin, because it’s all that’s on your mind as she takes you in. “You’re so beautiful, baby.”

And she looks it too, even though she’s not even trying; with her hair falling out of her bun, sticking to her face with sweat and saliva, her mouth hanging open, swollen and red from your kisses, her body writhing and jerking with every thrust.

Yet she remains focused, eyes glued to yours, like she’s afraid if she looks away she’ll miss something. Like if she doesn’t keep watching, she’ll wake up and find out it’s all been a dream.

But it’s not.

It’s you and her, in this bed, the sun peeking through the curtains, her naked body riding yours, hotter and hotter with each pass.

It’s you and her, together, wrapped up in each other making love like the world outside doesn’t exist.

It’s you and her, and it’s—

“So perfect—you feel so perfect,” Hanni finishes your thought for you, finishes each of your thrusts with her own hips; opening her body up to you, welcoming you in deeper with each stroke. “I think I’m gonna cry it feels so good.”

Her legs lock around your back, heels digging into your spine, until you’re fully seated inside her; so deep it feels like you’re a part of her. With a whine that’s half pleasure, half need, Hanni braces herself on you, rolling her hips on your cock, grinding down, taking as much of you as she can.

You grip her tight, one hand around her back, the other under her ass, fingers squeezing into the soft, tender flesh. Bouncing her up and down, watching her face as she takes you, as she keeps repeating ‘so perfect’.

And you know, you know she’s not just talking about the physical—that’s definitely there. It’s how you’re making her feel, it’s the connection. The way you’re looking at her, the way you’re holding her, the way you’re loving her that has her floating.

“I-I think I’m ready,” Hanni whimpers, “I can take it—you don’t need to—don’t hold back anymore.”

With a grunt, a nod, and a choked ‘Hanni’, you’re sweeping her up, keeping your cock buried deep inside her as you lift her. Your hand cushions the back of her head as you lay her down on the bed beneath you, her legs spreading wide on their own to accept you.

A moment to steady herself, to prepare.

A smile. A kiss on her forehead.

And then you’re in, all the way, again. Completing her pussy with your cock; one swift motion that knocks the wind out of her in the sound of your name.

“God—Hanni—”

It shouldn’t be like this—it should be impossible to be this much hotter, this much wetter, this tight.

But she is.

She’s squeezing herself around you, muscles, thighs flexing. Eyes shut, mouth wide open because there’s no way to stop from crying out; and her body, her lovely, perfect body, arching up to meet your every thrust.

You give it to her.

You’re building up speed, stretching her wide, hips moving in that perfect rhythm you’ve discovered together—the one that makes your name echo off the bedroom walls.

Hanni’s whimpering, mewling, whining, “Tell me—tell me how good it feels.”

You tell her everything—how tight, how wet, how perfect she is. You praise her, shower her with very compliment that comes to mind. She eats them up; her lips leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, her fingers on your back, her hips swallowing you whole.

But Hanni still needs more, needs to hear more. Not just that she’s good, not even that she’s perfect. She needs to hear that she’s only yours.

“Like heaven, Hanni,” you manage, your voice hoarse, strained. “So perfect for me. Only me.”

“Really?” Hopeful. Ecstatic. So turned on.

“Always,” you repeat, the truth echoing in your voice and across her skin. “Always so perfect.”

“Mmm,” Hanni moans, nodding along, soaking in every word that flows freely from your lips.

“You’re so beautiful, Hanni. Your pussy is so perfect.” You kiss her again, a little harder this time, a little more possessive. “I love how you fit around me.”

Her breath catches in her throat, there’s that spark in her eyes, and she’s taking you deeper, urging you on. “Oh-oh. Keep talking—please—keep talking.”

“Made for me, aren’t you Hanni?” You continue, the steady stream of praise and admiration, caressing her as surely as your cock in her pussy. You can’t get enough, can’t get over how perfect she feels, how right it is to be inside her. “Like a perfect glove around me.”

Her eyes meet yours, her smile shy as she whispers your name. Whispers it like it’s a prayer, like it’s the only word she knows (like it’s the only thing that can give her peace).

She’s so close, getting there, it’s in how she’s pulling you closer; with her arms and her pussy. How she’s saying please, with a little quiver in her voice, alternating it with your name when you hit that spot just right.

“This feels so good, but-but-I think—” Hanni’s voice cracks, even now, still so shy, so adorable. She’s gasping, out of breath, trying her best to string the words together. “C-can I? Can I please cum?”

It’s all you need to hear. You kiss her, hard and deep, push into her. “Of course, baby,” you say, “Do it. Do it for me. I want you to cum for me.”

The effect it has on her—how it ripples across her face. She’s so thankful. So, so thankful for your permission, for what you’re doing to her. “Then please—please don’t stop.”

Harder, faster, deeper now—making her unravel beneath you. Hands holding her in place, feeling her, feeling her tense, quake around you.

Keep going, because she’s almost there, because she’s repeating it, that desperate ‘please’, over and over again.

‘Please-please-please’—with every thrust, saying it without saying it, with every clench of her walls, with every little gasp she lets slip.

Because that’s what she is—who she is—at her most honest, her most vulnerable. Pleases and thank yous on her lips, a constant stream of gratitude for you, for being here with her, for making her feel so much.

“Thank you,” Hanni manages, words almost a moan. “Thank you for making me feel like this, for making me feel so—”

But she can’t finish the sentence, can’t find the words to explain the storm that’s building inside her. So she just says it again, rising in pitch each time as the pressure builds. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you—’

Her nails dig into your shoulders, the first time she’s ever inflicted anything close to pain on you; begging you to stay in place, to not move, to not pull out. You feel her need, feel it in your bones, feel it from the heat of her pussy.

“Feels so—” Hanni’s crying, sobbing now, trembling uncontrollably. You’re holding onto her, deep inside her, giving all the time she needs to let it out. “—so good, so deep, so, so much—”

She gasps. She tightens. She screams.

Hanni’s voice breaks off into a keening wail as it all comes crashing over her; and you don’t stop, can’t stop, can’t do anything but keep her tethered to you as she loses herself to her climax.

“Please—don’t pull out—please—don’t stop—please—please—please—”

She shudders, clenches around you, pussy tightening in the sweetest way possible. It’s that look on her face, saying everything she can’t manage to say, everything she can’t put into words—how much she loves you, how much you complete her, how much she needs this.

It’s a wave, pulling you under, and you let it take you, let it sweep you away until you’re drowning in the feeling of her coming apart around you, under the heat of her eyes and the grip of her body.

Her juices all over your cock, her pussy spasming around you, that blissful agony on her face. Hanni’s so sweet when she cums, so damn gorgeous, it just takes your breath away. She’s perfect, so perfect it hurts.

And as she comes down, as she rides out her orgasm and kisses your name into your lips, she begs of you, once last time: “Your turn.”

With strength you didn’t know she still had, her legs pull you in, anchoring you to her. Her walls pulse, her body begs for you to follow.

And you do.

“Give it to me, please, cum for me, love—”

You let go. Let the tension in your body melt away as you thrust into her one, two, three more times. Until you’re releasing, until you’re cumming, until everything’s white-hot pleasure and Hanni on your tongue.

Load after load inside her, a hot, deep stream that leaves you groaning, that leaves her sighing, panting, joyful. Filling her up until she’s complete, until she’s overflowing.

You cum hard and fast, and Hanni tries her best to keep up, tries to take it all, and she’s smiling—laughing even, the joy of making you feel this good lighting up her features.

“H-Hanni—” you try, your cock twitching inside her, your cum spilling out of her and onto the bed, onto your thighs.

She’s kissing you, kissing your neck, letting you make your mess; your glorious mess of cum and sweat and saliva and her.

It feels so good, everything feels so good about her, everything she’s doing. She’s holding you so tight, so greedily, shivering with every throb of your cock inside her, savouring every moment of your release.

There’s a moment of silence, where you just lay there, bodies entangled, hearts racing, breaths mingling. Just looking at each other, basking in the thickness of sex and satisfaction.

And Hanni smiles, so wide it could split her face in two, a smile that says she’s never been happier.

Then, with a sigh, she relaxes, her legs loosening, ankles unlocking behind you. You roll onto your side, pulling her with you, keeping her close. She’s still with you, still keeping your cock inside her, and you can’t help but feel like this is it.

This is home.

“Best. Morning. Ever.”

She laughs. “I don’t want to get up. Don’t ever want to leave this bed.”

“I don’t think I can get up,” you admit somewhere into her hair.

And then it hits you. Something in the air, something in the light hitting her naked body, something in that blissful expression on her face.

It spills out of you before you can stop it: “I think I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widen a fraction, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, to read your face. “Careful, we’ve got all day for that kind of talk.”

But she doesn’t protest as you hold her tighter, feel the warmth of her body, the smell of the skin, the way she nests into your side. Fitting perfectly—like she’s always been there.

So yeah, you may have said it too early, but whatever.

Today’s the day for breaking normal rules and codes of conduct.

For breaking routines. For her.

For the promise of a long day filled with nothing but lazy kisses, whispered secrets, the sweet taste of her skin.

For staying in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, forgetting the outside world.

For more of this. Of Hanni. Of this perfect, perfect feeling.

So, you stay there. Not moving, not speaking. Just holding onto the moment, as the sun rises higher and higher in the sky.

And as your eyes start to drift close, as you sink into the comfort of the mattress, with her in your arms and on your mind, and you’re thinking this day couldn’t get any better, Hanni whispers:

“Idiot. I’ve always been in love with you.”

#kpop smut #hanni smut #newjeans smut #male reader

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coweye · 5 months ago

Text

Just Logan

The worst Logan part ii

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 10k words

Summary: You return from the void ready to navigate your new reality with the not-quite-love-of-your life. Second Part to worst Logan.

Warning: Mentions of drugs, Canon Typical Violence, gratuitous Laura paternal love. smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, assplay mentioned.

AN: Fair warning my loves - this hasn’t been proof read… unless you’re reading this after the 26th August! I’m currently posting this on my phone at an airport 💖 I love you all so much and can’t express how much your love for my stories has meant to me!

Achilles once said “I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. and I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion."

For seven excruciating years you’d been without him.

Eventually, time had dulled the ache, made it so you forgot what it was to have another hold you through the night, to make you feel safe and loved. Love was like a drug; one you had unknowingly spent the past half a decade weaning yourself from.

Then he appeared; ‘The worst Logan’ as Wade had not-so-affectionately dubbed him, and in one fell swoop undid years of hard work. He came and reminded you just how fucking good drugs were - that motherfucker was class-A narcotics and he was addictive as hell.

By mid morning you were already desperate for another hit, your eyes searching for him around every corner. Part of you was afraid you had gotten him all wrong, that perhaps you didn’t know this man as well as you thought you did. Though at the last second Logan had shown up, unfolding him from the boot of the Honda and joining the fray, every inch the hero he insisted he wasn’t.

You and Laura sliced a path through your enemies, side by side, the two of you moved in perfect synchronisation. In the years since his death, she had taken Logan’s position in your formation, and now the two of you fought together as naturally as breathing.

Logan couldn’t help but watch the two of you together for a moment, though after a knife to the ribs as reward for his lack of awareness, he shakes his head free from the indulgence of his ready-made-family and returns to the task at hand, carving his way through the enemy to get to Cassandra.

It had been a hard-won battle, though Laura had been extraordinary. You, yourself had been outmatched with the Juggernaut, only in a position to bend the light keeping yourself from sight as you inflicted shallow cuts with your blades along his arms and torso creating confusion and pain that allowed Laura to find her openings.

Your girl sliced through his Achilles bringing him to his knees before she ended his life with four claws through his chest.

In your eyes, as she stared down Goliath her soft features melted into a renaissance painting. A woman in her own right, overflowing with untold power, those shades making her look every inch the badass motherfucker you knew she was.

You can’t help your untimely realisation that your daughter has grown into a formidable woman as you propel her through the air with bubbles of psionic energy to deliver the helmet to her not-quite-father and Wade.

The brief moment of triumph as you overcome Cassandra’s men is followed in quick succession by the sobering loss of Logan for a second time, as he leaps through the golden shimmering portal.

It had been the plan all along, and yet you couldn’t quite account for the stone in your stomach weighing you down at the realisation he is gone yet again.

Laura’s deep brown eyes, all too often full of difficult emotions, are hidden behind the colourful sunglasses, though you can tell from the fall in her shoulders that your girl feels the same grief. She had held out childlike hope that the two of you would stay with him despite his earlier brush off and you are far too ashamed to admit you had been harbouring similar hopes.

To have gotten him back for a single day only to lose him again, for you it is painful. For her, it must be torment.

So, you put a pin in your pain for now. Loss is an old friend, one that will no doubt visit in the dead of night when sleep inevitably evades you, but Laura needs you.

Swallowing your grief deep down, you begin by tucking her wild dark hair back behind her ears and with the bone of your knuckle you wipe an errant splatter of blood from her brow.

Around you, your team bask in the defeat of Cassandra and her people, yet the two of you mourn losing yet another Logan.

“The time we had with him was a gift.” You whisper to her. The second you touch her palm with your finger tips; her claws instantaneously retract. You interlock your fingers with her own bloodied ones.

For a moment the two of you stand together like this, coming to terms with the loss. It doesn’t destroy you the same way North Dakota had, but it has certainly taken the air from your lungs.

“What now?” Laura asks, burying her emotions, more like Logan than you care to admit.

“Now we find a way to get back home, Cassandra’s not hunting us anymore, maybe we can-“

“Miss Y/LN, Miss- “At the sound of an unfamiliar voice your head whips round and you are armed with a knife before you even make the decision and from the telltale ‘snikt’ behind you so is Laura.

“Holster your weapons.” The agent shouts as the group of forgotten heroes turn their gaze on the TVA squad who have appeared from the orange glowing doorway. “You have been offered a pardon on order of the time variance authority - please come with us.”

Laura steps forward, though you place a steady hand on her shoulder stopping her in her tracks. “The last time we trusted you people, we ended up in this dump.” You shout across the gulf that the agents have left between you.

When has anything in life been this easy?

“Mr Howlett and Mr Wilson saved the multiverse. All they have asked in return is for a second chance for the people who helped them do it.”

Whilst remaining utterly compelling it still feels far too good to be true. You look at your daughter; she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and nods once. She’s not a little girl anymore and she wants to go through the damn doorway. With little in the way of options you decide with a deep sigh to be an optimist, which is how you end up in Wade Wilson’s apartment.

Five people (six if you include Dogpool) living in a two-bedroom apartment was … to put it lightly, snug. Wade being the secret gentleman he was, offered up his room to you and Laura.

Nights he didn’t spend at Vanessa’s were spent sharing a bed with Al, much to her delight, which left Logan sleeping on the couch.

Logan: This Logan was nothing short of an enigma to you.

The two of you had been friendly, smiling and laughing, sitting together at the party Wade had thrown to celebrate saving the universe.

It felt good, easy even to joke with him and Laura. You had felt like a real family as you sandwiched the young girl between the two of you, taking it in turns to make her laugh.

When she had abandoned the two of you to talk with Yukio and Ellie, you had fallen into comfortable companionable silence. The simple fact of the matter was that you didn’t have much in the way of small talk, all of your talk was massive talk. A mountain you’d soon have to overcome, but neither of you wanted to break the spell.

So, you simply enjoyed each other’s company and when your knee knocked against his under the table, you didn’t bother pulling back. Instead, when he didn’t immediately recoil, you left it there pressed against the warm muscle.

This casual touching was new to both of you and you were drunk on it, occasionally you’d brush his plaid covered bicep as you leaned across to stroke the monstrosity that was Mary Poppins or you’d brush your fingers against his with a smile when you handed him a fresh beer.

It’s fair to say, you are both black belts at emotional avoidance.

Her abandoned airbed, more electrical tape than plastic at this point, lies deflated in the corner of the bedroom, dual holes from slender claws having led to its untimely end.

With a sigh you rise, stretching your aching back.

Wincing as it cracks from contorting on the edge of the double mattress- even in the goddamned void, you’d had more personal space than this.

Sparing a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, you see it’s 6:23am. In a vain hope you just listen to the sounds of the quiet apartment, no one else has awoken yet. You sigh with relief, desperate for some alone time, after living for a week with everyone underfoot.

Closing the bedroom door behind you as silently as possible, you tiptoe with bare feet with the honest intention of going to the kitchen for some coffee.

Only you’re sidetracked by the man sprawled across the sofa looking like he was carved from goddamn marble.

The blanket is wrapped around his plentiful jean covered thighs as his bare size twelves extend comically over the arm of the sofa. Logan’s thick, veined and extremely bare arm hangs off of the leather cushion, whilst the other clutches a pillow under his head. Logan is wearing a white vest that leaves very little to the imagination, so much so you’re unable to help the flashback of stroking the abs you know linger below the almost transparent white cotton. You’re unsure how long you stand there, but it can’t be more than 30-seconds before his eyes wearily blink open, startling you.

“Paint a picture, it’ll last longer, Bub.” When he speaks, his voice is even thicker than usual with sleep, it’s like honey on gravel and it makes your skin tingle.

“Uh-” You’re lost for words after being caught ogling the sleeping man. All you can do is a quick apology as you carry on through to the kitchen.

When you’re safe from view, you slap palm to your forehead - Why? Why couldn’t you for once in your life just be smooth?

The second you're out from under his searing gaze a million infinitely suaver responses flood your mind. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ ‘Don’t tempt me.’

You’re nearly (Y/A+7 years) old, not the idiot girl that pined after the unattainable bad boy of the mansion. For the love of all that’s holy; two different versions of that man have been inside of you, and you ran away!

You’re pacing in front of the fridge when you hear his body slide against the leather of the couch. Honestly, you’re praying for the void to swallow you back up as you try to act casual, filling the coffee machine with water.

“Mornin’.”

“Good Morning, Logan.” You reply though you can’t quite meet his eyes as you flick the switch for the drip to begin.

“Back on the couch - Eh, I was just kiddin’ around, Bub.” He scratches his neck awkwardly.

“Oh. I, uh, I know.” You reply, finally meeting his eyes. Those hazel eyes stop you in your tracks as they scan your face for any trace of emotion. He’s as out of his depth as you are, and that thought alone calms you. “I’m sorry, If i’ve been strange the past few days… I thought…I just assumed I would never make it out of the void and I was there for months and uh-”

“Bub… y/n... I don’t hold you to what happened that night.”

“What?” You narrow your brows in confusion, you were only going to talk about the uncomfortable adjustment period to regular life.

“You were vulnerable, I look like your guy. I get it.” His voice is still deep and he’s trying to be so understanding and noble, you can’t help as you reach out and grab his bare wrist, your forefinger can't even meet your thumb as you hold onto his thick warm flesh.

“Logan, no that’s not what I meant at all. I-”

“-Mornin’ love birds! Don’t let me stop ya’ from takin’ care of that mornin’ wood, just getting some delicious nectar of the gods.” Wade comes from the bedroom wearing Al’s lilac dressing gown and what looks suspiciously like the older woman’s pyjamas, riding far too high up his shins to be his own for the much taller man. Wade leans against the counter next to you and the coffee machine, burying himself in the neck of the dressing gown and looking pointedly at your hand around Logan’s wrist and whispers. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

“God give me strength, Wade.” Somewhere along the way, Logan’s rage with the mouth has dampened to the point there’s no real threat behind the warning.

As there’s probably about a few teaspoons of coffee in the machine, every fresh drop plinks against the glass jug only enhancing the newfound silence in the kitchen.

“Good Morning, Wade.” You sigh finally, rubbing your thumb against the hair covered flesh of Logan’s wrist in a promise as you try to use your eyes to communicate; we will discuss this.

“Honestly, I’m not even here. Just go back to staring longingly at each other, talk amongst yourselves.”

“Fu-” Logan starts, his nose flaring at the man beside you, his finite patience already slipping.

“Incoming.” Wade sings-song lowly, as he drops his head onto your shoulder.

“What are we all doing in the kitchen?” Laura asks through a yawn, her bed head innately ridiculous standing up on all sides - probably from a night spent tossing and turning, kneeing you in the spine. When Logan tears his wrist away from your hand it stings a little, but you understand, the last thing Laura needs in her life is more confusion.

“There’s a line for the coffee, kiddo.” Logan gives her a look that's somewhere between a smile and a grimace. The man’s sharp edges were slowly being worn away again and he was really trying with his daughter, though a tiny growl leaves the young woman at his words.

“She’s not a morning person.” Is the only answer you have for him when he looks your way both confused and quite frankly a little frightened as your daughter takes the first cup of coffee and returns to her room slamming the door behind her with her foot.

“Teenagers, huh? Whatcha’ gonna’ do with them?” Wade sighs, still leaning his head on your shoulder having made no effort to stop the queue jumper.

Logan gives Wade a meaningful look and tilts his head towards the door, which the man currently invading your personal space bubble continues to ignore.

There’s something about Wade you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed by.

Those years on the run with Charles, Logan and Caliban had been so hopeless, so void of laughter, that the man with the constant jokes puts you at ease, makes your heart feel lighter. Wade makes you smile which has been a rare commodity in recent years.

Perhaps it's the fact he makes the world feel a little lighter that makes you so willing to tolerate the overly familiar head on your shoulder.

The two men are having a silent conversation, as you stare at the fridge awkwardly.

“I…uh… I think I’ll jump in the shower.” You detangle yourself from Wade and place a meaningful hand on Logan's arm. “Talk later?”

He looks to your hand, and then to your face and simply nods.

Only, you don’t end up talking later, because after your shower, you return to your bedroom hell bent on getting dressed and heading out into the city for the day to get some distance before you start your new job tomorrow.

That’s when you find Laura twisting her hands and waiting for you. The second you close the door behind you, she stands.

“You alright, bug?” You ask, giving her the opening she so desperately needs.

“I, um, have some news.” She can barely meet your eyes, a trait you’re sorry to say she’s picked up from you.

“Yeah?” You prompt, taking her hand in yours.

“I want to join the X-Men.” Your mouth opens involuntarily to reply, but no words can find their way up your throat; you’re irrevocably thrown.

In the years since the devastation Charles had wrought on the manor, you hadn’t been able to muster the strength to return to West Chester.

“I know, you might not be sold on the idea but I want to use my powers for good, I don’t want to get a normal job - not that the coffee shop isn’t great for you - but I’m-”

“It’s great, Laura.” Your voice sounds wrong even to your ears. “I’ll do my best to get used to being back in the Mansion-”

“No.” You can tell it slips out, she honestly doesn’t mean it to. “I … I, uh, want to join the X-Men, me. I want to go alone.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the deflated sound of your voice, you hadn’t foreseen your daughter breaking up with you when you woke up this morning.

“No, mamá,” She takes your hand in hers, desperate to fix it. “I love you and I can’t ever repay-”

“No, Laura.” You tell her. She looks terrified before you rush to finish. “You don’t ever have to repay me. You are fucking magnificent, so you go be an X-Man. I love you so much.”

She wraps her arms around your middle, buries her face in your shoulder and squeezes, she's just as tall as you are now at nineteen years old and fuck if it doesn’t break your goddamn heart.. “If you get yourself hurt with those do gooders, I’ll fucking kill you.”

After dressing and many more tearful hugs as the two of you talk logistics, it's decided she’d be heading over to the mansion in the morning.

You start work and so does she.

Your heart drops when you hear she’s put off telling you for the past five days, ever since she’d had the offer from Ellie and Yukio at the party.

Later that evening telling Logan goes, well, about as well as you might expect.

“No.” He growls furiously. “Absolutely, no fuckin’ way.”

“Logan-” You try.

“You agreed to this?” He’s blind to reason as he turns on you. Al and Wade both sit in the living room, having called an ‘urgent family meeting’.

“I for one think it's a great idea! - not that we haven’t loved having-” One look from Logan does what you had up until this very moment thought impossible and shuts Wade up.

“Logan, she’s an adult - she wants to join them. We should be supportive.”

“Supportive?!” He’s incredulous as he laughs harshly, voice utterly brimming with condescension when he continues. “You forgettin’ what happened there, huh, bub? You and I are the fuckin’ sole survivors - Last of the class! How's your Storm doing? Your Hank? Your Scott? Oh wait, their all fuckin’ dead!”

Your Logan never spoke to you this way. Never directed that fire within him at you, it's unfair, the comparison, you know this but your brain is misfiring with shock.

Had your Logan ever truly cared about anything this much when you’d been together in those dark days? Had all the fight truly left him back then? Had the two of you just ended up together out of mere convenience?

When you don’t reply, he just stares your way, his nose flared still utterly furious, at you, your betrayal, at Laura, at this situation he’s not emotionally equipped to deal with. This Logan’s shoulders are squared like he’s preparing to go a few rounds with you and not in a sexy way.

It's not a situation you’re entirely sure you’ve been in before; you’ve never been his enemy. So you’re not sure how to approach this cornered animal, ready to swipe out at you in his fear.

“If I didn’t go to that school, I never would’ve met any of you. I would be back in Y/H/T (your hometown) and I’d be lesser for it.”

It utterly disarms him, he’d clearly been prepared for harsh words to combat his own.

Pacing like a tiger locked in a cage, he finally sighs rubbing his forehead irritability. Logan turns, grabbing his leather jacket making the doorframe shake as he slams it after himself.

“I think he’s secretly happy for you, Laura.” Wade’s voice is light and full of sarcasm.

“That went just about as well as to be expected.” Al huffs from her position at her side as she takes Laura’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. He’ll come round to the idea.”

“Yes, he fucking will.” Seeing your daughter's face crumble as he storms off like a child is apparently your breaking point.

You follow after him, though as you’re a grown adult in charge of her emotions you simply allow the door to close behind you.

“Haha! - She’s gonna beat the shit outta’ him! Its gonna’ be like 454 when she-” You hear Wade cackle as you take off.

It doesn’t take long to find him, you know the man better than you know yourself, though it does certainly help that he’s predictable as shit.

The closest bar to the apartment is where he’s pulled up a stool, his nose flares the second he smells you.

“I mean it this time, I’m not looking for damn company.”

You ignore him, just as you did the time before.

“Two Corona’s please.”

“I don’t drink that shit.” he huffs. “Corona and a Blue Ribbon.”

It shouldn’t hit you the way it does.

Just like before, this miniscule insignificant difference, it utterly devastates you.

A simple fact; his favourite beer. The drink he ordered at every bar he entered without fail - is suddenly, without warning, repulsive to him.

It just serves to remind you that the man slouched on the bar stool beside you is a complete stranger wearing the face of your dead lover.

Perhaps your Logan drank it simply because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings?

Had he hated it all along?

Did he only drink it because you did?

Maybe the beer is a pertinent metaphor for your entire life.

He only drank the beer because it was there, just like he only fell for you because there was no one better around.

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, you’re only bought out of your spiral by a bottle being placed down in front of you.

Shaking your head, you will yourself to calm down. After a few centering breaths, Logan is looking your way.

“Thought you were comin’ to give me a talkin’ to.”

It's funny, in a way, your spiral actually has calmed you, reminded you that this isn’t your Logan.

He’s a different man with his own set of wounds, trying to navigate this awful situation just like you are.

“I was going to. You were a dick to her back there.” You sigh, taking a sip of your beer. “Then I remembered everything… everything you’ve lost and I thought maybe I could just cut you some slack this time.”

“That's generous.” He shakes his head, sipping his own beer. “This whole things a fuckin’ mess.”

You can’t help but agree with a nod.

The two of you sit in silence, which would appear to be the norm these days, you have so much to say to one another, yet you can’t seem to find the words.

Speaking to him, finding out more of the things that are different about him, terrifies you.

Little do you know, Logan is fighting a similar battle.

He hates the weight of your gaze, how it seems to hold the expectation of the great man you’d lost with every glance, it's a constant reminder how short he falls of the anchor being this world lost.

“Where am I in your world?” You ask the question you’ve had on your mind since meeting him. He knows almost everything about you, and yet you know so little.

“Dead.” He sighs rubbing at his eyes. “With the rest of them.”

“Did we ever?” He looks your way sharply at this question, then gives a harsh shake of his head.

It hurts a little to know you were always in the background for him - it's difficult to think of a world where you always loved him from afar, never getting to feel his skin on yours.

“I mean - you’d have had to pay attention to someone other than her for that to happen, I guess.”

“How the fuck’-” He growls voice filled with a new emotion, one you’re not quite familiar with. Bemusement? Disbelief? “-has this turned into me being the bad guy for not noticing you?”

“Eh - you were a real asshole upstairs.” Smirking, you take another sip of your drink. “Question for a question? - Take it in turns?”

“I don’t wanna’ know anythin’ about your world.” He snaps, turning his head back, though you can see him watching you in the mirror beside the booze.

It's like a countdown, you watch him battle his volatile emotions.

5, 4, 3 , 2, 1.

“Fine.” He grunts into his beer bottle. “How’d they die?”

That throws you, you’d expected how’d we meet? What happened to Charles? Instead he hits you with that straight out the gate.

“Uh - Charles had started showing signs of a degenerative brain disease. I mean, he was old, prone to seizures. We were desperate to find a way to control them. We were blind… to the reality of the situation.” You take a sip, resting your forehead on your hand as your eyes ache and threaten to water, this was the first time you’d ever discussed this out loud.. “Then, he had a fucking grand mal … it … it wiped out everyone within a 100,000 foot radius.”

Unable to help it, you pick at the skin around your thumb. “It was… devastating. He killed them all. All the kids in their classrooms, our friends and family. Not even Jean could stop him.”

“He… he killed Jean?”

You're a little ashamed of the flare of jealousy at his devastation about the woman you’d always come second to. But you push that deep down, it's not the time nor place.

“How’d you survive?” He questions.

“I was away. I’d heard of a neurosurgeon in Germany, he was developing… Well, it doesn’t matter now. But I was away, whilst everyone I cared about died.”

You’d never had a need to speak of it, Logan had lived it alongside you - there was something cathartic about saying it all out loud. You wipe at your cheek as you gulp down the last of your drink, a heavy stone weighing your stomach now.

“Your turn.” Logan’s voice is deep in thought as gestures to the bartender for another. He’s extending an olive branch, a kindness in the face of your vulnerability.

You think about it for a moment, what you’d like to know.

“We were friends at least?”

“Oh yeah, we were the best of friends, Bub. You were… uh … a lil’ younger back there, never really looked at you that way.” He scratches at his bearded chin, he’s avoiding looking your way again, uncomfortable sharing these parts of himself. “You… uh… you were gonna have pups with Pete.”

“With Maximoff?!” You squeak disbelieving, whilst taking a sip of your beer prompting a coughing fit to end them all, as you gasp for air.

Logan sighs, slamming his open palm between your shoulder blades. He rubs the spot he just hit in a circle pattern, reminding you somewhat of the last time he drew circles.

“I had a baby with Peter?” You push your hair back from your face. “...That's why he used to stare at me … y’know there was one time…”

You smile fondly recounting a time you caught him staring creepily across your classroom before you remember that sweet silver haired kid in your memories is dead. The smile drops from your face in an instant; you didn’t have children with him because he’s six feet under.

“No. You were pregnant when….” He grunts, his voice has a raw edge to it. For two people constantly at odds, your souls were in the same state of flux, continually aching for vastly different reasons, yet at the root, the same cause.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment or two, you’re processing the fact that you almost had kids with Quicksilver and he’s no doubt regretting ever playing this game.

The game.

“It's your turn.”

“This is why she shouldn’t join them, everyone we know is dead.” Logan has had enough of the game as he sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Being a goddamn hero gets you killed.”

“Logan.” You touch the back of the hand currently gripping the beer bottle neck like it owes him money. “She’s strong, stronger than me. Laura is you in every way that counts. She’s ridiculously stubborn, headstrong - even when she’s wrong - and she has a kind heart. She wants to use those gifts you’ve given her for good. How can you stand in the way of that?”

Logan’s hand flips over, his warm callused fingers coming to link around your own.

“The kind heart is all you, bub.”

The beers have loosened your tongue, made your anxieties seem a little further away.

“I don’t know. You have your moments.” His fingers dance along your palm, stroking the broken planes.

The two of you enjoy this easy intimacy you’d been forming over the past few days.

“How’d we get together?” Those instruments of death you’ve seen take countless lives, glide over the soft skin of your wrist. Your eyes, usually so afraid to meet his, can’t leave their hazel captivity as you process his blunt question

“Oh, uh…” Tucking your hair behind your ear with your free hand, your eyes dart to his fingers still drifting across your flesh.

“Don’t get shy on me now, bub.” He smirks, though his heart’s not in it.

That asshole.

Taking a deep gulp of your third beer, you rely on the liquid courage, before raising your eyes back to his.

“One night. It was a few days after everything, we had finally got a sedative for Charles. We had a moment to take stock of everything we’d lost. You … uh … he came to me and … he cried. The first time I’d seen it.” His hand pulls back, but you can’t help it, you refuse to release your hold. You don’t want to lose this connection. Your thumb dips, rubbing at his knuckle, at the joint where his claws always caused the bone to ache. “I held him and he kissed me, it was messy. It was desperate but I think we both needed to feel something that wasn’t grief.”

“And I thought I was special… ” His voice holds sarcasm though you can tell the sentiment behind it is anything but humorous.

“You are special to me.”

“Yeah.” His voice is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“You are.”

“I look like the guy who’s special to you, darlin’. I’m not him, as much as you may wish I am. Hell I wish I was.” He has snatched his hand away as he slams cash down on the bar.

Logan has started the short walk back to the apartment, cutting through the alley.

He’s hurt, burying it deep beneath the rage. His anger is an old friend. One he’s comfortable confronting.

“I’m done with your stupid games. I’m done with it all. Haven’t you got the memo? I’m the worst Logan.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that! You’re so goddamn cruel to yourself.” You cry out at his leather covered shoulders, that in itself seems to stop him in his tracks. The Y/N from his world was a mousy wallflower through and through, nothing he’d seen from this world led him to believe you were any different and yet his ears weren’t deceiving him. “I loved my Logan - I fucking adored him. Yes, sometimes it's hard to separate the two of you, but I care for you.”

He stands motionless in the alley as you bare your soul.

“I’ve known you for a week. I can’t love you the same because you’re not the same person, not entirely, but my soul knows yours. You’re Logan.” You’ve closed the distance but he still wont turn around and perhaps that's what makes it easier to say the things you’ve been desperate to say for days. “I look in your eyes and I feel safe, when you touch me everything feels like it's going to be okay. You’re not the worst, you’re not the best. You’re Logan; you’re just Logan.”

Logan is on you instantly, silencing your words with a scorching kiss. It's the kind you see in movies, desperate, filled to the brim with passion, usually taking place in the rain.

His hands find your lower back, pulling you to him as your wrap your arms around his neck, making sure he can’t escape from your grasp, as he growls and pushes you against the brick wall.

Your nose aches from the pressure of his cheek pressed against it as he devours your mouth with his own. He is claiming your mouth with a week of pent up emotions. He grips your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist, pressing the hardened bulge of his jeans against your core.

“Mom? … Logan?”

There in the street light Laura is illuminated. Her face gives nothing away, she may as well be wearing those sunglasses for all you can garner from her expression.

“Hey Love! - I.. We…uh-” Logan slowly releases your thigh, slyly adjusting his jeans in an attempt to hide his erection. You do your best to stand in front of the -ahem- sizeable bulge.

“How's it going?” You ask with a faux air of casualness as you place your hands on your hips, though your voice has a weird edge.

“Pretty good. How’s it going for you?” Her own voice has a coy little smile to it, which puts you at ease just a little.

“Great, I’m great. Logan? You great?”

“Great.” He grunts behind you.

“Great! - Everyone’s … great.”

The three of you stand in silence for a second or two, processing what's just happened or perhaps trying to decide if great is still a real word.

“You’re so weird.” Laura snorts. “For the record I’m happy that you both pulled your heads out of your asses.”

“Baby-”

“Kid-” You and Logan speak in sync. Your eyes lock as you both try and decide how the other was going to finish that sentence.

“Laura - me and your Mom… uh… things are complicated… and we don’t want to drag you into this.” Logan, the man of very few words, has managed to find them. You’re stunned into silence as he takes control of a conversation… about feelings… with his daughter.

This is not any Logan that you know.

Laura looks to you, waiting for your seal of approval on the message.

“I know how confusing things are already, Bug.” You close the distance between the two of you, linking your fingers with hers. “Me and your dad, we’re working through some things.”

You notice Logan’s shoulders setting straighter at his new title, like a welcome weight has been placed upon them. She nods at your words, smiling devilishly.

“It was just a matter of time, Mama. He has a staring problem.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t.” He growls from behind you both. Your heart feels lighter than it has in a decade as the two of you cackle at his defensive response.

He digs his hands into his pockets glaring your way, though it has no heat whatsoever behind it, in fact he looks like he’s fighting a smile.

With your hand still firmly in Laura’s you pull her back towards the apartment, linking your arm through Logan’s warm, thick leather clad one. He doesn’t take your hand, but he also doesn’t pull away as the three of you walk back to the house.

“Can we get pizza? - For emotional trauma?” She questions.

“Baby, I’ll buy you all the pizza in New York.” You reply rolling your eyes.

“Not with fuckin’ pineapple on.” Logan groans.

“Pineapple on pizza is objectively delicious!” Laura defends from her place on your otherside, she pulls on your hand still hanging between the two of you. “Back me up.”

“I will always have your back … but…. pineapple on pizza is in fact a crime against humanity.”

Logan lets out a guffaw of victory, as Laura snarls his way. You take a mental picture, the warmth in your chest, bracketed in by your two favourite people in the world. Life is good.

Laura leaves the next morning.

It is a difficult pill to swallow, after seven years by her side. You can’t quite make the leap to take her to the mansion, it's something she understands. So when you embrace her at the doorway after Ellie reassures you for the 30th time she’ll look out for her, you find it hard to let go.

There hasn’t been a day you’ve been without her since you first met the scrawny 12-year old in Mexico. Laura is an extension of you, like your heart is on the outside of your body and you’re not ready for your heart to go to West Chester without you being there to protect it.

At that moment you understand why she needs this independence, she’s 19 years old. She needs her own life, to experience everything it has to offer but that doesn’t make letting go any easier.

“You call if you need anything, anything at all.” You tell her as you push her hair behind her ears. “Don’t stay up too late but also don’t go to bed too early to make friends but make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

“I will get the perfect amount of sleep, don’t worry.” She grabs your wrists, removing your hands from her hair.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You sigh, your anxiety is eating away at your stomach. She’s not the vulnerable child being hunted anymore, you try to remind yourself. “If you need me-”

“-If you need us. We’ll be there.” Logan cuts you off, interjecting his own amendment.

In a show of affection you’re not quite expecting, he hugs the girl. It's somewhat awkward and clumsy, the two have known each other for a week, but when they pull back, you can see the gesture was all that really mattered.

He hands her her backpack, which she throws one strap over her shoulder. The two smile at each other in their silent language, both such quiet souls.

When she turns back to you, you ask. “We can walk you down?”

“Stay here? It’s easier this way.” She looks so small as she pleads with you.

Taking mercy on her, you nod.

“Okay.” Waving you watch her turn for the door. You don’t expect however when she turns back and barrels into your chest for a final time, burying her face in your neck.

“I love you, Mama.” She whispers, you can’t help it as your eyes water. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly to your chest.

“I love you. You are my world.” You know she needs you to let her go for her to be able to walk through that door. So with a deep inhale of her hair for the road, you pull back gathering your strength. You pull her other strap onto her shoulder and push her hair back from her face. You wipe her tears from her cheeks and give her the biggest smile you can muster, despite your teary eyes and broken voice. “Give them hell, baby.”

Laura nods, giving her own matching teary smile. Her back straightens and her shoulders square as she follows Yukio and Ellie down the hall. The duo waving at you as they descend down the stairs.

You’re so busy watching your world disappear down the hall you barely feel the heavy warm hand wrap around your shoulder in comfort. You melt into Logan’s side as your heart shatters.

You wait for him to leave in a hurry, only he does the last thing you expect of the Wolverine. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You close your eyes as the tears begin to fall against your will.

Logan strokes your back. He doesn’t offer any words of comfort, but he doesn’t need to, his presence alone is enough.

His trimmed beard, bristles against your hair as he places a kiss on the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair as he holds you.

It's hard to say how long the two of you stand there like that. Only when your body stops shaking do you finally look up through tear streamed eyes. Logan looks down at you, his face is lined with concern.

“You good?”

“I will be.” Your voice is broken from crying. “I-”

“I know, Bub.” He smiles your way, one you’ve not seen, perhaps ever.

It's soft, sympathetic but filled with adoration. He pushes the strand of hair, now sodden with tears, back behind your ear. His finger lingers on the curve of the bone for a moment or two before he pulls back.

“Bar?”

“Bar.”

Things change when Laura leaves. Not massively, and not entirely for the worst.

You and Logan had started sharing the bed, not like that (unfortunately), but sleeping next to one another. It was comfier than the sofa and his body curled around yours made you sleep a hell of a lot more soundly. Suddenly years of insomnia were cured by his muscled warmth curled around you like a safety blanket.

He never made a move to further it, even if you had once or twice tried to entice him by grinding your backside against his morning wood. The man was nothing if not resilient as he rolled away, grunting.

The two of you had been getting to know one another, you had resolved to treat him like a whole new man. This revelation meant that their differences weren’t such a blow anymore, you didn’t actively compare the two of them as much.

You had created a clear picket line in your head and it seemed to be working. They were two different versions of the same man, each with their own merits and disadvantages.

They weren’t to be compared.

The two of you had started a ritual of movie nights, evenings where you’d sit a little too close on the couch and pretend it wasn’t happening. He’d share a blanket he knew he didn’t need just to get close to you. It was a little uncomfortable when Wade asked to come under the blanket but you enjoyed the time spent with the clown,

In fact, your favourite night had been when you, Wade and Al had all sat down to watch the Notebook - the movie Logan point blank refused watch.

Yes, the movie he objected to so strongly, then proceeded to watch from behind the couch, standing awkwardly on the threshold of the lounge. Where he lingered for the first half an hour pretending to have no interest in it.

When the end credits came around he was back under the blanket with you and Wade, utterly refusing to admit that he’d cried.

That argument with Wade had gotten heated and he’d put three little tears in your blanket, but it was one of your fondest memories in this apartment.

It had been three weeks now. Only two of them had been spent hunting for a room that you could afford on a barista’s salary, which was the only job you were qualified for after dropping off the planet for the past ten years.

Colossus had offered you your old teaching position though you didn’t want to cramp Laura’s style and you didn’t think you could face stepping foot back in that mansion, too many of your ghosts lingered there. The same could be said for Logan, though he had found much better paying work at St Margarets.

He and Wade did odd jobs, merc work to pay the rent. They killed bad guys and got paid for it, and boy they got paid a hell of a lot more than you.

The coffee shop below Wade’s apartment, or waking hell, as you’d come to know it was your slice of a regular life; trying to push your circle peg into a triangle hole.

Its a 24-hour coffee shop, cause who doesn’t need caffeine at 3am? Tch. New York. You’re leaning on the counter a million miles away, contemplating if the graveyard shifts are worth the illusion of paying your way when Logan makes up most of your share of the rent anyway.

Your singular customer is a young guy typing away on his laptop, desperately trying to finish what looks like a college essay. He’s eleven espressos in and has been here since before your shift started at 5pm. You haven’t been told if you can cut someone off, but surely that much caffeine must count as overserving.

The bell above the door tingles loudly, the warm lights illuminate his red mask.

Wade.

“Hey angel baby!” He comes to the counter, pretending to read the board as if he hasn’t been here a million times before.

“Hi Wade.” You smile tiredly at the man. “What’cha want? It's on the house!”

“Ooooh, gimme’ a Caramel Macchiato but hit me with like 6 shots espresso, extra caramel and don’t skimp on the whipped cream - I like to call this the don't stop til dawn.”

“Your insides must be a mess.” You shake your head and get to making his drink.

“How’s the soul crushing service industry treating ya?” He asks, leaning one hand on the counter.

“It’s okay. A little boring, but not so bad, nobody's shooting at me.” You motion downwards with your eyes to the fresh bullet holes in his red suit.

“Ha! Yeahhh. But it's good old fashioned fun, beating guys to a pulp, saving kids from trees, taking candy from cats.” You roll your eyes at the man. “But they say, if you love your job you never work a day in your life! And boy, I love my job.”

You're steaming the milk when he speaks up again, shouting loudly over the machine. “You should come and work with me and Logi Bear. He’s 10% less of an old grumpy fuck when you’re around.”

He’s still shouting when the machine quietens, making your cringe a little as the kid looks your way. This isn’t the first time Wade’s broached the subject with you.

“I get you wanna move out, we love having you, but I get that Al’s old lady smell can get sorta’ overwhelming after a while.”

“Wade.” You sigh, admonishing his jokes about the lady who you’ve grown to care for in the past month. “If you didn’t live in a two bed, I’d love to stay, but it's just too small and I want you to have your bedroom back. I hate feeling like a burden.”

You secure the lid to his drink when its finally complete. “One heart attack in a cup.”

“My favourite.” His mask contorts around the eyes showing his smile. “Oh Wolvie’s upstairs in bad shape. Something took a fuckin’ chunk outta him.”

“What the fuck Wade?! Why didn’t you lead with that?” You’re pulling off your apron and halfway around the counter before you remember your shift isn’t over for another hour.

“Cause’ then you wouldn’t have made my fast juice.”

Ah fuck it.

“Don’t steal the cash register.” You warn the kid looking your way. “He’ll hunt you down and beat the crap out of you.”

Wade waves at the kid behind you, he has his macchiato in one hand and baby knife in his other for special effect. The kid gives a look of ‘Jeez’ before returning to his work.

“You coming?” You ask when your almost half way through the door.

“Nah - saving innocents makes me hungy. Fork hands has his healing factor. He'll be fine.” Wade replies dismissively.

Huffing you turn on your heel and practically run to the apartment.

A chunk out of him?

Logan's healing factor was significantly better without the adamantium poisoning but surely he could die. In an instant you’re back in North Dakota, holding his hand as he fades away.

Your breath is heavy as you take the steps two at a time.

Not again.

The door is thrown open and instead of chaos you find the lights dimmed, candles all over the apartment and there Logan stands in a new plaid buttondown and his finest wranglers. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers in those veined hands you love so much. It's like something out of a Danielle Steel novel and you utterly melt.

The panic that had clutched your heart recedes. Your anxiety releases its grip on you.

“You’re not hurt?”

“No, bub. I’m fine. Sorry for the clown. He offered to help and I…”

You shake your head and smile at him, hesitantly you take a step forward. When you’re close enough he hands them your way. “I have it on good authority, they’re your favourites.”

“They are.”

“I wanna give you what you deserve, sweetheart.” He starts, it's like he’s rehearsed it in his head. Little do you know it's all his thought about for the past three weeks. “You deserve more than a romp in the woods, or an alley.”

He seems to cringe at this before continuing.

“I’m not like the other guy. He was a goddamn anchor being, hero through and through from what I hear about him. I’m angry, I kill people and I drink too goddamn much, but when you look at me, I feel like I could be him.” For the first time, it is him that takes your hand in his much larger one. “Do you know how jealous of that asshole I am, Bub? That he got you first? That he got to have your uncomplicated love. If you’d been older in my timeline, I would've’ met you first, I wouldn’t have looked twice at another and I’d have fallen for you the second you looked up at me from beneath those eyelashes, how could I not when everything about you is so easy to love?”

You’ve always been a crier, and this is no different. The man is stamping down every single one of your insecurities, reassuring you as you go. Making you feel more loved then you’ve ever felt before.

“I adore you. From your crappy cooking-”

“-Hey.”

“Your porny books you think I don’t see, to the way you cry at movies, how much you love our daughter. I fuckin’ love you Y/N. Its messy and complicated, I’m not sure if you could-”

In a total role reversal it is you who cuts him off, grabbing his face in your palms and dragging his face down to yours. Your mouths join for the first time in weeks, it is hot and full of desire and love. It's like the two of you are releasing all of your tension into this kiss, finally the air has been cleared and it's rejuvenating.

You press your forehead to his, gasping for breath as his kisses steal the air from your lungs.

“Lo, I guarantee every version of me loves you, even if you were too blind to see it in your world.”

“You were a married woman in my world, bub.”

You gasp theatrically. “Adulturerer.”

“You’ve spent too much time with that fuckin’ idiot.” He kisses your lips, though you don’t let it turn into anything deeper, as you pull back rubbing your nose against his.

“Fornicator.”

“tch… stop.” He groans, grabbing your ass pulling you into his bulge, you bite his lip with a giggle. “Why do you have these lined up?”

He never gets his answer as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his back and carries you through to the bedroom. You pull away from his mouth, looking over to the set dinner table.

“The food… you went to all that effort!” He is kissing your neck, nipping and lathering the bites with his tongue.

“Can’t cook for shit, darlin’. It’s take out, we can heat it up. I’m hungry for your fuckin’ sweet cunt right now. “

Your lower stomach clenches at his positively filthy words, you join your lips back to his. His teeth nip at your lip as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, running the tip along your teeth.

Before there had been need, but now, you’re both desperate. You’ve had a mere taste of what the other has to offer and now you’ve starved yourself for months.

“Not gonna’ last long on the first, darlin’.” He groans into your mouth as your hand works its way into his pants. He is eager as he throws you back onto the bed and is already working at peeling your black jeans down your legs. “Those fuckin’ shorts you sleep in, fuck. I’ve been dreamin’ about buryin’ myself in ya’ for weeks.”

“Please, Lo.” You’re not sure what you’re already begging for but you are desperate. You’re left in your uniform tee and panties, as he slowly unbuttons his button down, slowly revealing the white undershirt beneath. You’ve never found collarbones particularly attractive, but the tanned skin stretched across his is quite frankly delectable.

You pull your shirt over your head, all too eager to be rid of the reminder of the job you should by all rights be at right now. Your bra is quick to follow.

“Those gorgeous tits, been thinking of these every fucking night.” You groan at his admission. He himself is shirtless, you have half a mind to return the same complement as your hands brush against his perfectly sculpted pecs.

This man was the perfect specimen, it was unfair, t shirts should be outlawed for him. He grabs the waistband of your panties.

‘Snikt’ and a rip sound and you are utterly bare before him, laying across Wade’s bed.

Those gorgeous strong hands trace the planes of your body, circling your nipples before his mouth takes their place.

He groans as his hands descend to your core. “All this for me? I’m gonna’ fuckin’ slide in, Baby.”

And he does, two fingers push through your tight slick opening, three weeks of foreplay have left you soaking wet and wanting. How can you live with a man who looks the way he does, who consistently works out in the living room shirtless and not have the ocean in your panties.

It seems Logan has had all he can take as he slides a third finger in, pumping it in and out of you, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. Gasping you grab at your sheets desperate to anchor yourself.

He kisses up your breast, lavishing your chest in kisses and bites. Never enough to leave a mark but just enough to excite you.

When he’s at your neck he leans in, whispering into your ear. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin that pussy.”

You can’t help it, maybe you’re a whore for this man, but you don’t fucking care. Your legs part even further on the bed.

“Please, Logan. I need you to fuck me.”

He grins savagely, pushing his already undone belt and jeans down his hips. He’s back up and claiming your mouth, your legs wrapped around his ass, pulling you down to him before he knows it.

One hand is bearing his weight as the other disappears, he lines himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock breaching your folds. He’s thick, thicker than you remember, but there isn’t any discomfort this time. He settles for a moment, his forehead against yours. His mouth dips to join your lips, his tongue lashing out and fucking your mouth as his hips leap forward spearing you on his cock. The bed creaks with the power of his hips as he fucks you hard into the matress.

Skin slapping on skin is all that can be heard as he readjusts onto his knees, he’s desperate to be as deep as possible and you need the same thing.

“Lo-”

“I know, darlin’.” He grabs your waist, lifting you as if you weigh nothing at all and flips you over. Suddenly you’re astride him, your knees either side of his hips as his head rests in the pillows.

His eyes are distracted by your tits as he smirks, happy with the view.

You ache for him, so you reach down, lining his thick purple headed member with your core before you sink down in one stroke, his extended groan absolutely wrecks you as his big hands come to rest on the meat of your hips.

You rest your hands on his amply hair covered chest, using his pecs as leverage before you raise your hips before slamming back down and bottoming him out.

He’s so deep inside you, the tip of him must be brushing your goddamn cervix as you raise yourself once more, until he almost slips out before meeting his hips once more.

Logan’s strength never fails to surprise you as his hands follow your lead yet help lift you through the manoeuvre.

You’re bouncing on his cock, quick rise and fall sporadically grinding your clit deliciously into his pelvis.

Logan feels fucking amazing inside of you, maybe its been the buildup of weeks but you find yourself heading towards the dive faster than ever before.

“Ride my cock,sweetheart. That’s it, make yourself feel good.”

Gasping at his words and the change of position as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you and claiming your mouth. The second you find the angle that feels amazing against your clit, you hit it again and again, grinding hard against him.

“Lo - I’m gonna … I’m gonna -” You crash before you can get the words out, your toes curl by his knees and your whole body seizes in ecstasy. The world feels right as the stars appear behind your eyes.

The world stopped for you for a moment but not for Logan. He has bought his knees up and is pistoning his hips into your contorting body. He’s holding you against him, groaning into your neck as he continues to fuck your clenching pussy relentlessly.

“Oh fuck … your so fucking tight. Fucking perfect cunt- made - for - me.” He growls into your neck, but you’re too cock drunk to hear it properly, as he frantically thrusts his powerful hips up and into you.

“Where? ” He pulls back, never slowing his hips as he grabs your cheeks with one hand. Your sweat laden face, vacant and looking back at him, your cunt hasn’t stopped clenching around him as he plunders your depths, his voice is strained as he asks again “Darlin’...you gotta … tell me … where?”

“...inside, Lo. Please come inside me…” Your so overstimulated, you could cry. The sound of his balls slapping against skin as he thrusts upwards deep inside of you, whilst he pulls your body down. He’s so fucking deep inside of you, your pussy squelching from a mixture of precum and your arousal.

With another string of lewd words he’s coming hard, Logan’s head has fallen back against the headboard exposing the thick chords of muscle, you can't help sinking your teeth into it, you dip your hand and rub at your clit clumsily, you’re so fucking overstimulated from watching him you follow him over the precipice once more, giving him an insanely tight sheath to come in.

“That’s it, take it all, sweetheart” He groans as he continues to slowly pump his seed deep within you

Gasping you fall slack in his arms, your bones are jelly and your muscles ache, you really are a pillow princess.

“Still with me?” You manage to nod your clammy forehead against his pec, you currently have your cheek squished against. He chuckles, as he lies back against the pillows, leaving his cock still inside of you, you can feel him leaking out of you as he softens a little, recovering for what you imagine will be another enthusiastic round if history is a teacher.

You are utterly fucked out as you lie on his chest, listening to his breath with his cum slowly leaking from your abused hole.

The two of you have never needed words, you lie against his chest, the hands you adore so much, come out to stroke your hair.

Rubbing soothingly at your scalp before running his calloused fingers through the locks and repeating.

When you’ve finally gathered enough strength you lean on your hands, looking up at him.

“Welcome back, bub.”

“Hello.” You smile shyly, like you hadn’t just sunk your canines into his neck whilst wantonly riding his cock to oblivion.

“You okay?” He asks, his hand rising to stroke your swollen bottom lip.

“Someone fucked me brain dead - but yeah, I’m good.” You smirk, nipping at his thumb.

He grins wolfishly and chuckles with his whole body, the movement causes his cock to move inside of you. Slowly you feel him hardening once more.

“You can still talk, Darlin’. Means I haven’t done my job properly.” The predatory gaze in his eyes excites and scares you in equal parts. Though you’re probably asking for trouble when you take his thumb back in your mouth.

It's light outside when you finally have to tap out.

Your pussy is aching, your ass is stinging from the new sensation, your jaw throbs and your entire body is boneless.

You can’t quite catch your breath and your cunt is leaking so much cum, that you’re probably 10% Logan at this point.

The Wolverine has utterly devoured you, making up for three weeks of torment in one night. Though he’s not all bad as he feeds you noodles from chopsticks as you lay on his muscled hair laden thighs.

When Logan had suggested food, you’d had to stop him from eating Wontons from your belly button as none of your holes were currently operational.

The two of you have dressed, though that is a strong use of the word as you’re wearing only his button down and him only his underwear.

You’re lazing on the couch watching reruns of Friends as your bed sorely needs fresh sheets and a new base. Poor Wade, you’d have to replace it before you move out. Like he could read your mind, Logan begins.

“I found a new place, its nothing fancy but its got four walls and no roommates.” You smile at him around your mouthful of noodles as he takes his own bite.

Sitting up you smile. “That’s great news, Lo.”

“I uh- wanted to see, if you’d wanna come with me.”

You can’t help your grin.

fin.

I am currently posting this at the airport before my flight. I love you all! 💖

#wolverine x reader #worst logan x you #worst logan x reader #worst logan #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #Logan x reader

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chososcamgirl · 3 months ago

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(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER EIGHT: choose your fighter!

masterlist

She tossed her phone onto the bed, the sound echoing in the silence of the room, and buried her face in her hands, a deep sigh escaping her lips. Why couldn’t her friends find it in themselves to be happy for her? Sukuna had his flaws—plenty of them—but so did she. They had both stumbled through their relationship and while she didn’t want to return to that tumultuous past, the ache of loneliness was becoming harder to ignore.

She thought about the way he made her feel, the intoxicating blend of exhilaration and vulnerability that surged through her in his presence. His touch was a sanctuary, enveloping her in the warmth that felt both safe and electric as if every heartbeat synchronised with the unspoken connection they shared. It was in those moments that she felt seen, cherished, and undeniably alive; yet the aftertaste of that sweetness was often tainted by his erratic behaviour.

God, why did he have to be such a cunt? If only he had shown a hint of consideration, if only he hadn't allowed his insecurities to seep into their moments together, this decision would have been made hours ago. She could have stepped forward with clarity instead of being mired in confusion, torn between the yearning for his touch and the frustration of his thoughtlessness. Each time she recalled the warmth of his embrace, it came with the sharp sting of disappointment, a reminder that the comfort he offered was often shadowed by his lack of commitment.

It was a painful paradox-craving his closeness while grappling with the reality of his emotional distance. In that swirling tumult of feelings, she found herself caught in an endless cycle of hope and disillusionment, desperate for a resolution that would allow her to either embrace him in a way that wouldn’t leave her feeling like shit.

Her thoughts shifted to Megumi. He had offered in a way that made her heart race, the implication lingering like a whisper. She bit her lip, contemplating the choice before her. Megumi would be a far better option than Sukuna; he had a steadiness about him that she found comforting.

Flipping onto her stomach, she buried her face in the pillow, muffling a scream of frustration. Here she was, torn between dignity and desire. Should she text Sukuna and risk reopening old wounds, or reach out to Megumi and swallow her pride? The options felt like a cruel joke—two paths that led to equally undesirable destinations. Yet, amidst the chaos, she understood one thing: sometimes a girl had to make choices that didn’t feel right, simply to find a moment of solace in the storm.

Finally, she raised her head from the indent in the pillow, her thoughts swirling with a mix of reluctance and resignation. Swallowing her pride—and the certainty that she would regret this moment later—she reached for her phone, fingers trembling slightly as she opened iMessage. The soft, rhythmic clicks of the keyboard filled the quiet room as she typed one of the most clichéd and overused lines of the 21st century, a phrase as worn as her emotions felt.

Her finger hovered over the “send” button, a moment stretching into what felt like an eternity. With a heavy breath, she finally succumbed to the impulse and pressed it.

Read at: 9:47 PM

Well, that was fast. Had he been waiting for her to text him all along? The notification blinked before her, a stark reminder of her vulnerability and the tangled web of choices she had woven. A mixture of anticipation and dread coursed through her, leaving her to wonder if this moment would be the beginning of something new—or a replay of the past.

extras!

• the enemies to lovers is STRONG in this chapter

• honorary toge brainrot reference

• more cameos (also guys please do not ask for a cameo bc it’s filling up my inbox😭 in the most nicest way possible just let it be please <3 if i want you to be featured i will, keep in mind not every chapter will have a cameo)

• more stsg propaganda because THEYRE CANON IDC

• yuta being whipped part 73

• yuji def put all the new fans onto his fav horror movie recs (hereditary and i am legend)

• the girls are FIGHTINGGG (and not in a good way)

• yn being a bitch to maki on GOD she’s pissing me off like why is yn putting dick first

• maki being nothing but sweetheart part 119

• nobara cooking us #wedeserveit

• maki left the apartment and went to yuta’s after for some… therapy 😊

• WHO DID WE TEXT GUYS… MEGUMI OR SUKUNA?? FIND OUT *looks at watch* NEXT WEEK! 🫵

a/n: i’m really edging you guys with the last part THIS IS SO FUN😭😭 take your vote now! did we cave into daddykuna’s text.. or did we say fuck it and text megumi.. find out in 6 days!! <3 this was also probably my favourite chapter to write so far GUYS ITS JUST GETTING STARTED

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @laughingfcx @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @pastriepuppy @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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ninii-winchester · 6 months ago

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Only Girl

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.8k

Warnings: smut, oral (m & f receiving), dirty talk, spanking, language, age gap. MDNI NSFW

Part 2 to One of your girls

A/n : I wrote smut for the first time so go easy on me please.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Still pressed against the wall outside the bar, Y/n whimpered waiting for Dean to make a move, Kiss her, touch her, just to do anything. Dean squeezed her hips once before pulling away. She turned around to look at him, her face turned into a small frown. Dean chuckled as he noticed her disappointment.

"As much I'd like to give everyone a show like you did, I'm not fucking you outside a bar for our first time together." Dean said dragging her towards the Impala. The drive back to the motel was quick and the she didn't waste anytime walking inside. Dean slowly followed behind her.

Y/n started walking towards their room but stopped when she saw Dean stopping at the counter, "Room's this way, Dean." She pointed her finger to the hallway. He looked at her but didn't respond, instead he clicked his tongue and turned back to the clerk. She watched him put his credit card on the counter, getting another keycard. Dean took his time walking them to their new room and it was making her go crazy. She wanted him bad, she needed him to fuck her into next week but his unhurried and slow moves were driving her nuts.

He opened the room and let her walk in first, her heart was beating loudly in her chest, anticipation getting the best of her. The moment he stepped inside the room his lips were on hers. Fucking finally. She desperately kissed back, grabbing the back of his head pulling him closer. She let out whine when he pulled apart.

"So needy." He tsked gripping her waist.

"Dean please." She whispered batting her lashes at him. He smashed his lips to hers again, his hands moving down to grab her ass. A moan escaped her lips as he landed a slap on her left ass cheek. He let his tongue graze hers, moving in perfect synchronisation. He picked her up and slammed her back into the door, not breaking the kiss.

"Fuck." He pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. "Do you really want this?" He questioned in all seriousness, if she wants to stop better now because he knows if he went any further he won't be able to. She nodded her head. "Words, baby."

"Yes Dean, fuck me." Dean groaned when he heard her say that. "Hard." She added and Dean's eyes darkened. He put her back on her feet.

"You have a safe word, sweet girl?" He asked in his deep voice. Y/n could feel her pussy clenching around nothing and clit throbbing.

"Cherry." She replied. Dean nodded before pulling away completely. He walked backwards and she took a step but he stopped her.

"Didn't ask you to move, did I?" He questioned sitting on the edge of the bed and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Now strip, and crawl to me." Whatever self respect she had left, after the bar stunt she pulled, went flying out of the window as soon as those words left his mouth. She worked fast to get off every piece of clothing off her body, once she was completely naked she dropped to knees and crawled towards Dean. She stopped right in front of him, he gave her an approving look. "Good girl." He said grabbing the back of her hair. "You're such a slut for cock aren't you, pretty girl." He pulled her body up so she was sat up straight.

"Only for you cock Dean. I want it so bad." She whimpered, feeling an ache in her throbbing cunt.

"I know sweetheart, isn't that why you acted like a whore in front everyone." Dean taunted unbuckling his belt. He grabbed both of her hands and tied them behind her back using the belt. He unzipped his pants, pulling them down to his thighs, he pulled out his hard dick from the confines of his boxers, Y/n licked her lips watching the pre cum oozing out of the tip. "Now suck like the cockslut you are." She didn't waste a second before wrapping her lips around the tip, sucking it like her favourite candy. Dean threw his head back as she swiped her tongue on underside of his shaft, she then took the whole length inside her mouth, deep throating him, "God fuck baby." He snapped his hips, fucking her mouth, Dean sucked in a breath as she choked on his dick, breathing through her nose. He pulled her hair harshly. "Fuck, that mouth feels like heaven."

She continued licking and sucking, hollowing her cheeks intent on making him cum but Dean had other plans. He grabbed her head to pull her off him but she tightened her lips on his cock, he yanked her off harshly, a string of saliva drooled down her chin. He glared at her. "You're fucking insatiable." He pulled her to straddle his thigh, he could feel her juices coating his bare thigh. His knuckles brushed against her clit and she gasped. "So fucking wet, just from sucking my cock."

"I've been a good girl haven't I? Make me cum please." Y/n whined. She was getting impatient, she needed her release now, without a thought she started grinding her pussy against his thigh.

"You've been good, go on fucking rut against my thigh, make yourself cum." Dean leaned back on his arms watching her struggle to move on his thigh with her hands bound. Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes and she let out a loud whimper.

"Dean please, need to touch you, I wanna cum on your cock." She cried and he grabbed her face kissing her, at was all teeth and tongue clashing, his hand left her face and moved behind her to undo the belt. As soon her hands were unbound she pulled at his shirt, borderline close to ripping it off. Dean flipped her, so laid on the bed. She moved a bit up and laid her head on the pillows. Dean kicked his jeans and boxers and joined her on the bed.

Dean spread her legs open revealing her glistening pussy. "Look at that, such a pretty pussy." He dragged his fingers over her folds making her clutch the sheets tightly. He didn't waste another second before latching his lips onto her clit, sucking harshly. He then shoved his tongue inside her. "Fuck tastes so good." He groaned into her pussy. "I could stay here forever." Y/n grabbed the back of his head and pushed it to her core. She locked her legs on his shoulder keeping him in place.

"Oh God yea, fuck don't stop." She yelled as Dean continued lapping on her juices. "Yes baby, I'm so close."

"That's it baby, say my name." He groaned, pushing two fingers knuckles deep inside her cunt. And she screamed his name, loudly. "Let everyone know who's making you feel so good." He moaned against her clit, scissoring his fingers inside her, hitting her sensitive spot that made her see stars. "Cum for me, sweetheart." And she did. Hard. she felt her whole body shake as her orgasm came crashing. She panted heavily, Dean continued to suck on her clit making her push at his shoulders slightly but he didn't move, he went on relentlessly, overstimulating her. "Dean fuck." He felt her clench around his fingers again, indicating her approaching orgasm. Dean chuckled darkly before he abruptly pulled away.

"Dean what the fuck." She looked down at him.

"I'm still in charge, hot stuff. You cum when I say you cum." Dean smacked her ass sitting up. He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her closer to himself, settling between her legs. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around her right nipple, his tongue circling the hardened nub while one of his hands groped her left tit. She reached down between their bodies and grabbing his cock, rubbing the tip over her folds. Dean slapped her tit harshly, "such a whore." he said pulling away from her nipple. "You just can't live without cock, can ya?" Before she could answer he gripped her hips tightly and slammed his cock inside her cunt making her back arch from the bed. He didn't let adjust before pulling out and shoving it back in.

"Oh Dean yes fuck me." She bit her bottom lip as he continued to fuck her at a harsh pace, he pushed her legs over his shoulders, hitting her deep from the new angle.

"Look at that tight little cunt taking me so well." She heard Dean groan above her, his gaze locked on where their bodies meet. Her walls clenched around his length, he continued thrusting, hitting her g-spot. He smacked her ass multiple times, "You're squeezing my cock so hard, you like being spanked, little slut." He landed a few more slaps to her ass, "Is this what you wanted?" He wrapped his hand around her throat, "Putting up a show at the bar, begging for my cock, little slut couldn't even wait for me to get another room. You wanted me to fuck you in that room when Sammy could walk in on us huh? Such a whore aren't ya.?"

"Yes yes fuck I'm a whore for you cock. I'm your cockslut, fill me up, fuck i want it so bad." She begged reaching down and rubbing her own clit. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpered, "please I can't hold it." She waited for him to give her permission to cum but he took his sweet time.

"Hold it baby, I'm right behind ya." Dean choked out, his thrusts faltering, a telltale sign he's close. "Cum. Fucking cum on my cock." He growled squeezing her throat slightly as he spilled his seed inside her. The coil in her stomach snapped and she let go, spilling her juices all over his cock. He stilled inside her, both of them panting heavily, coming down from their highs. He pulled out of her slowly, she winched slightly suddenly feeling empty. "You okay?" Dean asked looking over at her.

"Yeah." She replied smiling at him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked gently and Y/n could feel her heart burst at his softness. As much as she liked him manhandling her, she was loving his softer side.

"Nope, not at all." She replied honestly.

"Okay." He pecked her lips "I'll be back in a second." He went to the bathroom and came out a washcloth. He joined her bed after he helped her clean up. He wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer to his chest.

"Dean." She called out his name softly, "this changes every thing you know that, right?" She whispered lowly.

"Yeah I know but this isn't going to be a one time thing and we'll talk about this tomorrow I promise. You need to rest okay?" Dean replied kissing the top of her head.

"Okay." In the soft after glow, he held her close, peacefully falling asleep in each other's arms.

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lvnleah · 7 months ago

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Drunken Kisses | Leah Williamson

Based on this and this request combined :)

Summary: after years of you and Leah being best friends you drunkenly sleep together after the last game of the season. you agree to stay just friends but things change between the pair of you, leading to awkwardness and you both avoiding each other.

Warnings: 18+ this piece of writing contains smut. this is not intended for anyone under the age of 18.

Word count is 4.3k :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The dimly lit bar buzzed with laughter and clinking glasses. It was a Friday night, and the air was thick with anticipation. It was the end of the season so you and some of your teammates decided to go out for drinks.

It was a bittersweet moment. Your closest friend, Viv, was leaving the team after seven long years so everyone was celebrating her time at the club. You were all sat at a round table, you were sandwiched between your bestfriends Leah and Beth.

Leah’s hand rested casually on your thigh, and the warmth of her touch sent a jolt through your body. She had always been close to you, but tonight, something was different. The tension between you was palpable, even amidst the noisy crowd. Her fingers traced patterns on your thigh, and every brush of skin left you craving more of her. The tension between you could be felt by everyone in the room despite a lot of them being in a drunken state.

Leah leaned close to your ear, you felt her breath against your neck, “Want another drink?”

Your breath hitched in your chest, you didn’t know what was wrong with you tonight but you just wanted to smash your lips against Leah’s.

You nodded, “Yeah I’ll have another one.” You held your glass out to Leah and she slipped out of the round table booth.

Beth leaned close to you, “What going on with you and Leah?” She shouted over the music.

“What do you mean?” A nervous laugh escaped you. You thought you were the only one that had caught Leah’s quick glances and flirty looks.

You’d been best friends with Leah since you were fourteen, you’d met at an England camp and had been inseparable ever since. You’d always been close, you’d always cuddled on the sofa together and slept over at each other's houses in the same bed. You’d never felt anything romantic towards her but tonight was different.

“Oh don’t deny it!” Beth groaned, “There’s something going on between you.”

Before you had the chance to say anything, Leah returned to the table with two drinks in her hand. She set one down in front of you and slid back into the booth.

“Dance with me,” Leah said in your ear, her hand still back to tracing patterns on your thigh.

You nodded, “Okay then but don’t embarrass me!”

The pulsing beat of the music seemed to synchronise with the rapid thud of your heart as Leah led you away from the table. The dimly lit dance floor beckoned, and you followed her, your hand slipping into hers. The crowd swirled around you, bodies moving in rhythm, but all you could focus on was the warmth of Leah's palm against yours.

As you stepped onto the dance floor, Leah pulled you close. Her body pressed against yours, and the scent of her perfume enveloped you. The world around you was forgotten, it was just the two of you.

Her hands ran up and down your hips, feeling out every curve and edge of your skin. Leah's eyes looked into yours, and you could see the desire there. She leaned in, her lips brushing against your ear.

“You look stunning tonight.” She whispered before pulling back.

“Thank you.” You murmured. You and Leah didn’t say anything, you just stared at each other and you danced to the music.

And then, in a moment of serendipity, your lips brushed. Soft, hesitant. A mistake, perhaps. But neither of you pulled away. Instead, you leaned into the kiss, your hearts pounding in sync.

Leah’s right hand pressed on your lower back, pushing your hips together as she took your breath away. Her left hand cupped your face, fingers spread under your jaw as her lips so perfectly moulded against your own, her tongue brushing my bottom lip.

Against your better judgement, you parted your lips and allowed the kiss to deepen, butterflies swarming your stomach with every touch you got from her. Your free hand flew to the back of her neck, a moan so close to slipping from your mouth.

“Back to mine?” Leah mumbled against your lips.

You pulled her back into a kiss, nodding against her lips. You pulled back from the kiss, your hand found Leah’s as she pulled you to the table. Your teammates were now also dancing, giving you the perfect chance to slip away without any questions.

Grabbing your stuff, you slipped out of the bar and grabbed a taxi. The kissing continued during the five minute drive and before you knew it you were at Leah’s apartment. You could barely let each other go as you made your way up in the elevator.

As the door swung open, Leah pulled you inside. She kissed you again, her lips hungry and urgent. You stumbled towards her bed, shedding clothes along the way. Your laughter turned into gasps, Leah’s kisses desperate. As your bodies tangled, you realised that this was no accident and was something that you had both wanted for a long time.

You fell back onto the bed, Leah falling on top of you, never breaking the kiss. You were both in just a bra and your underwear, you could feel the wetness pooling between your legs.

Leah broke the kiss and started to kiss her way down your neck and body, the kisses were a mixture of soft and rough but full of love.

“Do you want this?” Leah asked, breaking the kisses once again to get your permission.

“Yes Leah,” you moaned, scooping her hair up into a makeshift ponytail, “Please just fuck me.”

She continued her kisses and stopped at your breasts, her hand palmed at them as she placed gentle kisses all around. She whispered sweet words between the kisses.

Leah tutted, “Such a needy girl,” she whispered, slipping her hand in your lace underwear. Your breath hitched as she flicked her thumb over your clit, “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

She began to rub gentle circles over your clit, strings of pleads and moans slipping from your mouth. She parted your legs and slipped between them, you whined at the loss of contact on your clit as she pulled your underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere across the room to later be found.

Leah’s soft lips placed gentle kisses against up and down your thighs, each time she edged closer and closer to your throbbing clit. You ran your hand through her hair, scooping it up once again into a ponytail.

Arching your back, moans continued to slip from your mouth, “Leah please do something, I’m begging you!”

A whine slipped from your mouth as Leah blew cool air onto your swollen clit before taking it into her mouth. With her arm wrapped over your hips, she began to suck and run her tongue over your clit. Your moans became louder and louder as Leah worked her tongue on your clit.

“L-Leah fuck!” You gripped onto her hair, lightly pulling at it, “I’m so c-close, fuck.”

Just as you came close to cumming, Leah detached her mouth from your sensitive bud. A laugh escaped her, “Not cuming that quickly, baby.”

Your breath hitched once again and your body squirmed as Leah ran her finger through your drenched folds. With no warning, her mouth latched back onto your pussy. Your hips began to slowly grind against her face as she switched between sucking and flicking her tongue against your clit.

A gasp left your mouth as Leah slipped two fingers into your entrance, she sucked at your clit while her fingers slipped in and out. Strings of moans continued to leave your mouth as you pulled Leah’s head closer to your pussy, begging for more. Her fingers hit all the right places, edging you closer and closer.

“Leah fuck,” your legs wrapped around Leah’s head, gripping her in place, “Fuck, yes! Right there.” You moaned as Leah hit your sweet spot.

“Cum for me baby.” Leah mumbled against your skin. “I love hearing those pretty moans of yours.”

Your legs began to shake, your muscles tightened and an overwhelming sensation overcame you as you reached your high. You clenched around Leah’s fingers before spilling your juices all over her fingers.

Pulling her fingers out, Leah sat up and licked your cum off her fingers, “It’s going to be a long night, baby.” She winked.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, it’s warmthing echoing down on you and Leah. Your head throbbed, and your mouth was dry. Last night was a blur.

You knew that last night had escalated quickly. You could remember the drinks, laughter, and then Leah and you stumbling into her apartment, giggling like schoolgirls as you couldn’t let each other go.

You remembered collapsing onto her bed and your lips never leaving Leah’s. You leaned over the edge of the bed and looked at the clothes that were scattered around the room. Memories of Leah going down on you flooded back, the way she felt between your legs entered your mind.

You both went multiple rounds and both had multiple orgasms, everytime Leah made you cum you were begging for more. You’d never experienced sex like it before.

As you blocked your eyes from the harsh sunlight, reality crashed down on you. Last night was the best night of your life but you couldn’t let your feelings be known to Leah, you couldn’t risk losing her as a friend. You had to follow her lead.

Even though it was the best sex you’d ever had, you couldn’t let it happen again despite how much you wanted it to. You enjoyed it but now you were regretting it and the way it could potentially ruin your friendship with Leah.

Leah stirred beside you, her legs tangled with yours under the sheets, her eyelids fluttered open. Her eyes widened when she saw you, and you could practically hear her thoughts racing. You’d both crossed a line, and there was no going back.

"Hey," you croaked, your voice scratchy and tender. "Morning.

Leah sat up, pulling the sheet with her as she rubbed her forehead, "Morning," she replied, her voice equally hoarse. "About last night..."

"Yeah," you said, your heart sinking at what was about to happen. "We were drunk."

She dropped her gaze to her hands. "Yeah, I think it’s best if we stay just friends. I don’t want anything to be ruined between us."

"Just friends," you echoed, but the words tasted bitter on your tongue. You’d been friends for years but now it was something else entirely.

Leah swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and you followed suit. You dressed in silence, avoiding each other's eyes. The room felt smaller, suffocating. You needed air.

You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool breeze hit your face. You leaned against the railing, staring out at the city below. Leah joined you, her shoulder brushing yours.

"I never meant for this to happen,” Leah said finally.

"Me neither," you admitted. "But it did."

She turned to you, her expression pained. "Do you regret it?”

You swallowed hard. "No,” you shook your head, “but we need to just pretend it never happened."

Leah nodded and you stayed outside, the weight of last night hanging in the air between you.

"I, erm, I should go," you awkwardly said, pointing to the door over your shoulder.

Leah nodded, “Yeah, umm, yeah right. I’ll see you later?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I’ll text you.” And with that you left Leah’s apartment. You left her on the balcony, thinking about the night before.

As you walked down the stairs, your heart ached. You ordered an uber and gave them Beth’s address, you just needed somewhere to go. Tears blurred your vision as the uber drove away from Leah's apartment. The radio played love songs whilst the driver tried to make some small talk, eventually giving up.

The drive to Beth's house felt like an eternity. The weight of last night clung to your skin, you needed to talk to someone, to unload the tangled mess of emotions that were suffocating you.

Beth opened the door before you could even knock, her eyes widening when she saw your tear-streaked face. "What happened?" she asked, pulling me inside.

You collapsed onto her couch, the fabric cool against your skin. "Leah," you managed to say, your voice cracking. "It happened with Leah."

Beth sat beside you, concern etching her features. "What happened? Did you two fight?"

"No," you whispered. "We... crossed a line. And now everything's awkward."

Beth's eyebrows shot up. "Crossed a line? What do you mean?"

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out. "We slept together. Last night. And it was amazing, but now I don't know how to act around her. We agreed to be just friends but I don’t think I can be."

Beth pulled you into a reassuring hug and Viv appeared in the living room. "Oh, darling," she said softly. "You're in deep, aren't you?"

You nodded, tears threatening to spill again. "I can't look at her without remembering her lips on mine. And the way she looked at me—like I was everything."

Beth leaned back, studying your face. "So, what now?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "I told her we should pretend it never happened after she said it was best just being friends."

Viv sat across from you, just as concerned as Beth as Myle jumped up onto your lap, “What happened?”

You laughed as Myle licked your tear stained cheeks, “Slept with Leah and now it’s weird.”

Viv’s mouthed formed into an ‘o’ shape, “Sometimes things happen, Beth’s a firm believer they happen for a reason and maybe they do.”

Beth's gaze softened. "Sometimes, you have to risk it. Love isn't always neat and convenient. It's messy and complicated."

You wiped your cheeks, smudging mascara. "I'm a mess."

"You're human," Beth corrected. "And humans make mistakes.”

Viv sighed, “Me and Beth were scared when we first got together, we didn’t want to ruin things. Maybe that’s what you’re both scared of?”

You nodded, “I don’t want things to be awkward between everyone at Arsenal and I don’t want to lose Leah either.”

“You won’t,” Beth said, “I promise you, you won’t. If you both like each other then you’ll make things work, and don’t worry about Arsenal. It’s your life, no one else’s.”

“Why don’t you give it a few days,” Viv suggested, “Think about how you feel and what you want to say and then talk to Leah about your feelings and see how she feels.”

You nodded, “Yeah I will, I just don’t want to mess things up.”

Days turned into weeks and those weeks were awkward between you and Leah. The days after the hookup, you and Leah barely spoke or texted. Everything was radio silent.

Each time you went to text her, you chickened out and put your phone back down telling yourself you’d do it later. Then, a week after you hooked up, you both were at the England camp. You expected to talk to her a few times but things were just awkward, at least a minimum of five words were exchanged between you.

Usually you’d be inseparable, you’d share a room and be partners for everything but that camp you spent most of your time with Beth. Beth tried to help you gain courage to talk to Leah but it was too much and each time you failed at it.

One evening, after camp had ended, a few of the girls decided to go out to a club.

The neon lights of the club pulsed in sync with your racing heart. The music thumped through the floor, blaring in your ears. You pushed through the crowd, your eyes scanning for Leah. The tension between you both had grown unbearable and tonight you were wanting to do something about it.

You spotted Leah near the bar, her blonde hair was shorter than the other day. She was laughing, her eyes crinkling at the corners. But it wasn't her laughter that caught your attention. It was the girl she was kissing. A stranger, her lips pressed against Leah's with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

You froze, your breath catching. The club's heat suffocated you, and you stumbled backward, crashing into Beth who had followed behind you. She steadied you, concern etching her features.

"Hey," she said softly. "You okay?"

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from Leah. The girl's hands were tangled in Leah's hair, pulling her closer. It was like watching your own heart being torn apart.

Beth guided you towards the exit, away from the pulsing lights and the ache in your chest. You stumbled out into the cool night air, the city sounds a stark contrast to the chaos inside. Beth phoned a cab, and you climbed in, the silence heavy between us.

As the cab pulled away, you finally found your voice. "Why did I even come here tonight?" You whispered.

Beth's gaze softened. "Because you wanted to sort things with Leah, let’s get you back to the hotel."

Back at the hotel, you collapsed onto the bed, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. The kiss, the avoidance, the ache—it all felt too much. Beth sat beside you, her presence a comfort.

You laid there, clutching your pillow as Beth soothingly ran her hand through your hair. Your heart ached as tears streamed down your face.

You felt dumb. There was no reason for you to feel like this.

Leah wasn’t even your girlfriend.

She was just your best friend.

That night you fell asleep, tears still falling down your face while Beth comforted you.

Now, three weeks later, you were currently at four weeks of not speaking to Leah and those four weeks had been hell. You were missing your best friend and it was impacting your life but you couldn’t bear to see her with other girls. You were barely touching your food and your whole life felt a mess.

You’d avoided Leah as much as you could, each time you saw her was a reminder of that night in the club. Your heart was broken over a girl you weren’t even dating.

You felt so many emotions towards Leah and yourself.

You felt angry, angry that she’d kissed another girl despite not being romantically together. It felt like a betrayal, even though there were no promises between you.

You felt sad that she’d not been in contact.

You felt angry at yourself for not telling how you felt. You tried to convince yourself that maybe Leah just wasn’t into you like you were into her.

Since the night in the club, most of your time had been spent with Beth and Viv, the two of them were keeping you alive by feeding you and making sure you were looking after yourself. You were also trying to keep your mind off the emotions you felt towards Leah.

“Right, you almost ready?” Beth asked, peeking into the spare bedroom where you were staying.

You nodded, your fingers trembling as you finished the last curl in your hair. “Yep, I’ll be two seconds.”

Tonight, you were meeting your teammates at a restaurant for a catch-up. Only around ten of you could make it, and you wondered if Leah would be there. Beth hadn't mentioned her so you had no idea if she would be there.

A knock sounded at Beth’s door, taking you by surprise. From what you knew, you were travelling with Beth and Viv and picking Alessia and Vic up on the way. You followed close behind Beth, curious to see who was at the door.

Beth swung the door open, revealing a familiar face. It was Leah, her bright smile lighting up the dimly lit corridor. She wore a casual outfit, a stark contrast to her usual professional attire during missions. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and her eyes sparkled with warmth.

“Hey!” Leah greeted, stepping inside. “I hope I’m not late.”

Beth chuckled. “Right on time, as always. Come in!”

You and Leah quickly exchanged a glance before following Beth into the living room. You overthought everything you were doing, you felt awkward around Leah and had an ache in the pit of your stomach.

“Right so,” Beth sighed, “there’s not enough room in our car, Y/N are you alright going with Leah in your car?”

You hesitated, knowing that this was Beth’s plan all along. Going with Leah would mean spending more time alone with her, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a recipe for disaster. But then, maybe this was exactly what you needed to sort out your feelings.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah,” you replied, meeting Leah’s gaze. “I’m fine going with you.”

You made your way to your car with Beth and Viv, Leah offered to drive so you took her up on that offer. The awkward silence enveloped you like a heavy fog. Both of your breaths seemed too loud in the confined space of the car, and every passing second stretched felt like it lasted forever. You stole glances at Leah, her lips were pressed together, and her knuckles gripped the steering wheel.

Neither of you knew where to begin. The weight of your unspoken words, four weeks' worth, hung between you both. It was as if the air itself held its breath, waiting for one of you to break the silence. But how could you? How could you unravel the messiness of what happened?

You nervously traced the seam of your jeans, your fingers trembling. The radio played a mixture of different songs, but it might as well have been static. Leah's gaze remained fixed on the road ahead, her jaw clenched. You wondered if she felt the same ache, the same desperate need to fix the awkwardness that had grown between you.

Finally, she cleared her throat. "So," she said, her voice brittle, "how have you been?"

The banality of the question struck you. How had you been? You’d been sleepless, haunted by memories of her lips against mine and the way she made you feel. But you couldn't say any of that. Not yet anyways.

"Alright I guess," you replied, your voice barely audible. "You?"

Leah's knuckles relaxed slightly. "Same," she murmured. "Just…fine."

The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the hum of the engine. You wanted to reach across the divide, to touch her hand, to tell her how much you’d missed her. But fear held you back. Fear of rejection, of reopening wounds that hadn't fully healed.

As you approached the restaurant, the tension tightened. Leah pulled into the parking lot, and the car came to a stop. She turned off the engine, and for a moment, you sat there, suspended in uncertainty.

"Leah," you began, your voice steady. "We need to talk."

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I know. About that night..."

"No," you interrupted, your frustration bubbling over. "Not just about that night. About everything. About us."

Her eyebrows furrowed. "Us?"

"Yes, us," you said, your voice rising. "Leah, I've been a mess these past weeks. Avoiding you, missing you, and feeling like my heart is being torn apart. And all because of that night.”

"I missed you," she whispered. "More than I thought possible."

"Leah," you sighed, "we can't keep pretending, we can’t carry on like this. I saw you in that club, kissing that girl, and it broke me, Leah."

Her gaze held yours, vulnerability etched across her features. "I don't want to," she confessed. "I've missed us."

"I've been an idiot," she admits. "I've been scared too. Scared of losing you altogether."

"So have I,” you admit, “I know you said you just wanted to be friends but I don’t think I can be, Le.”

She nodded, “I can’t be either, these past few weeks have made me realised how much I fucking need you. I’m sorry for saying I just wanted to be friends when I really didn’t.”

"But you did," you say, your voice raw. "And now I don't know where we stand. Are we friends? Are we something more? Or are we nothing at all?"

“I want us to work on things,” Leah pauses to take a deep breath, “I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to be able to fuck you like that whenever I want, I want you to kiss me whenever. I want you to be mine.”

Your mind raced. Why would she choose you over anyone else? She was Leah Williamson, she could have any girl that she set her eyes on.

“You’re staring,” Leah teased, her cheeks flushed.

“I—” you stammered. “Why me? Why not someone else?”

Leah’s expression softened. “Babe, you’re everything I could ask for in a girlfriend and more. How could I not fall in love with someone like you? You’re literally perfect.”

Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between your lips and Leah's. Her mouth is warm, and the taste of her-sweet and slightly salty-sends a thrill through your veins.

It's a kiss that holds all the longing, all the missed chances, and all the unspoken words. For a moment, time stands still, and it's just the press of lips, the mingling of breaths.

Leah's fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. The ache in your chest eases, replaced by something more profound, a connection that defies words. Her lips move against yours, gentle yet urgent, as if trying to convey everything she's kept hidden.

The taste of Leah, the softness of her mouth, and the promise of something more.

When you finally pull away, breathless and dizzy, Leah's eyes search yours.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she whispers.

"Me too," you admit, your heart soaring. “So you love me then?” You giggled.

Leah nodded, “I do,” she smiled, “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

You leaned in and kissed Leah’s lips once again, nodding your head, “I’d love to be your girlfriend.”

#awfc x reader #woso x reader #leah williamson x reader #awfc #lvnleah

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vainilladollie · 16 days ago

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groupie love

pairing ; rapper!chris x newsinger!reader

summary ; you riding chris in the studio after recording something 🧁

warning(s) ; mdni. smut. no protection. established relationship. praising chris. rapper chris makes me cum oki. THIS IS MY SPECIAL, christmas gift, it’s my birthday and I ARRIVED TO 100+ followers 💔💔💔 thanks to all those lil people supporting me yall meant a lot to me and my heart ☹️

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❛ girl, it's you and i, so who do we trust?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀you and i, 'til the day we die ౨ৎ

“there. y’look so pretty ma” chris murmured as his thumb stroked your throbbing clit, his fingers brushing the edges as his thumb went down to caress your needy hole, seemingly in vain, begging for attention. a squeal escaped from your lips as your soft hand with a fresh manicure squeezed chris' shoulder as he looked up, chuckling at the sight of you, your big doe eyes looking up at him, an annoyed pout, you were tired of him playing along. “such a good girl f’me”

chris murmured under his breath as his hand cupped your right thigh and slowly unbuckled his belt, letting you lean against his thigh for a moment, your big eyes looking up expectantly, biting your lip as you waited for him to pull his member out of the confinement of his trousers.

“m’ready” you quickly said, while, chris letting a deep groan, he pulled his cock out, his hand quickly wrapped around it, a ring of pre-cum already forming at the glistening tip, his hand quickly began pumping his cock, spreading the pre-cum, his left hand gently patting your hip, looking you in the eyes. “all yours, baby” he says, lifting you up and pulling you down again, burying his cock deep inside your wet pussy, your gummy walls which immediately received him perfectly.

“oh…oh my god! too big..chris” you squealed softly and closed your eyes a little, letting your arms fall around his neck as you did so.

“c’mon, c’mon, show me everything you got” chris says as the same time he let’s various deep moans against your ear, his hands sliding to grip your lower back, helping you to bounce, his hips moving in time with yours. your soft gasps echoing through the studio, one of chris' hands touching something on the huge keyboard behind you, and the familiar melody began to play. the song you had both finished recording a few minutes ago. he grunted, his fingers digging into your hips as he began to bounce you on his lap, his hard length sliding between your smooth folds. he let his back fall against the studio chair gasping satisfied. “perfect, perfect, i gotchu now baby.” he said watching you painted a lil tired.

he moves his hips sharply, thrusting his thick cock into you. he sets a hard, fast pace, the obscene sound of skin against skin filling the room along with your wanton moans. your nails quickly begin to dig into his back, more motivated, jumping, your soft moans, your back arching as you bounce on his lap, all so synchronised like a perfect melody.

chris' hands quickly grab your hips, stopping your movements before pushing you against the keyboard, pulling your leg up onto his shoulder. this was definitely going to be a long night for both of you.

۫ ꣑ৎ bella little message ; omg, im really really thankful for all the sweet words, and pretty support. i’m slowly trying to be less shy at the moment of writing; this is my christmas present for anyone who reads this, just to tell you, this means a lot for me, mwah, love you, wish you a good new year, good christmas with many good wishes.

© vainilladollie ; all work is owned by me. please do not copy, translate or transfer my work to any other blogs or sites and do not claim as your own. drivers are mine, don’t use them at least ur giving me the credit. love u to the moon, xx.

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winter-doggo · 2 months ago

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A post about applying animations/poses onto characters that they were not made for (w/ Ace attorney model rips)

Because although the poses for a character are stored with the character they're meant for, there's nothing stopping you from giving them to someone else, and I've been having fun with it 🎉

First, for reference, characters with one of their own poses (...although perhaps at some slightly different angles than they're intended to be seen):

I suppose it shouldn't be surprising that the greater the difference in proportion the characters have, the weirder a swapped pose will come out. This especially applies to faces, because the bones will be placed as if it were for the expected character which uh. screws em up a bit. BUT it's very possible to tweak them into something that works!

Here's those same poses shuffled to someone else, with a little tidying up (It's really fun to actually?? :o)

And here's the unmodified versions of the switched poses, if you're curious:

I don't know what about Klavier's face makes Athena's jawbone jam into her skull in such a way - yes. yes that was part of the problem. that bone should not be there. (also the fact that earring movement translated to making apollo's wrist twitch like that fascinating)

While the lads weren't much work off the bat, everything with Athena's face and hair was so mangled I cleared most of the animation there and just did it myself. An very interesting way of getting practice in, that's for sure. I also made the oversight of giving the earring-batting animation to the one that doesn't have an earring so I made his hair twitch instead. working with apollo's hair is great actually

Synchronised falling

(i've been given too much power. as soon as the falling over stops being part of a dramatic moment in the game its comedy value increases tenfold)

Also here's Klavier with that Apollo folded arms pose while I'm at it. Gave me a jumpscare bc it has such Kristoph vibes

Anyway it's great fun giving some of my favourite lil guys' mannerisms to each other so i hope you found it fun too 👍

#ace attorney #apollo justice #klavier gavin #athena cykes #3d posing shenanigans

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satorurize · 14 days ago

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18+, Satoru and Fem!Reader, reader has a flu and satoru is horny asf, creampie, spooning sex, i can't write anything but vanilla sorry :D

People would generally avoid getting too close to sick people, be grossed out, but not your boyfriend, Satoru. If anything, he turned even more clingy and touchy especially when you were sick.

Satoru feels bad for getting turned on while you're sick, stuffy nose and coarse throat, but he really can't help it when he sees you letting out cute moans as you are making your futile attempts to breathe properly. Or perhaps it's the way you have not been wearing any bras underneath your sweaters, the peaks formed by your pebbled nipples underneath the fabric leaves so much to his imagination and he can't help it but feel his pants get unbearingly tight.

He insists on making you the little spoon to keep you warm, going against any fight you put up saying that he'll get sick too. "Me and sickness? Baby that's like south and south of a magnet, just let me warm you up.."

You don't know what sorcerery Satoru does but he manages to get you in the mood by cooing in your ears, nuzzling his nose at the side of your face while the icy tips of his fingers draw patterns on your belly making your feverish body feel like it was ablaze. "Toru please...more.." you cloy and he feels nothing but accomplishments with how much more whinier you sound from the flu, he smiles dimpled, tooth to tooth.

"I've gotchu baby..patience..gonna make you feel real good" without much warning he slips his fingers inside your panties, a synchronised moan fell out from either of your lips, Satoru felt so connected with you even as he drew generous circles on your clit, letting his fingers gather all your nectared sweetness.

He had his fair share of teasing you in the bedroom when you weren't sick, but now that his baby was dependent on him, even just a little, he wanted to give you all, even the most scorching aspect of his love for you. It was beyond logic to understand why he felt this way just because you were sick.

Satoru slowly but unsparingly pumped his fingers into your heat, his hard on unapologetically pressed against the swell of your ass, which he slowly but surely started grinding against you. You with your eager hands couldn't wait any longer, fumbling single handedly with his trousers to take his cock out, your beloved let out a throaty laugh at your avidity, aiding you by pulling it out and discarding his pants away.

He pulled you in roughly, with a playful raspberry blown on your neck. You were onto peeling off your sweater the moment your boyfriend was completely bare, but he held you down, sneaking his one hand underneath your sweater, pinching and flicking your sensitive nipples while his other held his cock, teasing his angry leaky tip onto your glistening folds as you both spooned.

"Don't you dare take that sweater off baby.. you're so fucking hot in that.."

He bottomed out slowly with a soft grunt, holding your body so impossibly close that even merging together felt distant. He fucks you steady and slow, restraining himself from being frantic and each thrust makes you blissfully feel every inch of him, you're a teary, moaning mess and it was exactly what he wanted to achieve.

He presses you down with all his weight, snaking his arm to entangle his fingers with yours, confining your hand tightly against the mattress. Meanwhile, Satoru is on cloud nine, with the aggrevated warmth of your body, the building balmy environment in your bedroom and the way you were squeezing him.

"Fuck yeah baby...keep doing that, gonna fill this pretty cunt up.." He whines and you nod frenzied from the pleasure, reaching your hand to rub rapid circles on your puffy clit—his moans becoming high pitched indicative of his orgasm.

It only takes a second or two after that he cums, releasing his thick ropey ejaculate in your womb and you clench with an orgasm of your own at the sensation of being filled up, milking every last drop.

He pants with a euphoric grin at your fucked out face, nibbling gently on your cheek before he connects your lips in a tender kiss. He keeps rutting his hips into you, seeing how you are oozing out his cum stuffed in you and it makes him rock hard all over again.

And he didn't mind at all waking up with a fever and a stuffy nose the next morning himself.

#gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x you smut #gojo x reader smut #satoru smut #satoru gojo x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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novlr · 11 months ago

Note

how to create good characterization naturally? The chemistry in between characters without seeming forced

Great character chemistry can turn a good story into one that readers can’t forget. It’s a spark that makes your characters’ relationships seem real and exciting. Let’s look at how to make your characters interact in a way that feels natural and keeps readers hooked from start to finish.

Behaviour

Have characters unconsciously mirror each other’s actions.

Include small acts of intimacy, like sharing inside jokes or personal anecdotes.

Show characters prioritising each other’s needs or sacrificing their interests for the other.

Develop unique habits that characters only exhibit around each other.

Use consistent, unique actions or quirks that reveal a character’s feelings.

Create scenarios where characters defend each other’s viewpoints or actions to outsiders.

Allow characters to show vulnerability around each other.

Have characters unintentionally adopt each other’s mannerisms or phrases over time.

Have your characters make an effort to engage in activities they don’t typically enjoy, just to be with the other person.

Show characters naturally falling into synchronised rhythms, like walking in step.

Interactions

Lace your dialogue with subtext.

Have characters finish each other’s sentences or speak in unison without planning it.

Include playful banter and light teasing.

Allow for moments of comfortable silence that show a mutual understanding and connection.

Conflicts should be heated, but often end in mutual respect and a stronger bond.

Write intimate conversations where characters share secrets or dreams.

Develop scenes where characters work together seamlessly, anticipating each other’s moves.

Write moments where one character can tell what the other is thinking just by looking at them.

Have interactions where characters seek each other out for advice or comfort.

Create situations where characters celebrate each other’s achievements genuinely and enthusiastically.

Body language

Subtle touches like brushing hands or a gentle push that lingers just a moment too long.

Leaning towards each other while talking, showing attraction or interest.

Describe the way characters mirror each other.

A characters’ eyes lighting up or softening when they look at each other.

Positioning themselves between their partner and a threat.

Unintentional proximity, like standing or sitting closer than necessary.

Nervous gestures that characters show only around each other, like fidgeting or playing with their hair.

Warm, genuine smiles that are reserved for one another.

Instinctively reaching out to comfort each other in times of distress.

Relaxed posture in each other’s company.

Attitude

Show a respect for one another that they don’t show with others.

Are consistently patient with one another’s flaws.

Willingness to compromise or find middle ground.

Giving each other the benefit of the doubt in misunderstandings.

Unconditional support during difficult times.

Take pride in each other’s accomplishments, without jealousy.

Consistently have faith in each other’s abilities and decisions.

Openly express admiration for one another’s talents or character traits.

Maintain a positive outlook on the other’s intentions, even when they make mistakes.

Show an understanding between characters that goes beyond words.

Positive story outcomes

Stronger alliances or partnerships.

Romantic subplots that add depth and interest to the main story.

Believable character development as they influence each other positively.

Moments of triumph where their combined strengths overcome obstacles.

Deep, meaningful friendships.

Can easily resolve conflicts that seemed insurmountable.

Celebration is more impactful due to their shared success.

A fortified sense of trust that can be pivotal in critical story moments.

Enhanced reader investment in the characters and their relationships.

Openings for sequels or spin-offs based on popular characters dynamics.

Negatives story outcomes

Conflict arising from misunderstanding or jealousy.

Unresolved tension between characters on the outside.

Can lead to unnecessarily complex emotional entanglements

Creates obstacles due to the characters’ strong connection being exploited by antagonists.

Tragic outcomes when the chemistry between characters causes them to make irrational choices.

Intense confrontations that threaten the relationship.

Betrayals that are more impactful because of the depth of their relationship.

Unforeseen sacrifices that characters make for each other.

Heightened stakes when the wellbeing of one character is tied to the other.

Unexpected changes in the character when relationships are cut short.

Helpful vocabulary

Smitten

Love

Afffection

Desire

Charisma

Intimate

Playful

Magnetic

Affectionate

Devoted

Engrossed

Dynamic

Mesmerizing

Empathy

Kinship

Enthralled

Spark

Trust

Harmony

Synergy

Supportive

Heartfelt

Genuine

Symbiotic

Unbreakable

Deep-seated

Fascinating

Bonded

Authentic

Obsession

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bunnivez · 2 months ago

Note

May I please request alpha! Cinnabar trying for a baby with her omega when their rut and heat synchronise? Nsfw, if you may. Thank you! О³О

Comment: This was on a more fluffy smut side, refreshing and honestly i’m inlove HHEHEH. Enjoy! Thank you so much for requesting nonnie !!

જ⁀➴ … Event .. This event is omegaverse themed

“Yes baby.. oh fuck yes.” Cinnabar almost whined, her hold on you was tight, afraid that if she let go for even one second, the moment would be ruined.

Not like you want her to let go anyway. You yourself were clinging and whining underneath her, wrapping your legs around her waist, needing to push her further inside your greedy hole, desperate to be filled with every inch she is willing to offer.

It was clear about Cinnabar’s intentions as she pounded into you. She had told you before, many times actually. It started one night when she held you in her arms, staring at you lovingly, caressing your cheek gently. Then, the words came out.

“I want a baby… with you.”

You looked at her surprise, processing her words carefully. Your lips parted,

“A.. a baby?”

“Yes.. well, if you don’t mind of course. I am fine with just having you, I was only thinking—” “I want one too.” You smiled at her. It caused her to blush and scratch the back of her head, “You.. do?” She laughed a bit.

*plap**plap*plap*

“You’re so pretty baby, so pretty like this, ah.. s-shit you’re so tight— my pretty girl.” You could hear her breathing quicken, her grunts and slight whines. All you could do was look at her. She looked so pretty, so desperate to fill every inch of your womb as if it isn’t already stuffed to the brim.

The way her skin was coated with sweat, the uneven breathing, the way her muscles looked from this angle.

Cinnabar came back to kissing the valley between your abused breasts. Nipples hard and sensitive from how much they have been sucked on. You whined loudly when you felt her hand reach down to your puffy clit, rubbing tights circles urging you to cum once again on her cock.

You don’t even remember how many times you came already, less would she with how drunk she is again the feeling of your walls squeezing her.

“B-baby, so close! Fuck!” You gasped. You could feel her twitch inside you; she was also close.

You felt it, the knot snapped and you squirted hard. You heard her moan and it wasn’t long before you felt her hot seed fill you once again.

She wasn’t done, not yet. She needed more. It was strange, animalistic. You felt so overstimulated, so sensitive, any small touch felt like too much. It wasn’t only you, Cinnabar felt it too. It felt like too much but her body screamed for more, she needed you. She needed to breed you, and breed you so good to the point where you end up pregnant with her babies.

You felt her pull out which made you whine. It felt strange not having her inside you. Just when you were about to relax you felt her roll you to your side. Confused, you turned your head around to look at her.

“Just one more princess, yeah? One more, oh yes!” She moaned as she once again inserted herself inside you.

This time Cinnabar had more control over herself, the heat wasn’t as bad as it was previously. However, even with her gentle movements it still felt like a lot to you, it was becoming overwhelming.

You felt her hand press gently on the bulge on your tummy, both formed by her cock and semen. Oh how she couldn’t wait for a baby to start growing inside you; you’d look so pretty, so cute and round. She’d treat you like a princess (not that she doesn’t already).

You stared into her pretty eyes, one hand running over her short dark blue hair as you moaned loudly for her.

You’ll spend an eternity in her arms, but part of you doesn’t mimd, not at all actually.

#cinnabar ptn x reader #ptn cinnabar x reader #cinnabar ptn #cinnabar path to nowhere #cinnabar smut #ptn cinnabar #cinnabar x reader #cinnabar #path to nowhere #ptn #ptn x reader #path to nowhere x reader

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seonghwaddict · 1 year ago

Text

one more minute — choi san

in which you indulge in some midnight snacks and kisses in the kitchen.

bf!choi san x fem!reader. genre. established relationship. fluff. warnings. a little, tiny make out sesh but nothing else. wc. 0.6k.

lilo's notes. i’m a little sick so updates on both the event and nsn will be a bit slow. but anyways, here’s a little san drabble i wrote at 3 am :>

listening to. rises the moon, liana flores.

masterlist.

your eyes fluttered open to be met with darkness, the first thing you noticed was the arm draped around your waist. turning your head to look behind you, you caught sight of your dear boyfriend, san, sleeping soundly, his face lit by the dim moonlight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains.

silent snores left his mouth and you smiled, wondering how on earth you were lucky enough to call this perfect man yours. but the silent moment of admiring him was ruined when your stomach grumbled quietly, reminding you what you woke up for. after taking one last look at san and pressing a light kiss to his forehead, you wiggled yourself out of his grip without waking him up and walked down to the kitchen for some food.

you grabbed a paper plate and put a slice of pizza from the night before on it, placing it in the microwave. then you grabbed a mug, filled it with water and set it next to the paper plate before closing the microwave's door, pressing some buttons and starting it up.

a familiar arm wrapped around your waist from the back as san’s other arm brushed your hair away from your neck, nuzzling his face into it as he dropped the hand to wrap it around your waist as well. he placed gentle pecks on your neck and shoulder, nudging the fabric of your neckline to the side to access as much of your soft skin as possible.

you chuckled and turned your face to the side, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones. without averting your eyes, you turned in his grip and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. he smelled faintly of peppermint and the shampoo you keep in your bathroom.

you pulled away from each other and he moved his fingertips under your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your sides. his touch sent sparks and goosebumps travelling through your whole body, a feeling you were well acquainted with.

“i love you," he whispered, lips brushing against yours.

you smiled, muttering a heartfelt, "i love you, too."

he leaned his face in and your lips connected in a kiss, moving in a slow and synchronised rhythm, lips slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. instinctively, your hands travelled up and tangled themselves in his already messy chestnut locks of hair. his grip on your waist tightened, trying to close every remaining millimetre of space between your bodies.

he bit down on your bottom lip, his hands simultaneously gliding up and down your waist, fingertips brushing just beneath your breasts before dropping to your hips and squeezing twice. knowing what that meant with him, you jumped up and warped your legs around his torso, his firm hands supporting you under your thighs. as if you had done this multiple times before—which you have—he turned and set you on the empty counter behind him, standing between your legs.

you continued, your kisses turning desperate and bruising. but before he could take it any further, the microwave's timer rang and you pulled away with a mischievous smile and flushed cheeks. your boyfriend groaned as you inched your way around him and got off the counter to grab your food.

"baby," he whined, drawing out the last syllable, "just… one more minute?"

"i don't want my food to get cold," you laughed and took a bite of the pizza, a playful pout on your lips. "you’re very needy when you're tired."

"at least give me some of the pizza?"

you considered it for a moment before turning and walking to the living room with a broad grin. "i’m not your mom, you can get it yourself, love," you called over her shoulder, resisting the urge to giggly at his dumbfounded expression.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

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minhosimthings · 11 months ago

Text

All my Loving || 18+

Pairings: husband!Heeseung × wife!fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI 18+, oral (f receieving), overstimulation, p in v sex, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), daddy kink, breeding kink, mention of pregnancy, reader is called 'princess', boob sucking whadup, slow dancing, comfort in the beginning, reader cries.

A/N: my baby @candewlsy asked for husband hee taking care of her. I might have accidentally written a different kind of taking care of IM SORRY BABY I KNOW. But I couldn't help myself alright? Also tagging @jaeyunluvr, another one for our Mr Lee.

Music, dancing, poetry, love, Heeseung.

Ain't all those so similar?

Did I mention Heeseung by the way?

Of course, he was the epitome of love. To you atleast.

And one of your most favourite things to do with him was to bask under the gentle moonlight and sway your body with his in such beautiful synchronisation that even the Milky Way stopped to take a peek from your bedroom window.

Especially when your mind is drooping into the bylanes, your husband's arms cuddling your waist could always find a way to rope you up towards the sky.

"Bad day princess?" Heeseung asked, his hands going to your waist as if it was a magnet for the irons of his fingers, as he started tracing shapes there, like he always knew could cool you down.

His being could always calm you down, making the rough waves striking against the shoreline convert into a gentle lapping at his mere touch.

"I just don't feel loved anymore, Hee." Your voice cracked, trying to keep the sob in your throat imprisoned, "They won't talk to me again."

"Aww princess." You felt the cold metal of Heeseung's ring on his ring finger touch your skin as he pulled you even closer, the mere inches between you earlier, now occupied. He knew you had been having trouble with your parents for quite a while now, but it had never been to the extent that you had shed tears.

"Tell me what you need, love." Heeseung whispered, placing a chaste, feathery kiss to your neck. The gentleness of the kiss made your emotions break out of their bonds, as your sobs broke the silent winter air and simultaneously, Heeseung's heart. He absolutely detested hearing you cry. Turning you over to face him, it broke even more at seeing your tear stained face.

"Shh love, shush now." Heeseung cooed sweet words of love into your ear, making your eyes crinkle open to look at him, "You're alright, you're with me, hush now."

"I-Its just so—and I-" your words wouldn't come out no matter what.

Heeseung silently listened to you crying, all the while whispering honeyed words to you, making you calm down a tad bit. You both stayed in silence for a while, as you played with aglet of his hoodie and he traced shapes along your waist.

"Love?"

"Hmm?" You hummed in response to his gentle voice.

"Why don't we dance for a bit hmm? It always cheers you up."

His gentle request sounded through your ears like an oblique memory. You were infatuated with the idea of dancing with Heeseung.

"What song?"

"Our wedding one?" Heeseung hummed, setting the vintage rustic record player on track, a generous gift from Jay, "Because I genuinely can't help falling in love with you."

Making a giggle erupt out of your mouth, Heeseung mentally patted himself on the back and strode towards you. In his opinion, you still looked as beautiful as you did on your wedding day. God damn what he'd give to experience that moment again, that moment in time when all the clocks stopped for him as soon as you said "I do".

"My lady." Your husband dramatically bowed to you, taking your hand in his and pressing his lips to it, "Care for a dance?"

"Of course, My prince." You answered, taking your arms to place them around his neck, as his went to your waist again, as if they never wanted to leave it.

Wise men say, only fools rush in.

"I must be the biggest fool of them all." Heeseung chuckled, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours, his oceanic eyes sinking into the abyss of your own.

Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?

"Probably the greatest sin I've ever thought to commit." Heeseung said again, spinning you around the room with ease.

You knew what he was doing. This is what he'd always done when you were down. Recite the lines of his vows to you again, to remind you that you truly were loved.

Redamancy was a word that you had always loved. It meant love between two which is mutual and warm like a new born child. And at this time, it felt like you could feel each letter of that word flow through your blood.

"I love you, you know that princess?" Nothing but red ribbons of love flew out of Heeseung's mouth and wrapped around you.

"I do." You giggle, as he spun you around one more time, before burying his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating sense, which could get him drunk as if it was wine, made from the grapes of the Garden of Eden itself.

Gripping your hips tighter, Heeseung made his way to your lips, pressing them against his tightly. Under the moonlight, you seemed to taste like strawberry liquor and a memory he never wanted to fade away.

You moaned against his lips, as the kiss got deeper, more desperate and more carnivorous. He slid a hand up your leg, pushing your shirt up, and gripping your right breast through your bra.

"Hmm, my favourite one?" Heeseung moaned, in between the kiss, as his delicate fingers elicited a moan out of your mouth.

His hands made their way through every button, snap and strap on your body. He left you in nothing but the undergarments you wore. His hands were placed back on your hips as his mouth placed on your neck. Sinful symphonies erupted and you gripped onto his shoulders.

"Get onto the bed, princess." You obeyed his command promptly.

Heeseung’s gaze remained on you as he got undressed. Soon he was bare as you were. His hands were on your breasts, his mouth was on your right nipple.You almost kicked out your legs from the sensation of it all. You yelped and felt a shiver down your spine.

He massages your breasts further, it was almost a little painful. He moved to the other nipple and you moaned loudly into the night air. Your heart raced as you felt yourself drown in the pleasure of it all. You seemed louder as well with the more he touched you.

"Let me give you what you deserve princess, alright?" Heeseung's gaze softened as his eyes met yours. You could do nothing but nod. You were his now, and forever. And you'd take whatever he gave you.

Heeseung thought you were divine. He thought there was no one else quite like you. He moaned into your skin as he nipped at it. He left small bruises around your chest which only made you moan louder. He stimulated you further as he felt you try to fight against him. He knew he was making you feel good.

"Tell me what you want princess, use your words now."

"Y-your—tongue" the feeling of him nipping at your buds has already got you stimulated, your legs try to wrap around him, but his hold on them is unwavering.

Heeseung groans, breaking your kisses as he moves to grab your shins, spreading your legs wide. His eyes sweep over you, pausing at your exposed core.

"So fucking pretty for me.” He says to you in a raw voice. His hands roam your body, a hand tugging at a nipple while the other caresses your curves.

Your cunt, so slick and desperate for more, throbs with desire as Heeseung puts his hands on you, guiding you to position his head between your thighs, exposing the heat of your core to him.

Heeseung lets out an audible sigh of relief as he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing your cunt straight to his mouth; the sensation is heavenly, the angle of the position has your clit and folds fully exposed, resting in his mouth as he takes worship in you.

The vibration of Heeseung’s little moans tease you, causing you to settle into him further.

"d-daddy—ah shit" you moaned, as the sensation filled you with fire.

You can’t focus on anything any longer, every worry, every tint of sadness was gone as Heeseung’s motions send shockwaves of pleasure through your body. As his expert tongue focused solely on your swollen nub, you go totally lax.

You feel your rumble of ecstasy rise up within you, and you’re hoping you aren’t gushing too much as you spasm around his tongue.

Suddenly, Heeseung's tongue flicks up to touch that tiny spot he always knew could get you like a rabid dog. The small sensation is enough to make the ribbon restricting your stomach to break, as you feel higher than an addict, writhing in utter euphoria and creaming in his mouth as he takes you.

His nose, lips, chin, were soaked in you cum, his pupils blown with lust at your scent, as he looks up to your eyes still scrunched up in pleasure, not noticing the absense of his tongue.

Once his mouth finds yours, his kisses are fervent, passionate, matching the slow pace of his strokes. His tongue is so soft, and he tastes so good with your come on his lips that you’re already primed to give him more.

“Such a messy girl,” Heeseung sucks a spot again on your collarbone, "My messy girl."

It was a sick part of Heeseung, to have your belly all swollen with his seed. He had never voiced it out, but tonight he couldn’t contain himself. He moved back to being on top of you, he moved your legs to be around his waist. He brushed his cock up against your sweet pussy. You moaned and held onto the pillows under your head.

"daddy—" you whimper against him, "n-need—your cock"

"Say please?"

"Plea—ah fuck!" You all as but scream as his tip just brushes against your pussy, "Please."

He groaned as he continued to fondle you as you tighten your legs around his waist.

Heeseung kisses your pout and quickly grabs his cock. He pumps himself a few more times before lining up at your entrance. When Heeseung sheaths himself fully in your heat, the wind is knocked out of you. A collective groan of ecstasy escaped from both of your mouths.

Heeseung groaned through grit teeth as he pushed his cock into you. You tensed and he groaned louder, he held onto the bed under you and moved all the way inside of you. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him tightly as he started to thrust. You moaned into his skin as he moved against you.

Your body felt numb but in a pleasurable way. You could only lie there and accept all the pleasure that he was giving you. He kissed your soft face, he could feel your racing heartbeat under your skin. His face went back to your neck where he left more bruises on the flesh. He felt heat through his body as the pleasure coursed through his veins. It was arousing, he couldn’t deny what he was feeling.

He gazed down at you as his chest rapidly rose and fell. He pushed the hair out of his eyes before he grabbed you by the waist and rubbed his cock up against you. He could feel heat settle in his body as his cock throbbed for you. He wanted you, he needed you more than he needed air. And he was more than willing to let you know that.

“Shit.” He sighed, “You feel so good.” His hands were back on your chest as he started to thrust in and out of you. His aw tensed for a moment as he felt the pleasure pool in his gut. Sweat cooled on his back as he massaged your breasts.

"Want daddy to fuck a baby into you hmm?" Heeseung asks, his lustful breathing breaking the air, "You'd like that princess?"

When you didn't answer, the overstimulation almost killing you, Heeseung snapped his hips suddenly, making you cry out loud.

"Heeseung! Ah-god—"

The heat consumed your body as you rutted against him. Your nipples remain hard as the two of you move against one another in a situation of passion. The high in your body only heightened the pleasure between you too.

"Such—a pretty girl-ah fuck fuck!" Heeseung moaned loudly, as he felt you clench tightly around his cock, the walls were basically suffocating him, "takin' me so well, fuck—"

You moaned into his words, your arms dropped to the bedroll and kept a tight hold of it as you arched.

Your head spun as he continued to move. You could hear his heavy breathing but your head felt full of nothing. Everything had a heightened yet fuzzy feeling to it as the pleasure made its way through your body. You laid there while he fucked you, unable to do much but accept the continued pleasure from Heeseung.

He felt on the tip of an orgasm. With another hard thrust, he shoved his cock as far as it would go and then he finished inside of you. At that moment you finished as well.

“Look at me. I want you to watch you come on my cock." Heeseung all but demanded and you had no choice but to obey, "fuck—you're so beautiful, all filled up with me."

Silky ribbons of beautiful pleasure flew out as your eyes gazed into Heeseung's, which had nothing but love flowing in them.

Heeseung kept pumping his seed into you rhythmically, as you lay almost limp on the bed. Staying inside you for a minute or so, Heeseung pulled his length out carefully, making you form a 'o' shape with your mouth, as your walls were left almost sensationless as your husband's cock left it.

"Fucking hell." Heeseung muttered under his breath, "Are you alright love?"

"You just fucked the brains out of me and you're asking me if I'm alright." You rolled your eyes at him, and chuckled, "I'm sorry are we married, Mr Lee?"

"We sure are Mrs Lee." Heeseung pressed his nose to yours, "How about a shower hmm?"

"You're washing my hair."

"Whatever you want, my love."

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